#so we have talking him through logging in and then note down everything

[snigepippi]

In my country we now need an app to log in to our citizen data and profile. Yes no matter who you are, they pressure you to get a smartphone that can handle this app, or else you will not get notifications from the health care system, tax registration, bank, benefits or other things that really matter.

And lately they want us to use a 2-point acess using a QR code. Meaning you need to have the app on a smartphone or tablet with a camera, and then you scan the QR code on another device

I do like apps and I do like that I am able to securely log into my data, apply for benefits and see my journals like this. And I guess that a 2-point access makes sense.

But it's horrible for my grandmother. And for people who don't like smartphone or cannot afford two devices. And you need to meet in person at the citizens service to get help, if you don't have an app.

Luckily we still get our voting card per snailmail and we are automatically registered for voting when we turn 18. The constitution demands this.

But in so many other cases, you are fucked if you cannot use a smartphone. Especially sight impared people and people with memory disorders, have a hard time getting help.

The technology is great for me. But we need some disability awareness and focus on people who cannot access the digital world.

(Also this is why most veey poor or homeless people are issued a cheap smartphone from the government. We can now donate money to the homeless using a phone pay app... yay?)

Its very annoying that we often use technology in contexts where the technology is by far the least convenient way of doing things.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Nineteen

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, teeth-rotting fluff, mentions of minor ptsd, the "do you want kids" talk, therapy, sexual content.

Notes — The queen of fluff strikes again. They're so in love it hurts. Enjoy this intermission from the angst before we get to Spa.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! — Peach x

2021 (Hungary)

Max was having headaches.

Not debilitating, not anything he would admit needed painkillers. But Amelia noticed the way he squinted at the sim screen, how he blinked a little too often under the harsh lights, how he’d logged fewer hours this week than he had since he was seventeen.

She didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t want to push him.

But it gnawed at her, heavy and sour at the pit of her stomach.

Because she knew Max. Knew how he worked. If he thought for even a second that she might tell Christian or Helmut or, God forbid, the FIA, he'd lock it down even tighter, wrap himself up in barbed wire and throw away the key. Anything to stay in the car. Anything to win. 

Still, it scared her. The idea that maybe the crash had done more damage than he was willing to admit. That maybe he was hiding it from her, from everyone, in order to be given the all clear to keep racing. 

She leaned against the doorway to the RBR sim room one evening, arms crossed tight over her chest, watching him fight through another lap. He was good at pretending, but she saw the way his hand came up to the back of his neck when he thought no one was looking, how he massaged the side of his head, quick and angry like he could force the ache away. 

Her fingers twitched at her side. She wanted to walk over. Put a hand on his shoulder. Make him stop. But she didn't.

Instead, she just said, quiet but steady, "Don’t be stupid, Max."

He flicked his eyes toward her, the ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth, but didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

She already knew what he’d decided. And she already knew it would break her heart trying to change his mind.

— 

Amelia sat at the kitchen island, watching her mom buzz around the kitchen, throwing together something that vaguely resembled a pasta salad. She scrunched her nose at the sight of it, half-finished, but already tragic, and fought the urge to say something. She hadn’t been lying to Lando over a year ago, standing in her garage, when she’d told him her mom was really only capable of cooking one thing successfully. And there was definitely no chicken in sight.

Her iPad was open in front of her, specs from the latest floor upgrade zoomed in on the screen, but she wasn’t really looking at them. Not properly. She was too focused on the strange, unsettled feeling curling in her stomach.

This was her first time at home for weeks, maybe even over a month, and she’d missed it, she had. She really had.

But something felt… different. Off, in a way she couldn’t quite pin down.

“I think I should get my own place,” she said eventually, voice quiet but certain.

Her mom spun around, salad tong still in hand, blinking fast.  “You— you don’t want to live at home anymore?”

Amelia shrugged, trying to find the right words. “No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t like it here. It’s just…” She trailed off for a second, chewing the inside of her cheek. “I feel like a nomad. I’m living out of hotels most of the time. And when I am in England, I’m split between here, Glastonbury with Lando, and Milton Keynes at Max’s flat. I have all these different places that feel half-mine. But nowhere that’s actually mine, you know?”

Her mom set the salad tongs down carefully, a little crease forming between her eyebrows. She didn’t look angry.

Amelia pressed on, rushing a little now in case she’d somehow managed to made her mom sad. “I still love it here. I do. But it feels like… like my childhood home, you know? Not my current home.”

There was a small beat of quiet. Then her mom gave a soft, bittersweet smile. “That’s what’s supposed to happen, honey. You’re supposed to outgrow home. I’m glad you feel ready.”

Amelia relaxed a little, shoulders unclenching. Then her mom added, almost too casually, “Will you and Lando get a place together?”

Amelia blinked. “What? No— I mean—” She stopped herself, brain scrambling to catch up. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I just meant me. Like… by myself.”

Her mom laughed, warm and a little amused. “Well, think about it. You practically live with him already, in hotel rooms, but still… it counts.”

Amelia frowned, thinking it through like it was a math problem. “Oh. Yeah. That would… probably make more sense, wouldn’t it?” She mumbled. “I don’t particularly think I’d want to live alone, anyway. And I have gotten used to all of his stuff taking up my space—“ 

Her mom just smiled again, all knowing and fond, and went back to massacring the pasta salad.

— 

Amelia smiled to herself and kept her head down, pencil scratching steadily across the paper in her lap. The rumble of the jet engine faded into white noise; background to the way her hand moved without much thought, the way it always did when her brain was chewing on something bigger than her.

Lando, sprawled out lazily in the aisle across from her, leaned over, curious. “What are you drawing, baby?”

Immediately, Amelia tilted the sketchbook away from him, tucking it protectively against her chest. Her ears burned hot. “Uh. Nothing. I mean—obviously something, but I don’t want to tell you.”

He stared at her for a long second, like he was trying to decode her, eyes narrowing slightly in that way that meant he wasn’t sure whether to push or leave it alone. Then he grinned, easy and warm. “Alright. Keep your secrets.”

He leaned back, stretching his legs out. 

Amelia ducked her head again, heart thudding faster than she wanted it to.

She wasn’t lying. She just… wasn’t ready to admit it out loud yet. Not to him, not to herself.

In the sketchpad, dozens of early concepts sprawled across the page; lines and curves and arrows scribbled in shorthand. A McLaren.

Not just any McLaren, either.

One capable of winning championships.

Lightweight rear end. Aerodynamic front wing for better rotation. A reimagined floor, designed with efficiency and flexibility in mind for whatever the regulation changes might throw their way in the next couple of years.

It was stupid, probably.

She didn’t work for McLaren. Never had, in any official capacity. 

She was still Red Bull’s weapon — heralded by the press as Max’s saviour. Mini Newey. A hundred nicknames but never just her own, never just Amelia Brown.

But the ideas had crawled into her head after Silverstone and refused to leave. It had started with a little idle thought (If I could build him a car good enough to fight Max…) and now here she was. 

She chewed on her pencil, staring at the half-formed shape of the nose, and tried not to think too hard about what it meant that she couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything else. 

— 

They stopped in Belgium before ultimately traveling to Hungary. Lando had family there. Cousins, some distant and some much closer. They’d be too busy to do anything of the sort during the actual Belgium race week, so it was nice to be able to fit them in.

They visited a few over the course of the week; fleeting hellos, shared meals over chipped plates and loud, overlapping conversations. It was nice. Overwhelming, a little, but nice.

Lando introduced her to all of his relatives with a beaming smile and a dozen proud praises—"This is Amelia—yeah, my Amelia"—and she offered polite hellos, dodging kisses on cheeks and handshakes as politely as possible and then doing her best to keep up with the small talk when it was asked of her.

It was a little exhausting, mentally. The swirl of laughter, jokes she didn’t quite catch the punchline of, but Lando never pushed her too far. Never nudged her into the centre of things. He let her stay where she was comfortable, sometimes sliding his hand across her lower back when it got too much, or catching her eye from across a room with a soft, wordless smile.

Mostly, she ended up perched on the carpet with the kids, knees tucked under her, a tiny smile playing on her lips as she held up a toy car and explained, far too seriously, the engine type and manufacturer history. The toddlers listened with wide eyes, clutching their sticky-fingered toys and nodding solemnly as if they understood.

Later, in the car, as they drove back toward their hotel under the pale blue of evening, Amelia sat curled up in the passenger seat, hair pulled over one shoulder, a big blue stain on her blouse that was the product of finger-painting gone wrong. 

Lando was quiet, his hand resting loosely on the steering wheel, the other tugging her knuckles gently onto his thigh. "You were really good with them," he said eventually, voice soft enough that she almost thought she'd imagined it.

She made a face. “Kids are easy. All you have to do is keep talking and occasionally shove something colourful at them.”

He laughed under his breath. A minute passed.

Then, casual, like he was asking if she wanted to stop for food, he asked, "Do you want kids?"

Amelia blinked, turning her head to stare at him in the half-light. "I— we don’t even live together," she said, blunt and a little incredulous.

Lando’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. "Well, we can change that."

She stared at him for a long second, watching the way his fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. Like he wasn’t nervous. Like he meant it.

"Did you talk to my mom?" she asked suddenly.

He shot her a quick, confused glance. "What? No—why? Did you already—? I mean—"

“Okay. I would like to live with you," she said, cutting him off neatly.

For a second, he just blinked at her. And then he was smiling, wide and ridiculous, so big it looked like it physically hurt to contain it.

She giggled, reaching over to nudge his arm. "Stop making that face. You're going to scare the other drivers."

"I'm happy," he argued, grin stretching impossibly wider. "Let me be happy."

She rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her mouth gave her away. She settled back against her seat, watching the trees whip past the window, her heart full and a little chaotic.

"Who gets the bigger closet?" she asked after a beat.

He laughed, a low, warm sound. "You do. Obviously. I’ll just shove my stuff in a corner somewhere."

She nodded. “I do need a lot of closet room. I have two-hundred pairs of shoes.” A few seconds passed in comfortable silence before she tilted her head, thinking. "Where would we live?"

He didn’t miss a beat. "Monaco." 

She wrinkled her nose, instinctively. "That's... a big change."

He glanced over, softer now, like he already knew she'd need a minute with the idea. "Just think about it, baby," he said. "Makes sense for me. Makes sense for you. No taxes. Close to Max if you stay with Red Bull. Close to everything else if you don't."

She chewed on her bottom lip, the weight of it settling on her. A new country. A new chapter. A real home; with him.

He smiled again, smaller this time but just as sure. "We could make it our home."

Amelia nodded slowly, feeling her brain already spinning into overdrive. "I need to make a list. Pros and cons. Things we’ll want in the apartment. Maybe a balcony?"

Lando just grinned, reaching over to squeeze her thigh. "Anything you want, baby."

— 

“Do you think I’d be a good mom?”

Max froze mid-step, nearly tripping over his own feet. His eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face. “You—fuck, are you pregnant?”

His alarm might’ve had something to do with the fact that she was halfway under his car, only her legs and a shock of messy hair visible as she fiddled with a stubborn screw.

Amelia blinked, glancing up at him from beneath the chassis. “No. I’m just wondering.”

Max let out a breath so heavy it was basically a groan, dragging a hand down his face like he needed to physically wipe the terror off. “Fuck, don't do that to me, zusje. I nearly had a heart attack.”

She wriggled out from under the car, wiping her greasy hands on a rag as she sat back on her heels. “I wasn’t trying to scare you. I’m being serious.”

Max crouched down beside her, arms draped loosely over his knees, studying her with a little more care now. “Okay... why are you thinking about that?” he asked, voice softer.

Amelia shrugged. “I was just thinking—if it ever happened, would I be good at it?”

Max’s face relaxed. “You’d be a great mother.”

She tilted her head, skeptical. “You’re just saying that because it’s what you’re supposed to say.”

He snorted. “No, I'm saying it because it’s true. You love very intensely, you’re honest even when it’s not easy, and you are protective and strong. That's exactly what children need from a parent.”

Amelia chewed on her lip. “Pregnancy is scary. Completely out of my control. Everything, anything, could go wrong.”

Max’s expression shifted, softening. “That’s not something you need to worry about yet.”

She hesitated, then said, almost too quietly, “I think Lando would be a good dad. And I want to give that to him. One day.”

Max nodded. “Then you will. When you’re ready, of course.”

Amelia pursed her lips, staring off to the side. “We... I think we’re going to move in together. Soon. Lando mentioned Monaco.”

Max immediately brightened. “Good! I’m there already. We could be neighbours.”

She blinked, absorbing that new piece of information, slotting it neatly into the mental checklist she was already building. “Oh. Are there any available apartments in your building?”

Max huffed a small laugh, like he hadn’t expected her to take his suggestion seriously. “I’m sure there are.”

She nodded firmly, already halfway down the rabbit hole of logistics. “Okay. That would be efficient.” 

Max smiled at her, patient, fond. “I’m sure that you will find the perfect place, zusje. Don’t worry.”

Amelia nodded again, more to herself this time. 

— 

“We’re not living in Max’s building,” Lando said.

Amelia, perched cross-legged on the bed in his drivers room, immediately pouted. “Why not? It would make life so much simpler, Lan.”

He let out a short laugh, setting his phone down. “Look, I love Max, alright? But living that close to him would be... proper weird.”

Amelia tilted her head, frowning like he was speaking another language. “Why?”

Lando scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Imagine it. Every time we argue, he’s knocking on the door two minutes later—sticking up for you, making me feel like a right dickhead.”

She cracked a tiny smile but stayed stubborn. “But it would be efficient. And Max could help us fix things if something breaks.”

“Baby,” Lando said, laughing, “if something breaks, I’ll fix it. Or we’ll call someone. A professional. Not Max with a wrench and a YouTube tutorial.”

He reached over, tugging her socked foot into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I was thinking somewhere quieter anyway,” he added, softer now. “Away from the main city. Somewhere you can go on your little daily walks without bumping into tourists every five seconds.”

She perked up immediately. “My walks are important for my brain.”

“I know.” He smiled, running his thumb over her ankle. “I even asked Charles where he grew up. There are places, baby; small, quiet. Still close enough if we need to get into town. He said the air’s cleaner too.”

Amelia tapped her fingers against her knee, thoughtful. “Cleaner air is good. Better for respiratory health.”

Lando chuckled and tugged her closer until she half-fell into his side with a tiny yelp. “Exactly. So let’s find somewhere ours, yeah?”

She tucked her head under his chin, breathing him in. “Okay. But if Max gets upset, you have to deal with it.”

Lando grinned against her hair. “I can handle a grumpy Verstappen.”

— 

They were curled up in their hotel room, watching the latest episode of Grill the Grid the night before qualifying.

Amelia sat between Lando’s legs, her back pressed against his chest. He had her squished close, big hands sprawled comfortably across her stomach, pressing just enough to ground her, to help her breathe a little easier.

It’d been a rough day for Max, and the stress had bled into her too. Finally being still, finally letting herself relax, felt like a blessing.

She fiddled absently with her golf ball, thumb tracing lazy circles over the surface, half-listening, until the first trivia question came up.

Without hesitation, she rattled off the answer.

By the third question, Lando was laughing, reaching for the remote to pause the video after each one. “Alright, genius,” he teased, chin nudging the top of her head. “You get first go. Beat all of us.”

She answered every time without missing a beat.

He kept pausing, and she kept getting them all right, and after a while Lando wasn’t even pretending to be surprised anymore. He just squeezed her a little tighter and said, “Smarty pants.” 

Amelia smiled, small and shy but real.

Lando pressed a kiss into her hair. “I should start taking you to pub quizzes. I’d make a fortune.” 

She rolled her eyes at him, but she didn’t pull away.

— 

She felt... clingy.

Sitting next to Lando in hospitality, she stared at him, hands itching, burning to reach out, to grab him and never let go.

It had started yesterday. A coil of anxiety tightening in her stomach, left over from Silverstone. Aftershocks, she supposed.

She’d googled it, of course. Trauma responses. Hyper-vigilance. Perfectly normal, the internet said.

She didn’t feel normal.

She kissed Lando goodbye before qualifying, smiling as best she could, and ignored the way her hands trembled when she pulled away. She didn’t look back, even though everything inside her screamed to.

If it were up to her, none of them would be taking part in the weekends running. 

Not Lando. Not Max. Not Fernando. Not anyone.

She caught herself before the spiral could dig deeper, bracing one palm against the wall of the motorhome and forcing a deep breath.

She couldn’t live like this. Couldn’t let one crash, no matter how terrifying, poison the thing she loved. The thing they all loved.

But reason didn’t quiet the fear.

It didn't steady her hands as she watched Lando climb into his cockpit on the livestream.

It didn’t stop her from hugging Max tighter than usual, long enough that he gave her a puzzled little look before he was called away.

Even GP noticed. He kept glancing over, subtle but persistent. “You okay?” he asked, at least a dozen times throughout the session.

Every time, Amelia just nodded without looking at him, glued to the data, clinging to logic, to numbers, to anything she could control.

It helped. A little.

— 

Lando out-qualified Daniel by a mile.

He was cocky and proud, chest puffed out as he peeled her dress off later that night, caught between frantic and careful.

His mouth was hot against her neck, pulling soft, desperate sounds from her lips, her back arching into him. Then his hand tangled in her hair, tugging just enough to tilt her head back, forcing her to meet his gaze.

He was smirking. Full of adrenaline. Hungry. “You think I deserve a reward for my performance?”

Amelia blinked up at him, sweet and soft and unbearably hot. “Anything you want, Lan.”

— 

The next morning, she clung to him, legs tangled with his, her hands wrapped tightly around his wrists. Holding him, having him, needing him close. The warmth of his body against hers felt like the only thing that was grounding her.

He kissed her nose, then her forehead, her cheeks, and chin, finally landing on her lips. The slow, deliberate kiss deepened, but she pulled away just enough to speak.

“I think I need to talk to somebody. A therapist, probably.”

Lando froze, his fingers still brushing against her skin, a soft hesitation in his touch. “You’re... Fuck, I knew something was up. I could feel it, but I didn’t know for sure.”

She gave him a steady, matter-of-fact look, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Yeah, that’s because I hid it from you. Didn’t want you to worry."

His face softened, and the guilt crept in. “You should’ve told me, Amelia.”

She shrugged, her stomach twisting under the weight of his gaze. “I didn’t want you distracted…”

"Don’t be stupid." His words were sharp, but they didn’t make her flinch. His hand found the back of her neck, pulling her gently against him. “You tell me when you’re having a shit time, okay?”

She sighed, pressing her forehead to his. “Sorry.”

His fingers slid through her hair, his voice steady but soft. "No more hiding it. Right?"

She nodded, barely, but it was enough.

“We’ll find someone good for you to talk to,” he said after a beat, his hand moving to stroke her hair.

She rubbed the tip of her nose against his collarbone affectionately. “Okay.”

— 

She popped her head into Fernando’s garage, offering him a soft smile. He came over, gave her a quick squeeze, and gestured proudly to his helmet. “Pretty, huh?”

She nodded, indulging him with a grin. “I like it. How are things going with Esteban?”

Fernando sighed. “Ah. He is… complicated. A good driver, but a terrible teammate. He does not see how both things can be true at once.”

She glanced over at Esteban’s side of the garage. “He’s passionate.”

Fernando nodded thoughtfully. “He is. That will be his greatest strength—and his greatest weakness.” He kissed her cheek and shooed her off. “Go, go, before Verstappen finds you here and threatens to keep you chained to his garage.”

She hugged him again, leaning in just close enough to murmur, “Adjust your ride height. Two centimetres higher.”

Before he could say anything, she gave him a sly smile and disappeared down the paddock.

— 

She sat next to Checo in the strategy meeting, slouched low in her chair, sneaking cursory glances at him every time he slid his phone under the table toward her. They were playing chess; badly, if she was honest, but that was half the fun.

Checo would make a move, tilt the screen toward her, and wait, barely suppressing a smug grin. She'd frown, tap out a counter, and slide it back without a word.

No one else seemed to notice. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Checo was a lot of fun. Easygoing. Quick to laugh. And, as it turned out, a little reckless with his queen.

Amelia pinned him in three moves flat.

Checo huffed under his breath, shaking his head at her. She just shrugged, eyes back on the screen at the front of the room like nothing had happened at all.

— 

It was raining. Not hard, not anymore, but enough to slick the track and raise every hair on the back of Amelia’s neck.

She stood, stiff-backed, arms folded across her chest in the Red Bull garage, the whole world around her muffled and distant. She could hear the shrill whine of the engines as the formation lap wrapped, but it was like she was underwater. Distant. Fading.

Max was P3. Lando was P6. Fernando was lurking, dangerous as always. The Mercedes were ahead, unpredictable on a damp track.

Amelia flexed her fingers, breathing deep and slow. 

The lights blinked above the front of the grid, one, two, three, four, five, and before she could even brace herself, the race started.

Chaos.

Immediate, all-consuming chaos.

Bottas missed his braking point into Turn 1 and plowed into Lando. She didn’t even see it happen, only saw Lando’s car snap sideways, broken, ruined, like a toy in the rain.

She flinched so hard she almost dropped her iPad.

And then Max—Max—

She watched it in horror, too slow to look away, as Max’s Red Bull got collected in the chain reaction, bodywork flying, his car crumpling along the side-pod.

Her knees buckled; she caught herself with a hand on the pitwall.

Someone shouted. Someone else was already running to grab spare front wings. Alarms buzzed in her headset, engineers yelling over one another.

“Max has heavy damage,” GP was saying into her ear through the comms device, voice low and tight. “We’re evaluating. Standby.”

Her hands trembled.

The cars crawled through the carnage, half the grid limping back toward the pitlane. She stared at Max’s car as it crept past, side torn open like a wounded animal, sparks flying out the bottom.

“Still going,” she heard someone say. "He's still going."

Somehow, Max was dragging the car around. Somehow, Lando had pulled off track without getting hit again.

The red flag was thrown. Race temporarily suspended.

Amelia let out a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding and pressed her forehead against the wall. Cold metal, cold air, cold panic.

She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder — once, solid and grounding. Probably an engineer who hadn’t been briefed, but they were lucky, their touch felt good, and didn’t make her want to tear off her skin. 

She nodded, to herself, to anyone watching her, making sure she was good. 

Didn't trust herself to speak yet.

— 

Lando was out.

Too much damage. Retired on lap two.

Max was luckier. He kept going, dragging a half-broken chassis to the finish line, scraping whatever points he could.

Esteban won. His first victory.

Amelia watched from the back of Lando’s garage as the Frenchman stepped onto the top step of the podium, soaking in the moment.

Lando’s arms wrapped around her waist, holding her close.

She didn’t need him to say anything — she could feel it. The bitter edge of jealousy under his skin, the tight set of his jaw.

“It’ll come,” she muttered, more promise than reassurance, her mind flicking to her sketchbook, to the concepts she hadn't shown anyone yet — the ones that could take him all the way. 

The chassis she’d created with two particular drivers in mind. 

Lando squeezed her tighter.

— 

Summer break came just when she needed it.

She and Lando flew back to Monaco with Max, crashing in his guest room while they started apartment hunting.

Well… Lando did most of the hard work. Talking to estate agents, putting out feelers.

Amelia kept herself busy playing with Jimmy and Sassy, who decided almost immediately that she was their new favorite human.

She didn't mind. The cats were easy company, curling up on her lap or following her around the flat as Lando scrolled through listings and Max grumbled about all the overpriced places in the area.

It felt good, normal, even, to slow down. To just exist for a little while, tucked away in the hazy warmth of a Monegasque summer, surrounded by people (and animals) who loved her.

— 

They fell in love with the first place they viewed.

If Amelia believed in fate, she might have called it that.

Lando stood back and watched as she wandered through the apartment; past the galley kitchen, onto the balcony, big enough for a table, a chair, maybe even a canopy swing if she wanted.

Two bedrooms, three bathrooms. A master suite and a double. A massive living room, an even bigger office.

She could already see it: herself at a big desk, sketching new concepts as sunlight poured through the wall of windows.

She found Lando in the kitchen, deep in conversation with the property agent.

When he glanced up, she was already beaming at him.

— 

They spent two weeks of summer break, the rare stretch when neither of them had to be working full-time, Lando free from training camps, Amelia unchained from the factory, tucked away in the South of France.

It felt like stepping into another life. Long mornings spent tangled up in crisp hotel sheets, slow breakfasts on sun-drenched balconies overlooking sleepy coastal towns. They rented a little convertible and drove with no real destination, winding through golden hills and lavender fields, the radio humming low between them.

Amelia wore tiny sundresses and braided her hair, and Lando kept finding excuses to kiss her bare shoulders. They swam in cold, clear water until their fingers wrinkled, then collapsed on the beach, salt still clinging to their skin. 

At night, they fell into bed full of good food and exhausted. 

It wasn’t some extravagant, carefully curated holiday. It was just… easy. 

And somewhere between the lazy afternoons and the late-night kisses, Amelia stared at him and thought, “I could spend the rest of my life with you.” 

— 

The evening was warm, a soft breeze rustling the leaves around them. Lando had set up a speaker on the patio, the faint sound of acoustic guitar playing in the background, but they weren’t paying much attention to the music. Amelia was sitting on the edge of a chair, arms loosely draped over her knees, looking out at the stars above. Lando was sitting on the stone steps, watching her.

“So, how was it?” He asked. 

Amelia smiled faintly, but her eyes were tired. “It was… fine,” she started, kicking the edge of the chair with her foot, watching the dust float up into the air. “A bit awkward, but that’s probably normal. Online therapy, you know?” She rolled her eyes, but there was a lightness to her tone, as if she was still trying to find the right words. “It felt like… trying to untangle a knot in my brain, but someone else was holding the other end.”

Lando nodded thoughtfully, shifting on the stairs so he was facing her more. “I get that. Did she—” He paused, checking her expression, making sure she was okay. “Did she help at all?”

Amelia shrugged, a soft exhale escaping her. “Not yet. I mean, we talked about a lot of stuff. Things I didn’t realise were connected, you know? I think it’ll take a few sessions for it to click. It’s hard to explain. But I felt… heard, I guess. Which is something.”

Lando nodded again, his gaze softening. “Proud of you, baby.” He looked over at the empty space beside him. “Come here.”

She raised an eyebrow but stood up, moving to join him. As she sat beside him on the steps, she rested her head on his shoulder. “You’re really good at this whole comfort thing.”

Lando chuckled, sliding an arm around her waist. “I try my best.” After a beat, he stood up, holding out a hand to her. “Wanna dance?”

Amelia looked at him, surprised, but the quiet night seemed to make everything feel a little more possible. She took his hand with a grin. “We’re really doing this?”

Lando smiled, tugging her to her feet. “Why not? It’s a slow song.”

The music played on, soft and gentle, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Just moved together, swaying under the dim glow of the patio lights, with the sound of the wind and distant waves in the background. Amelia closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the moment settle into her chest, her heart still thudding, but in a different way now.

“You know, you’ve been pretty great,” she murmured after a while, her hand resting against his chest. “With everything.”

Lando’s smile was barely visible in the dark, but she felt it in the way he pulled her just a little closer. “Always.”

She closed her eyes.

Always sounded pretty good.

NEXT CHAPTER

[mainblogonly]

domestic timeskip!kita x houseplant lover!reader | fluff | lowercase intentional

shinsuke has always loved his routine — wake up before the sunrise, get dressed, eat some breakfast while checking his rice delivery logs, head out to the field, return for lunch, and head to the city for deliveries in the afternoon. it's constant and stable, something he finds more comforting than boring.

when he met you he knew his routine was bound to change, but he was actually excited for that. he was always secretly hoping he'd find someone who'd fit into his routine and even change it for the better, someone who would shine as bright as the sunrise and bring as much comfort as the evening breeze over the fields. that was definitely you. in his mind, you practically danced into his life with your love of plants mixing beautifully with his livelihood. you've brought so much color to his days and he's brought so much peace to yours.

today's a day like any other with his new routine — wake up before sunrise, give you a kiss on the forehead, get dressed, make some breakfast (setting aside some for you to wake up to, along with a sweet note), greet the numerous houseplants you've cultivated in your shared home, check delivery orders, head out to the field, and look forward to sharing lunch with you.

it was nearly noon and everything was normal, until he hears you calling out for him. you shout his name over and over, telling him to get home quick.

"darling, is everything okay?" out of breath, shinsuke rushed home, "are you hurt? is something wrong?"

he sees you crouched over something — a package? — and moved to peek over your shoulder.

"shin! look, it finally arrived!" you beam up at him, cradling a relatively large sack in your arms, "my new soil!"

he can't help but let out a relieved laugh, "is that what you called me in for?"

"yes! it's the soil i've been waiting for! look, it's a new mix and has better drainage so the tropical plants will love it — you know i've been saying that the monstera and the pothos need repotting. remind me to buy larger pots when we head out for the deliveries later. and this means i can also add some of the fertilizer mix we worked on last week! some of the ferns could also use—"

shinsuke lets you continue your excited ramble as he helps you set the soil aside. you two go through the motions of preparing lunch, so used to doing this together that you don't even need to talk about it — he can just listen to you (he jokingly calls you his "favorite podcast"). you cut the vegetables, he prepares the meat, you set the table, he plates the final dish, you both sit across from each other.

"i actually had to order the soil from a new place — could you pass the rice, shin? thank you! — so i was a bit worried but now that it's here i'm so happy about it! i think i'm going to keep getting all my supplies from this shop, the owner was so sweet. they might have some stuff you can use in the field, and i've also been needing a new aroid mix for the cacti. i think they might have some in store—"

i could do this forever, shinsuke thinks to himself. he could listen to you go on and on as the two of you go through life together, day by day. he would never get tired of the way your eyes light up when you're excited — just like right now. he hopes that they'll light up the same way when he finally gets down on one knee, holding out the ring he's been hiding in his nightstand.

[spookyserenades]

Trouvaille - Chapter Nineteen

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

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

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

Word Count; 16k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

HI!!!! Dana loves loves loves you all and I'm kissing every single one of you on the forehead for waiting for this chapter 🥺 most of you know that I caught a lovely plague, but on a more positive note, I got to spend more time writing hehe. WELL that aside, get ready for some ANGST babes!!!! No smut in this chapter (Y/N needs a break!) but there is some goooood fluff and a LITTLE bit of a spicy moment in there. Forgive me for another cliffhanger. I love you, thank you, and I can't wait to hear from you (and respond when I can feel my legs again!) 💜

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Orange embers floated up into the darkened sky, mingling with the deep blue of the moonless night. Taehyung found the contrast of these two colors, fiery orange and velvet blue, striking. Something he wanted to capture in a still frame and hold onto forever, to revisit when everything felt hopeless and without purpose. Lost in thought, he hardly noticed the chatter around him, nor the chill Alaskan-July mist clinging to the material of his flannel. There was a deep ache starting in the muscles of his upper back and spider-crawling down through his shoulders and biceps, and when he used his hands to prod at the muscles in his arms, he realized he couldn’t recall the last time he wasn’t sore. 

