#his hair is a pain in the ass to draw but it's also therapy???

[howlingdemon13]

this evening has been mega-garbo for like 10 different reasons, but i made a tiny bit of progress on himst ;w;

he's a free source of serotonin and dopamine

[wheelsup]

okay but can you imagine spencer washing your hair for you?

like, i never (ever) let anyone (at all) touch my hair, but i feel like he'd be really gentle about it, and there is just something so soft and tender to me about the idea of washing someone's hair for them 🥺

that’s my dream <3 ik you didnt specifically ask for a blurb but i think about this very often. i wrote two versions of this, but this one (with two bickering best friends who are v much in love) won my heart. 

wc: 1.6k   contains: friends (to crushes, maybe ;) ), injured reader. gn!reader

-

“Spence, I promise you that I can do it by myself,” you huffed, attempting to yank off your tank top as you walked toward the hotel bathroom, using only one arm while trying to keep the other as still as possible.

“I’d be more inclined to believe you if you didn’t sound like you were going to cry,” he snickered, following hot on your trail as you tried to escape his hovering. 

“You’re being dramatic.” 

“Oh really? Lift your arm up, then.” He leaned his hip against the marble counter, crossing his arms over his chest as he waited for you to do it. One obnoxiously smug eyebrow arched on his forehead.

Sometime during the case, you’d gotten into a brief tousle with a suspect, who just had to run away when approached. If Morgan had been there, you wouldn’t have even batted a lash, but he wasn’t. So not only had you detained him by yourself, you also wound up with a minor pulled muscle in your shoulder. 

You shot him a sarcastic smile, toothless and irritated, and raised your right arm into the air. He let out an airy scoff. 

“Other one, smart ass.”

Your arm dropped down to your side, your smile falling with it as you turned sharply towards the shower. 

“Look, I’m disgusting right now. So either I suck it up and shower, or you’re going to smell me until the day we solve this case.”

Spencer’s nose crinkled at the gross truth. He wasn’t ungentlemanly enough to tell you, but sharing a bed with a coworker was quite a quick way to discover if they were in need of a shower or not. Your shoulder might be out of service, but both of you could agree that hygiene was a bigger priority. 

“You can’t even move. Just… just let me help you.”

You snorted. “Nice try, Reid. I’m not letting you shower with me.”

He rolled his eyes at your use of his last name. You only called him that when you were annoyed with him. He pushed off the counter and turned to the wall, hitting the light switch and earning a shriek from you as the room suddenly went dark. 

“I won’t look,” he shrugged, amusing no one but himself. 

“You’re a clown, you know that?” you muttered under your breath, drawing back the shower curtain and fumbling around, searching for the knobs in pitch black. “Absolutely fucking theatrical.” 

You found them moments later and ran the water, testing the temperature on the back of your hand. By the time it went from cold to warm, you noticed that he still hadn’t moved. From the sliver of light peeking under the door, you could make out just his silhouette in the corner, perched on the vanity. 

He was being stubborn about this. That, and the comforting fact that you couldn’t see a single thing –– thankfully, not even his face –– wore you down.

“Close your eyes,” you murmured. 

“It’s already pitch black in here ––”

“Close your eyes, Reid.”

Sighing through his nose, he did just that. To make sure you knew it, and also maybe just to be annoying, he made a show of getting off the counter and turning himself around to face the wall. You peeled out of your clothes as quickly as you could. In the process, you caught the long shower curtain under the heel of your foot and, as you stumbled over it, accidentally dragged it along, sending the metal curtain hooks screeching as they slid along the bar.  

The second you found your ground, you immediately shot daggers into the back of Spencer’s head, waiting for him to make a joke. As if he could feel them, he bit back his quip. Not without letting a barely contained cackle slip under his breath. 

“Okay,” you warned, stepping into the shower. Grabbing the end of the shower curtain, you pulled it tightly over your body to cover yourself as you poked your chin out to talk to him. “I’m in.”

Spencer turned and approached the shower, eyes still shut with his hands out in front of him, feeling the walls for guidance. He was still mocking you for making him close his eyes. You raised your brows; he must’ve thought he was quite funny. 

“You look like Velma when she loses her glasses.”

That knocked the funny bone right out of him. His hands dropped to his sides.

“Just get your hair wet and hand me the shampoo.” 

You drew the curtain shut again as you dipped your head under the shower stream, coming back moments later with sopping wet hair and a little bottle of complimentary hotel shampoo. 

He let you sit on the floor of the bathtub, just slightly removed from the spray of the water. Your back was to him, as he kneeled down on the tile floor, just outside of the bathtub so he didn’t have to get wet. You bent your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them.

Spencer first pushed up the sleeves of his sweater as far as he could before deciding to remove it altogether for the sake of protecting the wool against stray water. The cuffs of his work shirt were unbuttoned and rolled up to his elbows as he got to work.

Taking a healthy quarter-sized amount of shampoo into his palm, he lathered it between his hands before running soapy fingers through your scalp. The pads of his fingertips softly dug in as he carefully massaged the shampoo in.