“Taehyung, brother. What do you think?” Taehyung was pulled out of his trance of staring at the roaring bonfire in front of him, turning his attention to one of the other Kodiak hybrids he worked with sitting on the log beside him, Andy. 

“About what?” Taehyung’s voice was scratchy after not speaking for so long. He wasn’t a fan of talking when there was nothing to say. 

“You’re a goddamn space cadet. We were talking about ghost stories, do you have any?” Caleb, Taehyung’s least favorite co-worker, rolled his eyes at him from across the bonfire. 

“No. I don’t have any ghost stories,” Taehyung replied, a frown tugging on the corners of his mouth. “This is what we choose to talk about after a double?”

“What else are we going to talk about? It’s not like we have lives,” Andy pointed out, Taehyung snorting humorlessly and taking a swig from the lukewarm beer someone managed to smuggle into the plant. “Okay, I’ve got one. When I was working in the western plot for an overnight, I could have sworn I saw a woman in a nightgown by the lake…”

Taehyung zoned out again, the aftertaste of the beer turning sour on his tongue. He had heard Andy’s ghost stories a hundred times, and they lost all their luster over the years. Instead, he focused on finishing his beer and losing himself in the flames licking the sky, the scent of pine stuck in his nostrils. 

He wondered if there ever would be anything else at all for him and the hybrids he was destined to work with to discuss. All there was to speak of was the day’s work, the woods, and after a few cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon– ghosts and things that go bump in the night. For once, Taehyung wanted to dig deeper. Was he really such a shell of a being? Was there nothing more than work? He dreamed of expression, though he was not a hybrid of many words. 

“Was the ghost lady hot at least?” Someone drunkenly asked Andy, Taehyung furrowing his eyebrows. “Maybe she fell in love with you, Andy.”

The other Kodiak hybrids dissolved into tipsy laughter, Taehyung pulling his threadbare beanie further over his forehead, the fabric muffling sound from both sets of his ears. 

“I think that would be nice,” Andy sobered up once the chuckles died down, Taehyung peering at him curiously. “Though in this life, none of us have time.”

“What do you mean?” Taehyung spoke up, apparently the only one confused as everyone else nodded seriously. 

“Falling in love. It was never for us, Taehyung. You know that.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taehyung bristled, staring down his nose at the leopard hybrid, the feline hissing at him.

“It’s too early for this bullshit. You wanna live in denial? Be my guest. But stop with the shifty behavior. It’s hurting Y/N,” Yoongi narrowed his eyes at Taehyung’s gritted teeth, not intimidated in the slightest that Taehyung had an inch or two of height on him. 

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open, the color draining from his face, unable to come up with a response. As soon as Yoongi mentioned Y/N’s feelings being hurt because of him, a shard of ice wedged itself in his heart. Shaking his head, Yoongi ran a hand through his long, inky locks, pushing past the frozen hybrid. All Taehyung could do was follow the movement of Yoongi’s spotted tail curling behind him with his vision slightly fuzzy. 

“Wha– Why would you say that I’m in love with her? Isn’t she with you and Seokjin?”

Yoongi stopped by the door, taking a deep breath. After that conversation, he’d need thirty minutes of Y/N holding him on the couch to calm him down. 

“Bro, it’s fucking obvious. You’ve been a jealous prick since you found out about us, which I can understand. Stop fucking growling at me, I’m answering your question,” Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest, one of his ears twitching in agitation. “Before that, it was written all over your face. Following her around like a shadow. You had a fist-fight with the wolf over her, when he flew off the handle last summer. And it’s all in your scent. Are you really in denial or just out-of-touch with your emotions, Taehyung?”

Shocked, Taehyung leaned against the wallpapered alcove across from the piano, his skin flashing with heat. Falling in love wasn’t something Taehyung thought about much. Sure, he listened to countless songs about the sensation of falling for another, but he was a hybrid, not a human. A hybrid who was designed to be a workhorse, nothing more than that. Apparently, stuffed beneath his baser instincts, feelings he had never experienced before started to bloom when Y/N swept into his life. 

“For what it’s worth, she really cares about you, too. Way more than you think. She goes to every single one of your expos, finds rare records for you online, lets you take pictures of her when you think she isn’t paying attention. She couldn’t give a shit about your past. For fucks sake, she turned a linen closet into a dark room for you. Is that what this is about? You don’t think there’s a possibility that she could love you back?”

Taehyung flinched like he was slapped across the face. Yoongi sighed, thinking he had said enough. It wasn’t his place to tell Taehyung how Y/N felt about him and the rest of the hybrids, but it would make things a hell of a lot easier. All he could do was nudge the Kodiak hybrid in the right direction so Y/N wouldn’t look so sad whenever Taehyung would flee from her sight. 

“Just– think about it, okay? I’m gonna get the coffee started before Hoseok complains,” Yoongi shoved his sheet music under his armpit, suddenly feeling sort of bad that he was the reason Taehyung looked like he was having a nervous breakdown. Mouth pressed into a line, Yoongi left the Kodiak hybrid in the music room, Taehyung gaping after him. 

Perhaps he had been a little too harsh on the younger hybrid, but all of Yoongi’s instincts were screaming at him to protect Y/N. The instinct had only grown stronger since he claimed her as his mate, and sensing her gloom towards the odd situation between her and Taehyung had become unbearable. If he had to shove a few cold, hard truths down Taehyung’s throat for Y/N’s sake, he’d do it time and time again. As he slouched down the stairs, his nose twitched, picking up the rich smell of roasted coffee beans, and brightening up, he caught a whiff of Y/N’s jasmine lotion mingling with her natural scent. She must have beaten him to the kitchen that morning, and he was thankful that both the music room was soundproofed and Y/N had only human hearing. 

She was by the island, an arm curled around Seokjin’s waist as he cut up some fruit in his pajamas. Yoongi snorted at the goofy print on the set, the pink pajamas stamped with cartoon puppies, one of Seokjin’s black ears twisting back at the sound. Cheek smushed against the side of Seokjin’s arm, Y/N looked back, catching Yoongi’s gaze and smiling sleepily. Even first thing in the morning, she was lovely, despite the fact that her hair was sticking up in several directions. 

“Morning, angel! We’re gonna make banana pancakes, wanna help?” Y/N asked, watching her leopard hybrid stroll into the kitchen, grinning when he booped her nose as he passed by. 

“No, I think you two have it covered. I wanted to start writing something for your next lesson,” Yoongi tapped the book of sheet music, Y/N’s eyes sparkling with excitement. 

“You’re composing something new?” Y/N squeezed Seokjin’s waist, lips automatically parting as the jaguar hybrid fed her a slice of banana. 

“I’m going to attempt to. We’ll see how it goes,” Yoongi settled on a barstool across from the other two, pausing when Y/N pushed something in front of him. 

“Here, your coffee,” Y/N said proudly, butterflies soaring in his stomach when he glanced at the glass. “Iced Americano, your favorite! I finally figured out the espresso machine!”

“Are you sure you figured it out on your own? That smirk on Seokjin’s face is sort of giving you away, silly girl.”

“Ugh. Seokjinnie, you need to learn how to school your features,” Y/N complained, reaching up to tug on the dangling earrings hanging from the jaguar hybrid’s lobe, his thick lower lip jutting out into a pout. 

“Sorry, pretty,” Seokjin replied, stooping so he could kiss the apple of her cheek. 

“It’s fine, honey, I’m only teasing. I like that you display your emotions so clearly. You’re like Jimin in that way,” Y/N pulled away from Seokjin, Seokjin making a sad little purr when she disappeared into the pantry. Yoongi watched Seokjin’s neck blush furiously at the compliment with a chuckle. 

Y/N definitely wasn’t aware that her constant kind words meant the world to all of them. The hybrids she adopted were used to a world that was against them, treating them like commodities or prey. Compliments were far and few in between, and kindness was rare and usually met with suspicion. To be so accepted, to be allowed to pursue their interests, and to have a safe and loving home was sometimes unbelievable. Clearing his throat, Seokjin made meaningful eye-contact with Yoongi, wondering if he felt the same. 

“My loves? Do either of you know where the new jug of maple syrup ended up?” Y/N called from the pantry, Seokjin’s blush reddening even further with the way she addressed the two of them. 

“Behind the wolf’s sugar cereal,” Yoongi answered, using a pencil to draw the treble clef on the staff paper.

Y/N made a satisfied hum from the closet, emerging with a gallon jug of syrup, nearly knocking into Jeongguk who was trudging into the kitchen. Hand shooting out to steady her by her shoulder, Jeongguk grunted, taking the jug from her swiftly. 

“Watch it, you were about to take me out with this thing,” Jeongguk scolded, flicking Y/N’s forehead. Y/N scrunched up her nose at the elk hybrid, flicking him right back and returning to Seokjin’s side. “Why do we even need this much syrup?”

“Namjoon,” Y/N, Seokjin, and Yoongi spoke all at once, Jeongguk’s eyes going round at the chorused answer. 

“That tracks,” Jeongguk admitted, scratching above the barbell threaded through his eyebrow. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have a cavity. Y/N, you spoil him with too many sweets.”

Seokjin glared at the elk hybrid, while Yoongi simply shook his head, definitely not taking him seriously considering he looked like a doe without his bony antlers. 

“Well, we’ll find out. You guys are going to the dentist next week,” Y/N reminded them, Jeongguk sending her a grimace. 

“Do I have to take these out?” Jeongguk asked, pointing at his lip ring and then sticking out his tongue, Y/N’s eyes glazing over as she stared at the barbell so close to her face.

“Jesus, I didn’t know you had that in your mouth,” Yoongi lifted an eyebrow, Y/N mumbling something under her breath as heat rose to her cheeks. If only Yoongi knew what was under the elk hybrid’s shirt– thinking about Jeongguk’s chest had her hiding her expression by hiding around in the fridge. 

“Yeah, you’ll probably have to take them out, sweets,” Y/N’s voice came out feathery, hoping that the three hybrids didn’t notice her spontaneous fluster. “Uh, what should we do today? It’s Saturday, so we could go into the city for dinner or something.” “You three aren’t going on a date or something tonight?” Jeongguk snarked, but there was no real bite to it. 

“No, not that I’ve planned. Yoongi, Seokjin? Have you? Shall we invite Jeongguk so he isn’t lonely?” Y/N teased right back, pure shock and embarrassment washing over the elk hybrid’s face as he tripped his way to the breakfast nook. 

“Stupid,” was all Jeongguk could mutter, Yoongi and Y/N sharing an amused snicker at his shock. Jeongguk supposed he walked into that. “What you do on dates is none of my fuckin’ business.”

It had only been two days since Yoongi’s birthday, and thankfully, no one teased her when she snuck out of Yoongi’s room in his tee shirt and boxers, smelling like his vanilla body wash. Though truthfully, she didn’t run into anyone as she scampered to her bedroom to change into her own clothes. By the time she bumped into Hoseok on the way to the kitchen, all the fox hybrid did was tickle her sides teasingly when he greeted her. 

She supposed that her hybrids would likely not even acknowledge her tryst with Yoongi; after all, they knew that the two of them had been intimate. Suspecting that they didn’t want to embarrass her, that slight comment from Jeongguk was the only minor implication that he had at least thought about what Y/N was doing with Yoongi and Seokjin once or twice. Surprisingly, Y/N couldn’t find it in her to feel ashamed, only continuing to slice bananas beside Seokjin. 

“I think there’s an early farmer’s market near Faneuil Hall. We can stock up on some produce and then get some drinks and good food around there,” Y/N continued, trying to ignore the intriguing heat rising in her cheeks when she pictured Jeongguk listening in and imagining what her and Yoongi were doing the night of the leopard hybrid’s birthday, just down the hall in his own bedroom. She shivered, turning to the stove and greasing up the skillet for the pancakes in order to compose her expression. 

“Let’s do it! We have to pick a designated driver,” Hoseok made an appearance, his usual disdain for the morning time patched up by the potential opportunity to explore the city later. “Not it!”

“I got it,” Yoongi volunteered, predicting that Taehyung would be the only other option, and Yoongi guessed that Taehyung wouldn’t be showing his face the rest of the day. “When do you want to leave?”

“Uh, not sure. I’ll have to talk to Joon, Jimin, and Tae, before making a solid plan,” Y/N stepped to the side so Seokjin could sprinkle chopped banana into the dollop of batter she ladled onto the pan. 

Internally, Yoongi cringed. He had no idea if Taehyung would even talk to Y/N after Yoongi confronted him like he had, much less be willing to hang out with the rest of them in the city. With his human side regretting saying anything at all to the Kodiak hybrid, the animalistic side regretted not tearing into him further. It was all very confusing, and part of the reason Yoongi decided to opt out of drinking that evening. Booze and moodiness was a hell of a mixture. 

Jimin came in from outside shortly after that, a basket full of eggs swinging from his elbow, and when the house began to fill up with the buttery, sweet smell of pancakes, Namjoon was summoned from his bedroom with a wagging tail. Everyone helped themselves like normal– it wasn’t unusual for members of the household to eat at different times, but Y/N still caught herself glancing towards the foyer every few minutes, waiting for Taehyung to silently enter the room and make his coffee. 

Even when she was washing dishes besides Jimin when breakfast was picked over, a cellophane-wrapped plate of pancakes left for the Kodiak hybrid sitting on the stove, she waited for him. Chewing her lip, she entertained the idea that perhaps he was just sleeping in or not very hungry, but Y/N still couldn’t help that wounded section of her heart from throbbing painfully. When her hands were dry and almost everyone had cleared the room, she pulled out her phone to text him. 

Y/N: Morning, Tae! Left some breakfast out for you if you’re hungry

Y/N: We’re all planning on going into Boston for dinner tonight, and to walk around the farmer’s market! 

Tae 🐻: Thx

Tae 🐻: Have to work on expo pics tonight…

Y/N: oh, okay! You don’t have to come if you have too much work

Tae 🐻: yeah, I’ll stay here if that’s alright

Y/N: totally fine, want me to bring you some food home?

Y/N was picking her nails nervously when Taehyung offered no response, starting to fret over him. It was typical, when nearing a photography expo, that Taehyung would hole up in his room or the dark room to work, but Y/N couldn’t help but think that he was perhaps still distancing himself from her, even after their last talk– her almost-confession. Limbs stiffening with dread, a dish slipped from her grasp when she considered how horrifyingly embarrassing it would have been for her had she managed to confess, the phone call from Diana following directly after. Thankfully, with Jimin beside her, he managed to catch the dish before it shattered on the floor, a canine noise of surprise ripping from his throat. 

“Are you alright?” Jimin placed a palm over her shoulder blade, a pout on his full lips. 

“O-oh. Yeah, I’m okay, sweetheart, just clumsy!” Y/N assured him, the warmth of Jimin’s palm immediately soothing her. Chuckling to herself, she pushed some golden hair off of Jimin’s forehead, poking his cheek when his pout didn’t let up. 

“Hey, can I help you put the herbs into the planters today? Before we leave? It’s nice and sunny out,” Y/N shook off her worry, thinking that some time spent outside would do her some good, Jimin’s pout transforming into a brilliant grin as he nodded.

“You still need to wear a sweater, pretty,” Seokjin called from the hallway, where he had dashed away moments ago to rummage around in the coat closet. 

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving the house without letting you bundle me up, Seokjin,” Y/N snickered, waiting patiently by the slider into the backyard while her jaguar hybrid approached her, one of his soft felt coats in his hand. 

Humming as he puffed out his chest dutifully, Y/N went lax as Seokjin maneuvered her limbs through his coat, a happy purr leaving her lips as his eucalyptus scent swallowed her whole. If Y/N had her way, she’d throw away every single one of her coats just so she could wear one of her boy’s every time she’d have to go outside, so she could drown in the scent and comfort of them. As Seokjin slid the last button in place, he ducked low, brushing his lips against her temple softly. Seokjin wasn’t as bold as Yoongi when it came to kissing her in front of the others– though hugs and words of affection he doled out generously regardless of the audience– so the gentle kiss had her skin tingling. 

“Have fun,” Seokjin’s cheeks rounded out cutely when he smiled at the dazed look on Y/N’s face, a hand on her lower back as he guided her towards the door. 

“Mm-hmm,” Y/N waved him away, embarrassed. She scurried off, following the swish of Jimin’s sandy tail off in the distance. 

The grass was starting to become green again, with the nearing arrival of spring, and small sparrows swooped overhead as they scouted for spots to build their nests. Tiny red bulbs were just beginning to swell on the branches of the willow trees, and while the temperature was still rather raw, Y/N couldn’t feel it with the way she was wrapped up in Seokjin-scented warmth. The anticipation of spring was making her giddy, and when she caught sight of Jimin patiently waiting for her by the newly refurbished greenhouse with a pot of mint sprigs, she skipped her way to meet him with a smile. 

Y/N placed the stir-fried noodles she brought back for Taehyung on the stove, next to the untouched wrapped stack of pancakes that were looking really sad. Apparently, the Kodiak hadn’t bothered to come downstairs the entire day, and even with the merry tipsiness flooding through her bloodstream from the Mai Tais she ordered at the bar with Hoseok, the sight of the food sitting there had her mood souring quickly. 

“He could have at least put these away,” Yoongi muttered from her side, scooping up the plate and promptly dumping the pancakes into the garbage. Seokjin made a low hiss in agreement, upset that his and Y/N’s hard work was ignored by Taehyung and was now sitting in the trash.

“I should check on him. I don’t want him to pull an all-nighter, and he should eat something, at least,” Y/N sighed, resting her chin on Yoongi’s shoulder, her eyelids fluttering at the sensation of his tail curling around the back of her knee. “Jeongguk, it’s your turn to pick a movie tonight, just make sure it isn't something too horrifying. I don’t think Hoseok can handle a film like Hereditary again, no matter how much rum he’s had.”

“Sucks the fun out of it,” Jeongguk complained, sending Hoseok an evil eye, the fox hybrid offering him the middle finger right back as he very tipsily filled a glass with water for himself. “Should I put on Aladdin, or is the Genie too intimidating?”

“Pfft. It’s not the Genie that’s scary, asshole, it’s that big talking lion cave,” Hoseok cleverly replied, his cheeks flushed and eyes slightly squinting. Jeongguk snorted, eyes rolling into the back of his skull. 

“Heart of a lion, you have, Foxy,” Yoongi teased, narrowly dodging his ear from being pinched by Hoseok, Yoongi ducking behind Y/N and hiding his face in the back of her neck. 

“Okay, enough,” Y/N giggled, Yoongi’s fingertips pressing into the soft of her tummy. “Go get comfy while I check in on Tae. Anyone see Joonie or Jimin, by the way?”

“Jimin’s half-asleep on the couch already. I think Namjoon went to shower the bar off of him,” Jeongguk helpfully informed her, scratching at the bony spots where his antlers once were. Y/N had said antlers sitting prettily on display on her altar in her bedroom on a strip of velvet– something Jeongguk didn’t know. 

“Alright, queue up the movie. No Aladdin or Sinister, please,” Y/N gently requested, able to wiggle her way out of Yoongi’s grasp. Scooping up the carton of noodles on the stove, she cupped Hoseok’s warm cheek tenderly as she passed by him, his worried grimace at the thought of a horror movie dissolving into nothing at the touch, his sunny grin replacing the storminess. “Be back soon!”

Sobered now that she had an important task to complete, Y/N soldiered up the stairs, stopping right in front of the dark room, the door open and lights off. Frowning, considering Taehyung told her that he was busy working that night, she spun around, glaring at his bedroom door across the hall. 

“Tae? Are you alright? Not working too hard, I hope?” Y/N knocked on his door, the only indication that he was inside being the lamplight that spilled out underneath the door. “I brought you some dinner. Shrimp stir-fry, your favorite!”

No response. 

“Um, Taehyung? You’re worrying me, is something wrong?” Y/N felt her heart begin to race, picturing Taehyung sick and unable to reply, much like how Seokjin was many months ago when he had to scent her. 

“N-no, nothing’s wrong, I’m fine!” Taehyung’s voice abruptly cut through her spiraling thoughts, right when Y/N was about to turn the doorknob and enter the room. “Thanks for the food, you can leave it there. I– I’m just getting out of the shower.”

Taehyung’s normally smooth voice was strained, making Y/N furrow her eyebrows. If she didn’t know any better, she almost detected a fib based on his tone. Considering the odd distance between the two of them, Y/N decided not to push it, and instead left the carton of noodles on the floor with a sigh. 

“Jeongguk is picking out a movie if you’re interested in taking a break from editing,” Y/N offered, hopeful that he’d make an appearance. She hadn’t seen him once the entire day, which was far too long for her to go without him. 

“Uh– I,” Taehyung cleared his throat, pausing. “Maybe. I still have a lot to do.”

So that was as good as a no, Y/N knew. Nodding at the closed door, she tried to imagine his face, as if it had been days rather than hours since she last saw the graceful lines of it. 

“Okay, well, let me know if you need anything. Otherwise, goodnight, Tae,” Y/N kept the disappointment out of her reply as much as she could, but she wasn’t as good at masking her emotions at Taehyung. The melancholia was plain as day and she knew it. 

Returning back to the stairs, Y/N found it impossible to perk up, even when she heard Hoseok’s pitiful, playful whines when the introductory music to Friday the 13th began to echo through the house thanks to the surround sound in the parlor. When she got to the parlor, all she could do was curl up on Seokjin’s lap on the leather recliner, wrapping a blanket around the two of them without a word. 

Y/N was eternally grateful that Seokjin didn’t ask her what was wrong. He knew already, she was well aware. He simply snaked his arms around her middle to hold her close, the purrs vibrating from his chest soothing her a few degrees. Relaxing, she rested her head on his bony collarbone, whispering quietly into his skin. 

“Love you, Seokjin.”

The jaguar hybrid tightened his hold on her, brushing his lips over the crown of her head. 

Sleep evaded her. It wasn’t just because of the slasher film before bed. She thought about going upstairs and slipping into Yoongi’s bed, but she didn’t want to disturb his sleep by tossing and turning. Grumbling at her darkened ceiling, she tossed the quilt off of her body, shoving her feet into some slides. Since the weather was mild, Y/N decided maybe a lap around the backyard would tucker her out. Blindly, she felt along the walls in the hallway, not wanting to turn on a light and wake anyone up. Kitchen completely dark, Y/N fumbled for the coat rack by the slider door, pulling a garment on at random. Gasping quietly, she noticed that the lock on the door was loose, which was seriously abnormal– Namjoon was militant about locking up. Figuring he might have just forgotten that evening, Y/N shrugged, easing the door open and trudging outside. 

It was colder than she thought, and the coat she selected– Jeongguk’s leather jacket, as it turned out– didn’t do much to block out the chilly wind. Burying her nose into the collar of the jacket, she breathed in the elk hybrid’s scent; mahogany wood, leather, and smoke. Slowly, as she began her walk around the property, Y/N’s vision began to adjust to the dim outdoor lights that lined the trails. Somehow, being outside, even more alone with her thoughts, Y/N felt her throat growing thick. Pausing, she plopped down on a boulder by the pond towards the rear of the property, rubbing her eyes. With a sniffle, she managed to choke back tears, at her wits end trying to figure out how to fix things with Taehyung. 

The moon, half-full, shined down on her indifferently. Wishing that the moon could give her answers, solutions, she cursed her weak heart and inability to tell Taehyung how she felt. It was sucking the life out of her, not being able to tell him, to not even be able to see him, and Y/N had no idea what to do. What she needed was someone to confide in, but she didn’t want to worry Seokjin or provoke Yoongi into saying something to Taehyung. She knew what Ben and Alice would say. Laura would probably agree with them, too. So really, Y/N had to work things out on her own, and that made her utterly miserable. 

Unable to stop frustrated tears from gathering in the corners of her eyes, she shoved her hands in the pockets of Jeongguk’s jacket, attempting to stop the tears gathering further by staring at the placid pond. Sniffling again, she froze when a twig snapped off to the side, Y/N searching for the source of the noise– it was probably a squirrel or a rabbit. Her ears strained as her heart leapt into her throat at the sound of heavy footsteps, far too heavy to be some kind of tiny critter. Uneasy, she squinted at the bushes beside her, a startled noise leaving her when something squinted right back at her. 

Instant horror flooded through her, the golden orange eyes narrowing further as she stared back. The eyes resembled the ones belonging to the creature she had nightmares about, the creature that would chase her through the woods. Body locked up and unable to move, her heart was hammering around in her chest, Y/N whimpered in fright. Could it be that the entity banished many months ago was back, and this time manifested as the creature Y/N was terrified of for years? Helplessly, she scraped her nails against the boulder she was glued to as the creature emerged from the bushes, and even in the darkness, Y/N could make out how big it was. As it got closer, Y/N breathing heavily, her heart suddenly stilled; the creature’s left ear was jagged and scarred over. 

“Jesus C-christ, Joonie? Is that you?” Y/N gasped, her fear slightly slipping away, realizing that it wasn’t a creature in front of her at all, it was a wolf. 

Limbs unfreezing, she leaned forward, getting a better look at him. Indeed, it was her Namjoon, Y/N recalled exactly how he looked back when she first saw him at the shelter. He gazed at her analytically, still several feet away, his head cocked at the sound of her voice. 

“What are you doing out here? It’s so late!” Y/N recovered, not wanting Namjoon to think she was afraid of him. With shaky knees, she stood, slowly approaching the hybrid. Namjoon glared at her, as if to say and you? “Um. I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk…”

Namjoon sat on his haunches, Y/N hardly able to believe how big his wolf form was– it was almost as intimidating as his tall, muscled human form. Hesitantly, she moved in front of him, the top of his head reaching just under her chin. Her earlier fright was a distant memory, and all she wanted in that moment was to pet him. Unfortunately, she didn’t know if Namjoon would be okay with that. 

Namjoon blew a puff of air out of his nose, Y/N wondering if he could read her thoughts, and to her surprise, he pressed his face against her chest, a quiet whine coming from the back of his throat. 

“Whoa, am I dreaming?” Y/N blurted, Namjoon nuzzling his face further into the jacket she was wearing. Automatically, Y/N’s hands dove into the shaggy fur around Namjoon’s neck, effectively holding him as he melted into her. “Didn’t know you were such a love bug. Looks are really deceiving, huh?”

Giddy, Y/N scratched behind Namjoon’s damaged left ear gently, earning another whine from the wolf hybrid, his tail beating the grass behind him. Y/N, stunned, wondered if Namjoon was actually trying to comfort her– after all, not only had he scared the shit out of her, he had caught her pathetically weeping by herself, on a rock, in the middle of the night. Namjoon was perceptive, so the idea was fairly feasible to her. 

All too soon, Namjoon was pulling away, looking over his shoulder expectantly when he began to walk back towards the house. Apparently wanting her to follow, Y/N obeyed, her eyebrows shooting into her hairline when the wolf hybrid led her to the drive in front of the garage, where his van was parked. The vehicle was running and lit up, apparently Namjoon had been hanging out in there after she bid him goodnight. Y/N’s face grew hot when she spotted the pile of clothes Namjoon left outside, the wolf hybrid growling, Y/N getting the hint. She turned, facing the house, cheeks still aflame as she heard the sound of fabric rustling against skin. 

“Y/N, you can turn around,” Namjoon spoke after several seconds, Y/N not proud that she almost broke her neck while spinning around to look at him. He appeared just as startled by her sudden movement, still yanking his sweater down over his lower stomach, the strip of golden skin hidden from her greedy view in a flash. “Uh, want to tell me why you were crying?”

“Oh. I forgot how forward you can be,” Y/N quickly swiped under her eyes, the skin still a tad tacky from the few tears that escaped. 

“Did I scare you that badly?” Namjoon’s mouth flattened into a line, a rare look of vulnerability flashing over his face. 

“N-no! No, it wasn’t you that made me cry, Joonie,” Y/N exclaimed, hurrying over to his side. “So why were you out here?”

Y/N dodged his original question, something that did not escape Namjoon’s attention. Expecting him to press her, Namjoon soaked in her appearance thoroughly, like he was trying to figure out how she was feeling without her speaking a single word. She fidgeted under the weight of his gaze, especially when something in his eyes shifted when he realized who’s jacket she was wearing. 

“Come on, let’s go in. It’s cold,” Namjoon opened up the van door, gesturing for her to hop inside. Secretly, she was thankful that he wasn’t making her go back into the house quite yet. 

Hovering by the kitchenette, she wasn’t really sure where to go with the conversation since they were both avoiding each other’s questions. Namjoon’s Walkman was playing quiet folk music on the counter, and there was a package of Oreos open beside it. He had put on the fairy lights Y/N taped around the ceiling months ago, something that had her heart squeezing in her chest. 

“I… take a walk around the house every night,” Namjoon admitted after pulling the van door shut, his bitten ear fluttering. 

“Huh? Like… that? In your wolf form?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” Y/N asked, Namjoon shrugging nonchalantly, leaning against the van door. 

“I want to make sure we’re safe,” he finally answered, vulnerability all over him again. 

“Oh?” Y/N blinked, not exactly expecting such raw honesty from Namjoon. He had really come a long way when it came to trust, so for him to answer so earnestly, Y/N was taken aback. 

“When you live most of your life without security, once you get it, you’ll do anything to keep it,” Namjoon clarified, and contrary to the heaviness of his words, a faint dimple appeared in his cheek. “It’s instinct. Protect myself, protect you.”

“Just me? Not the others?” Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, knowing that she was toeing the line of provoking Namjoon into laughter or provoking him into agitation. 

“Well. Mostly just us two…” Namjoon muttered, toying with the silver ring in his earlobe. Loving this version of Namjoon, Y/N could hardly remember that she was miserable only fifteen minutes ago. 

“What about Jeongguk, you aren’t worried about him? He’s our teammate, right?” She continued to jest, Namjoon shaking his head.

“Y/N, I know you’re just trying to tease me to get out of telling me why you were crying. I hope you know by now I’m not going to force it out of you,” Namjoon’s ears went sideways, pointing to the loft above the cab. “Can I show you something?”

“What?” 

“Climb up, I wanna show you something, Y/N,” Namjoon moved towards her, Y/N all but herded to the ladder with his mass behind her. There was no reason for her to refuse, so she hauled herself up to the cushy space, astonished that Namjoon was close behind her. 

“Ah, thankfully I’m not claustrophobic,” Y/N cringed at her inability to stop jokes from spilling out, cramming herself against the wall in the bunk. Apparently, Namjoon had cleared all of the books he had stuffed up there, transferring them to the bookshelves in his room where his and Y/N’s shared library was, and it was a comfortable place to sleep again. “It’s cozy up here! You used to sleep in this bunk?”