When he started working his fingers in patterns, putting pressure near your temples and increasing it as he dragged them up the curve of your scalp, you let your eyes close. He was getting rid of a headache you didn’t even realize you had. 

The tension you’d been carrying in your shoulders eased a little, and it made him think about how much you probably needed this. One of his hands came down to massage the muscle between your neck and your good shoulder, knowing it was best to just let the hot water do its magic on the bad one. 

When the shampoo had been sufficiently lathered, he stood up and detached the shower head, bringing it down to you so you didn’t have to move. You leaned your head back for him as he carefully rinsed the soap out.

You weren’t going to ask, but thank God Spencer told you to hand him the conditioner next. This, he slathered all over the ends of your hair, making sure all of it was sufficiently covered in conditioner before loosely twisting it into a low, makeshift pony for you. 

“Mm. I was about to ask how you’re so good at haircare,” you chuckled lowly to yourself, in a half-sleepy voice with your forehead resting on your knees. Dangerously close to falling asleep. “Then I remembered what you used to look like.”

You had a lazy smile on your face just thinking about the days where Spencer’s hair used to be down to his shoulders. He looked so pretty like that (not that he didn’t look pretty now, too), you always wondered why he got rid of it. 

“Remember when I got shot in the knee?” he hummed, returning to work your shoulder. He adorned a tiny smile of his own as he started to reminisce. “You came by my house at least once a week. Brought me meals, watched movies with me. Helped distract me from the pain. Even drove me to my physical therapy appointments.” 

You mm-hmm’d that you remembered.

“You pretty much did everything shy of helping me bathe. Though, I feel like you would’ve helped with that, too, if I asked.”

You both laughed at that. You hadn’t really noticed the parallels of your situation, being injured and needing his help for once. He was happy to repay the favor. 

“I’ll, uh. Let you wash your body yourself,” he said, coming out of his daydream for a moment. He rinsed his hands off and got up, patting down his wet hands on his trousers. With one nod from you to confirm that you’d be able to do it, he quickly exited the bathroom to give you privacy. 

You emerged seventeen minutes later, clad in pajamas with towel-dried hair. Spencer was still awake as you crawled onto the bed beside him, more than ready for bed after that. He looked to the side to ask you how the rest of your shower was, and before he could get it out, you shuffled up next to him, winding one arm around his and resting your head on his chest.

“I take it you had a good shower?” he laughed. This was one of his “I told you so” moments, and for once, you didn’t mind it. 

“Mhm,” you smiled, chuckling behind it as you shut your eyes. You were falling asleep fast. “Spence, the scalp massage…” 

“Was good, right?” he boasted, inflating his own ego a bit. 

You nodded against his shoulder, not caring if you helped blow up his ego another two sizes. Burrowing deeper into the covers, nestling tighter against Spencer, you got one more quip in before falling asleep. “S’good that I think I have a crush on you now.” 

Joke or not, he pulled the blanket higher until it reached your chin, holding you with both arms and kissing the top of your head before falling asleep himself.

*

*

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[master-sass-blast]

Care and Trust: Chapter Two.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five -Chapter One

Summary: “--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

AKA you learn why you got called to Lin's office.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader

Rating: T.

Word Count: 4.2k.

Also, a huge thank you to @chromecutie for beta reading this fic in addition to all the others in this series! I would not have had the confidence to post any of HTH if she hadn’t assured me that I was doing the characters justice.

Lin’s office is a real, proper office; go figure, she’s the Chief of Republic City’s entire police force. It’d be weird if she didn’t have a proper office.

It’s an expansive, long room, with wrought iron support beams and a dark, wood panelled ceiling. A desk sits in the center of the room, right across from double doors. There’s a leather chair that looks like it’s worth more than your apartment behind the desk, as well as one to the side of the desk (presumably for visitors or reporting officers).

There’s a small sitting area to the left of the doors. Two couches are positioned across from each other, with a metal coffee table in between. On the opposite wall is a wardrobe --you’re putting money on a second set of armor and some clean casual clothes, given the horror stories Lin’s told you about messy crime scenes.

Aside from a third couch tucked into the corner of the room --it looks luxuriously padded, and you’re also putting money on Lin sleeping on that couch during long haul shifts--and a vase to the right of the double doors, the rest of the room is entirely utilitarian. Filing cabinets, bookshelves, a few boxes with active case files in them.

It’s Lin to a tee. Thoroughly practical, borderline spartan, but what is there is more than you could afford in a lifetime.

You politely turn down Ryu’s offer of tea or coffee, then set your massage table and bag on the floor. You pace a short circuit back and forth, mentally filing through what you know about Lin and how her body bears out physical stress. Any injury is liable to have aggravated her hip, given the body’s tendency to compensate to avoid pain. Combine that with her scars and her left side’s propensity to knot up… she’ll probably need some stretching and healing work before I could even try to adjust her--

The doors open again --and in walks Lin Beifong.