“Mm-hmm, but it’s been a while,” Namjoon carefully swung his large frame onto the bunk beside her, the space wide enough for the two of them to lay there without touching. “Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Shit’s been crazy, hasn’t it?” Y/N said, snorting. Namjoon was right, it did seem like a lifetime since she adopted the seven hybrids, and between getting to know them, dealing with ghosts, and falling in love, any normal person’s head would be spinning constantly. “I think we’re taking it in stride, though.”

“You have a pretty good ability to bounce back,” Namjoon hummed, reaching up to the ceiling, Y/N following the movement and glowing under his praise. 

“Oh! There’s a sky light up here!” Y/N’s eyes widened, Namjoon grunting, pushing the moss-covered window upwards and revealing the night sky. “Is this what you wanted to show me?”

“Uh-huh. I don’t think you or Jeongguk knew it was up here, since the glass is covered. Thought you’d like it, I remember you telling me you wanted to learn more about constellations.”

Y/N’s focus on the sky was effectively stolen, gawking at Namjoon’s side profile as she laid beside him. Suddenly she was falling in love with the wolf hybrid all over again, with his perception, the way he listened, the slope of his nose, even. 

“That’s right,” Y/N whispered, the fairy lights making his starlight hair appear lilac. 

“There’s only a few in the sky this time of year, in this hemisphere. Since we’re outside of Boston, it’s a little easier to see the stars, which is good,” Namjoon didn’t seem to notice that she was staring at him, extending a digit up to the sky. “If you look closely, you can see the constellation Lynx over there. Cancer is right underneath.”

“You really know everything, don’t you, Joon Bug?” Y/N commented softly, Namjoon finally turning his head to look at her. He cocked an eyebrow, watching her shiver at the gust of wind brought in by the open window. 

“Of course not. Nobody knows everything,” Namjoon pointed out, making Y/N giggle at the reproach in his tone. “Not much else to do in the wild but look at the stars.”

“Do you know the stories of the constellations, too?” Y/N asked eagerly, scooching closer to him subconsciously for warmth. 

“Some of them,” Namjoon replied, reaching towards the foot of the bunk, dragging an old knitted blanket up and offering it to Y/N. “Want me to tell you what I know?”

“Please, can you?” Y/N accepted the blanket, the smell of it reminding her of the woods. There was a beat, one filled with tinny folk music and rumbling coming from Namjoon’s chest. 

“Lynx, right there. See it?” Namjoon waited for Y/N to nod, adjusting his body so he could face her on his side, Y/N finding it hard to believe he was willing to be so close to her. “The reason it was named that is because the stars are so faint, people believed only those with eyes of a lynx could see it. Cancer, below it, has to do with a story involving the Greek gods.”

“I used to love Greek mythology,” Y/N grinned, Namjoon’s expression turning sly. 

“Oh, I believe that,” he chuckled, Y/N wondering if he knew how flirty he sounded. “Hercules was trying to slay a creature called a hydra. Goddess Hera sent Cancer– the crab, to distract Hercules from accomplishing that.”

Y/N watched Namjoon trace the constellations in the sky with his finger, swallowing thickly. Namjoon had done so much to open up to her, and she hardly ever confided in him herself. Clearing her throat, she got his attention, his mouth twisting up quizzically. 

“I was crying because I was frustrated,” Y/N confessed, Namjoon blinking in surprise. 

“Okay…” Namjoon drew out the syllables to the word pointedly, shifting closer to her. 

“Joonie, you’re observant. Have you noticed Taehyung acting strange?” Namjoon stiffened at the mention of the Kodiak hybrid, so Y/N gave his arm a gentle pat. “I know you don’t. Uh, like him. But I just wanted to ask if you’ve seen how weird he’s been.”

Namjoon paused, throat bobbing, turning the words over in his head.

“He has been acting odd, I agree,” Namjoon answered honestly, with a soft exhalation. “His behavior is frustrating you?”

“Well, yes and no. I’ve tried talking to him a couple of times, but we never get anywhere. I don’t know how to fix things,” Y/N frowned, eyes on the sky again. Thankfully, though, with Namjoon at her side, she didn’t feel like crying again. “I just… if I did something to hurt him, I want him to tell me. I don’t want him to feel like a prisoner in his own home.”

“I doubt he feels that way,” Namjoon said, the note of firmness in his tone. “As much as I hate to admit this, Y/N, Taehyung is similar to me in a lot of ways. He takes a while to adjust to things. Maybe he’s simply getting used to newfound freedoms he has never had before. Or he’s got that moodiness lots of artists get. You haven’t done anything to hurt him, Y/N. You shouldn’t think so badly of yourself.”

“Yeah?” Y/N’s voice was small, Namjoon’s insight bringing her swift comfort. “You think he’ll come around?”

“In time, yes,” Namjoon assured her, realizing how tired Y/N looked– it made something in his chest pinch uncomfortably. “Y/N, you’ve made us feel safe here. We’re not prisoners, we’re home.”

“Oh,” Y/N breathed, and just like that, she was almost moved to tears again. Struck by the heaviness of the conversation, she yearned for something to distract her. “Can you… tell me more about the stars?”

Namjoon gave her a closed-mouth smile, turning his attention back to the sky. 

“That one there. Constellation Draco. It represents the dragon who protected golden apples in the garden of Hesperides, Ladon. See it? The golden apples would grant immortality to those who would eat them…”

Y/N listened to Namjoon as best as she could. After confiding in him, she felt like a weight was lifted off of her chest, and his silky, deep voice instilled a sense of calm in her. Namjoon dove into stories of Greek myths, probably trying to make her feel better, and Y/N would ask an occasional question. Some stories he had more details on, others, he’d simply name the constellation and point out where it was. At some point, while he was relaying the tale of Virgo, Namjoon noticed Y/N’s lack of response. Curiously, he glanced at her, eyes widening when he realized she had fallen asleep beside him. 

Not knowing what to do, considering carrying her to her bedroom would be impossible to do without waking her (not to mention, he worried about dropping her when climbing down the loft’s ladder), Namjoon could only stare at her serene expression. Gritting his teeth, he closed the window above them as quietly as he could, trying to inch his way towards the ladder. He’d let her sleep up there, and he’d curl up in the booth for the night– he didn’t feel right staying next to her, for some reason. 

He froze like a statue when he heard an unintelligible mumble, turning to Y/N, a pout pulling at her lower lip as she slept, squirming in her spot. Namjoon could only compare the sensation in his chest to something that was melting, his ears pressing against his skull in alarm. And before he could escape and unpack all of that, the muscles of his abdomen contracted when Y/N moved again, slinging her forearm around his middle, this time in an embrace. Utterly paralyzed, Namjoon didn’t dare breathe, Y/N mumbling again and cozying up to his side, resting her cheek against his bicep. 

Namjoon tried, as best as he could, to relax. Clearly, he wasn’t going anywhere without waking her up. He was surrounded by the floral, vibrant scent of her, and shamefully, it made his mouth water. He inwardly cursed himself– he hadn’t scented Y/N in months, and judging by the volume of saliva gathering in his mouth, he would probably have to do it again in the near future. Even with Jeongguk’s musky scent coming off of the jacket she was wearing, he was nearly choking on the unique smell of her. 

Now, Namjoon was the one who couldn’t sleep. Not when Y/N was burrowing against his side like a newborn cub. Every instinct within him was screaming, and it was all he could do to just remain still and focus on his breath. After a few moments, the weight of her arm curled around his center, Namjoon was able to loosen up a bit. Before she’d wake in the morning, he’d be able to move and not make her uncomfortable. In that moment, however, all he could do was let her hold him, and surprisingly, he was able to fall asleep, contrary to his initial hypothesis. He did, after all, remind Y/N that he didn’t know everything. 

Y/N was disoriented when she woke up hours later, curled onto her side and blinking at the indented spot where Namjoon was previously occupied, a frown on her face wondering if he had left her alone. Peeking over the edge of the loft, she gasped quietly, the wolf hybrid barely fitting in the booth in the back of the vehicle, asleep. Even though he was unconscious, his triangular ears twitched at the sound of her movement. Climbing down quietly, Y/N felt guilty that Namjoon had slept in such a cramped spot, his body twisted in an odd position. After glancing at her watch, Y/N hissed at the late hour of the mid-morning. She hadn’t slept that late in months, let alone so well, so she definitely owed Namjoon some gratitude for that. 

“Joon? Joonie, that can’t be comfortable. I’m awake now, so if you want to keep sleeping you can move up to the bunk,” Y/N slid her palm up and down his back to wake him up as gently as she could. He mumbled, one of his golden eyes cracking open, and immediately the tips of his ears turned scarlet. “I feel bad you had to sleep like this. You could have just stayed next to me!”

The flush on Namjoon’s face deepened, clumsily sitting up, Y/N’s hand falling from his back. Wanting to tease him, she quickly stopped herself, remembering how sweetly he treated her the previous night. 

“Thanks for last night, Joonie,” Y/N watched him stand, and before she could think against it, she looped her arms around his middle, squeezing him into a fond hug. “Next month, can you tell me about the constellations you can see in April?”

“S-sure,” Namjoon answered, bewildered, placing his hands over her shoulder blades tentatively, Y/N able to feel his pounding heartbeat through his sweater. That, and she could hear his stomach growling, Y/N giggling and letting him go. 

“Should we get some breakfast?”

“Uh-huh,” Namjoon averted his eyes from her, ears drooping in embarrassment. Stumbling his way to the driver’s seat, he turned off the engine, following Y/N back to the house. 

“What, did you two fall asleep reading each other’s Tarot cards?” Jeongguk was in the breakfast nook with his feet kicked up, chewing on an apple, his eyebrows pulling together when he spotted Y/N. “Is that my jacket?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry, I grabbed it by accident last night,” Y/N shucked off the garment, hanging it back up on the coat rack. 

“Whatever,” Jeongguk shrugged, still looking at her kind of funny. Using his half-eaten apple, he gestured to the kitchen island. “Toast and eggs over there. Your phone, too, Y/N. It was going off every five minutes this morning in your room so Yoongi brought it out here and turned it off, some spam risk calls, I think. Woke me the fuck up.”

“That’s weird. It’s probably just an over zealous telemarketer,” Y/N reached for the device, turning it back on without too much thought. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.”

“Whatever,” Jeongguk repeated, this time looking out the window, feigning annoyance and continuing to munch on his apple. 

Taehyung removed the clothespin from between his teeth, shaking excess fluid from the photo paper poised between the tongs he was holding, clipping the image up on the wire above him to dry. The picture was one he took of the swan boats in the Boston Common weeks ago with one of the vintage cameras Y/N dug out of the basement for him. 

Y/N. Even just thinking her name had him biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. Shaking his head, Taehyung pushed a hand through his unruly curls, trying to put her out of his mind by focusing on straightening out spare rolls of film on the shelf. He had left the house that morning before the sun was even up, just so he could spend more time at the rec center and clear his head. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tried to put Yoongi’s words out of his mind. 

At first, Taehyung wanted to knock the leopard hybrid down a few pegs. Every word out of Yoongi’s mouth infuriated him; Taehyung wasn’t used to others trying to psychoanalyze him. Usually, if Taehyung stuck to the wall, he wouldn’t have people trying to pry into what he preferred to keep to himself. Particularly, his emotions. However, what Yoongi said to him sunk in like a heavy stone thrown into a pond. He could no longer deny it: he had feelings for Y/N. 

The heavy door to the photography door was pulled open, making him flinch, swear, and topple over the canisters of film he had just organized. Taehyung must have lost track of time, because it was mid-morning, and several other club members would be arriving shortly. Catching the scent of who it was, Taehyung internally groaned. He wasn’t ready to deal with that issue yet.

“Taehyungie, you’re here early!” A raspy female voice, delighted, trilled in his ears. “Thought you would be. Miss me already?’

Taehyung adjusted the collar of his flannel, gazing at the sky for bravery before he turned around. The bobcat hybrid was pretty, for sure, with feline upturned greenish eyes, and gray-blonde hair. At the sight of her, Taehyung had guilt boiling in his stomach he had to squash down, painting a neutral expression on his face. 

“You’re here early, too, Diana,” Taehyung answered nonchalantly, watching a pout tug at her lips. 

“Jeez. Full name today?” Diana set her camera bag down on one of the benches, sniffing the air delicately. “Is something up?”

“No. Nothing,” Taehyung shook his head, fixing the film rolls again. 

“Liar,” Diana narrowed her eyes, methodically placing the items of her camera bag on the table. “Tell me.”

There was a stark difference between Diana and Y/N. Well, there were several, which caught Taehyung’s attention in the first place. The major one, however, was how Diana liked to press Taehyung for information, and Y/N let him come around and tell her his thoughts when he was ready. Yoongi was in his head again, taunting him. Calling him out for using Diana as a distraction. 

“I’m fine, Diana,” Taehyung sighed, hoping someone else would arrive momentarily so he would have a better excuse to talk about something else. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I bet it’s something at home. The other hybrids you live with must be causing you trouble. That has to be rough, living with so many others. Poor Taehyungie,” Diana cooed, making Taehyung’s hair stand on end. “Sort of selfish for a human to adopt that many hybrids. She should know how stressful that is for us.”

“She’s the least selfish human I’ve ever met,” Taehyung reacted as if someone struck him with a fire poker. A light, surprised hiss came from behind him, Taehyung cringing that he wasn’t able to keep the anger out of his response. To boot, he bumped into a basin filled with developing fluid, the liquid spilling everywhere. “Uh. Shit. I’m going to get more paper towels from the supply closet.”

“Wow. I get it now,” Diana breathed, Taehyung hardly able to look at the insecurity shadowing her features. 

“There’s nothing to get. I said nothing was wrong,” even Taehyung didn’t believe himself. Before he could brush by the bobcat hybrid, she caught his sleeve. Throat bobbing, he waited for her to speak. 

“This isn’t going to last, isn’t it?” Diana asked quietly, making Taehyung’s heart pound. “You love her too much.”

Taehyung didn’t answer. She was the second individual in less than 24 hours that brought that to his attention. When he had no reply, Diana sighed. 

“I hope you can figure it out, Taehyung. It’s not just you that you’re hurting,” Diana let him go, Taehyung fleeing from the room as swiftly as he could. 

He hated himself. Always running, running, running. From himself, from his problems, from those who grew to care about him. It made him sick, and instead of finding himself in the supply closet, he found himself in the bathroom, hurling up the hasty breakfast he had into a toilet bowl. Heaving, he thought about everyone he hurt. The man he killed– even if it was in self-defense. Diana. Y/N. Another dry heave had his body locking up, never feeling more miserable in his entire life. It was like every emotion he desperately locked away had unleashed themselves with a vengeance.

“Fuck,” Taehyung rinsed his mouth out at the sink, wiping away tears that tracked down his cheeks with the back of his sleeve. He had to get out of there.

Out in the parking lot before he could bump into any other members of the club, Taehyung pulled the keys to the station wagon out of his pocket, and like the tires were on fire he was leaving the rec center, Yoongi and Hoseok be damned. A problem for later, and to his misery, a problem that would probably have to be solved by Y/N. Slamming his palms against the steering wheel in frustration, he wondered if he’d ever stop making her life more difficult than it had to be. 

After half an hour of him driving catatonically, Taehyung was parked by the Boston Common. He decided to do the only thing that could potentially calm him down; walk around the park and take pictures until his fingers and mind was numb. Shoving a beanie over his head, simply so he wouldn’t have to deal with people staring at his ears, he grabbed his camera and hauled himself outside. 

The anonymity brought him a semblance of comfort. With the beanie on, he looked like any other human, so he passed by groups of children without them pointing at his ears peacefully. Taehyung spent the better part of two hours taking pictures of early blooming flowers, the task controlling his newfound raging emotions. Zooming in on a pink tulip, Taehyung’s ears picked up a sweet giggle even with his hearing muffled by the beanie. He went pale, the giggle sound very close to Y/N’s, Taehyung fell backwards on his ass from his crouch, searching for her face amongst the throngs of people. How would she even know he was there?

Suddenly, the laughter was closer, Taehyung whipping his head around to spot a young woman who wasn’t Y/N at all. She wasn’t by herself, she was pointing at flowers, her arm linked with a tall man beside her. The wind carried their scents, the woman just a human, but the man was a hybrid, some kind of feline. Frozen, Taehyung gawked at them, the pair totally wrapped up in their own little world. His fingertips twitched, a certain part of him wanting to snap a photograph of the two, but he couldn’t move. It was the look in their eyes. 

Taehyung had seen the expression on the male hybrid’s face before. He’d seen it on Yoongi when Y/N would determinedly practice his compositions beside him on the piano. Seokjin often wore the same look whenever Y/N would enter a room. Once or twice, he swore he saw it on Jimin whenever the two of them would work on the garden beds. 

And the one the woman was wearing? As she glanced at her hybrid companion picking a flower from the dirt for her? It was pure adoration, easy and sweet. One that Y/N offered him, all of them, endlessly. Taehyung then knew.

“Who’s that?” Jimin asked when Y/N’s phone went off for the third time, the two of them covered in soil as they transferred flowers into one of the garden beds. 

“Spam risk. I keep trying to block the number but then another one will replace it. I think some newspaper peddlers got a hold of my cell,” Y/N grimaced, switching her phone off. “So annoying…”

Jimin grunted, packing soil loosely around one of the plants. Spring was fast approaching, so whenever she had a moment to spare, she was out with the coyote hybrid setting up the garden. Judy hadn’t forwarded any new consultation cases for her, Namjoon, and Jeongguk, so the three of them would sit in the shop during her shifts and basically stock inventory. On the bright side, with the two of them there, she’d get to tell them what certain herbs were for witchcraft, sometimes Jeongguk would explain who was on the saint medallions, and what they represented. 

“Maybe you should change your number,” Jimin pointed out, concerned. Nudging her elbow into his ribs, Y/N shook her head. 

“Nah, that would be a total pain in the ass. They’ll give up eventually,” Y/N brushed it off, turning her head to survey the completed garden bed beside her, filled with culinary and witchy herbs. “I’m so excited to start using these herbs. But even more excited to see what we can grow and cook!”

“Me too. Maybe you can teach me how to make something besides pancakes. I was never much of a cook,” Jimin admitted, admiring the glow on her face. 

“You could always go to a cooking class with Seokjin and I. He’d love that, it gives him a chance to show off,” Y/N replied, running her fingers over the rosemary plant in the herb box. “Oh, yeah. Speaking of classes, I know you were interested in maybe taking one once the universities started offering them.”

“I… yeah. If it’s okay, I mean,” Jimin paused, setting down the rake he was holding, Y/N groaning. “Huh?”

“Jimin, of course it’s okay. You guys need to get it through your pretty, thick, skulls that it’s alright to ask for things,” Y/N grasped onto Jimin’s arm, playfully shaking him. The alarm in his eyes changed to surprise, his cheeks hot. “What kind of classes interest you?”

Jimin, contrary to his usual impeccable self-control, had a whine leaving his throat, brushing dirt off of his jeans bashfully. Y/N shook him again with a coo, trying to coax it out of him.

“W-writing. I like reading, but I want to learn how to write down things I’ve seen,” Jimin mumbled, now picking dirt out from beneath his fingernails. “We had basic education on the ranch, but we never really learned how to write creatively. It wasn’t necessary.”

“Creative writing! Sounds like fun, have you looked into any local universities, if they’ll offer that?”

“Yeah, Boston College is going to,” Jimin was completely pink, Y/N finding his shyness adorable. “In the fall.”

“So, are we signing you up?” Y/N cocked her head, Jimin growing redder by the second. “C’mon, Jimin. You should! It’ll be fun for you to meet some new people, write together.”

“If it’s okay–” Y/N shot Jimin a glare, making him cut himself off, chuckling nervously. “I’d like to try it out.”

“Great! As soon as there’s information about applications, let me know, I’ll help fill them out if you need me to,” Y/N cheered, pumped for the coyote hybrid. “Oh! If the classes are in the fall, it’ll be after our trip to Montana to visit your family. We can tell them about it too!”

Jimin stuttered, apparently haven forgotten about Y/N’s promise to take him out west. Blonde hair falling into his eyes, Jimin flashed her a shaky smile, nodding. She opened her mouth to continue, when her phone went off again. Agitated, this time she actually picked up, murmuring an apology to Jimin. 

“Hello? Please stop calling. I’m not interested in anything you’re selling,” Y/N spoke firmly, Jimin watching her with rapt interest. 

“Actually, I’m interested in something you could sell me,” A slimy, smug male voice answered. Wrinkling her nose, she exchanged a puzzled look with Jimin. 

“I think you have the wrong number. I’m not selling anything. Please stop calling,” Y/N was about to hang up, when the man scoffed. 

“You’re Y/N L/N, right?” The man’s tone turned condescending, Jimin’s ears perking up protectively as he listened in on the conversation. “You’ll want to sell when you find out what I’m offering.”

“Fuck off,” Y/N barked, an icky sensation filling her. She hung up, blocked the number, and turned off her phone with jerky movements. “Ew. Telemarketers are getting creepier and creepier.”

“That was… worrisome,” Jimin’s eyes softened when Y/N appeared slightly disturbed, offering him a half-smile. 

“No, it’s fine. Just trying to intimidate me into giving my credit card number, probably,” Y/N shook off her nerves, blindly searching behind her for another pot of flowers to plant. 

“We’ve planted them all, Y/N. Yoongi will probably want your help with dinner, you want to head in and wash up before then?” Jimin changed the subject. Instinct told him to look further into what he perceived to be a threat, but if Y/N wasn’t too concerned, he decided to let it go. For now. 

“Good idea. It’ll be a while before we plant the vegetables, anyways,” Y/N agreed absently, letting Jimin help her up with an arm around her waist. “We’ll start planning our trip to Montana in a couple of weeks! Right after we come back from New York to visit Hannah.”

“Sounds good,” Jimin agreed, reluctant to let her go once she was back on her feet. “I’ll help any way that I can.”

“You know how to book airline tickets?” Y/N teased, both of them making their way back to the house. However, when they entered the kitchen, the lack of Yoongi occupying the room had them both stopping in their tracks. “Weird. He should be home by now. Maybe Hoseok convinced him and Taehyung to stop for pizza?”

“Seems like the most likely possibility,” Jimin nodded, switching on the lights. “Maybe ask Seokjin?”

“Yeah, I think I will. See you in a bit, okay, sweetheart?” 

Y/N left Jimin in the foyer, the coyote hybrid off to take his shower, Y/N deciding to do the same before she sought out Seokjin for any information. 

Meanwhile, Yoongi was incessantly trying to call Y/N, getting sent directly to voicemail each time. Cursing, he wondered if it was karma for jumping down Taehyung’s throat that he was now stuck at the rec center with Hoseok, without a way to get home. 

“Why the fuck would he leave us here? I get why the wolf hates him hour by hour,” Hoseok complained, leaning against a cement pillar in the lobby of the rec center. His gym bag was by his feet, exhausted from a day of both coaching and practicing with his own team. The fox hybrid was ready to throttle Taehyung. “I’m gonna hide all of his cameras if we ever get back. Y/N still not picking up?”

“No. I think she turned off her phone, the spam callers were probably bothering her,” Yoongi mumbled, tucking his freshly-showered hair behind his ear. “This is fucked. Should we call a cab?”

“I don’t think we can,” Hoseok whistled his three-tone tune, mouth set in a sardonic smirk. “Call someone else. Call Jinnie, maybe he’ll pick up.”

Yoongi, hissing, did just that, ready to blow his brains out when the jaguar hybrid didn’t answer the call either. It was just his luck, getting stuck with Hoseok at the rec center with no one coming to get them, when all he wanted to do was have a beer and rot on the couch the rest of the evening. Hoseok was annoying the shit out of him, pacing around the lobby, ordering him around. In a last-ditch effort, he called the next number on his phone.

“Why the fuck are you calling me?” Jeongguk picked up on the third ring, his voice a sarcastic drawl. 

“Taehyung ditched Foxy and I at the rec center. Y/N’s phone is off. We’re stuck here,” Yoongi snarled, fed up with the three hybrids pushing his buttons at the moment. 

“And what would you like me to do about that? You know I don’t drive,” Jeongguk sounded like he was rolling his eyes, Yoongi pressing his forehead to the cinderblock wall and praying for patience. 

“Well, first, you can remove the stick from your ass. Then, you can put me on the phone with someone who can come and fucking pick us up before the janitors lock us in here.”

“Nice,” Hoseok commented from across the room, giving Yoongi a thumbs-up of approval, his russet tail swishing merrily. 

There was a sound of rustling, before Namjoon’s confused voice filled Yoongi’s ears.

“I can come get you,” Namjoon said through the receiver, Yoongi muttering hallelujah. “What about Taehyung? What do I say to Y/N?” 

“Let me handle that when I get back. If you say something now, she’ll freak,” Yoongi ordered, Namjoon making a noise of agreement. “He’s probably just fucking around with his cameras in the park and forgot about us.”

“Asshole. Alright, I’ll be there in twenty,” Namjoon hung up, Yoongi putting his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong? He’ll be here soon,” Hoseok approached the leopard hybrid, hands on his hips.

“Y/N is going to be pissed,” Yoongi leaned his head back against the wall, rubbing his temples.

“Well, yeah. Not at us, though, don’t sweat the shit,” Hoseok bumped his hip against Yoongi’s. “It’s Taehyung that’s going to be in the doghouse.”

“Yeah I know. I think it’s my fault he’s lost his fucking mind, though.”

“What are you talking about? Did you say something to him?” Hoseok exclaimed, surprised.

“I told him something he didn’t wanna hear, but had to know.”

“Oh, you’re so fucked, dude,” Hoseok tsked, walking to the doors and peering outside. “Guess we’ll see.”

“What in the fuck are you talking about?” Y/N got out of the shower and walked into a whole new pile of shit. “He left you there? Where is he now, is he back yet?”

Y/N was livid. Every hybrid in the room, Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, all had their ears pressed to their skulls, like they were going to be punished. The only one she cared to scold was Taehyung, more worried about him than she ever had been. 

“No,” Namjoon broke the silence bravely, Y/N ready to tear her hair out. 

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect. Let me call him,” Y/N turned her phone back on, glancing at everyone in the room, tails between their legs. “I’m not mad at you guys, it’s not your fault. He’s been a pain in my ass for like three weeks now. He’s lashing out, for whatever reason… I gotta get Laura over here, do some conflict resolution…”

Hoseok gave Yoongi an encouraging eyebrow raise, the fox hybrid slyly spiriting himself down in the basement to change. Meanwhile, Namjoon went back outside to check the driveway for any sign of the station wagon Taehyung hijacked. Only Yoongi remained, Y/N wondering why he looked so suspicious, shifting from one foot to another. Tabling that for a moment, she dialed Taehyung’s number, ready to chew him out. To Yoongi’s astonishment, the Kodiak hybrid answered right away. 

“I’m on my way back to the rec center now, I just lost track of time in the park, now there’s rush hour traffic–”

“Don’t bother,” Y/N cut him off, seething. Yoongi had never seen Y/N so pissed off at someone (other than himself, when he was being elusive about their first meeting). “Namjoon picked them up a half hour ago. They were waiting for two hours for you, Taehyung. How could you take off like that?”

“I–I…”

“We’ll talk when you’re home. I told you that it was fine for you to go wherever you please, Taehyung, but to take off without a word? Leaving the other two behind?”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung’s voice was thick, the sounds of Boston traffic coming through the receiver. The pain in his voice had her heart breaking.

“Just get back here, okay? Drive carefully, Taehyung.”

Y/N hung up, arms limp by her side, Yoongi eyeing her carefully. 

“Can I have a hug?” Y/N asked hollowly, Yoongi springing into action promptly by gathering her in his arms, ashamed that he likely set that whole thing in motion. Y/N was too exhausted to even cry, simply hiding her face into Yoongi’s hoodie, bathing in his comfort. 

“Y/N… I think this might be my fault,” Yoongi cradled the back of her head, Y/N snorting humorlessly. 

“How? You were the one that was ditched,” Y/N pulled away, tucking hair behind Yoongi’s ear. 

“Yesterday morning. I confronted Taehyung about his behavior. Maybe this is karma kicking my ass,” Yoongi confessed, Y/N’s eyebrows pulling together.  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Well, that depends on what you said,” Y/N replied slowly, fear creeping into her gut. Surely, Yoongi wouldn’t tell Taehyung how she felt about him?

“I didn’t tell him how you feel. That’s up to you,” Yoongi said quickly, Y/N breathing out in relief. “I just– I was pretty harsh. Told him to stop acting shifty. I was just trying to protect you.”

“I appreciate that,” Y/N squeezed his shoulder, his ears perking back up at the touch. “I should fight my own fights though, angel. Talking to Tae about matters of the heart… is tricky. Delicate.” 

“You’re not upset with me?” Yoongi purred, secretly pleased. 

“Not that much. You’ll have to make it up to me in the future, though,” Y/N flicked his hoop earring, not having the energy to get upset with Taehyung and Yoongi. Yoongi, relieved, ducked and stamped a kiss on her forehead. 

“With pleasure,” Yoongi placed another kiss on the tip of her nose, grasping for her hand. “Come. Let’s start on dinner, take your mind off things until he gets back.”

Minutes crawled as she and Yoongi began chopping vegetables for a quick curry recipe, Seokjin joining them after a while, the jaguar hybrid helpfully making the rice to go with the main dish. She dropped the knife she was holding when the front door creaked open solemnly, the two feline hybrids in the room with her exchanging uneasy side-eyes. After she hung up from Taehyung, Y/N cooled down somewhat, and was mostly just relieved he had made it home. Yoongi and Seokjin remained behind in the kitchen, and Y/N went into the foyer to meet Taehyung. She hadn’t seen him, physically, in over 24 hours. He looked like a mess. 

Normally golden skin ashen and a touch green, eyes tired and lacking their usual sparkle, Taehyung stood in front of her with his shoulders slumped. 

“You’re back,” was all Y/N said, a lump in her throat. “What happened?”

“I just– I went into the city to take photos. Forgot that they’d be without a car,” Taehyung pulled at the hem of his sweater, avoiding her eyes. “I’m so sorry, I won’t do that again. I didn’t mean to.”

“Um, okay. I accept the apology, but it’s Yoongi and Hoseok you should probably apologize to. Namjoon as well, he picked up the slack,” Y/N’s chest throbbed painfully. She didn’t know how much more she could take of seeing Taehyung in such distress. “Tae, have you been sleeping? You look like you don’t feel well.”

Y/N took a step forward, panic flashing over Taehyung’s face. Did he think she was going to hurt him? He glanced at the stairs, towards his bedroom, and shook curls out of his eyes. 

“I think I caught a bug from the rec center. I don’t want to get you or the others sick. I’ll… apologize in the morning,” Taehyung breathed, his voice cracking on the last word he uttered. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I am.”

With that, Taehyung left. Y/N had not a drop of energy to chase after him. She was tired of waiting for him to be honest with her. Y/N decided then and there that she would listen to Namjoon, who swore to her that Taehyung would eventually come around. Putting her faith in her wolf hybrid, she swallowed down her agony and returned to the kitchen to finish making dinner. 

“How you doin’?” Hoseok stared down at Y/N, who was standing below him while he sat on the metal bleachers. Y/N snorted at his silly accent, his attempt to make her laugh. 

“Oh, you know. Another day in the life,” Y/N sang, pulling her jacket around her tightly. “First outdoor meet of the season. You excited?”

“A bit,” Hoseok swung his feet in front of her face, his expression turning contemplative. “Too bad all the other lumps I live with didn’t want to watch it.”

“What, am I not enough?” Y/N teased, catching the loose shoelaces dangling before her. With a hum, she grasped his ankle, gingerly tying the laces so he wouldn’t trip on the track. 

“You’ll suffice,” Hoseok relented dramatically, wiggling his foot in her hold playfully. “Hope you’re not as upset as you were the other night. We’re worried about you.”

“Ah, Ho-seok,” Y/N complained, considering she had put the drama at home aside to watch his meet peacefully. “Don’t worry. I’m a big girl, if I can’t handle road bumps from time to time, I might as well be a princess.”

“You know… there’s a French saying. ‘Après la pluie, le beau temps’. That basically means after wading through the shit, something good will happen,” Hoseok sobered, reaching up to the bar above him and swinging his body through the slats of the bleachers so he could stand in front of her. 

“Is that a literal translation?” Y/N drawled sarcastically, Hoseok smirking at her and pinching her nose.

“No. The literal translation is ‘after the rain, good weather.’ The sentiment is the same, though. Things will blow over.”

“Wait a second, you speak French?” Y/N blinked, even when his coach’s whistle blew to call the team members to the track. She never even considered that he could, even though he was born in Paris. That made her feel quite silly.

“Pensez-vous que l'hiver sera rude, darling?” Hoseok called, jogging backwards with a wink. He was off, quick as lightning, Y/N pulling out a translation app while repeating the words he shot at her. 

“‘Do you think winter will be hard’? It’s the end of fucking March, you goober,” Y/N scoffed to herself, though despite the ridiculousness, a grin tugged at her lips. 

A while later, back at home once Hoseok won first place in the mile run again, Y/N decided to tidy up her room. Full of energy somehow, she started at her altar by organizing items on the vanity. She had the moonstone Namjoon once gave her front and center, and against the mirror were Jeongguk’s antlers. Recently, Jimin had dried a bunch of lavender and sage for her to use in her practice, so Y/N used natural string to bind the leaves into a bundle for smoke cleansing. Enjoying a few moments to herself, Y/N lit a candle on her altar, burning some calming sandalwood incense to really let loose. It was only a matter of time before one of her boys sought her out, which didn’t bother her in the slightest, but the rare solitude was refreshing as she wrapped the bundle up tightly. 

Almost as soon as she tied the last knot, there was a knock on her bedroom door. 

“Come in!”

“Hi, pretty!” Seokjin slunk into the room, shutting the door behind him. In his arms was her laptop and a fuzzy blanket from his bedroom, and he was dressed in sweats and a slouchy white tee shirt. “Wanna watch a movie with me? I miss you!”

“Of course,” Y/N melted on the vanity stool she was seated on, Seokjin placing her laptop and the blanket on her bed. Before she could get up, Seokjin was behind her, a closed-lipped smile on his face reflected in the mirror. “I miss you too! I’m all yours this afternoon.”

“We could watch Emma. I just finished reading it and waited, like you suggested. What do you think?” Seokjin began to make a nest on the bed for the two of them to curl up into, Y/N watching him through the mirror and setting the herb bundle she made down. 

“Yes, please! I haven’t seen it yet, surprisingly. I wonder how it’ll compare to the book.”

“I guess we’ll see,” Seokjin mused, straightening up and shutting her curtains, attempting to create the perfect environment to watch a movie. Again, Y/N adored that trait Seokjin possessed, the ability to figure out exactly what she needed to decompress. Once he was satisfied with how everything looked, he turned his attention to her, trudging over cutely. 

Seokjin leaned down to kiss the top of her head, his entire body suddenly locking up as soon as his nose was buried in her hair, a growl low in his throat. Suddenly, he wasn’t so cute. “Oh.”

“What? Do I smell? Is it the incense smoke?” Y/N frowned in the mirror, Seokjin’s palms curling around her shoulders heavily. 

“No, you smell…” Seokjin pulled her up to a stance, spinning her around and shoving his face in her neck. “So good.”

“You always s-say that,” Y/N mumbled, embarrassed and slightly turned on. It had been at least a couple of weeks since someone touched her in a more heated way. Part of her brain– distantly– wondered if he had to scent her or something, with the way he was backing her against a wall. The sudden change in the mood had her reeling. 

“Mm, but something’s different,” Seokjin’s words took on that siren-like quality he usually reserved when he was alone with her, Y/N’s lips dropping open to reply. However, her words were choked from her as Seokjin dragged his tongue from her collar bone up to just below her ear, shuddering against her. “Sweeter. Stronger.”

“W-well, I haven’t done anything different,” Y/N clutched the front of his tee shirt desperately, eyes going wide when he shoved a knee between her legs. “Seokjin. Baby. Are we really…?”

“Mmmph,” Seokjin’s speech was muffled, considering he was frantically dragging his face and lips across every exposed patch of skin around her neck and upper chest. “Just wanna. Mm. Kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” Y/N egged him on, Seokjin nibbling along her jugular. 

“Not… n-not while they’re here,” Seokjin sounded strained, regretful. “I don’t want them to hear you with me.”

“I didn’t say fuck me, Seokjin,” Y/N protested, a strangled noise coming from the jaguar hybrid. “You can still kiss me.”

“Fuck, okay,” Seokjin relented, sliding his lips from her throat to her jaw, littering kisses all over the sharp angle. “God, you’re irresistible. What are you doing to me?”

“Nothing,” Y/N whined, wrapping her arms around his neck urgently, pressing her chest to his and getting on her tip-toes. Absently, Seokjin pressed a palm against her lower abdomen, which had her stomach flipping over unexpectedly. 

“You have no idea how good you smell right now. You must be ov– I… makes me wanna–”

“Wanna what?” Y/N breathed “What am I?”

Seokjin pulled away a degree, his face flushed and eyes wild, predatory. Lust and thrill pulsed through her, but she wasn’t about to escalate things when Seokjin expressed he didn’t want to take things further while the other hybrids were still in the house. His hand still pressed against her abdomen, she looked down, confused. Ov… ovulating. The realization had heat flashing though her violently. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin read the sudden understanding blossoming across her face, restraint in his posture. Swooping down, his lips landed on hers in a heavy kiss, but it was short and sweet. “Remember what you asked me about a couple of weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh,” Y/N nodded, trying not to whimper when he removed his knee from between her legs, stepping aside. When she asked him about ruts. 

“I think next month might be my time,” Seokjin was scarlet red, adjusting his sweatpants awkwardly. “Judging by my reaction to your scent at this point in your, um. Cycle.” 

“D-damn. I thought I was the one famous for dropping bombshells,” Y/N attempted to recover from the sudden attack on her neck and chest, though cutting through her lust was also a concern. “Next month? You’ll tell me how to prepare for that, right?”

Seokjin nodded eagerly, despite his clear embarrassment. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to ambush you like that.”

“It’s okay, it’s natural for you, honey,” Y/N grabbed his hand, bringing it to her lips and kissing his knuckles reassuringly. “You still want to watch the movie with me? I don’t want the scent torturing you.”

“I still want to spend time with you,” Seokjin quickly shot her doubts down, urging her towards the bed. “The scent just caught me off guard. I swear, I can control myself.”

“Too bad,” Y/N quipped, Seokjin clicking his tongue at her but snorting softly at her jest nonetheless. 

“You’re so easy to rile up, Y/N. It might get you in trouble with me in the future,” Seokjin warned, pushing on her shoulders slightly so she’d flop onto the bed bonelessly. “Scoot over and play the movie, hmm?”

The teasing threat had sparks shooting through her veins, and she obeyed him completely by making space for him, waiting until he was comfortable and pulling her into his side before playing the film on her laptop. Y/N let Seokjin nuzzle into the crook of her neck for pretty much the entire movie, positively amazed by his self-restraint. 

“The book was better, so far,” Seokjin commented halfway through, tail curling around Y/N’s waist. 

“I agree, but it’s still nice to watch this with you,” Y/N stroked her hand through Seokjin’s silky waves, content. “Let’s watch Pride and Prejudice next.”

“Again?” Seokjin exclaimed, finally retreating from the crook of her neck with amusement all over his handsome face. 

“Come on, Seokjinnie. I thought you liked spoiling me,” Y/N jutted out her lower lip and batted her eyelashes, trying to lay it on thick just so she could spend more time with him. 

“A little bit too much,” Seokjin leaned his head back, relenting. “Queue it up.”

That evening ended with her and Seokjin falling asleep with movies still playing in the background. The following morning involved Y/N doing menial chores once untangling herself from a very clingy Seokjin, wiping sweat from her brow as she vacuumed the entire first floor. The task distracted her from thinking about the sticky situation with Taehyung and the fact that Seokjin told her to expect his rut to hit the following month, lining up pretty closely with their trip to New York. Talk about timing. 

Her phone had been going off all morning with more spam calls. She ignored every single one, starting to agree with Jimin that she’d have to change her phone number in the near future. Taking a break, she sat down on the staircase, an email notification popping up on the screen from her boss, Judy. Curiosity and excitement stuck through her, hoping for a new case so Jeongguk would stop suggesting the three of them investigate local haunted churches as she tapped on the message. 

Judy@sacredcuriosities.com: 

Y/N, Jeongguk, and Namjoon, 

I hope you are all doing well. I would first like to congratulate and thank you for your success at the Sanders’ home. Ms. Sanders has reached out to me and raved about your professionality and dedication to helping them. 

I’ve received information about a new consultation I’d like to hand over to you three. There’s a bed and breakfast inside of Boston city that has changed hands many times. The rumors that it is dangerously haunted drives customers away, aside from amateur paranormal investigative crews. The newest manager stated that these amateur crews have increased the activity tenfold. 

Considering the business may be shut down due to lack of revenue, the manager has reached out to me for a potential cleansing and banishment. Would this be something the three of you would consider handling? Let me know when you come into work tomorrow, and I’ll email the manager for more information. 

Blessed be, 

Judy

Screenshotting the email, she sent it to Namjoon and Jeongguk in their group chat titled Dream Team. She wasn’t expecting an immediate response, considering the two of them were out in the van picking up a short list of necessities from the drugstore in town. Her phone started to buzz in her palm, and her reflex was to throw it considering the amount of spam calls she had been getting lately. However, she relaxed once she saw that it was Laura calling, to her happy shock. 

“Hi Laura! Long time no chat! How are you, Kai and Tyler?” 

“Hey baby, sorry to keep you in the lurch. Ty and I have been looking all around the area for a good preschool to enroll Kai in next fall. You wouldn’t believe the loops you have to jump through to get a nearly four-year-old into preschool!” Laura sounded exasperated, but still retained her sunny sound. 

“Oh, no worries! Adult life really takes the wind out of you, huh? I sometimes feel like I’m chasing my tail.”

“Was that a pun? Y/N, last time you started making puns all the time, you were writing your thesis and living off of caffeine,” Laura accused, making her crack up. After so long, she missed her girlfriends making wise cracks at her expense. 

“It wasn’t, but thanks for the laugh. I needed it.”

“What’s up? You sound high-strung, baby.”

“The usual. I could use your conflict resolution skills right about now. Any chance you’re free in the next eight months?” Y/N joked, even though she was half-serious as well. 

“I’m free on Saturday. Want me to swing by? Fresh perspective might be useful. You’re all by yourself over there, diffusing situations.”

“Can I text you about it before you come? You’re sure you’re willing?” 

“Am I sure? Y/N, we’ve been like sisters for years. I’d do anything for you, just like you would for me. I’ll help you out!”

“Do you want me to babysit Kai on Saturday night? Date night?” Y/N offered, a smile on her face. 

“Y/N, I could kiss you. I need a date night so bad, you have no idea. I’ll bring him by when I come for the little meeting. Text me the details so I’m prepared, alright? Love you, baby.”

“Bye Laura, love you,” Y/N massaged her sore lower back, strained from dragging the ancient vacuum around all day. Grunting, she stood, resuming her task so she would be done by midday and perhaps take a nice, long shower.

Just after shoving the vacuum back into the coat closet, the front door banged open, Y/N flinching and shouting a colorful swear. Poking her head around the staircase, she stared daggers at the figure clad in black waltzing through the door. 

“Jeongguk! I’ve told you at least three times to be careful with the door. If you break the stained glass, I’m dragging your candy ass to the auctions to find exact replacements. And that could take months,” Y/N threatened, marching up to him and taking the bulk-sized package of toilet paper from him with her tongue sticking out. 

“Judas priest. That’s like the first time a threat of yours has actually frightened me,” Jeongguk scoffed incredulously, Namjoon gently locking up the door behind him with several bags of his own. 

“Quiet and bring everything down to the basement,” Namjoon requested, Y/N able to tell that he was sick to the back teeth of hanging out with Jeongguk for the afternoon based on the agitated swish to his fluffy silver tail. 

Y/N assisted them in putting everything under the basement stairs, Jeongguk able to duck under the tight space now that he didn’t have his antlers taking up so much headroom. 

“You guys get my text?”

Both of them appeared confused, Y/N watching with a snicker as they fumbled for their pockets on the way back up to the ground floor. Waiting as they read the screenshotted image Y/N bounced on her toes, their eager expressions having a warm, fond sensation filling her entire body. Jeongguk’s mouth opened, no doubt ready to ask one hundred questions, but he was interrupted by some rapt knocking on the front door. Namjoon recoiled, since he knew that with his and Jeongguk’s return back home, everyone should be accounted for. 

“Ah, it’s probably a Girl Scout or something. Hold on,” Y/N gave Namjoon a soft arm pat as she passed by him, unlocking the door and pulling it open. Instead of a little girl she was ready to fork over significant cash to in order for a large shipment of Thin Mints, there was a middle-aged man standing on her porch. 

“Um, hello, sir. Can I help you?” Y/N assessed the person in front of her. He didn’t appear to be holding onto any pamphlets like a Jehovah Witness, and the expensive, well-tailored suit he was wearing didn’t make him seem like a robber of any kind. However, his greasy, expectant face had her a little on edge. 

“Y/N L/N. You’ve been dodging my calls,” the same slick voice from the phone call she had in front of Jimin days ago was now several feet away, pure horror flooding through her system. “Figured I should swing by.”

“Who the fuck are you? How did you find my house?” Y/N raised her voice, and in less than a second flat, Namjoon was on her right, growling darkly, and Jeongguk was on her left, a firm grip on her elbow that felt protective. Instead of backing away in fright, the man smiled slimily, a gold tooth replacing one of his normal incisors, looking from Namjoon to Jeongguk like they were prime plots of real estate. 

“Real nice animals you’ve got there. Gerry’s Hybrids is where you got them, am I correct?”

“You have about five seconds to get the fuck off this porch,” Namjoon’s tone had never been more deadly, the man simply barking out a laugh. 

“Oh, he’s a pill. Just what I was looking for.”

“What do you want? Jeongguk, call the cops,” Y/N placed a hand over his, but the elk hybrid wouldn’t budge. 

“Ms. L/N. The name’s Harold Bass, from Manhattan. Those hybrids next to you, and the other five no doubt lurking around in this dump of yours, were supposed to belong to me.”

“That’s too bad. They’re mine, now get the fuck off my property,” Y/N was about to slam the door in his face, unable to believe the guy’s audacity. It had been so many months since Y/N had adopted her boys, she never even considered that this guy would try and find her. 

“Before you close this piece of plywood on me, you should know something. I’m giving you an ultimatum.” 

“What the fuck?” She breathed, Harold’s nose curling at her continued use of profanity. He reached into his suit jacket, Namjoon grabbing Y/N’s other arm and pulling her partially behind him. 

“Here’s the deal. You either take my generous offer for the animals, or I take you to court for stolen property. This is an agreement I signed with Gerry stating I had them on hold. I put a deposit down before you ‘adopted’ them.”

“What?” Y/N squeaked, bile rising in her throat. 

“Simple, simple girl. Gerry mentioned you weren’t the sharpest tool in the shed,” Harold sneered, all venom and acid. “Are you hard of hearing?”

“Namjoon, please,” begged, grasping a fistful of the back of his sweatshirt to stop him from lunging at Harold. “I don’t understand, Mr. Bass. I’ve legally adopted them. You can’t take my boys away.”

“No? You haven’t heard my offer?”

“There is absolutely nothing you can offer me.”

“Not even one million dollars for the seven of them?”

Jeongguk swore from beside her, his grasp on her elbow loosening. Even Namjoon went statue still, all of the color draining from his face. Y/N was really going to be sick, her two hybrids evidently already concluding she’d take that offer. 

“Fuck. That. And fuck you. Get off my property,” Y/N spat, finally managing to slam the door shut and lock the deadbolt in place. Breathing raggedly, she saw the shadow of Harold Bass behind the stained glass beside the front door. He was laughing, Y/N could hear it even with the barrier of the locked door. 

“Well then. You’d best get a good lawyer, Ms. L/N. You’ll be hearing from mine soon– and it’s a call you cannot ignore.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @serendididy @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997 @prybts @doublebunv @milopenne @steadycreationangel @rinkud @breadcheeksseokjin @nikkiordonez12 @actualz0mbie @tinybasementmaker-blog @hufflepuffwriter1995

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

[queenxxxsupreme]

A Helping Hand

Charles Smith x f!reader

A/N: I haven't written in a very long time, but I have gotten back into playing RDR2 and Charles has my heart. So I hope you enjoy this! It's just a little something to warm me up and hopefully get me back in the grove of things <3

Warnings: none, just fluffy

Word Count: 1097

Summary: When things finally settle down in Colter, you tend to a wounded Charles Smith.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump in your seat. You tore your eyes away from the fire and found Susan standing just behind you.

”How are you holdin’ up, girl?” She gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Your eyes flickered towards the back of the room. Abigail stood over John, scolding him as she checked his bandages. 

“I can’t complain, Ms. Grimshaw.” You spoke quietly. “My heart's still beatin'."

“Well, I appreciate that line of logic. There are some folks around here who can’t seem to stop complaining.” Her gaze shot over to the girls, who were talking quietly to each other and reading. “If you need anything, you just let me know.”

“Thank you, Ms. Grimshaw.” You offered her a little smile. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not tonight, girl. It's late and we all need to get some rest."

You nodded your head gently and watched her walk away.

The door to the rundown cabin opened and a gust of chilling wind flew through the room. You shivered, pulling your coat tighter around you.

There was a quiet murmur of the people in the cabin greeting Charles.

“Good evening, ladies. Reverend.” 

You watched him move towards the fire. You shifted in your seat, preparing to get up and out of his way. 

“You’re okay, miss.” He held a hand out to you.

“Just don’t want to be in your way, Mr. Smith.”

“You aren’t.”

Your eyes followed him as he knelt down at the fire. He picked up the poker and stoked the flames, checking the wood to ensure it would last the night. 

You took note of the way he held his right hand, cradling it close to his chest. 

“How are you doing, Mr. Smith?” You asked him. “I-I mean, considering everything.”

“I’ll be better once we are out of these mountains.” He let out a sigh. “How about you?”

“I think I have to agree with you.” You paused for a moment as he put a log on to the fire. “Have you had that hand looked at?”

“No, ma’am.” He admitted with a light shake of his head. 

You shifted in your seat a little, smoothing out the material of your skirt. 

“Why don’t you let me take a look at it?”

“I don’t want to be a bother, miss. I’m just checking the fire and then I’ll be out of your hair for the night.”

“You’re no bother, Charles.” The corners of your lips turned up just slightly. He held your gaze for a few moments, clearly debating on what he should do. “It would, at the very least, give me something to occupy my mind for a few minutes. Stop me from thinking about what happened back there in Blackwater."

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt.”

”Pull up a seat. I just need to grab a couple things.” 

While Charles pulled a chair closer to yours, you went to the back of the room to get a few things from beside John’s bed. 

“Oh. Hi, Y/N.” Abigail greeted you. 

“Hey, Abigail. How is he?” You tucked a piece of bandage under your arm and grabbed a clean rag. 

“He’s okay. For now.” She let out a sigh, crossing her arms as she looked down at the man on the bed.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.” John muttered. 

“Well, maybe next time don’t go gettin’ your face half torn off by a bunch of damn wolves!”

“I’m sure you’ll be back on your feet in no time, Mr. Marston” You said, your eyes met Abigail's. "If you need anything, just let me know."

She put her hand on your arm momentarily, giving you a soft squeeze as a sign of her thanks.

You returned to your chair, finding Charles with his hat off and resting it over his knee. 

You held your hand out for him and wordlessly, he placed his hand in yours. His hand practically dwarfed your own. But nonetheless, you held the back of his hand, holding him where you needed. 

“So what did you do to your hand exactly?"

“I don’t even know.” He sighed gently. “There was… so much going on. So much happened in such a short amount of time.”

“That’s fair.” You nodded your head. “I hope Mr. Dutch can get us out of here as soon as possible. I’m afraid the weather up here won’t be kind to us.”

“The Grizzlies aren’t known for being forgiving.”

There was a moment of silence that fell between you both. It was a comfortable silence, and you were thankful that he was a quiet man. You didn't have the energy to entertain anyone at that moment, to carry an actual conversation.

You poured a little bit of antiseptic liquid on to the rag, and then began to clean around his wound. You were doing your best to avoid the actual wound itself, but that was easier said than done because of the poor lighting in the room.

Charles hissed, curling his fingers as if he wanted to make a fist. But he didn't pull his hand away from you.

“I-I’m so sorry, Mr. Smith.” You hastily apologized, brows furrowing together as you looked up at him. "I'm sorry."

“Don’t apologize.” He shook his head. 

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, miss. You’re okay.”

You nodded your head. You cleaned the wound a little more before putting the rag down. You started to fan his palm, wanting the antiseptic to dry as much as possible before you dressed it.

As you gently fanned his palm, your eyes flickered up to check his face for any signs of discomfort and instead, you found him gazing back at you. 

This was the first time that you were this close to him. You took advantage of that and took the chance to really look at him, to study his features up close— but specifically, his eyes. 

They were brown like the earth kissed by warm sunlight. There were speckles of amber, honey, and cinnamon within the deep pools of brown. You wondered what kind of stories they held, what kind of images they had absorbed over his years.

“Has anyone ever told you you’ve got pretty eyes, Mr. Smith?”

A grin tugged at the corner of his plump lips. 

“Not that I can recall. That isn’t the first thing most people notice about me.” 

It took you a moment to realize that perhaps you made a mistake. What if you made him feel uncomfortable? What if he took your compliment as interest in him?

You diverted your eyes away from his face, choosing instead to focus on finishing up with his hand.

When his hand was all wrapped up, he rubbed the bandaged palm with his opposite hand.

“Hm.” He grunted, nodding his head gently. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” You smiled. 

“Good night, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Good night, Mr. Smith.”

You watched him leave, the wooden door closing tightly behind him. 

You didn’t realize you were staring at the last place Charles had been until a bunch of giggling caught your attention. You turned your head to see the girls watching you.

“Is Y/N goin’ soft on Mr. Smith?” Karen raised her brows. 

“It sure does look like it, Karen.” Tilly nodded her head. 

You swatted a hand in their direction, shaking your head in protest. 

“I was just helping him. It could’ve gotten infected and we can’t afford to lose anyone else.”

”Sure, Y/N.” Mary-Beth hummed, turning her attention back to her book. “Whatever you say.”

[inkbybambi]

best friend!simon riley picking you up from a bad date —

words: 2.2k rating: nothing explicit apart from a brief mention of sex, just some light angst and comfort. my blog is 18+ so minors please dni. warning: hurt/comfort, fluff, pet names, insecurity/doubt/worry, mentions of sex, simon is the softie we all know he is notes: originally written for @ghosts-cyphera ♡ we all need a bestfriend!simon in our lives who's so sweet and gentle with us.

One thing you love about Simon — besides everything — is how reliable he is. Strong, steadfast, there when you need him. Even when he’s not physically there — his work taking him away for weeks or even months at a time — you find yourself reading over the messages he’s sent, the little sticky notes he’s left, whatever memento you’ve kept of him tucked away in the drawer in your bedside table.

Not that you’ll tell him that.

You hate asking him for favors — asking anyone for favors, really, but him especially. Whenever you ask someone for help, it's always accompanied by a long-suffering sigh or a roll of the eyes or some very clear indication that they'd rather do anything else.

Except for Simon.

Which is why you're hesitant to ask him more than you absolutely need to. You don't want to push your luck too far, less he eventually tires of you as well.

Losing people hurts, always assuming it's you that caused the problem. You've come to accept this, even if the dark feelings of being too much or a burden claw at the edges of your mind.

But losing Simon? You don't think you'd ever get over that.

It's just after 9pm, the sky dark and clouds threatening, with thunder rumbling steadily in the sky. Your hand shakes as you fumble your phone from your pocket, trying to hold tears at bay as you scroll through your contacts.

Your call log is all Simon.

Some appointments here and there, but Simon everywhere else.

Fuck.

You hiccup, the tears spilling from your eyes as the sky finally opens up, joining you in your mourning.

You don't have any other choice, really, so you click his number before you can talk yourself out of it and walk home instead, bringing it up to your ear as it rings.

He answers before the third ring.

"I'm so sorry to bother you," you sniffle into the phone, before he has a chance to say anything. You take in a sharp breath, blood turning to ice. "Am i bothering you?" you sound so meek and small and tired. “No, dove, you’re not,” comes his calm, reassuring voice. You’re only half-convinced.

"I'm sorry," you begin again. Your heart falls to your stomach, convincing yourself that this is his final straw. You're overtaken by a wave of nausea, despite not having eaten anything since lunch. "I didn't know who else to call, and I lost my tram pass, and I don't have an umbrella, and — "

“Dove,” he says, his accent soothing to your ears — he's so endlessly patient and kind. You ache.

"I can just walk home, I-I'm sorry," you whimper out, unable to stop the tears blurring your vision, feeling pathetic and weak and so, so alone. “Darling,” he says, a little stern. Not angry, never angry. Trying to focus you. “What’s wrong?”

“U-um, my date stood me up,” you sniff, swallowing hard. "I waited an hour," you mumble, looking to your shoes. "Messaged him too, y'know. He just. Didn't show."

You think you hear Simon curse over the line and your heart lurches, feeling like you're about to be sick. “Where are you?”

There's a rustle of fabric, the clink of keys, the heel of his boot walking across his floor. You manage to tell him the name of the restaurant, voice cracking. “Twenty minutes,” he says, and you’re about to protest but he beats you to it. “Sit there and be good and patient and I’ll pick you up, yeah?”

"Okay," you whisper in agreement, before the line clicks dead and you allow yourself to cry, huddling under the awning as some protection from the rain, now coming down in thick, sharp waves.

Thirteen minutes later, the headlights of his truck shine through the dark, pulling up to the curb. You make a mad dash for the passenger door, still getting drenched in the process.

You can't even look at him, hands shaking as you buckle the belt, trying to make yourself as small as possible.

He says your name gently. You take in a shuddering breath and let it out just as shaky, looking over towards him. He's wearing his balaclava, but his eyes — even in the dark, you can make out his beautiful eyes. Assessing you, worrying.

"I'm sorry," you croak out. You can't help it. It's burned into your tongue, driven into your mind to make him understand you didn't want to bother him. He doesn't have to forgive you, but as long as he knows, that's enough.

"Love," he says, and there's... something in his voice, as he reaches over for your hand, holding it gently in his own. His eyes never leave yours. "'m never gonna be mad about you askin' for help." Your eyes flit away, but he squeezes your hand and you reluctantly look back. "You know me better than that," he says, as if he can read the treacherous thoughts swirling in your head, drowning you and making it hard to breathe.

You can only nod, not trusting your voice at the moment. He hums, bringing the back of your hand up to graze his covered lips over the back, pulling out to drive you back.

"This is your flat," you say, fifteen minutes later as he shuts the car off. You were too busy looking at the window, watching the rain drops race down the glass, to notice that he wasn't driving the familiar route to your place.

"Yes," he replies, as if it's obvious he'd bring you here. "You really think I'd let you stay home alone?"

His eyes are so fucking bright. It startles you, and you hate how your heart twists and thumps at how intently he's looking.

"I..." you start, chewing on your bottom lip for a moment. His eyes flicker to your lips, snapping away just as quick. "I was gonna eat ice cream and drink shitty, cheap wine," you say.

"As if I don't have either of those things here," he replies, opening the door and effectively ending the conversation. You scramble after him, eager to be inside in the warmth and burrow yourself into his couch.

"Go get changed," he says, voice clear as he removes the balaclava and bends to untie his shoes.

You hesitate for a second, until he looks up to you and there's that something lingering in his gaze — the same something that was in his voice.

"Go on now," he repeats, softer, and you ditch your shoes and your uncomfortably wet jacket by his.

His flat is as familiar as your own — you could walk through it blindfolded at night and you wouldn't knock into a single thing.

Well.

You might knock into a corner or two, but that's not a vision thing. It's a you're a bit clumsy thing. Simon finds it endlessly amusing, poking at the bruises that blossom on your skin while you bat his hand away.

His bedroom is familiar as well. Which is why you don't think twice before you're shimmying out of your clothes — undergarments as well — and rifling through his drawers, finding your favorite shirt of his and a pair of his boxers.

You take a moment to smell the collar, taking comfort in the scent that lingers. You’ve been dressed in his clothes many times before this but it feels different this time.

As you pad back out to the living room, Simon’s already on the couch. Your favorite blanket is draped across his lap, two bowls of ice cream and a bottle of cheap wine sitting open, glasses filled far more than you would’ve. You’ll indulge him, mostly because you have the sneaking suspicion that he’ll have you sleep here anyways.

His balaclava is off. The last dregs of tension drain from you as he looks over to you, face soft in the lowlight of the lamp, tv ready with a show you’ve watched a thousand times that he watches with you without complaint.

“Knew you’d choose that one,” he says with a bit of a smirk as you crawl on the couch, burrowing yourself into his side, his arm slinging across the back of the cushion.

“Am I that predictable?” you mumble, a small thank you as he hands you a bowl.

He doesn’t answer, but you feel the burn of his stare before he snorts, flicking the tv to start playing, the familiar theme relaxing you further.

The silence with him is comfortable, lingering in a hazy in-between of awake and sleep, empty bowls and mostly empty glasses sitting on the coffee table.

“Were you going to fuck him?” he asks, three episodes in, bottle empty.

You blink, not sure if you heard him properly as you pull back to look at him. You can’t read his eyes. Something hot twists in your gut.

“I-I don’t know, Simon,” you start, the weight of his stare heavy. “Maybe?”

He doesn’t say anything and you chew your lip for a moment, fingers curling to play with the blanket. “Depends how the date went, I suppose. Doesn’t matter much now,” you snort. His gaze hasn’t changed. “Why?”

His jaw clicks, taking a deep breath. “You deserve better ‘n that.”

A confused frown pulls at your mouth, unsure how to reply. “I know how to be safe,” you tell him, voice soft.

He seems to be weighing his words in his head, lowering the volume of the show. You feel sick.

Dark eyes rove over your face, taking in every minute detail. You bite at your nail, just for something to do.

“Don’t think there’s a bloke in the world that’s worthy of ya.”

Your frown deepens, breaking your eyes from his, twisting your fingers in your lap. Relationships aren’t easy. Being that vulnerable with someone isn’t easy.

You never want someone to pay for you, and even the smallest gestures like opening the car door or pulling out your chair feel like it’s too much. You don’t deserve that kind of attention. After a while, they’ll get tired. You’ll become a burden to them like everything else in your life.

It’s easier to be by yourself. The only person you have to worry about bothering is you.

“Love.” He tilts his head, eyes trying to catch yours. How hasn’t he gotten tired of you yet?

A hand under your chin forces your gaze up, and you try to shrink yourself against the back of the couch. Your voice catches in your throat, words stuck there.

“What’s goin’ on in tha’ pretty head f’yours?”

You swallow thickly, finding it damn near impossible to keep your eyes on his.

“‘s not like it matters,” you start. his brows furrow, but he stays silent. “No one would want me anyways.”

“‘n why would you say that?”

Frustration burns the back of your throat. Isn’t it obvious? You can barely call him in a dire situation without thinking the worst of yourself. How can he think of you as anything but a nuisance? How could he think anyone else would put up with it?

“You wouldn’t understand,” you say, defeated. You crumble back into the couch.

“Make me understand.”

Heat flashes at the nape of your neck. He takes your hands in his, cradling them in his warmth. Your name sounds so soft in his voice.

“How aren’t you tired of me?” comes your whispered question, nose tingling and eyes threatening to water. You look at him. Hesitant. Scared.

The silence is loud. His own frown deepens. It takes a few painful minutes, but you see the moment something clicks in place.

“You know I’d do anything for you, yeah?”

Your lip quivers, sniffling as you beg yourself not to cry.

“Because you do the same for me,” he continues. You doubt it, mind going blank of every time he’s come to you for something.

His touch moves to your elbow, tugging you forward gently until he can arrange you in his lap. He slips his hands beneath the hem of his shirt, thumbs rubbing on your hips just above the waistband of his boxers.

You slowly brace your hands on his shoulders. Firm and broad and safe.

“You apologize so much. You worry so much.” the tears slip down your cheeks, throat aching, but now you can’t look away from him. One hand moves to cup the nape of your neck, thumb rubbing gently at the skin behind your ear.

“You’re allowed to ask for help.”

You shake your head, a no caught in your throat, tears blurring your vision.

“Oh, love.” He cradles you into the curve of his neck, arm wrapping around your waist and keeping a gentle hold at the base of your skull. “You have me wrapped around your finger ‘n you don’t even know it.”

He lets you cry into his neck, dampening the collar of his shirt. His cologne is soothing and you eventually slump against him. You’re so tired.

His lips graze your temple, his soft touch lulling you to sleep. You’ll talk about it tomorrow, but for now you want to stay wrapped up in his arms, held by someone who genuinely loves you.

[commsroom]

circumstances surrounding the “leaked” documents about eiffel’s sentencing in need to know, as i understand them:

one of the very first things kepler does is offer eiffel, minkowski, and lovelace a drink. in true “at any given moment, kepler has about eighteen ulterior motives” spirit, it is, among other things, “hospitality”, sure, a test for eiffel, definitely, but… i think the main reaction he was checking for was minkowski’s. will she look at eiffel, or react to his reaction? how much does she know? how much does he trust her?

in don’t poke the bear, jacobi and maxwell stop lovelace from breaking into kepler’s server by pretending to be in on it with her: “she’s very good. it might turn into a problem.” / “i’ll run it by kepler.” two episodes later, files from kepler’s very secure server are “leaked.”

(the words "need to know" are spoken offhandedly by eiffel in the episode itself, but it also calls back to the excuse maxwell gives lovelace: "colonel kepler practically lives by the words 'need to know.' and, apparently, nothing i can say will ever convince him that i 'need to know' everything that's in our databanks.")

need to know opens with minkowski finishing an eleven hour shift, and then finding out kepler moved that shift to, well. now. she’s already frustrated and sleep deprived.

minkowski complains to kepler. jacobi and maxwell, on cue, barge in and complain to kepler. kepler assigns minkowski, jacobi, maxwell, and lovelace to punishment detail, taking eiffel out of the group because “you’re the only one who hasn’t wasted my time with pointless whining.” lovelace says: “um, i don’t think that i did any complaining either, so…” but that doesn’t matter. it’s just an excuse to remove eiffel from the group; he could just as easily have been singled out for special punishment. either way, it was going to happen.

hilbert isn’t there. not the most significant factor, since he’s already been effectively sidelined by kepler, but remember he already knows about eiffel’s sentencing, doesn’t care (about eiffel’s history OR about anyone else’s personal drama), and will later respond to minkowski asking by telling her to grow up and get back to work. it simplifies things to not factor him in.

consider the files themselves: we know from happy holidays that maxwell not talking to her family is common knowledge, but jacobi reacts like it’s news. we know from hera’s performance review flashback in memoria that kepler and jacobi were aware of “multiple attempted crew member homicides” in her record. the file about hera’s bentham directory was on kepler’s server. if there’s one person who would’ve been briefed on everything there was to know about hera, it would’ve been maxwell; her shock is entirely feigned. in fact, almost every reaction from jacobi and maxwell here is feigned. they’re black ops specialists who arrived prepared with divide-and-conquer tactics. there’s no reason they wouldn’t know these things. also note that none of the “leaks” reveal anything about the mission they didn’t already know, and that nothing about the si-5 is incriminating - if anything, it’s mostly silly and even humanizing. and, yes, all of that contextualizes maxwell’s reaction to “skiing?!”

eiffel’s file comes through last, once they’re already worn out. kepler sends eiffel to check on them at the same time so that he’ll walk in. jacobi shows minkowski the file. he lurks around waiting to see how her not-confrontation with eiffel goes, and then cements the thought in her head: what about you? are you going to care?

it’s true that there are aspects of the mission only kepler knows, but as far as information on the hephaestus crew goes (barring one very particular detail about lovelace)? that’s part of the job they were chosen for. when they kill the plant monster, kepler says: “you think we didn’t know about that thing? please. we listened to every log that you beamed down to canaveral.” kepler’s entire foundation is shaken when jacobi turns on him because this is how they operate: “have one person take the blame, say the mean things. meanwhile, the poor, betrayed little guy gets a bit more leeway - just enough to sneak up and hit you from behind.” the show is not subtle about any of this. you can pick apart any early-s3 interaction between two hephaestus crew members and an si-5 agent and see the same divide-and-conquer tactics at play. jacobi and maxwell are always - in morals, loyalty, job description - closer to kepler than they are to the hephaestus crew, and to even sort of believe otherwise is falling for that facade. it’s worth remembering that the hephaestus crew are prisoners. some of them were aware of it from the start, and some of them were lied to, but none of them were meant to leave. the si-5, on the other hand, went up there with a unified goal, and the knowing intention they would be, among other things, prison guards.

[terrimisu]

Just Bob

Prologue

Fandom: MCU | Thunderbolts (Sentry)

Pairing: Bob Reynolds x Reader (Y/N), ensemble cast

Warnings: blood, mental health themes, soft horror, therapy avoidance, surveillance, implied addiction/relapse

Word Count: ~2.1k

⸻

Summary:

Bob says he’s fine. The team wants to believe him. But when strange malfunctions ripple through the Tower and therapy logs show silence instead of progress, Yelena begins to worry. As doubts grow, Valentina reaches out to someone from Bob’s past—someone who might be able to reach him before it’s too late.

Note: Y/N comes in the next chapter.

⸻

Bob was folding laundry—doing the minimal domestic tasks around the tower, as he had been for the last few months.

His eyes softened as he lifted a sheet fresh from the dryer. Ivory-colored. Still warm.

He held it to his nose, catching a whiff of the lavender dryer sheets he’d tossed in on autopilot.

A faint smile pulled at his lips. Then he moved to fold it, tucking the corners under his chin.

But something caught his eye.

A drop of crimson, clear as day, bloomed after the first fold.

He rubbed it with his thumb. It smeared instead—fresh.

His chest tightened.

Not again.

He brought a hand up to his nose.

Wet.

“A-Ah, shit…” he muttered, tossing the sheet into the dirty pile and stumbling toward the elevator.

“F—fuck,” he whispered, weaving down the hallway, head tilted back. The lights above flickered as he passed. Somewhere in the tower, the lab beeping repeated in uneven pulses—like a heartbeat, off-rhythm.

“So Amsterdam was—Bob?” Yelena’s voice cut off mid-sentence as she turned in time to see him stumble past, disappearing into a bathroom.

Bob stared at himself in the mirror. Blood trailed from his nostril, slow and steady. His hands shook as he washed his face and stuffed tissue into both nostrils.

His reflection blinked back at him. Eyes glowing.

Not gold—something colder. Too bright. Too awake.

He didn’t say anything. Just pressed his palms to the sink and lowered his head.

“Bob?” Yelena’s voice came from the doorway.

He didn’t turn. Just groaned as he wiped the rest of the blood from his face.

Yelena’s brow creased.

“Your nose have a period?”

“I—I think it’s stress,” he muttered, barely audible.

She looked at him through the mirror, unmoving.

“I’m fine,” he added, voice flat.

“Promise.”

⸻

The debriefing room sat in heavy silence. Each of them watching Valentina, who stood at the center console, arms crossed, jaw set.

Ava phased through the vault door, moving to sit beside Walker. His boots were propped up on the edge, eyes flicking to the monitor.

“There was another shift last night,” Valentina said, her voice clipped. She turned to the Tower’s power and energy readouts on the screen.

“Are we talking about—” Walker started.

“Bob,” the others said at once.

Valentina sighed as the feed updated. Everything in line—except for a few flagged anomalies: energy grid failure, containment center malfunction, water levels dropping.

Ava stood.

“The energy grid has shorted before. That wing’s overdue for recalibration.”

She moved closer, hands bracing the console.

“Doesn’t mean it has to be him.”

Valentina didn’t look up.

“What else could it be?”

Bucky stepped forward, tapping the console. A camera feed loaded, filling the screen with a hallway outside Bob’s dorm. Mostly quiet. Logs stacked over months.

Then: footage from last week.

Dark shapes blurred across the screen, unrecognizable.

“Is that static?” Ava asked, narrowing her eyes.

Bucky shook his head.

“Too clear.”

The feed cut. Switched to live.

Bob’s door stayed closed. But along the edge of the frame, something slithered into view—jet black, for half a second—then gone.

Bucky rewound, slowing the frame. A dark, humanoid shape. Crawling. Then smoke.

“Great. Ghosts. Just what we needed,” Walker muttered.

Yelena snapped her gaze to him.

“That’s not funny.”

Walker raised both arms, defensive.

“Just saying—it’s tense in here.”

Ava didn’t look away from the screen.

“Whatever it is, it’s not mechanical. The systems are fine.”

Valentina straightened, hands pressing against the console.

“If Bob’s instability grows, we’re not just risking another power surge. Think about what this place holds. Think about what the Void touched last time.”

Yelena stood, shaking her head.

“It can’t be him. He’s been doing therapy. I take him every week.”

Valentina’s stare sharpened.

“And? Have you ever seen him stay?”

Yelena blinked. Slowly. Her mouth parted, but no sound came.

Silence pressed in like static. Her thoughts flickered through—like skipping scenes from an old tape.

She saw herself walking him to the elevator. That morning last week. Bob chewing the inside of his lip. Then his nails. The way the elevator hummed and neither of them said much.

“Bob?” she’d asked, her voice low.

His hands had stilled. He looked at her—startled. Like he’d just remembered where he was. His eyes were the same blue as always.

Just… foggy.

“Y-Yeah?” he’d said.

“You okay?”

Elevator dinged.

“I’m fine,” he replied, walking out. Not glancing back.

She always let him go from there. Sometimes with a coffee. Or a Frappuccino if he looked tired. Something to hold while someone poked around in his head.

But she never watched him go all the way in.

Not once.

“I…” her voice cracked slightly.

“I just walk him in.”

Her face went tight. Her eyes darted toward nothing in particular, scanning for something invisible.

“What do we do?” she asked, looking between the team.

No one answered. The hum of the tower echoed again, louder this time. The lights flickered above them, faint but sharp.

Barnes broke the silence.

“So we don’t even know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Valentina shook her head.

“He goes. That’s logged. But he’s not staying long or really talking. Not anymore.”

She pulled up a series of screens. One feed, one list.

Therapy logs. Nearly a year’s worth. Notes filed under Bob’s sessions, paired with muted security footage from the tower’s clinic.

Ava squinted.

“Isn’t that—kind of an invasion of privacy?”

“No audio,” Valentina said.

“Cameras are for the psychiatrist. Bob’s case is… complicated.”

One file caught her attention. She opened it. Minimal notes:

Session cut short. Subject nonverbal.

She scrolled. Note after note. Jargon-heavy, terse. Scribbled handwriting. You could almost feel the psychiatrist’s frustration in how jagged the pen had moved.

Then: a blank screen. The last week had no entry.

“I can talk to him,” Yelena said quickly.

Alexei spoke up.

“What about missions?”

Valentina nodded once.

“He’s right. You’re still a critical asset. But this—this is something else. This is groundwork.”

She crossed her arms.

“It won’t be easy.”

Bucky leaned forward.

“So if therapy isn’t working—what’s next?”

Valentina hesitated. Then tapped into another file.

“I dug into his rehab history. North Carolina. In and out before Malaysia. One contact stood out.”

She pulled up a card.

Y/N.

“She was in treatment with him,” Valentina said.

“There were notes. Shared housing. Intake overlap.”

Yelena stared at the name.

“There’s something he’s not telling us,” Valentina continued.

“And if he’s not even telling you—”

She looked directly at Yelena.

“Then maybe this is the next best option.”

She paused, voice lowering.

“Because if we don’t get ahead of this, and the Void returns, we’re looking at a PR nightmare. Or worse.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances. Like they all knew she was right—but didn’t like what that meant.

Yelena’s stomach turned.

“Only if it helps Bob,” she said.

⸻

[TBC – Chapter 1 coming soon]

Taglist:

@werewolfgirl1995

@naushtheaspiringauthor

@sapphirest0nes

Taglist open. DM to be added.

A/N: This is my first in-depth fan fiction in about maybe 10 years — I’ve written others but dropped them due to writers block and workload. I’m open to feedback or suggestions!

This fic is also a deep dive into who Bob could have been pre-Malaysia. Talking about his struggles and recovery is just as important as his power.

Hope you guys stick around for more!

⸻

[megs-1800]

can you make one for mason where him and reader have 3 children (8,5,3) and they have been together for 10 years and he cheats one night and she finds out and leaves to go back to america and goes to her childhood best friends house in texas and mason has to come get his family back before a divorce happens

The Affair

Notes: Please keep sending in your requests. I change Texas to Y/H/T (Your Home Town) so it relates to everyone.

Summary: After 10 years you find out Mason has had an affair. After your one year anniversary you decide to confront Mason about it. Will you ever be able to forgive Mason, will he be able to save your family?

Pairings: Mason Mount x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Swearing

“Thank you for coming” I kiss Lauren on the cheek and give her a small hug. I turn around at the garden which now seems bare and quiet which only hours ago was full of life and people. It was mine and Mason’s 1 year wedding anniversary, we have been engaged for years but after having our 3 children the wedding always got put on hold. We had been together 2 years before we had Imogen it was a massive shock we weren’t even trying, but Mason stepped up and I couldn’t ask to have a baby with anyone more perfect. I cannot believe she is 8 already. We then had Logan 3 years later which he is now 5, its mental how time flies. We had out littlest, Sophia 3 years ago and since we had her I have been full on wedding mode, it was honestly the most magical day surrounded by our friends and family. It was everything I dreamed off and more, it was one of the happiest day of my life.

Here I am a year later, celebrating our one year anniversary and everything has changed. Mason started to become distant 6 months ago which was weird and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Then one night I noticed it, I was doing the washing and there it was foundation on his white shirt, I wouldn’t usually think anything of it but I am pale skinned and this foundation was more tanned so it wasn’t mine. I wanted to confront him about it but I know he would lie and make me think I am going crazy so I needed more proof. A couple of weeks later, I went through his pockets and found a receipt for a restaurant which I knew me and him defiantly haven’t been and when I check the date and time of the receipt he told me he had a team training thing that day why would he lie unless he had something to hide? One day I logged onto his laptop and went through his emails and I found a receipt for a 2 night stay in Venice he told me he had an event that he had to stay down for again I didn’t think much of it on its own as I had the 3 children I couldn’t travel, but thinking about all those events together started to make sense.

It made me feel sick, I haven’t had a chance to confront Mason about it since then. Today has been the longest Mason and I have been in the same room in ages. Mason was acted all loving, always complementing me, been really touchy which he hasn’t been in months obviously putting on a show for our friends and family. Everytime I looked at him I feel sick in my stomach knowing that I know what he has been upto behind my back.

Now all our guests have started to filter out and its only a couple of our friends, and Mason’s family left. I am now tidying up in the garden when Mason walks out, I feel a bit tipsy from the amount of alcohol consumed so I can feel my confidence building. Mason slides the patio door open as he joins me in the garden, we are now alone which feels like the first time in ages. Debbie and Tony are inside chasing after the kids. Mason hands me another glass of wine “Thanks” I reply taking another sip and letting the liquid courage run down my throat.

“Who is she?” I ask

“What are you talking about?” Mason looks confused at me which winds me up.

“Please at least give me the respect of answering honestly. After 10 years Mason the least I deserve is the truth about the girl you are fucking”. I see the colour drain from Mason’s face of the idea of being caught.

“W-What are you talking about?” I hear him stutter

“Come on Mason I am not stupid. Tell me about that slag you are fucking?!” I start to raise my voice in anger.

“Shhh will you keep your voice down?” Mason demands staring in the patio door making sure his parents didn’t hear me and pulls the door shut a little.

“Why are you scared that mummy and daddy are going to hear about how their perfect little boy isn’t so perfect”.

Mason starts to walk closer to close the gap between us. “Y/N I can explain okay its not what you think”. I back away to create the gap between us again.

“I want a divorce”I spat out to Mason.

“Come on baby please let me explain” Mason pleads when Debbie comes outside holding our youngest Sophia in her arms screaming away.

“I think someone is tired” Debbie states and looking at Sophia I can tell she is overtired right now after the events of today. “Come here baby girl” I open my arms for Debbie to pass her over “I will get you bathed and ready for bed. I will be back down soon” I turn to Debbie which she nods. I do not look back at Mason as I continue up the stairs.

I get all the children ready for bed one by one, it takes me a good couple of hours to get them all bathed and settled. By the time I am finished the rest of our guests are gone and its only Debbie and Tony left who are now saying their goodbyes. I thank them for coming and watch as they drive out the driveway. I start tidying up the house trying to ignore Mason’s stares, everytime he walks into a room I walk into another. I know its childish but I don’t want to hear his bullshit excuses I am totally broken.

“Will you just talk to me!” Mason shouts from across the room

“We have nothing to talk about Mason. 10 years I have given you, 10 fucking years and 3 beautiful children now you have just thrown it all away. I don’t want to talk Mason I want a divorce!” I shout from across the room back at him.

Mason crossed over the room and grabbed my arm, with this he pulled me closer into him so our faces are inches away from eachother. “Please let me explain y/n please. I cannot loose you. Please for the kids hear me out”.

I look him up and down in disgust. I can feel the anger radiating out of me. Not saying anything I took a seat at the dining room table. Mason took that as a sign to join me, he sat in the chair next to me, he tried to grab my hand but I kept pulling away.

“I’m sorry” he begins

“That’s all you have to say is sorry!” I shout

“Will you stop fucking shouting, you will wake up the kids” I roll my eyes but let him continue.

“It was only a couple of times”

“Oh wow ONLY a couple of times how lucky am I?!” I scoff sarcastically which makes Mason roll his eyes “who is she?” I ask starting to calm down.

“She is a physiotherapist for United. She has been helping me with my recovery, it was nice to just relax around someone who understood my recovery-“

“Oh right so its my fault you had an affair because I am not trained in understanding your recovery okay right got it”.  I snap

“Please just stop and let me explain” I nod and let Mason continue. “You know I haven’t been in a great place recently with the injury. It was nothing you have done before you snap okay. It was just that me and Charlotte were close and one thing left to another, it was nice to just come away from reality for a little while okay. Its done I realised that I only want you and our family. I promise I felt like shit, I promise it didn’t mean anything. But I called it with her a couple of weeks ago I realised that I wanted you and our family only”. I watch as a tear escapes Mason’s eyes which mine are tearing in response.

“That’s a really convincing story it really is Mason. The thing is I checked your phone, you didn’t call it she did. She wanted to stop because of her boyfriend not the other way round so you came running back to me and our family because she ended it. So what am I? Just something to fill the gap until something better comes along?” I can feel the weight of my tears slipping down my cheeks. He reaches across and wipes the tears from my cheek from his thumb, I am now starting to hyperventilate as I try and control my breathing.

“I-I’m sorry” Mason struggles to get out “I fucked up, I made a mistake and I am so fucking sorry baby. I love you more than anything. My head has been fucked due to the injury and the recovery I have been all over the place. Please understand baby, I love you”.

“That used to be true Mason, but if you loved me, loved your family. You wouldn’t of destroyed us like that. I want a divorce Mason end of”.

With that I stand up from my chair, legs still wobblily and made my way upstairs. Not even looking back at Mason. We are done, just like that. After 10 years, we are over.

Mason’s POV

My hands are shaking as I open the envelope, I know what it contained but I just prayed that it wasn’t true. As I read the papers my worst fears came to life divorce papers. I can feel the tear escape my eye at the thought of how much I have messed up.

“Are you alright mate?” Lewis patted me on the shoulder as he walked into the kitchen.

“Yeah sure” I lie

“Mase whats on them papers whats wrong?” I pass Lewis the papers so he can read them, he inspects the forms and gives me a sympathetic look. “So that’s what has been up with you?” Lewis embraces me in a hug as I let the tears fall onto his shirt.

“Have you spoken to her since she left?” I shake my head.

“The last time I spoke to her was 4 months ago after our anniversary party when she found out about everything that happened. She went to stay with her sister for a couple of days and then she messaged me saying she was taking the kids to her friends in (Y/H/T). I cannot bare the children being that far away. I really miss y/n too Lewis. I just don’t know what to do”.

“Mum is fuming by the way” Lewis states taking a seat on the stool in the kitchen.

“I know. She rang me. She messaged y/n a couple of months ago asking what had happened as I didn’t want to tell her and she told her everything. Mum rang me kicking off. She was saying everything I already knew, I fucked up, I lost my family, the love of my life. I just don’t know what to do Lew.”

“Go fight for her. You are standing in your kitchen holding the divorce papers feeling sorry for yourself. Go to (Y/H/T) and fight for her, fight for your family. You fucked up but y/n is the best thing that ever happened to you so you cannot let her go. If you get her go that easily you just showed you never care and she deserves better then that.”

“I know Lew I just don’t know what to say”

“Just talk from the heart Mase. Even if she doesn’t take you back at least you can say you did everything.”

Reader’s POV

I am just finishing cleaning the flat I am so grateful Layla has let me stay with her, she has a 3 bedroom apartment, Imogen and Hunter are sharing a room and me and Sophia are sharing. Its not ideal but I am grateful for Layla to take us in until we can get our own place.

I have been applying for jobs to get back out there as I am now not being supported by Mason. He kept messaging me saying he would send me money, I agreed that he can pay for the children but I said I don’t want a penny of his money, I want nothing to do with him.

The children are off school at the moment until I can figure out what I am doing to do about school placement for them. Due to it being a nice day Layla agreed to take the children to the water park for the day so I can do some admin bits. I decided to blitz her flat as well whilst I am doing my bits when I hear the buzzer go to her flat. Her buzzer is broken so I cannot hear who is downstairs, I buzz them in thinking it will probably just be a deliveryman at this time.

I hear the knock at her door, when I look through the peephole I see him standing there. He looks amazing, my heart skips a beat and I suddenly feel sick. I haven’t seen him in 4 months, and I really not prepared for this. I opened the door cautiously and Masons face lights up as soon as our eyes meet.

“Hey” he says softly

“Hey” I reply. “Did you wanna come in?” I offer as he has travelled a long way. Mason nods and I lead him through the living room. We both take a seat on the sofa.

“Where are the kids?” he asks

“Layla took them to the water park as the weather is nice. They will probably be back soon though if you want to see them I can ring Layla and ask her to bring them back now?” Mason shakes his head and places a hand on my thigh.

“That’s okay I actually came to talk to you”. I take a deep breath knowing what is now going to come.

“There is nothing to talk about Mason. I am guessing you got the divorce papers” which he nods in agreement. “Exactly Mase I think that speaks for itself, I don’t want to be with a cheater. I deserve better than that. My children deserve better then that”.

“Please just come home and we can talk about this. Just give me a chance to make everything okay. Please baby please just give me a chance, I cannot loose you. You and those kids are my world. Please”.

“I-I can’t Mason, I loved you more than anything in the world. You broke this family Mason, the second you started to have an affair behind my back. You decided this, no one else. So please just leave I have nothing to say to you. Actually I do.. please sign those papers”.  I watch as Mason’s expression drops, I know this wasn’t the outcome he expected.

“P-Please y/n/n, everything we have been through this past 10 years. Our 3 incredible children please think about that.”

“I am thinking about that Mason, after all we have been through together you decided to throw it all away over some stupid bitch. You should know better Mason, I thought you were better than all those other footballers, you just proved to me you weren’t.”

“I promise you y/n, I will be better for us, for our family please. Just give me a chance. I was in a bad place, I wasn’t myself. You are the only girl I have ever wanted and will ever want. Please just give me a chance to make it all alright please. I want us to be a family, I promise nothing like this will ever happen again. I love you more than anything in this world”.

“I wish that was true Mason but if that was you wouldn’t of destroyed our whole entire family for a couple of months of fun. Now please leave”. My tears are now staining my cheek as I stand up to walk Mason out, Mason knows he lost the fight so he slowly walks out the door.

“I’m s-sorry” he choaks out as I close the door. I feel myself drop down against the door and let the tears fall as I feel my heart break all over again.

Masons POV

Its been 2 weeks since I went to (Y/H/T) to try and save my marriage but it didn’t end the way I hoped. You still get the kids to facetime me so I am not missing out on too much but I am still so broken. I cannot believe I ruined our relationship, I broke my family. I still message everyday hoping that one message might save our marriage but it hasn’t. I signed the divorce papers as I know that’s what you wanted, it broke me to do it though, there is a delay on your side but they won’t tell me what it is. I would give anything to make everything okay.

Today was no different, I finally got myself out of bed and ready for training. That’s all I do nowadays is training or games, apart from that I am home wallowing in my self-pity. I have put my all into training which is good to take my mind of everything at the moment.

Something felt different as I pulled into the driveway, I slowly walk through the door which I am greeted to a sudden squeak of voices “dadddddyyyyy!” as my babies run into my arms. I hold them close not knowing if this is real. As I put the children down I see you standing at the bottom of the staircase, you look amazing. “What-What are you guys doing here?” I ask still in complete shock.

“Last time I checked this is still our home” You state, I cannot tell if you are being sharp or trying to lighten the mood.

“Kids can you go play in the play room for me, mummy and daddy need to catch up on a couple of things, then you can all tell him about your trip okay”.

“Okayyyyy” they all say in unity as they run to the play room.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” I ask

“Its okay I already got one, we kind of made ourselves at home” you giggle as we walk through to the lounge.

“Well this is still your home y/n, this will always be your home” I place my hand on your thigh hoping to get some connection with you. I am trying not to do too much as I don’t want to scare you away.

“That’s what I want to talk to you about” you let our a big sigh and I can feel my heart suddenly drop. It seems like we sat just starting at eachother for ages. “Promise me you are done with her, with that lifestyle”. I wrap both hands on either side of your face and slowly rub your cheek.

“Baby I am done, I have been done way before you found out. It was stupid and- and it made me realise all I want is you and our beautiful family.” You slowly nod and I can feel you learn in towards my hand.

“Okay I wanna fight for this. That’s why I didn’t sign the papers. I- I want us to try. I am not saying its going to be perfect as there is massive trust issues now but we owe those children a family, so for them I want to try. Obviously if you are willing to try”.

I launch myself across the sofa, this is all I have been hoping for since you left. I place a slow cautious kiss to your lips, when I feel you reciprocate I relax into the kiss. “Fuck I love you” I state.

You pull away and continue to hold your hands in mine “just promise me if you feel like there is issues we will talk about it. Please don’t break my heart again. I want this to work Mason but I am not saying its going to be easy, its going to be a lot of work.”

“Honestly y/n whatever you want you name it. I will do anything to keep us as a family. I promise, you and me against the world”. I cannot stop beaming, my smile is cheek to cheek.

You stand up in front of me and I embrace you for a couple of minutes, we haven’t been this close in what feels like forever. When you pull away I can see the small tears escaping your eyes. You quickly wipe them away, “come on Mase, Logan wants to show you his new football trick he learnt. You got a lot of catching up to do”.

“I will be there in a minute” I reply letting you walk into the play room to join the kids. I stand there for a minute just taking in the moment. Our marriage is saved, our family is saved. Everything is going to be okay.

[cloudlessly-light]

I love your fics and am going through withdrawal! lol! Would you ever write one where Emily and Aaron are together while he’s training for the triathlon and she puts him on a sex ban for the week before (since he’s not supposed to train/exert himself etc) and he’s all but feral for her?

A/N: Thank you anon, that's really sweet! I hope you enjoy our idiots being absolutely feral for each other hahaha

Title: Nothing on my mind but you Summary: The week before a triathlon you aren’t supposed to train. Aaron and Emily had different ideas of what that meant, much to his dismay. Word count: 5,1k   Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, rough sex, multiple orgasms, breathplay, idiots in love, idiots in lust

He’s still winded as he makes his way upstairs towards the bedroom he shares with his wife. Sweat is rolling down his neck, his heart still thumping heavily in his chest. It had been a good training session, but he was ready for a shower.

“Good morning honey.” Emily greets him when he walks into the bedroom. She’s still in bed, sitting against the headboard reading and he smiles at the sight of her in one of his old shirts and his reading glasses on her nose. “Did you have a good work out?”

“Training.” He reminds her and she rolls her eyes at him. “You know you really should get glasses, sweetheart.” He quips as he rids himself of his shirt.

“Why would I when I have yours.” She smiles into a kiss as he bends down. “You’re sweaty, and stink.” Her nose scrunches but makes no move to push him away. “It’s kinda sexy.”

“Is that so?” He smirks and kisses her again and when she sighs into it he deepens it as his hand moves under the covers to feel her warm skin. “Join me in the shower?”

“Is Jack still asleep?” She’s already letting him drag her out of bed and towards the bathroom.

“Yes, but we need to hurry.” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and she laughs into another kiss as he pushes her towards the bathroom.

To Aaron, it was a perfect morning.

*

“So when is the triathlon?” Dave asks as they’re heading home from Utah, another case solved and a team that were exhausted.

“Next weekend.” His head turns as Emily grabs his hand from where she’s sitting beside him.

“Eight days.” She sighs and his eyebrows scrunches slightly at that.

“You have a countdown?” When she only shrugs with a smile he knows she’s not telling him everything.

“Of course I do.” She says simply and he wants to ask more but he’s acutely aware that Dave and JJ are both seated right across from him. “It’s important to you.”

“Well I’m excited to cheer you on.” JJ smiles at them and Dave nods along. “You’ve been training for months, time to show us what you got.”

“Part of me can’t wait until it’s over.” He admits as he relaxes into his seat and makes a mental note to ask Emily about her slightly odd behavior once they get home.

“Me too.” He hears Emily say and he gives her another curious look. Yeah he definitely needed to ask her what’s going through her mind.

*

“Good morning, sweetheart.” He mumbles the next day, his lips against the back of her neck. He had waited for her to wake up, had let his lips graze her neck and as his fingers traced gently against her ribs.

“Morning.” She drawls, her voice raspy like always in the morning. “How did you sleep?”

“Like a log.” He presses a few kisses against the nape of her neck and smiles when she shivers in return. “Turn around.” His hand is moving over her body under the covers, feels the familiar curves under his palm until he grabs her hip to pull her back against him. When she feels him through his boxers she sucks in a low breath and twists enough in his arms so they’re facing each other.

“We can’t.” She bites her bottom lip at the clear confusion on his face. “You’re not supposed to exert yourself the week before the triathlon right?” When his fingers twitch against her hip she smirks.

“Yeah, no training.” He pulls her closer but then he feels her hand on his chest, stopping him. “But no one said anything about not having sex with my gorgeous wife.”

“No training, no exertion, no sex.” She stamps a kiss to his lip when he just stares at her. “You’re officially on a sex ban.”

“You can not be serious.” He tries to pull her closer again but she shakes her head at him. “Emily.”

“Honey,” She cups his face in her hand. “you know how much I love our sex life, and we also know that we won’t be taking it easy. So for this week, we are not having sex, you’re not going to perform worse at that triathlon cause you’re too tired from making me come.” She pushes him until he’s on his back and she straddles his hips.

“This really is not fair.” He mutters and when she laughs he realizes he sounds like a petulant child.

“One week, that’s all.” She gives him a quick peck before climbing off his lap. “Seven days, you got this.”

*

Day 1

It took him another twenty minutes to realize that Emily was in fact, serious. A sex ban. A week without sex because of some ridiculous notion that he couldn’t do any strenuous exercise. He knew that she only did it to tease him, that as much as she would hate this week, he would hate it more and she was finding it enjoyable. Aaron didn’t see the humor in it, because how could he when he was married to Emily Prentiss. She was gorgeous, sexy, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and for the past three years he had gotten to enjoy her in every way possible.

Not to say that they were insatiable and were screwing like two teenagers every day, but there was something about knowing that she was just out of reach that made something inside him react.

“I never said you couldn’t touch.” She tells him as he lingers in the doorway as she’s pouring them both their morning coffee. When she turns she leans back against the counter, a mug to her lips to hide her smirk.

“You’re a menace.” He corners her against the counter and puts his hands on her waist. “And there really is no logic to your reasoning.”

She doesn’t get the chance to respond, the sound of Jack’s quick footsteps running down the stairs forcing them apart. He catches the look of satisfaction in her eye, and he swore this would be the longest week of his life.

Day 2

He is woken up by the sound of his alarm and groggily turns it off. Emily is wrapped around him, her leg intertwined with his, her arm around his waist, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She’s everywhere and his body has already responded to her proximity.

“Em, it’s time to get up.” He whispers and she makes a noise and only buries her face deeper into him.

“Do we have to?” She makes no effort in moving and he lets himself enjoy the softness of her body against his for a moment.

“Do we have to go to work? I think we do.” He hears her chuckle, a dry, sarcastic sound that he knows she isn’t even aware of this early in the morning. “Come on sweetheart.”

She grunts but still rolls away from the heat of him and onto her own side of the bed. His hand finds hers and she lets him drag her into a sitting position. She wasn’t a morning person, she never had been.

“I’ll put on the coffee, and then I’ll join you in the shower.” He watches as she smiles lazily at him. She really was beautiful in the morning, soft and imperfect, a vision only reserved for him.

“Nice try.” She gets up and slowly makes her way towards the bathroom while rubbing her face.

“I’m only thinking about the environment, we’re saving water.” He calls after her and when she laughs he feels the familiar warmth of it settle in his chest.

“Sure you are baby.” She calls back just before turning on the shower. She’s not surprised when he still joins her only a few minutes later, his lips on her shoulder and hands stroking over her body. “You’re worse than a teenager.”

“This isn’t sex, this is me enjoying my beautiful wife.” He husks and when she sucks in a breath at the feel of him against her backside he can’t help but feel smug. This might have been her idea, but that doesn’t mean that she’d get to have all the fun.

Day 3

Being away on a case forced him to keep his thoughts on the case and not her. Which was hard, even at the best of times. It was ridiculous, the insane want he felt for her. He felt like a child, wanting something he could not have, but the thing was he had her, he knew what she sounded like, what she tasted like, how she looked lost in pleasure. And during the few moments he had to himself those images would flash through his mind.

All he wanted was to bend her over a desk and take her the way he knew she loved. It was all he could think about, how badly he needed her.

“It’s been three days.” She reminds him like he hasn’t been counting down the hours steadily. They were in a precinct in Texas and it was so freaking hot that Emily had decided to take her jacket off. He hated it, because she was showing off her collarbones, a part of the female body he always felt was deeply underappreciated, as well as her cleavage. When she bent forward he couldn’t help but to stare down her shirt, he really did feel like a teenager.

“It’s three days too long.” He mutters back as he reaches for the file she’s currently bending over to hand him across the table.

“You act like we haven’t gone days without sex before, honey.” The amusement is clear on her face, and if there hadn’t been only a door hiding them away from other people he would have grabbed her throat for that. He felt desire simmering in his veins, thrumming steadily and he couldn’t imagine how the next four days would go.

“That’s different.” He tells her and her eyebrow arches as she crosses her arms under her chest.

“How?” She catches the way his eyes drift down towards her breasts and gives him a knowing look.

“That’s when we’ve been too busy, or too tired, but this, what you’re doing right now is-” He stops when the door opens abruptly.

“Hey guys there’s someone calling in claiming to be the unsub.” Spencer interrupts them and just like that, his focus was back at work.

Day 4

They’re heading home from Texas, the case had unraveled quickly. They usually did when dealing with a narcissistic killer. He had chosen to sit by himself in the corner of the plane, blaming paperwork when in reality he needed to put space between himself and Emily. She had spent the night pressed tightly against him, and now all he could feel was her. The smell of something as simple as her perfume was driving him wild and even though he could see the way she was starting to struggle too, she was determined to last the week.

But he was struggling more than her, which was rare. Normally she would be the frenzied one, the one needing the physical part of their relationship more than him. His eyes found hers across the plane and he felt a tugging low in his abdomen when she looked at him with a filthy smirk. Then his phone vibrated in his pocket and he saw her own phone in her hand.

Emily: You’re really going to sit there the entire flight?

Aaron: Unless you want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this plane, yes.

He watches the way her cheeks tint the slightest shade of pink and he licks his bottom lip at the sight.

Emily: Three more days.

Like he needed the reminder.

Aaron: Trust me I know. And you’re going to pay for making me wait an entire week.

She bites her bottom lip at his response and when her eyes meet his again, he sees the same heat he feels reflect in her dark orbs.

Emily: Is that a promise?

It most certainly was.

Day 5

It’s been five days. Five. He’s pretty sure he’s losing his mind, because this is what it must feel like being consumed by lust. He finds himself just staring at her, the simplest, most mundane tasks making his mouth water because it was her doing them. He finds himself tenting his slacks as she bites the end of her pen when doing paperwork, because he knows just what she could do with that mouth. When she unloads the dishwasher later that same day he has to physically grab the edge of the kitchen table to keep himself from simply pushing her tights down her thighs and fuck her right there and then, because he knew what her ass looked like when she bent over for him.

And then she’s kneeling on the floor, cleaning up some of the toys that Jack had forgotten about before bedtime and he watches as she looks up at him behind long lashes and he’s tasting blood from the way he bites down on his tongue.

“You’re so pretty on your knees, sweetheart.” He comments and she immediately flushes. She’s gotten needier too and that’s part of what’s driving him insane. She stays close to him as much as possible, always touching him in some way when they’re alone, her lips searching for his. He might be falling into madness, but he’s pretty sure she is as well.

“Thank you.” She whispers instead of making a smug remark and his suspicions are confirmed.

“Too bad about your little rule, huh?” He stands from where he’s seated on the couch and grabs her chin. “Two more days.”

“R-right.” She stutters and when he lets go of her almost reaches for him.

Day 6

It had been an insane day, they had been called in early. It was local case, a child abduction that despite all odds was managed to be solved that same night, with a child going home to his parents. But because of their day Aaron had barely had time to think about anything but work. It wasn’t until he was packing up for the night that he realized that the triathlon was the next day, he hadn’t been nervous about it but suddenly excitement and nerves twisted his gut.

For the last six days he had been consumed by her, the triathlon had barely been on his mind. It dawns on him that’s probably part of why Emily had done what she did, because she knew he’d get in his head about it. He didn’t have to be the best, he knew he wouldn’t be, but he was also an overachiever and she knew that even if he hadn’t voiced it out loud, he was putting pressure on himself to perform well.

“Are you ready to go home?” Her voice is soft and tired and he didn’t blame her, it had been a long day.

He stands from his desk and wordlessly walks towards her and slams the door behind her before pressing her against it. He swallows up her sound of surprise with a kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth as his hands are firm on her hips. One hand moves to the small of her back and slips under her shirt, feeling her soft skin under his fingertips. When they break apart he stays close, his forehead pressing gently against hers.

“What was that for?” She whispers as her eyelids flutter open and her arms wrap around his neck.

“I just love you.” He smiles at the way she breaks into a grin. “And I’m so thankful for you.”

“I love you too, honey. So much.” She lets him pull her into another kiss, this one gentler as they enjoy a moment to just be.

Day 7

He’s finished the triathlon and he feels like he might die. He’s panting and gulping down half a bottle of water as his family and friends stand around him, cheering him on. Jack’s handmade sign in his other hand and something he would frame later.

“Pretty impressive, I had money on the swim killing you.” Emily winks at him and he laughs through heavy breaths.

“I practiced.” He grins match hers as she ignores his wet clothes in favor of giving him a quick kiss.

“Hey you guys want to get something to eat?” Spencer asks and the rest immediately agrees.

They all wait as he changes clothes, his entire body was spent, muscles aching but he was proud of himself. He had set a goal earlier that year, to finish a triathlon and he had made it, he had done it. He’s still grinning when he meets the rest of the team at their cars and Jack jumps into his arms.

“Are you okay?” Emily chuckles when she notices that he struggles slightly to carry Jack and he nods.

“Give me a few hours and I’ll be as good as new.”

Yeah, that was wishful thinking.

They get home later than they thought, and by the time Jack is asleep in bed, he’s so spent that he falls asleep on the couch.

“Come on honey, lets go to bed.” Emily wakes him gently and he groans but still stands. He brushes his teeth and showers quickly and by the time he gets into bed his body feels heavy.

“So much for making me pay.” She quips from beside him and he peeks up at her with one eye.

“Just you wait, sweetheart. Jessica has Jack tomorrow.”

He’s asleep before he hears her response.

*

He woke up early, so early it was still dark out. Emily is sleeping soundly beside him and he takes a few moments to simply look at her. He watches her chest rise and fall, sees her nipples through the thin tank she was wearing, lets his finger trail from between her breast to her slender neck. His eyes travelled over her face, from her slightly parted lips, to the point of her nose that he knew she hated, but he loved. Her long eyelashes fluttered slightly when he moved closer to her, her dark hair was splayed around her on the pillow, she was beautiful and she was his.

His hand moved down her body again, sneaking under the covers to find the lining of her underwear. One finger trailed below the fabric and Emily sighed lazily.

“Wake up, Em.” He whispered before pressing a kiss to her shoulder, then continued further up as he carefully positioned himself above her.

“What are you doing?” She mumbled sleepily, eyes still closed but legs spreading automatically for him to fit between.

“I’m enjoying my wife.” He mumbled against her collarbone before sucking a mark into the skin at the base of her neck.” His cock was already pulsing, pushing against her through their underwear and Emily rocked gently up against it.

“Honey.” She gasps, whatever else she was going to say dying on her lips when he sucked her nipple through her tank. Her fingers find their way to his short hair as he continues to kiss down her body, still half-asleep as he drags her panties from her hips.

“You’re going to come on my tongue,” He mumbles lowly as he settles between her thighs, his lips ghosting over her clit as he speaks. “and then you’re going to come on my cock.” He nips at her thigh and she sucks in a breath. “And after, you’re going to let me come in that pretty mouth of yours.” He bites a bruise into the other thigh and she whines lowly. “Is that clear?”

“Crystal.” She gasps and only a moment later he’s licking through her.

He makes good on his word and she’s coming gasping his name with hands twisting the sheets and thighs trembling around his head. She’s still coming down from her high when he pushes inside of her, sets a pace that’s hard and rough and exactly what they’ve both been needing for the last week.

“You feel so fucking good, how do you always feel so fucking good?” He mutters against her neck as she starts to tense underneath him in no time at all.

“Harder, fuck baby harder.” Her heels are digging into his ass, her nails are breaking the skin of his back, and he revels in the sting of it. He thrusts harder, and she comes biting down on his shoulder. Later he will press on the bruise she leaves behind fondly.

“Gonna come sweetheart.” He hisses as her muffled moans turns into breathier whimpers and she nods against his shoulder. He pulls out with a groan and moves higher on the bed until he’s straddling her chest and she leans back on her elbows and opens her mouth.

One of her hands wrap around his shaft while she licks the taste of herself from his tip. She sucks hard, lets her tongue swipe across the underside of his cock as her hand twists and when she looks up at him through her eyelashes he comes with a punched-out groan. He’s gripping the headboard so hard his knuckles turn white as he lets pleasure take over as his body jerks and head falls back.

By the time he’s relaxed, Emily has swallowed and is cleaning him up with lazy licks of her tongue.

“That was so good, honey.” Her breathing is still labored as he lays back beside her and she immediately fits herself against him.

“Don’t think we’re done, not by a long shot.” He smirks against the top of her head before pulling her into a kiss, enjoying the taste of both of them on her tongue.

And he wasn’t lying, the moment the door closed after Jessica picked Jack up, he was on her. They didn’t even make it to their bedroom, and instead he pinned her between the couch and his body. He had her naked in minutes, his hands moving all over her body and his lips tasting her skin.

“Jesus Aaron.” She chuckles breathlessly as his fingers move between her thighs, a low hum of enjoyment leaving him at finding her hot and slick already.

“You’re irresistible.” His voice is thick with arousal as he turns her around but keeps her close with one arm wrapped around her chest, his hand finding her throat. The other hand moves down her stomach and he grins as he feels the muscles tense under his touch. His continues down back between her legs and lets his middle finger circle her clit slowly and her head falls back against his shoulder at the feeling

“So wet, already so ready for me.” He breathes against her ear as the hand around her throat tightens just slightly, daring her to move away from him. She nods with a low moan, and her legs spread for him, giving him more room.

“It feels so good.” She gasps and he ruts against her ass and circles her clit with firmer pressure.

“I know, baby.” He smirks against her ear before biting the lobe. “You’re making the prettiest noises for me, I’ve thought about hearing them all week.” His hand moves lower and he pushes two fingers inside of her as he lets the palm of his hand drag over her clit and she moans loudly. “Just like that.”

“Fuck, Aaron!” She feels her knees buckling and she grabs his arm with one hand as the other steadies herself against the back of the couch, her nails digging into the fabric. He knew her body better than she knew it herself, and as he continued to whisper praise and filth against her ear his fingers hooked inside of her as he continued to press his palm against her clit. The heat in the pit of her stomach was already building, her hips rocking into his hands and back against his cock which was straining inside his sweats.

His hips push forward against her ass and she stumbles slightly, stuck between his body and the couch. He only snickers at her and tightens his hold on her neck, feeling her pulse beat wildly under his fingers.

“You gonna come for me?” His voice is laced with satisfaction and she mewls as her hips buckle and her slick walls tighten around his fingers. “One week and you turn into the most desperate little thing.”

“Please, honey please.” She begs and she feels his lips curl into a smirk against her neck as his cock twitches against her ass. Any other day she wouldn’t give in so easily to his taunting, but it had been a long week, a week without his touch and even though it had been her idea, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t been struggling just as much as he had. “I’m so fucking close.” She pants and his hand tightens around her throat, slowly cutting of blood flow and making her lightheaded.

“Come for me baby, soak my fingers.” He hisses the word against her ear as she starts to tense against him. His hold on her throat loosens and she comes with a guttural groan that shoots straight to his cock. He continues to push his fingers inside of her, groans praise against her ear until her body has stopped shaking and her eyelids flutter open and she’s twisting her head enough to kiss him breathlessly.

“Fuck me.” She gasps against his lips and he hums, satisfaction dripping from the sound. He pushes her forward, one hand pressing between her shoulder blades as he urges her to bend over the back of the couch.

“Insatiable, aren’t you sweetheart?” He teases as he pushes his pants and boxers down his legs. She glares at him over her shoulder but it doesn’t have the desired effect when her cheeks are still flushed and brown orbs clouded by lust. “That’s okay, I am too.” He assures her lowly and slowly pushes the tip of his cock through her folds.

She whimpers each time he bumps against her clit. Her back arches as he teases them both, her entire body needing to feel him inside of her.

He licks up her spine, tastes the sweat on her skin before straightening. One hand wrap in her dark hair and tugs and she moans at the slight pain from it.

“My pretty thing, fucking gorgeous.” He mutters before pushing inside of her with one smooth thrust that forces groans from both of them. The hand not in her hair grabs her hip hard as he sets a pace that he’s sure is too rough, the grunt from her making his pause.

“Do not fucking stop.” She hisses through clenched teeth and she hears his breathless chuckle.

“Like I said, insatiable.” He tugs on her hair and starts moving again and she moans loudly. His hand is probably bruising her skin from his hold on her, he knows they both will have marks on their bodies for days from the way they’ve been grabbing and biting and clawing at each other. He loves it, loves when they’re desperate for each other.

“I don’t think I’m the only one.” She pants and he tugs her head back harder, forcing her to bend further. He’s leaning over her, face sweaty and eyes dark enough to look black as he looks at her flushed face.

“You’re right about that, if I could I’d spend every waking moment having you like this.” He growls as his hips move faster, their bodies creating obscene sounds each time they connect. She groans, her jaw clenching slightly and he feels her clenching around his cock. “Does it hurt?” He hisses lowly and she nods.

“Yes.” She admits, the fill of him always a lot, but the power of his thrusts blending the line between pleasure and pain.

“Do you like it?” He already knew the answer, could see the way her body was reacting to him.

“Yes.” She hisses and he lets go of her hair, forcing her to fall forward over the back of the couch.

“Filthy thing, perfect thing.” He grabs both of her hips and pushed her down against the couch, keeping her there as he continued to fuck into her. It was filthy, feral, exactly what he had been denied and exactly what he needed.

She’s starting to tense only a few minutes later, her slick walls tightening and trembling around his cock as she moans get louder and needier.

“Come with me, let me feel it.” She pleads as the pleasure builds steadily inside of her. Her body feels like it’s on fire, heat spreading through every nerve ending as he pushes her higher and higher. She feels his hips stutter, hears his groan, close to animalistic and she catches his reflection in the TV. He’s sweaty, hair messy and strong body tense as he stares down at where they’re connected. He looks wild, lost in desire and pleasure and the image is enough to make her come with a strangled cry.

The feeling of her coming is enough to force his own orgasm. He comes with a growl, his entire body twitching and cock buried as deep inside of her as possible as they come together in a messy haze of pleasure. His knees are buckling, he’s heaving for breath while Emily stays slumped over the couch, drawing desperate breaths into her lungs.

It’s not until he feels like his legs won’t give out on him that he pulls away from her and she sighs at the empty feeling he leaves behind. He’s gentle as he pulls her up to stand as well and she smiles lazily up at him before moving around the couch, dragging him with her. He lays down and she easily fits herself between the backrest of the couch and his body after covering both of them with a blanket.

“If one week gets you like this, I’d love to know what a month would do.” She chuckles against his throat and he cradles the back of her head.

“Sweetheart we both know you wouldn’t have lasted another day, don’t push your luck.” He teases but there’s nothing but affection in his voice. He presses a kiss to her forehead and she looks up at him, looking sated and content.

“So when we’re old and grey?”

“I’ll be bending you over your walker.” He promises with a smile.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Krampus, 2015

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count:

Notes: Still working on my phone problems….when I tell you I freaking deleted my ENTIRE internet history…especially the research for this kinkmas series

Bucky checks the locks on the safe house one more time as you wander around, checking things out. The mission had gone perfectly, just a standard recon. What wasn’t supposed to happen was the sudden large snowstorm that blew in, the plane couldn’t take off and you and Bucky were forced to go to the closest safe house to wait it out.

Good thing it was kept fully stocked. 

You come back into the living room, Bucky is staring out the window, his arms crossed, with a frown on his face. You stand next to him, squinting at the pure white scene in front of you. 

“What’re you-“

“There’s a wolf pack. I don’t think they’ll give us any trouble… but still. I’ll get whatever wood we need and bring it in” 

“What? you don’t think I can take some wolves?” You scoff and he looks down at you, raising an eyebrow. 

“Nope” 

Your jaw drops as he walks away, grabbing his stealth jacket and zipping it up before unlocking the door.

“Don’t open this door” 

“Are you gonna lock it? You’re just getting some wood” You come over and stand behind it, peeking out at him as the wind whips his hair around, he looks…really good, in the snow. Which is actually pretty rude to think but still he’s really freaking fine. 

“Yes. It’s a safe house. You keep the door locked at all times?” He says slowly, like you need the time for your brain to catch up and you roll your eyes, closing the door. 

“I hate you” You mumble as you set to locking the door

“No, you don’t” 

You shriek and throw a punch at nothing, before spinning around and smacking your back against the wall. 

“You didn’t take your comm out, Y/N.” 

You can hear the smug smile in his voice as you stomp over to the couch and sit down to wait for him to come back in.

“Hope those dumb wolves get you” You sass and he rolls his eyes, piling the wood up in the metal arm. 

“I doubt they will” 

“Maybe I can use my secret mind powers and ask them to bite you in the ass” 

He smiles, shaking his head when you say that, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of a chuckle. 

“I don’t think talking to animals is one of your powers” 

“And just how do you know?” 

“I’m sure Tony would have told us” 

He comes back into the house, looking at you curled up on the couch for a second before he drops the pile of wood near the fireplace and starts stacking it. 

“Maybe I didn’t tell him everything,” you say, coming over and sitting on the floor next to him. Handing him a log, he looks at you again, studying your face before taking it from you and adding it to the stack. 

“Doesn’t seem possible, hiding something from him, with everything he’s got goin on to check us all out” 

“I have my ways,” You say simply and he drops the last log on top, turning to look at you.

“Yeah I’ll believe it when I see it” 

Dinner is simple, and by simple you’ve made two of the most beautiful steaks you’d ever been blessed to have in the fridge and some roasted potatoes. 

Bucky had decided to take a nap, after you profusely promised him you wouldn’t burn the house down, and that you’d get him if there were any emergencies, even then he was still reluctant as you pushed against his back to get him into the bedroom. 

You flop on the couch and pull up your telepad, scrolling through the contacts until you land on Steve’s. You get comfy on the couch while you wait for him to answer, you’re busy looking at your nails when his face pops up.

“Hey Y/N, how are things?” 

You smile as you set it down on the coffee table in front of you and curl up under your blanket. 

“Hi, Stevie! Things are good I guess, I think Bucky is still asleep, I made us dinner” 

“I don’t think he is, we’ve been texting for the past hour or so…”

“He’s awake?! That jerk! He promised he’d get some sleep!” 

Steve chuckles as he sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “He’ll have plenty of time for sleep trust me. We don’t know when that storm is gonna let up enough to come get you two… it could be a couple days” 

“A couple days?” You gasp and he nods “If I go missing, it’s because I annoyed that man too much”

“You know we’ll never find you right?” 

“Oh, I know. The good news is, I don’t think he cares for me all that much, so personally I think I have a chance” 

Steve looks at you weirdly for a moment and you look at him back

“What’s with the face?” 

“You don’t think he likes you?” 

You shrug and look down at your hands “I mean, I think he tolerates me? Which is all I can ask for really” 

“He asked for you to be on this mission with him” 

Your jaw drops and Steve comes closer, speaking lower into the camera

“Said you really knew your stuff when it came to recons like this. Wanted you specifically, wouldn’t go with anyone else” 

“What about you?” 

“I mean I don’t think I count, do you?” 

No, he didn’t. You knew he didn’t. So what the hell? Why did he want it to be you? Sam could have gone… in fact, you were surprised he didn’t.

“Don’t- don’t tell him I told you okay? I just wanted you to know he likes you. He doesn’t just tolerate you.”

“I want to say I believe you, Steve, really. And it’s nice that you’re trying to make it better. But Bucky doesn’t have to like me just because we’re on the same team you know?” 

“I just don’t like understand-“

“He literally has nothing to do with me outside of missions? We don’t talk, we don’t hang out one on one like he does with everyone else, it’s always in a -“

“Have you made an effort to talk to him alone?” 

You stop, your mouth opening and closing and he shakes his head smiling 

“Seems like the perfect opportunity for you to get to know him too. Maybe past hallway pleasantries” 

Your head turns back as Bucky comes out of the bedroom, his hair is pulled back out of his face, and his arm in his hand. You’d seen him with his arm off. That was fine, but his hair? His soft, fluffy, hair pulled back in a half up half down ponytail situation??? 

“Uhhh hi?” he stops walking, you and Steve are staring at him. Steve ends the call and you whip your head around. 

“Traitor!!” You shake your telepad and toss it aside before getting up 

“Sorry I was gonna wake you, I just-“

He sticks his arm back on, swinging it around to re-lock it and you blink, he gives you a weird look before going into the kitchen and lifting the lid to look at the steaks. 

“Sorry I’ll uh, I’ll put that on in the room next time” 

He mumbles it, trying to be as nonchalant as possible as he gets you both plates and you rush over 

“No- no let me! I- no” your voice trails off as he turns to face you, you look up at him, a light blush on your cheeks

“I’m sorry if- if my uh- staring? Made you uncomfortable. I’ve just never seen you put the arm on you know?” 

“It’s okay, I know it can be a little…jarring” 

“Are you kidding me?!” You put a stupid amount of potatoes on his plate and a piece of steak and hand it to him, before putting some on your plate and handing that to him too so he could go sit down with them 

“That was like, the coolest, hottest, thing I’ve ever seen!” You grab the bottle of apple juice and pour it into two cups before coming over to the table 

“Hottest?” He pushes your plate toward you and you push your potatoes around with your fork, your cheeks flushing

“Yeah. I’ll admit it, I’m man enough!” 

“Whatever you say doll” He chuckles, stabbing his fork into the potatoes.

Dinner is freaking good, like really good. And the company is even better. Steve was right, once you finally got to talking to him Bucky was sweet, he was funny, he was interesting…

He was really…really attractive. 

And it wasn’t that he never was, because he’s fine as hell, that’s clear. But he’s charming, he’s got jokes, he’s got- 

It’s not until you’re back on the couch after dinner with a glass of wine in your hand, his arm around your shoulders as you lean into him that you realize it. 

“Hey!!” You suddenly yell, your wine sloshing in the glass with your movements “Are you flirting with me?!” 

Bucky looks at you from over his glass, an incredulous look on his face

“A-are… are you kidding me?” 

During dinner, he’d gotten closer, literally. He scooted his chair closer to yours, telling you how impressed he was by your cooking, he didn’t know you could cook. You smiled at him excitedly, telling him all about how you loved to cook! You loved to crochet too, you offered to make him a bunny and he smiled, graciously accepting it, on the condition he could name it after you. He listened to every single ADHD thought to go through your brain, easily following you from story to story. 

And it’s just dawning on you how much you were talking, and how much he was absolutely eating it up. How he’d coaxed you over to the sink, washing dishes while you dried them, how he’d poured you a glass of wine, occasionally tipping it up for you to drink more. How that asshat took your hand, leading you over to the couch to “get comfy” 

Your mouth falls open and you turn to him slowly “James Buchanan Barnes. Were you trying to get me tipsy?!!!”

“No?” He says it in kind of a high-pitched voice and you gasp dramatically. He chuckles and sets his glass down on the table and takes yours, putting it down next to his

“I think you’ve had enough” 

“Oh, have I?!” Your cheeks are flushed from the alcohol “Mr, Get a girl drunk! What’s your next move huh?” 

He rolls his eyes “I don’t think you’re drunk doll…”

“Maybe I am. What’s your next move?” You glare at him as he studies your face, something he seems to like to do 

“Well, I’m sure as hell not gonna make any move if you really are drunk. Maybe we can just sit together, how does that sound?” 

“Sounds awful, What’s your next move?” 

You’re not dropping it and he’s starting to think maybe he did give you a little too much wine…

“Well. I’ve got you where I want you right? Alone, in my arms, relaxed” He tilts your chin up to look into your eyes and you know he’d see the blush if your cheeks weren’t already so red. 

“Maybe I’d ask you for a kiss” 

Your eyes widen, your heart rate skyrockets, and he gives you a cocky smirk, you know that he can totally tell what’s going through your mind and body. 

“A kiss?” You ask quietly and he nods, leaning in closer, you can feel his breath fan across your face as he speaks 

“Mhm” He holds your chin in his fingers, turning your head to get a look at you, but your eyes stay glued to his, soft and hazy as you stare back at him.

“Shit, I did give you too much didn’t I?” 

He pulls away all too quickly and you feel that sudden loss of warmth so painfully deep as you shake your head. 

“No-no, please! I was just being a brat I’m fine!!” 

“If you still feel that way tomorrow, fine” He gets up from the couch, checking his watch, it’s already after midnight, he takes your hand, leading you while you sulk and pout your way to the bedroom. 

He pulls you into the en suite and flips down the toilet lid so you can sit down. 

“What changed?” You ask as he grabs some baby wipes from the cabinet and sets them on the counter next to you, he raises an eyebrow and steps between your legs before opening the package 

“What do you mean?” He opens the mirror and looks around for a second before grabbing a fluffy pink headband and helping you put it on 

“Why do they have this…” He mumbles while he takes a wipe from the package and holds your chin, carefully wiping at your eyes

“I think it’s great, they know how to cater to women here. I bet Pepper had a hand in this”

“I bet she did” He moves onto your other eye and you reach out, holding onto the front of his shirt to keep steady. 

“You didn’t answer my question”

“You didn’t answer mine, what do you mean?” 

“Why are you being so… nice? All of a sudden. Not that you’re not normally… you’re very kind most times you know? Civil. But now you’re getting me tipsy and taking off my makeup… so, what changed?” 

“You’re not gonna let me forget that huh? I just wanted you to relax doll, you’re always so… geared up you know? And trust me, I’ve learned that’s not… that’s not a great way to live”

“Says the guy with at least six weapons on him right now” 

“Hey, one of us has to be the sane one” He chuckles and you hold his shirt tighter, smiling a little 

“Are you on guard so I don’t have to be?” 

He doesn’t say anything to that, but you can feel the way he shifts a little, and it occurs to you the position he has you in. You’re safe in front of him, his entire body is blocking the door, you open your eyes again while he’s busy taking your lipstick off, the mirror is angled toward the door so he can see behind him and the bathroom door is open just enough that the mirror can see everything but no one can see in. 

Everything he does is calculated.

“Can you really talk to animals?” 

He’s changing the subject and unfortunately, it’s one that really attracts your attention. You reach for the gun at his hip and turn off the safety, letting it hang from your hand but still keeping it ready.

“How long have you been wondering about that?” You giggle and he rolls his eyes, wiping at your foundation 

“We don’t need to talk about that, just answer the question” 

“What do you know about my powers?” You look into his eyes and he shrugs, watching yours glow a soft purple. 

“I know you’re a lot like Wanda, but you have a lot of differences from her too. I know Thor trusts you? And I guess that’s all we really need in the answer of you being trustworthy and a good person”

“He and Steve nearly shit their pants when I played that prank on them? Moving his hammer from his room and hiding it in the workout room? I didn’t… I didn’t realize how impossible that was” 

“I know I had a good laugh” 

You smile as he throws away the baby wipes and tosses the package back into the cabinet. 

“That wasn’t regular wine was it?” You ask quietly and he helps you up, taking his gun and putting it back on his hip 

“Nope. Steve gave it to me” 

“So you’re also aware-“

“You’re a hell of a lot stronger than they’re making you seem. I saw you get hit by that fuckin’ pipe. I nearly…“ He stops for a moment, looking at you before continuing “I was surprised when you took it and hit him back” 

He takes you over to the bed and puts his hands on the edge of your shirt, looking at you for permission. You blush and give him a little nod before he pulls your shirt off, he stops for a second, his eyes on yours. You raise an eyebrow and he lets his eyes trail down… he’d seen your clothes ripped before, hell he walked in on you out of the shower once, but this, this is different. 

He trails his soft fingers down your arm and you reach out, grabbing his metal hand and pulling it to your cheek, you nuzzle into it, giving his palm a small kiss, and his breath hitches. 

“We should probably get you to bed…” 

“Are you coming with me?” You look up at him through your lashes and he looks away, a light blush forming on his cheeks 

“I was gonna stay up…” 

“The wolves can” 

You pull away and go over to the dressers, looking for something to wear for bed and his jaw drops. 

“Wait a second-“ 

“They really like you” 

Waking up snuggled in Bucky’s arms was definitely where you wanted to be forever. He holds you so close to him, the metal arm firmly over your side, you almost feel like he locked it that way if that was even possible. You’re surprised he sleeps with it on, though this was probably a special “there’s no way in hell I’m taking it off” kind of occasion. 

You turn in his arms, lying flat on your back, and turn your head towards his. 

“Good morning” 

You squeak and go to throw a punch but he grabs your fist, blinking at your connected hands. 

“Shit. You really are strong aren’t you?” 

“Why would you scare me like that!!” 

“All I said was good morning!” 

“That’s not how you’re supposed to wake a girl up!!” 

“I mean that’s how I usually did it…” he lets go of your hand and you turn over, snuggling your back into his chest and putting his arm back over your torso. 

“Okay now you gotta be smooth with it” 

“Are you really making me redo this? We should be checking in”

“I said what I said!” 

“You know what? Fine. You want smooth?” 

He drags his hand over your hip, feeling your soft curves, and nuzzles his nose into your neck. You giggle as he leaves a trail of kisses up to your ear, he turns you slowly, sliding his hand up your torso and wrapping it around your neck. Your breath hitches and he smirks, peppering kisses over your face before finally kissing your lips. 

“Good morning beautiful” He purrs, his voice low and rough with sleep. It sends an electric shock through your body, straight to your core as he nibbles your ear. He goes to pull away and you stop him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Was that smooth enough for you?” 

He stays where you’ve trapped him, his body against yours, his hands on either side of your head. 

“Y-yeah I guess so, if ya like that sorta thing…” 

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought” He leans down, kissing you again and you cup his face, enjoying the stubble against your fingertips. 

“It’s cold,” You say when he pulls away and he chuckles, leaning his head against your shoulder. 

“The fire probably went out, I’ll go get it started again”

You stop him from moving again, running your fingers through his hair and blushing 

“I think- I think there might be a better way to stay warm?” 

“Are you… asking what I think you’re asking?” 

“How long have you liked me?” You smooth his hair back, looking into his eyes and he smiles, absolutely having been caught, not that he’d made it subtle these last few hours 

“Maybe a year or so… didn’t really think you wanted much to do with me… so I just left it alone” 

You throw little punches at his chest and he slaps your hands back, fighting with you. 

“Hey!!” 

“A year James?!?!! A freaking year?!! And you just didn’t do anything about it?!” 

“I said I didn’t think you liked me back!” 

“Why didn’t you ask?!” 

“If a lady doesn’t seem interested I’m not gonna be a creep and pursue her.”

“Okay, okay let’s talk. Can we talk?” 

“We can talk”

“So what you’re supposed to do, and I know this is gonna sound weird-“

“Smartass”

“You’re supposed to ask “hey? Are you into me?” And then- oh my god wait for it-”

“I’m already regretting this”

“You wait for their answer to make a decision!!” 

You punch his chest one more time and he rolls his eyes, grabbing your hand and tossing it to the side.

“This isn’t exactly how I saw this going alright?” 

“Wait wait wait” You giggle and he gets off of you, rolling to his side of the bed.

“You’ve thought about this? About us?” 

“Nope” 

“Are you being sarcastic?” You give him a little pout and he turns his head to look at you. You make your eyes big and watery and he sighs loudly, running his hands over his face. 

“Yes I’m being sarcastic” 

“Do I annoy you?” 

“Is that a trick question?” He gets up out of bed and you follow him, scooting to the edge of the bed and grabbing his shirt, he stops when you tug lightly 

“I-I’m sorry, if- if I’m-“

“Doll-“

“I’ve liked you too Bucky, for a long time and… and I realize I should have maybe made more of an effort to show you that” 

He cups your face, trailing his thumb over your cheekbone 

“I should have made more of an effort too” He leans down and pecks your lips, resting his forehead against yours 

“Can I make you breakfast?” He kisses you again and you smile against his lips 

“Sounds good to me” 

“Check in with Steve for us? I’ll go get the fire started and start on breakfast” 

You sit crisscross on the bed watching Bucky go, you wet your lips, your eyes drawn to the way his hips move with those stupid sweatpants. 

“I know you’re staring” 

“Shut up!!” 

You grab your telepad, call Steve, and wait, your arms crossed over your chest. You’re not surprised when he answers in his workout clothes, of course, he’s at the gym this early. 

“Did you know that bastards liked me for a year?” 

“Of course I did. I kept telling him to just freaking talk to you. But he wouldn’t” 

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” 

“How many times did I literally tell you… to talk to him?” 

“You’ve been trying to set us up!! Bucky! Buck-y” You yell and Steve face palms, dragging it down his face. 

“What?!” He yells back 

“He’s been trying to get us together!!” 

“Tell that little shit I don’t need his help!” 

“He says he doesn’t need your help” You turn back to the telepad 

“I can hear him, tell him he’s an asshole”

“Steve says you’re-“

“An asshole I know! Just find out how long we’re gonna be here for thank you” 

“So how long are we here for?” You smile brightly and Steve chuckles, going over to the weight rack to grab a couple 

“Unfortunately, probably a week… that storm doesn’t seem like it’s going to be stopping anytime soon and once it does we have to get to you, it’s gonna be a few days”

“Do we have supplies for that long?” You get up out of bed, carrying him with you, and into the living room. He blinks as you set him down on the coffee table and get comfy on the couch with a blanket. 

“You’ve got more than enough, probably enough to last a month, which hopefully it won’t be that long. But for now, the two of you just sit tight… are you wearing pants?”

“Nope! Thanks for the intel, I’ll call you later when I’m bored out of my mind” 

“Did you sleep in the same bed?” 

“….Maybe. Okay bye, Steve!” 

“Hold up-“

You rush to hit the end call button and get up, going into the kitchen. Bucky is standing in front of the stove and you wrap your arms around his waist, putting your head on his back. 

“Steve says it’s gonna be like, a week” 

He steps back a little, to keep your arms away from the heat and puts his hands over yours. 

“Sounds fun” He mumbles and you kiss his back, nuzzling your head into him 

“Guess we’re stuck together” 

“Sounds good to me. A whole week alone with you?” He turns around and grabs your waist, lifting you onto the island and stepping between your legs “Quiet, secluded… no one making us go anywhere” 

“No one making us do anything,” You sigh dreamily “A nice little vacation” 

He leans forward, kissing your neck, his hands gripping your sides possessively “Maybe get a chance to…get familiar with each other” 

“What’s for breakfast?” 

His lips don’t stop leaving hot kisses on your skin, each one more searing than the next, they send little jolts of electricity down through your core. 

“Quiche. Nat taught me” 

“That takes a bit” Your arms wrap around his neck and he picks you up off the counter, walking you back toward the bedroom. 

“Yeah I know, that’s why I did it” 

“You sure it’s not cause you suck at cooking everything else?” 

He drops you on the bed and you let out a squeak while he turns you over, his hand comes down on your ass and you yelp, trying to pull away but he holds you by your shirt. 

“I think our first step is controlling that mouth, don’t you?” 

He sits on the bed and yanks you into his lap, manhandling you right across his legs. 

“Bucky! Wait-wait I’m sorry okay! I’m sorry”

“The only thing I want to hear out of that pretty little mouth of yours is numbers. Count ‘em for me” 

He rubs the soft globe of your ass before smacking it, watching the way your cheeks jiggle.

“One” You sniffle a little, squirming in his lap and he smacks it harder this time, making you jump. You squeak and stop wriggling, hanging across his legs in defeat. 

“Bucky! That-“

He spanks you two more times, each harder than the last, you can feel the hot sting as he rubs it away gently. You’ve got little tears streaming down your face now and he tilts your chin up to look at him. 

“Are you done talking? Because they don’t stop until you are” 

You nod eagerly, begging him with your eyes to stop. His other hand slides over your ass, down to your pussy. He slides two fingers inside easily and you groan as he lets go of your face, letting you fall back forward. He pumps his fingers in and out, watching the way you stretch around them. 

You writhe in his lap, letting out soft little moans and opening your legs for him wider. One falls over the side of the bed as you start to grind into him and he watches you for a second.

“You like that, don’t you doll? The way my fingers work you…. You know what I like? Watching how desperate you are to get off. Why don’t you put on a little show for me huh? Wanna watch you get yourself off”

You blush and do as he says, rolling your hips back on his fingers, he keeps them moving, slowly in and out, curling just right to hit that soft spot inside you over and over. You grip the sheets in front of you and plant your leg a little firmer on the bed while he just sits back and lets you fuck yourself on him. You roll your hips in circles, rubbing your clit against the material of his sweatpants, the heated friction feels so good. Your hips move faster as you start getting closer, you can feel that little coil tightening, can feel his hard cock digging into your stomach as you grind down on him, your pussy drips down, leaving a wet mark on his pants but you don’t think either of you cares right now.

“Comecon, angel baby, wanna see you cum on my fingers. Bet you’re gonna look so pretty stuffed full of my cock” 

You let out a loud moan as you finish on his hand, your hips rolling erratically against him, your tight hole clenching over and over like a vice. He fucks you through it, his fingers pounding into you harder and faster as you start to come down. He finally pulls his hand away, once you’re trying to push him away from overstimulation. 

He gets up from the bed, carefully puts you down on your back licks, and his fingers clean.

“You think you’re ready for round two?” He asks as he grips your thighs and brings you to the edge of the bed. You nod yes like you even have a say in the matter as he drags the tip through your wet folds, teasing your hole and just pushing the tip in and out. 

“You know how long I’ve been thinking about doing this? How many times I’ve woken up rock-hard and jerked off to try and get you out of my head?” 

“Bucky” You whimper, your legs falling open more and he leans forward, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as he shoves his cock inside you, stretching you out fully. You moan together as he stays there for a second, just enjoying the way you feel around him. 

“Fuck you’re tight” He leans his head on your shoulder, pumping in and out slowly and gliding his hands down your thighs, he grabs your hips and turns you over, flat on your stomach, and kisses down your spine before dragging you off the bed. 

You shriek and he rolls his eyes as you place your hands on the floor “Im not going to drop you” 

“You better fucking not” You snap and he shuts you up with a harsh slap on your ass, you cry out, wriggling from the sting and he holds you steady, working you on his cock. 

“Hmmm that’s my good girl, willing to do anything to make me happy” he slams into you and your arms buckle, nearly folding completely but he keeps you up, that super serum working for both of you as he fucks you like a ragdoll. 

You whimper dizzily, this is such a specific position you know he’s really been thinking about it, he’s been thinking about taking you since the day he met you. Feeling this tight, wet, cunt wrapped around his cock, your walls fluttering helplessly, it’s so good, so overwhelming and you’re not sure just how long you can hold on before you’re exploding all over him. 

"That's it, baby girl," he pants, his hips snapping forward relentlessly. “Take my cock like a good little slut” 

Sweet curses fall from his lips in all kinds of languages you don’t understand but you’re pretty sure he’s saying the exact same thing you are 

“Holy fuck” You moan lowly, letting your head hang, your tits bouncing in your face. His harsh thrusts bang sweet little moans and whimpers from your lips as your legs spread wider, you can feel his hips stuttering, his breath shuddering as you open your legs into a perfect split. 

“Oh sweet girl, you’re just asking for me to cum in you aren’t you” He growls lowly, a deep rumbling rolling through his chest and you clench around him tighter 

“I am, please I am” you beg, rolling your hips on his cock as best you can as he pounds into your cervix. He lifts you up suddenly your back against his chest as he thrusts up harder into you, you gasp his name, clawing at his arm as you cum around his cock, your head spinning from the orgasm and suddenly being in an upright position again. 

With a final, brutal thrust, Bucky buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties his load deep inside you. He groans long and low, his hips jerking as he pumps you full of his cum. 

He staggers forward, putting you on the bed and pulling away with a sticky wet sound. He collapses on top of you, both of you panting together. You can feel his softening cock lying against your ass.

“Was it everything you thought it would be?” You giggle breathlessly as he stays on top of you, happy to smoosh you into the mattress

“Mhmmm, finally got you to shut up too” 

You reach back, trying to smack at him and he pins your hands down to the bed, grinding his cock against your ass. He bites your neck playfully and you squeal, trying to fight your way away from him. 

“Quit it!!” 

“You quit it” He mimics your voice and you whine, flipping him off your back. He gets tossed across the bed, reaching like a cat for the covers before he smacks into the floor. 

“Oh my god!! Bucky!” You scramble to the edge of the bed and he’s lying on his back, looking up at you 

“I KNEW THERE WAS SOMETHING DIFFERENT ABOUT YOU” 

[itsthestutterforme]

Should We Try Again? 1/2 (toxic!Rafe Cameron x toxic!reader)

Summary: Rafe tries to accuse you of cheating, and you did some snooping of your own. And when Rafe found out you went through his phone, you were in for it.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, Topper is a really good friend in this fic, reader is black, dark themes (choking, threats, arguing, name calling, overall just toxic behavior)

If any of these making you uncomfortable, pls don’t read. Take care of yourselves.

**

You and Rafe had one of your fights again. The yelling match, screaming in each other’s face kind of fight.

The kind of fight where the police gets called because someone heard glass breaking and shouting.

This particular time, he logged into your Instagram and founded close to 50 DMs from guys commenting on your stories where you posted your OOTDs.

You never opened any of the DMs but there were too many to go unnoticed.

“Do you get off on having other guys want you or something? Huh?” He starts as he abruptly forces his way into the bathroom where you were showering.

“What are you talking about, Rafe?” You snark, ringing out the water from your hair.

“What the hell is this?” He rips the shower curtain open.

“Rafe!” You scold, shutting off the water so none leaks onto the floor. He shoves his phone in your face and repeats, “What the hell is this?”

“They’re DMs, Rafe. Why are you talking to me like I did something wrong?”

“Because you did do something wrong by not blocking these sons of bitches. You like the attention, don’t you? You fucking slut.”

“Don’t you dare call me a slut, asshole. It’s DMs. They don’t mean shit!”

You close the shower curtain so you can resume your shower when he ripped it open again.

“Oh it means something when they’re sending dick pics, Y/N! They want to fuck you!”

“It doesn’t matter if they want me because I’m with you, Rafe. Not them.” You tried to reason.

You were already exhausted from work and you really didn’t need this right now.

“You’ve been sending them nudes, haven’t you?” “Are you fucking serious, Rafe?” “Do I look like I’m joking right now?” He says flatly, his nose flaring angrily.

“No, I haven’t sent anybody nudes. I didn’t even know they sent me dick pics because I don’t open them, Rafe.” He gives you a pointed look and you crossed your arms as a challenge.

It was clear you weren’t going to shower in peace so why not add some fuel to this fire.

“You’re such a hypocrite, you know that? Shame on me for having fifty unopened DMs but everything is okay when you have hundreds of opened DMs?” You antagonize, slowly stepping out of the shower with suds still on your body.

You watch as his face fell for a few seconds before it hardens once again.

“You’ve been going through my phone?” He asks. “Of course I have! Because I know you’ve been in my phone, desperate to find secrets to use against me. So I figure why not dig up some secrets of my own.”

“Y/N,” he warns lowly, taking a step towards you.

“What did you find?” He wrote down a few things about the cross.

Like where he’s already looked and potential places where it might be. But he hid those notes behind a passcode in his journal.

There were also a few texts of Ward asking ‘if it was taken care of’. Garret’s body.

There was no way you could figure out the passcode, right?

“What are you so scared I would find?” You questioned, purposely being vague. There was no point in being specific, if he was going to connect the dots for you.

His anxiety got the best of him and he wraps a hand around your throat, giving it a warning squeeze.

“Stop being cute and tell me what you saw.” He orders.

There wasn’t a constant pressure so you were able to breathe fairly normal. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t change his mind.

“I only went through your social media and some of your messages. Nothing else.” His hand twitched around your throat when you mentioned messages.

“I just wanted to see if you were texting others girls.” You added, wrapping your hands around his wrist.

“What else?” “Nothing else, I swear.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me, Y/N.” “I’m not lying to you.” He pulls away from your throat and you instinctively touched your collar bone.

His gaze softens when you stepped away from him. He itched to get close to you and apologize for over reacting, but he still wasn’t sure that you didn’t know about the gold and the bodies.

So his hands remained by his sides, tightening every so often.

“What are you protecting?” You asked cautiously. “Don’t pull that shit again.” He states before storming out of the bathroom and slamming the front door of your house.

That was a few days ago, and you haven’t spoke to each other since. The most interaction you’ve had was him viewing your story. That’s it.

You’ve been going straight home after work, not wanting to interact with anyone unless you had to.

But a small part of you wished you’d come home to Rafe waiting for you on your door step or him come to see you during your break.

But he never did. That was enough for you to come to the conclusion that he stopped caring about you.

He was so worried about protecting something or someone that was willing to choke you out to protect it.

You’ve seen him anxious about a few things but nothing set him off like you did that night.

You were watching one of your comfort movies with your fleece blanket wrapped around you, eating some stir fry you ordered on UberEats when your phone chimed.

Topper: hey you doing okay?

Tossing the phone back on the bed, you used the chopsticks to dip a piece of beef into the speciality sauce before eating it.

Your phone chimed again.

Topper: We were friends before you started dating Rafe, remember? I care about you too.

You: I assume Rafe told you everything?

Topper: Just that you had an argument and you’re on a break

You: Well that’s an oversimplification.

Topper: I’m throwing a party tonight. You should come.

You: I’m not exactly in the mood to get hit on by a bunch of drunk dudes.

Topper: Stick by me and you won’t have that problem.

You: You’re right. Instead, you would have a Rafe sized problem.

Topper: I’m not scared of Rafe.

Topper: Just come by for a few. It makes me feel uneasy that you’re by yourself at home all this time.

Topper: Please.

You: Fine, Topper.

Topper: Great! I’m on my way.

**

You hated yourself for how quick your eyes locked in on Rafe as soon as he walked into the party wearing a navy blue shirt and a white hat that matched his white cargo shorts.

He dapped up a few guys that greeted him by the front door and looked straight up to where you were sitting next to Topper.

He found you almost immediately with an expressionless face.

Your heart skipped a beat that he looked for you but that feeling of elation left you as quickly as it came.

He didn’t reach out to you for three days. No call. No text. No apology. He was done and now it was your turn to feel the same.

“You two are like magnets,” Topper says from behind you. “Toxic ones,” he eventually adds with a chuckle.

“I knew you were going to say that,” you teased, playfully hitting his shoulder.

Sadness kicked your gut when two girls approached Rafe, one of them ran her hands over his chest as she went to whisper something in his ear.

“I’m going to grab another drink.” You said when you notice Rafe coming up the stairs with the girls.

“I’ll come with you,” you gave him a look. “What? I meant it when I said stick by me. Let’s go.”

He lets you lead the way and you go down the second set of stairs but you stopped abruptly, peering down at your jewelry.

Everything you were wearing was gifted to you by Rafe, even down to the earrings. You still wore the R golden plate necklace and matching anklet. You had his signet ring on your thumb because that was the only finger it could fit.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Topper questions. Rafe was watching the entire interaction from the loveseat you and Topper were just sitting on.

You bent down to take off your anklet and moved to take off your earrings next.

“Can you help me take off the necklace?” You asked, pulling off the ring and placing it with the other jewelry.

“Sure,” he agrees, pushing your passion twists out of the way.

You felt his warm hand brushing against the back of your neck when he unclasped the necklace.

He put the necklace in your outstretched hand. You walked back up the few stairs you crossed and approached Rafe whose eyes were still trained on you.

You let out a shaky breath before taking his warm hand into your own and giving him the jewelry. You were beginning to miss his touch.

Guilt flashed across his face, looking down at his hand. You avoided his gaze and left him without another word, rushing down the stairs and Topper followed after you.

“Well that was dramatic,” one of the girls says, rolling her eyes while her friend eyes the gold carat in Rafe’s hand that easily amounted to 75k.

“Can I have the earrings?” She asked and before Rafe could respond, she reached for them anyway.

Rafe caught her hand in a tight grip and she whimpers at the pressure.

“You’re hurting me,” she groans.

“No one told you to touch what’s hers,” he shoves her to the ground. “Hey! You asshole!” Her friend snaps, standing from the couch and helps her friend to her feet.

He doesn’t spare them another glance as he digs in his pocket for a baggie to do a few lines.

“Y/N,” Topper calls, finally catching up with you in the kitchen. “Are you okay?” He asks you, examining your face for anything he could read.

“You should check on him,” you poured yourself a shot in a small solo cup and knocked it back, barely making a face.

“I’m checking up on you,” “It needed to be done, okay. All of it were just reminders of what I don’t have anymore.” You explain, pouring yourself another shot.

“That was very brave for you to do.” “Then why do I feel like shit?” You huffed after taking another shot and he stops you from pouring another one.

“Because the break up is still fresh, Y/N.” He looks at you like you’re going to fall apart before his very eyes.

His soft eyes examines your face for any micro expression that could give away what you’re thinking.

“Look, Top. I know you’re trying to help and all but if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to cry.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I want to enjoy your party. Your birthday is tomorrow. You shouldn’t be spending it watching me cry.”

“That’s not happening. I’m not leaving you.” He shakes his head and you took his hands into yours, much like you did with Rafe.

But Rafe’s hand were warmer.

“It doesn’t make you a bad friend. I’ll find Sarah.” He studied your face once again and you gave him a soft smile.

“Go,” “Alright,” he says, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “I’ll come find you in like ten minutes.”

“Take your time,” he leaves the kitchen and you let out a deep sigh. You shouldn’t be here.

But you didn’t have the heart to ditch Topper on his birthday rager.

You pressed your palms into the cool, granite countertop and bowed your head to release the tension in your neck.

You hadn’t realize someone was in the kitchen with you until you heard footsteps and someone’s low voice. To your surprise, it was Pope standing on the other side of the counter.

“Sorry, were you saying something?” You asked softly, the shot were slowly starting to get to you.

“I said you are too pretty and insanely smart to be treated like an option.”

That was the nicest thing anyone said to you. You haven’t felt valued in a long time.

“Thanks, Pope. That really means a lot.”

His mouth fell open at your words. “You know who I am?”

“Yes I know who you are. Your family makes the best seafood boils in town.” You explained with a chuckle.

“She knows my name,” he said to himself, which he quickly realized you can hear.

“I should haven’t said that out loud,” he admits and you let out a laugh.

“You’re cute,” he scratches the back of his neck to hide how flustered he way. “Um, are you hiding from Rafe in here?”

“Yes, I am.” You admitted, crossing your arms. “Well if you want some company, my friends are by the bonfire outside. If you want to join. O-only if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything or-“

You interrupted his rant to say, “Sure. I’ll go with you.” You took a solo cup and swung by the keg on the way out, offering some to Pope.

“By the way, what makes you think I’m insanely smart?” “I’m a TA for Mr. Patterson. He still uses your test as a grading key.” He explains after taking a swig of your beer.

“Of course he does. I loved his class.” You admitted with a chuckle. “What is this?”

JJ stands from the chair and motions between you and Pope with his ringed pinky.

“I told her she can hang out with us.” “Hey, JJ.” You greet with a small wave.

“‘Sup, sweetheart. Want a hit?” He offered a blunt to you and you graciously accepted.

He had a grin on his face as he watched you take a hit. He expected you to cough or at least have your eyes water from the potency but much to his surprise, you exhaled the puff of smoke slowly without a fuss.

The mix of the weed and the tequila was throwing your head in a spin. “Never pegged you to be a pothead,” “I’m full of surprises, Maybank.”

A drunk Rafe stumbles outside in search for you when he finds you laughing with Pope and JJ.

JJ noticed your shivering whenever there was a breeze and peeled off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders.

Rafe wasn’t even aware what was happening until his vision started to blur.

He was crying.

[dollypopup]

honestly, I think the reason the last few episodes of S3 made me so upset as a Polin fan was that they didn't wrap up any growth from Pen or from Colin in regards to their character flaws to have them gel as a cohesive unit. They still felt very much. . .alone, to me, in those last few episodes. Here are two people who really are soulmates on main, able and willing to help the other become a better person, and I don't feel that the season delivered in that regard. now I'm open to this discussion, but I feel like part 2 really lost the plot in regards to romance because they didn't have a solid grasp on 1: who the characters are, and 2: what the appeal of them as a couple IS

colin's flaws in the show are not the same as his flaws in the book, but they almost treated him like they were. where in the book, his main flaws are his temper and being a flake, in the show, Colin doesn't really get angry. Not in the way his book counterpart does. And Colin is not flakey, either. If anything, he runs heartfirst into his problems. And other people's. His travels aren't necessarily an escape: they're to complete his education. Now, Colin DOES look for escape, but in other ways: drink, drugs, rotting in bed (god, what a relatable king), but his travels? I don't see that. Yeah, he needed distance after S1 to heal over heartbreak, but that's not the primary goal. And the second go around, he's not running away from anything, either.

In fact, everything about Colin points to the fact that he's the opposite from his book counterpart in this sense. Please keep in mind- he is ONLY 22. He essentially did the regency equivalent of getting a bachelor's degree after two years of study abroad and then got married to his childhood best friend right whilst he published his thesis (the travel logs). Unlike in the books, PEN is the one who runs away. She offers up annulment (that Colin refuses), she resigns to paying off Cressida (whilst he goes to talk to her), she literally races off to her carriage to cry and go home (and he chases after her). Colin does NOT have the character flaw of flaking out, which means him sticking around, staying through everything, is not symptomatic of his character growth, but just an inherit character trait of his.

No, Colin was never looking for escape. And he wasn't even necessarily looking for MEANING.

He was always, from the first moment we met him, looking for himself.

Colin's main character flaw in the show is his confusion and insecurity of self. Not only in his arc of trying to parse out what it means to be a man of his society, fighting against and trying to meet gender expectations, trying to be someone others listen to and care about, but also his general selflessness. Colin does everything with very little regard for his own well-being. Colin doesn't care about being humiliated or looking like a fool, he runs after Penelope regardless. Multiple times. Colin refuses her annulment yes because he loves her and wants to stay, but also because he cannot leave her to her lonesome, even if he goes down with her. Even with Marina, Colin would have married her if she was honest, his own happiness not even a consideration. His own feelings, his own emotions, come secondary. Thus is the plight of the chronic people pleaser.

And at the end of the show, he doesn't crack through that. Even when, arguably, Penelope is the best person to help him do so. Not only because Penelope is in the habit of putting herself first (which, frankly, she should be doing and I applaud her for. When she's asked who Whistledown was meant to protect and she answered 'Me', I think that was the most honest she'd ever been, and probably when I respected her the most), but also because she has had the buildup in Polin of being the stable one. The one who fell first. The one who doodled love notes in her diary and had stars in her eyes whenever she talked to him. What's that one quote? Someone who thinks they're hard to love being with someone who loves them like breathing? If there's ANYONE who could convince Colin to consider himself more, it's Penelope 'What of him? What of Colin?' Featherington.

But then. . .she doesn't. And so he doesn't. The last speech is that he is happy to stand off to the side and soak up a bit of her light.

Which, let's not parse words here, Chat, he has BEEN doing. Colin is not an arrogant character who takes up all the spotlight. He has ALWAYS existed on the outskirts. By the end of the season, he continues to.

Which takes us then to Penelope, who also ends very similarly to how she began. Penelope's main flaw is not that she considers herself above or before others (again, I think putting herself first is, ultimately, good!), but rather that she does not trust anyone to help her. As someone who has learned to be hyper-independent, mostly as a trauma response, I understand her. But I still think it was the wrong move not to challenge that.

Half the appeal of a partnership is that you can lean on someone else. That you no longer have to do things all by your lonesome. That someone is there to confide in, to support, to take some of that weight, to depend on. Colin is the PERFECT person for Penelope to learn to lean on others with. She does not do so with Eloise. She does not do so with her family. But Penelope in the previous seasons LIKED that Colin would do things for her. She LIKED that she didn't have to do things all on her own. That Colin would defend her, or think of her. Compliment her and support her and ask her questions and encourage her to open up. That he went to bat for her with Jack. That he wrote her letters. Colin made Penelope feel special because the way he loved her made her feel SEEN. His love helped to soften her. There is something so unyielding sweet in the knowledge that this woman who has clawed her way to notoriety and safety and freedom was all but skipping down her hallway in girlish glee after he danced with her. I LIKED that. I LIKE the fact that she can find ease with him. That she doesn't HAVE TO be strong.

But then in S3, they decided to lean even more into her hyperindependence, to the point where I am ASTONISHED it didn't shoot her further in the foot. Penelope informs the Queen she's LW alone (which was HER choice), Penelope sleeps alone in her marriage bed and doesn't reach out to him, Penelope makes all the big decisions alone, Penelope tells Colin she does not need him to do anything for her.

Yeah yeah, 'he feels like he needs to do things to earn love and she's telling him he's enough just as who he is'- but part of who Colin is IS being useful. He LIKES doing things for others. He LIKES feeling accomplished because he assisted someone.

Doesn't. . .everyone? Is that not a hallmark of a caring person? And isn't a sign of vulnerability, you know, that thing we NEED if we're going to have a relationship with someone. . .letting them? Letting them love us? Letting them care for us?

There are a lot of things I think S3 did well, but the main problem for me will always be that the core of Polin as a unit was missing. The appeal was ALWAYS about 'these two people are perfect for each other because they're so alike but they also CHALLENGE one another'. Who better to challenge Penelope's hyper-independence than Colin? Colin who looks out for her, Colin who loves to uplift her, Colin who wants to love openly and loudly? And who better to challenge Colin's self-disregard than Penelope? Penelope who considered him when no one else would, Penelope who wrote him more letters than anyone else, Penelope who listens?

Instead, the version of them we got in S3 landed so. . .flat, to me. Yeah, the 'and everyone clapped' ending was ick. Yeah, the editing was sloppy and Benedict's never ending threesome felt like I was in purgatory being punished for some sin or another. But at the end of the day, the thing I wanted, and that would make the two of them really shine as a couple, was seeing Pen and Colin become POLIN. Better because they're together. A team.

They never really became one, imo. And that's infuriating because the opportunity for it was RIGHT THERE. Polin is a golden opportunity couple. Guaranteed happy ever after, complex characters, multiple seasons to build them up, actors who have off the charts chemistry with each other. They had hours on hours to give us Polin working together toward a common goal. And then. . .didn't?

The character growth wasn't linear. It didn't have to be, of course, but it wasn't in an upward trajectory at the end, and it certainly wasn't a circle, either. It was an ouroboros, eating it's own tail. I will never forgive the writers for that.

[curvydave]

Hey, I went through some of your fics, and they are so good! The Frost and Torbek affection headcanons are one of my favorites. It was very in character while also being well written, making me feel immersed while reading it. Seeing that your requests are open, I couldn't resist making a request. Can you please do blind monk reader ( their blindness causes them to only see basic colorful blobs of things. Heavily relying on magically sensing their surroundings. Bonus points if the others don't know about their condition ) with the OUAW gang? Be it a headcanon, or a one shot doesn't matter much. Go crazy with it. I never had the best eye sight, so reading about a blind reader would make my day. Plus, we need more disabled readers within the Loa x reader fandom. If you can't do this request, please ignore it. Anyways, have a very lovely day!

Absolutely!! Sorry this took so dang long -- I hope this is okay! I very much wanted to do this justice -- I really love this concept. I thought of a lot on how this would actually work, and while not all of my thoughts made it in, I had a lot of fun with it. Might play with this idea more later! No specified relationships, its all pretty platonic... but Frost being Frost can be read as a little flirty, if you squint. Enjoy!

Everything has its own hum -- not an audible sound, but a resonance that dances between the gaps of the synapses of those willing to attune to it. Protons bouncing in the water that rushes through the tissues of towering trees create deep feelings of intuition in the mind, filling in the gaps of depth that the eye can't quite detect. Each and every living being has a vibration, and every movement is a waterfall of understanding… and Gods, its tiring to keep track of.

You sigh, finally letting your magic drop for the night as you lean back against the log behind you. In an instant, the strong thrums of chaotic energy dissipate, leaving you with a feeling of peace, and the familiar, amorphous streaks of green and black as the campfire flickers in the open air. The monastery you call home -- however far away it may be now, as you traipse through the Feywild -- taught you to sense that which lies beyond; although, such magic isn't without its own drawbacks. It was a bit more tolerable in the overworld, but the chaotic and at times overwhelming energy of the Feywild has been leaving you with a headache at the end of the day more often than not. You breathe in, and then out, reveling in the cool night air as the tension seeps out of your body. After the day you've had, you'd be happy to fall asleep right here, right now… but, the scent of Kremy's cooking on the fire keeps you awake just that extra bit longer.

The scent of Agwé twists its way through the clearing, notes of garlic and expertly browned meats bringing memories of your home away from home, and you feel a smile rise to your face. No matter how tough the road ahead is, its little comforts like these that remind you that you'll get through it together. You close your eyes, mulling over your potential choices for tomorrow, but before you can get too deep into your thoughts, you're snapped back to reality by the soft footfall of Frost. You find it harder than you thought to open your eyes again, although you perk up much faster at the scent of dinner -- this time, much closer than before. Frost bends down, extending the bowl towards you silently, and you murmur out a quiet "thank you" as you take it from him. Your fingertips lightly brush against his the backs of his hands as you do, providing a guide to take the warmed bowl.

You've never talked about how you view the world to the rest of the Crew, and they've never asked. You navigate just fine through the world, and so really, you've never felt the pressure to divulge such information.

You feel Frost settle down next to you, eating in silence for a few moments. The cold night air, combined with the fire at your back, provides a pleasant, soothing sensation, coaxing your body into a more physical sense of peace. The tension leaving your body is the culmination of more than the mental strain of constant magical innervation -- its exhaustion not just from the mind, but from the body. Every step further into the Feywild has brought new challenges to you all -- the journey has always carried an undertone of weight, with the threat of Remy Garou hanging over all of your heads like a collective axe -- but after your collective experience with the beast beyond the veil, it seems like everything has been tinged with an extra element of danger. More combat, more scrapes and bruises, and--

"May I see your hands?" Frosts voice breaks you out of your thoughts. It takes a moment to process the request, but once you do you place the bowl onto the ground, and hold your hands out. His hands envelop your own, soft fur and just-as-soft paw pads brushing against your skin as he brushes his fingertips along the surface. He turns them this way and that, and you realize he's searching for injury when he drags his thumb over a particularly bad scratch.

"Do you have any other wounds?" He asks, and thankfully, you don't have to lie.

"Nope! Not this time," you grin.

The last fight wasn't easy, but thankfully, you all got out mostly unscathed. A blessing, considering how tapped-out of magic Gricko is tonight. You're sure he'd heal you if you asked, but you'd like to let the poor goblin rest tonight -- you know your hands will just get banged up again tomorrow, anyways. And it seems the Tabaxi is in agreement, as he slowly releases your hands, allowing you to return to your meal. His gentle hum and the clinking of silverware signal to you that he's resumed eating as well.

"How much time do you think has passed?" You ask, tone light, "Back home, I mean."

He takes a moment, thinking. You can practically hear the gears turning in his mind, before he speaks again. "Perhaps only a few seconds, if the timeline with Torbek is accurate. I don't know why everyone is under the impression that years have passed. Why do you ask?"

You sigh, over-exaggerated and playful. "I think I left the fireplace on at home."

He laughs quietly. "I should hope not. We were at a bar the night before we left, you never went home. I fear your house would have been gone before even getting to the Carnival."

"Were we?" You blink, almost owlishly. Frost's memory never ceases to amaze you. Despite only having spent a few days in the Feywild… "It feels like a lifetime ago." But there's no time to reminisce, as the heavy footfall of Gideon coming behind you snaps you out of your thoughts.

"We sure fucking were," he says, plopping down next to the two of you with a heavy thud. The rest of your friends follow soon after, and you feel Hootsie's head land in your lap as she snuggles up with you. "I will never forget that night. I'm telling you, if Pierre didn't fuck with our drinks, we 'woulda won that whole pot. And we wouldn't have to do none of this Feywild nonsense."

"No point in checking on my house when we get back, then," You run your hand over Hootsie's feathers, placing your bowl to the side for the time being. She hoots happily from your lap, clearly enjoying the attention.

Kremy's voice pipes up from somewhere on your right. "Well when we get back, you won't need that house, beacuse Madryck's fortune is gonna net us all a new one. Hell, two houses! Gonna pay off Garou, and then we're all gonna live as comfortably as we want, no questions asked."

And it's that keyword: When. When you get back, not if. You look around at your group of friends, familiar rainbows of color blurring together as the light from the campfire bounces off their forms, and feel a warm wave of confidence flow through you. The road ahead is long and hard -- there's no guarantee of survival, of success, of anything. And yet, its the casual statement that you'll all be okay, said so confidently, that makes you believe.

"Can Torbek live with you guys too?"

A throat clears. "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, Torbek."

You grin, aiming a playful kick in the direction of Kremy's voice. It connects, and after the brief grunt of surprise -- or maybe pain -- the gator speaks again. "I mean, sure, yeah, you can live with one of us."

"Can I come too?" Twig asks, barely heard over Torbek's cheer of excitement, and Gideon is quick to reassure her that she'll always have a place with the lot of you. Conversation flows easily for the rest of the night -- exhausted, but grateful for the company of one another. You'll be okay -- all of you will be okay.

And you think the first thing you'll buy when you get home is a nice, new bed.

[the-ellia-west]

Happy 610 to me!

And to celebrateeeeee:

For the Month of April, and maybe longer, I will be Going On Hiatus (Yes again), I will log back in every other Friday to make an update post on myself and my WIPs. I will not be checking my notes, asks, or Notifications until I'm back for good.

You can contact me at Discord @ ellia_west if you like! Just tell me your Tumblr Username or else I might block you. But I will not be on Tumblr, and when I am, Let's just say I'll make my presence known. <3 [I will be on for about an Hour after I post this, 3/28/2025]

For now,

(I left a message for all the Moots I remember off the top of my head)

-

@sunflowerrosy You're my best friend and ILYSM, Everything you've said and done to help me. You've been there no matter what and you're always so kind and patient. You're so brilliant and determined and such a lovely person to talk to and be around no matter what. Your WIPs are some of my favorite things I've ever read and talked about and helped with and I hope we never stop being friends, and I thank God for us meeting. You've been so Fun to Watch ATLA with, I look forward to talking to you when I get the chance, and Yapping about our WIPs together is one of my favorite things, the games, the Characters, your personality, and the random talking about mundane life. I'm praying for you and I hope one day I can give you a hug myself.

@homelessnerd You've been here a while and through it all you're pointing me back to God, telling me the things I sometimes don't want to hear, and making sure I know how much he loves me, recommending me shows and doing your best to make time for me even though I don't deserve it. You may not be here as often as some of my other friends, but I smile whenever I see your messages and I love talking to you <3 I thank God that he let me meet you and I thank you for pushing me back to him when I didn't want to.

@carb0n-m0n0xide I've never had a friend who made me laugh so hard, Your absolutely wacky (In a good way) stuff always puts a smile on my face, and I love seeing and listening to you. Your messages and the typos and every thank you and Shouted brainstorming session adds a wonderful level of chaos to my life I never knew I needed. But you somehow also always know what to say when I feel down and I honestly couldn't wish for many better friends (Go. To. Bed.) Also, it's unfair. Why do you get all the skill? Share. Pls. /j (Thank you Jesus for letting me Meet Carbon, she's brightened my days so much even if she doesn't know it)

@theweirdbox123 You're a new friend, and I almost didn't talk to you because I thought you wouldn't want to talk to me, But you've been one of the most fun and supportive people to me, You might not see it now, But you being open about being sensitive, despite you disliking, has given me the courage and the feeling to open myself back up to my sensitive side and If I'm honest, I think I learned how to cry again because of you, and I'm so, so glad to have somebody like me who's near me and kind enough to listen and help.

@supercimi I know you're nervous and you apologize a lot because you think you hurt my feelings, But honestly in all my life until recently, I have never had someone who I felt cared about my feelings as much as you do. Please don't be scared to speak your mind, I love listening to you, your writing is phenomenal and I can't wait to see you again whenever you come back online. I don't mind waiting, and I Wish I could give you the biggest hug. You'll never know how much your words mean to me.

@thewritingautisticat I don't know you very well but honestly, Whenever I see you in my notes, It makes me happy, I honestly can't wait to see where your stories go, and I'd honestly love to interact more some day, I admire you and all of your projects, and I wish you the best of luck!

@thebookishkiwi Girlie, I don't honestly even know what to say. I see your projects and I don't respond bc 1, Honestly I'm a little jealous of your skills, and 2, I may be busy, but I do HONESTLY really love your characters. I'm honestly flattered whenever I see you in my notes it makes me smile like an idiot, especially when I see your replies or reblogs and I honestly don't even know what to say. I admire your skills and I strive to one day write like you do (I'm getting lost in the sauce with the goddess prophecy, I'm lurking in the shadows bc life is a little busy, but when summer comes around, I'm gonna... *snatches all your writing and runs away with it*)

@vesanal Thank you. For everything. You're such a brilliant friend and a brilliant person. Everything you do, your interactions, how little I DO see them, and Your help, Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate you and all the help you've given me, and I don't think I would be where I am without it, Lol.

@write-with-will Man, You. YOU. YOUUUU. YOUR COMMENTS, YOUR EVERYTHING, I LOVE YOU(/p) AND YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS AND WORDS ON EVERYTHING, BUT SPECIFICALLY WILD AND KHENAN. YOU'RE SO KIND DESPITE HOW LITTLE WE INTERACT OUTSIDE OF THAT, BUT I CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH. AURGHHHGHGHG, I WISH YOU THE BEST OF LUCK ON ALL YOUR PROJECTS

@corinneglass Girlie, Idk what to say. Thank you. TwT. Your words mean so much, you're trying, your beautiful blog, your patience and everything. Just... everything...

@yolbert We don't interact much, and I know English isn't your first language, I just want you to know that whenever I see you in my notes, it makes me Unreasonably happy, and your reblogs are like I'm panning for gold in my notifs, Lol. Every time I see them on my Posts I feel so proud of myself, Like: They REBLOGGED? ME????

@darkandstormydolls I cannot even begin to tell you how much I admire how smart you are, with all your research and knowledge and your willingness to share it, and to offer me things sometimes, like the opportunity to be featured in something. Your notes and your interactions, they kinda remind me why I write, honestly.

@blargh-500 I don't know you at all, But I honestly really like seeing you in my notes, and your asks are always a surprise, and a welcome one! I'd honestly love to see you around more and get to know you better if I can.

@clever-naming-convention You're one of my oldest moots. Actually my third ever if I remember correctly, and I admire how forward and happy you are with your hyperfixations, even if we don't talk a lot and you may not be interested in my projects, you're still here, and I'm honestly so greatful for that. (Do you like sonic? If so, #sonic the slugcat)

@sm-writes-chaos I don't know you. But you're awesome. Your art is awesome. Your vibe is awesome. You share my obsession with Jak for literally no other reason than 'he has silly vibes' and I respect that. W friend.

@lunaeuphterrnal We don't talk much, and I don't know you much either but I honestly REALLY REALLY appreciate you and your reblogs and support of my WIP and I wish you the best of luck with yours even though I haven't got around to looking at it yet

@geminiagentgreen You're awesome. Keep doing what you do. Thank you Jesus for showing me this person and their blog. Thank you for spreading the word of God, for being so confident about it and inspiring me to take steps in my own faith, and for just... being there

@urnumber1star I love your WIP. I love you(/p). I don't say much but I AM lurking in the shadows. Torture Michael for me. And I don't care how evil he is, Give No one a cookie for me. Also if you have inspiration, write that fantasy. I have no doubt in my heart it will be magnificent.

I love you guys - (Sorry if I forgot you)

-Ellia

[saiintvalentiine]

Summary: Parrot and Wifies have a talk some time after the fallout of Parrot finding out Wifies is a clone. A follow up to Ken's POV in Part 1.

notes: this is once again not edited, this was the result of some quick writing last night and a wrap up today. it's more like practice for Parrot's voice which i think i did a shit job at but it's here and u can now judge me urself. enjoy. or dont idk. divider from here

word count: 2568. just slightly less than the previous installment.

11:49

Parrot has picked through his feathers so many times he thinks he’s developing a bald spot in his left wing. He's usually better at waiting, has patience for his plans to go through, but today there is no plan, just waiting. He stares at his comm, open in his hand as he rereads the chat over and over again.

[Wifies]: Would you be open to talking with me today?

[Parrotx2]: yes

[Parrotx2]: of course

[Parrotx2]: what’s up

[Wifies]: I was actually wondering if we could meet up.

[Parrotx2]: yeah wherever you want

[Wifies]: I’ll open up my world.

[Wifies]: How does noon sound?

[Parrotx2]: perfect

[Wifies]: I’ll send you the IP then.

[Parrotx2]: great!

Great! He sounds like a loser.

So Parrot is waiting for the clock to strike noon on his comm to go. Part of him wonders if he's going to spawn into a pit, or straight into lava, or in an escape room, something that would make Wifies feel better to watch him go through after the hell Parrot raised. Parrot would be fine with that. Honestly, he hopes Wifies is mad. He's only going to feel worse if he's met with Wifies’s carefully thought out words and blunt kindness.

11:54

He stops touching his wings. He's been trying to organize his thoughts so he doesn't say something incredibly stupid to Wifies again. There’s a script now.

I’m sorry for reacting so harshly, I was shocked and didn’t know how to process what I was hearing. I felt hurt because I thought you didn’t trust me with the truth, but now I see why you wanted to keep it to yourself. I should have never acted that way. You’re so important to me, and I should have thought about all the trust between us. I always trust you.

11:55

It’s simple, but it’s straightforward, and he wants to be as clear as possible. He also wants to be sincere, but sincerity is scary. His sincerity is blue, bruised, gushes forward like an open wound and stains the world in his blood.

11:56

But he can do sincerity. He can do it for Wifies. He could probably do a lot for Wifies, but Wifies never asks for anything. He didn’t even ask to be freed from the chunkban. He just waited. Trusted Parrot, and waited for Parrot, and was happy to see Parrot after everything. Wifies is always trusting and waiting and happy.

11:57

And Parrot ruined it for what? Catharsis for his fears? A moment to let that horrible feeling of being second, third, fourth in someone's life tear through everything he’s done? Is that even the reason why?

11:58

God. When Wifies starts asking questions, Parrot is going to crumble like a house of cards. It'll be Parrot's unjust luck to be forgiven.

[Wifies]: IP XXXXXXXXXX

Parrot jolts and almost drops his comm. He scrambles to copy the IP down and flick through his comm settings. He pastes it into the server IP box and hovers over the connect button.

12:00

He clicks connect.

Landing softly onto a carpet of podzol in a chilly spruce forest, Parrot lets out a plume of ashen breath. There are a few cabins in a semicircle in front of him, warm light spilling out of each window and from the branches of the towering spruce trees. The afternoon sun barely breaches the canopy, but it speckles the ground just enough to give the world a surreal atmosphere.

There's a campfire pit to one side surrounded by log benches, and there sits Wifies. He looks brilliant in the firelight, dark hair loose without his headband and violet eyes muted.

“Parrot,” Wifies calls out as he stands up. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Parrot says lamely, hesitating for a moment before making his way over to Wifies. The campfire warms him up, but the chill doesn't go away. “How are you?”

“It’s going to rain soon, so I’m feeling it in my joints,” Wifies says, lighthearted as he rubs one of his shoulders. “Sit with me.”

So Parrot does. He’s not in the business of denying Wifies much of anything. He sits on one end of the log bench, and Wifies sits two feet away, turned towards Parrot, and Parrot looks at him, and his mind just— it blanks. His script dissolves like salt in the sea.

“I wanted to start with saying that I am a clone of the original Wifies,” Wifies says, giving Parrot space to try and reboot his brain. “He was. . . making clones for the sake of content, and I was the most successful one. I never knew. And one day, Ken showed up to what I thought was my single player world, and. . . it’s a very long story, but he got me out of there and we, um, we killed the original. He. . . wasn’t going to let me just leave. And those are the main points of my story. I just wanted you to know the important bits before we talk further.”

“Clones for content,” Parrot echoes, eyebrows scrunching up. “Clones for content? He was— what?”

“Making clones to put them into escape rooms for quick video production.”

“The— what the fuck?”

Wifies smiles awkwardly, but doesn’t speak again. He keeps rubbing his shoulder over and over, self soothing maybe, or maybe it’s just that painful from the onset of the rain.

“I'm sorry for how I acted. I don’t care that you’re a clone,” Parrot says, flinching at his own sharpness. He looks away and into the crackling fire. “I care about you. The clone stuff is— is whatever. Or not whatever, I’ll care about it as much as you want me to care about it.”

“Parrot, don’t make me promises you know you can’t keep.”

Wifies’s voice is gentle. It is so, so gentle, with no hint of disappointment or scolding. Parrot’s stomach churns. He wishes again for Wifies’s anger, pointed and cold, instead of this. Anger is easy. This stings like salt in a wound.

“Why do you think I can’t keep to that?”

“Not knowing drives you crazy.”

“You not being there has driven me more crazy.”

“Until you forget, and it starts bothering you again.”

Parrot deserves it, but his heart is heavy and he feels like he’s been shot right through it. Wifies isn’t even being cruel, just honest; he’s right, eventually it will drive Parrot crazy to not be able to talk about the whole situation, to understand Wifies better by prying into his life.

“I don’t like talking about it. It was a bad time for me. I also don’t know everything about. . . myself. About what you’ll eventually ask.”

Parrot has to physically bite his tongue. Wifies doesn't know everything. What if he gets sick? Or badly hurt? What if he starts feeling like something is wrong, and there's nothing to be done for it, because nobody knows? What if—

“This is why I never want to tell anyone,” Wifies sighs out, curling in on himself in the corner of Parrot’s eyes. “If nothing else, just promise me you won't tell anyone?”

“Never,” Parrot says firmly. That's a promise he can keep. “I would never.”

“Thank you, Parrot.”

Their conversation tapers off. The sunlight is disappearing little by little, the promised rain clouds rolling in from far away, far above. Parrot’s feathers puff up a bit at a slight, churning breeze that cuts through the forest.

“I'm sorry, for what it's worth. For lying this whole time.”

“I see why you did. I just ended up proving why lying was the right choice. Nothing to be sorry about.”

“It's funny,” Wifies says in a voice that promises to be anything but funny. “When I'm scared, everything hurts again. I can never remember how they got here, but all the little pains come back again, like the reminder of fear should pull a memory or two up. But there's nothing. I don't remember how I hurt my shoulder this badly. I don't remember how it got fixed. All I remember is that it’s hurt forever. I don't remember a life without pain, and when this all came to light, my reality went from a life where pain existed to a life that was lived with pain.”

Rain begins to dribble through the leaves around them. The campfire hisses and sparks but doesn't extinguish, too large and hot to be daunted by such a pathetic display. The canopy is too dense for the rain to punch through in earnest.

“What are you scared of?” Parrot forces himself to ask. Please don't be afraid of me.

“Losing another part of my life to this. I can never seem to escape the factory. What a lousy escapist I've become, huh?”

Wifies pulls his feet up into the log, resting his chin on his knee and watching the fire. Parrot doesn't remember turning towards him, but he inches closer. The space between them is too large. His hand is too far from Wifies’s own.

“You don't have to lose anything,” Parrot says. “There's nothing to be lost. You can always come back to the server. Nobody there will ever know except for Ken.”

“No matter how this plays out, I lose you.”

“I'm right here. I'm right next to you, right now, what do you mean?”

Parrot feels pathetic, but he doesn't care. Wifies won't look at him, is talking about losing him like Parrot isn't about to crawl out of his skin just so Wifies won't leave him again. The rain thickens the air around them with the promise of more force, and Parrot stretches a wing over Wifies’s head without a single thought.

“You'll always think about the fact I'm a clone. I lost my status of human. I lost our relationship. It took so long for me to feel normal, and now it's all gone.”

“Wifies, look at me please.”

Wifies does. He does, because he still cares, and Parrot is going to be sick at the resigned look in Wifies’s eyes. Parrot is close enough now, so he reaches out and holds Wifies’s face in both hands. He can feel the way Wifies’s jaw works, the thrum of his slow heartbeat in his throat, the way his breathing is shallow and quick. His eyes are a little glassy, a little red, and Parrot adds another wretched tally to the list of times he's made Wifies cry.

“No matter what, you are human, okay? To me, and to Ken, and I'm sure to whoever you were talking to that day as well. Don't ever doubt that.”

Wifies’s expression softens and he just barely nods, which is a small relief for Parrot.

“All I ever think about when you're gone is when you're coming back,” Parrot says. His sincerity bleeds, red and blue smudged across each word. He’ll bleed for them, every drop if that’s what it takes. “And all I've been thinking about this whole time is how I'm going to make it up to you. How I really, really want to do whatever it takes for you to stay. I want you to stay. And not a single one of those thoughts had anything to do with whether you're a clone or not.”

Wifies breathes in. It shakes something horrible. Parrot will crawl his way back into being trusted until he has no more body to move with.

“All of those thoughts had to do with how you've always been with me. Funny, kind, snarky, quick, the only person in this world I've ever been able to close my eyes next to knowing that I've got everything I need right there. That the only way I'll ever be apart from you is by being torn. And none of that, none of it, has changed. I still think all that about you. All that's been added is that I'm an asshole who definitely doesn't deserve your loyalty, but I'm too greedy to let it go so easily.”

That makes Wifies giggle, the sound wet and cracking. Parrot presses the pads of his thumbs under Wifies's eyes. If he's going to make Wifies cry, the least he can do is clean it up too.

“The only thing I ever need you to do is believe in me,” Parrot says, pressing his lips to Wifies’s forehead. It's easier somehow to speak like this, wetness pooling against Parrot’s fingers. “Believe that I love you so much. Believe that I'm going to make this right between us. Believe that learning this has done nothing to change how I feel about you. And if you can't, please believe in me anyway.”

“Of course I believe in you Parrot,” Wifies murmurs, voice crackling. “Why else would I follow you everywhere?”

“I'm that persuasive?”

“Hardly.”

“Hey, not even a little?”

Wifies laughs. It’s a sweet sound. When Parrot pulls back to look, Wifies has his eyes closed, and he’s not quite smiling, but he’s not frowning either, which is a win. 

“You’re determined and direct,” Wifies says, letting the full weight of his head loll into Parrot’s hands. Parrot raises his other wing so they're encompassed by green and red and blue. “Which is what made me agree to help you at first. But then. . . I don’t know. You can be charming when you want to be. Not often, but on occasion.”

Parrot squawks indignantly just to hear Wifies laugh again. Wifies blinks his eyes open, and Parrot wipes away a stray tear.

“Do you know how touchy you are?” Wifies asks suddenly.

“Should I let go?”

“No, I just wonder if you know that. When you were upset, you made a real effort to not reach out. That’s how I knew it was serious.”

“Well, now you know it’s not serious.”

“Mm, this is serious too in its own way. You’re serious that you want me to stay.”

Parrot lifts Wifies’s head so that they’re eye to eye, bloodshot violet to his own green-blue blur, and says, “Deadly serious. I don’t want to be separated like this again. Knowing I had hurt you and couldn’t make it better? The absolute worst time of my life, I think.”

“It sucked,” Wifies agrees, finally cracking a smile. “It’s over now though. I think.”

“Of course it's over now, you're never allowed to leave me like that again,” Parrot scolds him entirely lighthearted and Wifies snorts.

“Don't yell at me again and I won't.”

“I won't, I'm sorry for yelling.”

Wifies laughs again, and despite the fact he's clearly reveling in having Parrot wrapped around his finger like this, Parrot can't even pretend to be annoyed. Wifies won't leave him again. It's all that matters right now. Any question or doubt dies a quiet death when Wifies reaches up to hold both of Parrot’s wrists in a loose grip.

“This is weirdly nice,” Wifies says, closing his eyes again. “I don't think anyone's ever touched my face so gently. I can't remember the feeling.”

“You just say when,” Parrot replies.

He's not being entirely selfless here— there's something soothing about running the pads of his thumbs over Wifies’s skin, like a promise that this moment is as real as when he left. Wifies can't leave him when they're like this, tangled up under Parrot’s wings under the rain.

“Then for just a bit longer,” Wifies says, and Parrot agrees. Just a bit longer.