You cross your arms over your chest and cock your head back. “Let me guess --you didn’t have time to see a healer earlier, and now it’s biting you in the ass.”

Lin’s eyebrows spike to her hairline. She blinks, then holds up her hand. “Whoa, no. I’m fine.”

“Cut the hippobullshit, Lin. Your personal secretary called me here--”

“It’s not for me,” Lin interjects. She glances behind her, then closes the doors before continuing. “It’s… for one of the younger officers. Something of a situation.”

Your brows draw together as you frown. “If they’re seriously injured, they should go to the hospital--”

“No, no, it’s not like that. He was…” Lin grimaces as her voice trails off, “...advised to see someone like you after getting injured during the dock explosion debacle, but he’s… not comfortable with the thought of getting adjusted.”

“Oh.” You blink, wind going out of your sails as the panic ebbs. “And… your assistant called me…”

“I asked her to,” Lin clarifies. “I know I can trust you to handle this right.”

Something warm and heavy settles in your chest at the thought that Lin trusts you, especially with the well-being of someone that’s clearly important to her. You gulp hard and ignore the way your eyes are starting to sting. “Oh. Thanks.” 

The sound of footsteps and chatter outside Lin’s office draws both your attention.

Ryu opens the doors and lets two young men in --one shorter and stocky, the other taller, leaner.

“--and he says to me ‘my birthday’s every year, dude,’” the shorter one --he’s got gentle green eyes and dark, wavy hair--laughs. “Like, if the bushel of lilyweed I caught him with wasn’t evidence enough--” He pauses when he sees you and Lin waiting, takes one look at your bag and table, then tries to book it. “Nope!”

The taller one grabs him by the shoulders. “Bolin, come on! It’ll be okay!”

“Nope! I’m totally fi --agh!”

You wince sympathetically when the younger one cringes and jerks in pain, then step forward so you can get one arm behind him, then introduce yourself as you usher him into Lin’s office. “It’s nice to meet you, Bolin. Why not sit down for a minute, okay? Take a load off? Maybe” --you glance at Ryu-- “we could have a cup of tea?”

The assistant smiles knowingly, nods, then slips out of the room.

“Okay, sure,” Bolin concedes, still wincing. “But I promise, I’m totally fine.”

You hold up your hands and take a seat on the other side of the coffee table. “Understood.” You staunchly ignore the way your pulse spikes when Lin sits next to you --Spirits, the effect this woman has on you--and turn your attention to the other man. You introduce yourself and extend your hand.

He takes it --firm grip, but not painful. “I’m Mako.” He nods to the younger man. “I’m his brother.”

“Ah, wonderful.” You smile warmly at the brothers. “How long have you two been on the force?” 

***

It’s easy to get the boys talking --or, rather, it’s easy to get Bolin talking.

Mako’s a harder platypusbear egg to crack, but there are small things to pick up on; the way he frowns whenever Bolin winces in pain, for instance, tells you he’s genuinely concerned about his brother. He sits a little straighter whenever he looks over at Lin, but he’s not sweating or cowering in front of her, which you take to mean that he wants to impress her, to earn her approval.

He’s also watching you closely --which is fair, considering you likely scare his brother.

You meet his scrutiny with a relaxed, polite smile and do your best to convey ‘I’m here to help, please trust me,’ through your eyes and posture.

Bolin’s far more relaxed around Lin --almost remarkably so. He leans back against the couch as much as he comfortably can, and actually jokes with her (or tries to, but he doesn’t seem deterred whenever Lin doesn’t respond with more than a twitch of an eyebrow).

You also catch him looking towards Lin whenever he talks about an aspect of his job, a hopeful smile on his face, which then broadens every time she nods or confirms whatever he’s saying.

Honestly, it’s adorable.

(Lin’s also an interesting one to watch in all of this. She’s still as stoic as ever, but she doesn’t roll her eyes at Bolin’s lame jokes or talk down to Mako despite him being miles lower in rank than her. If anything, the air you’re getting from her is… warm. Almost maternal.

It’s wonderful to see.)

“I’ve been studying for the detective’s exam, though,” Bolin chirps with a bright smile. “Mako says I’m doing pretty good.”

You grin, then shoot a playful glance at Lin. “And your thoughts, Chief?”

Lin smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. “They’re both green --but, with time and training, they’ll be excellent members of the police force.”

There’s no missing the way both boys glow under Lin’s praise; Bolin outright beams, and while Mako’s more subtle, you still catch the small, pleased smile that flickers across his features.

You smile.

There’s a brief pause in the conversation when Ryu walks in with a tea set. She sets it on the coffee table between the two benches, then leaves with a nod when Lin waves her off.

You murmur a quiet “Thank you” when Lin fills your cup, then turn your attention back to Bolin. Time to try and make forward progress. “So, what happened to your neck?”

Bolin turns his head to look at you --and promptly winces. “What? What do you mean? How did you know?”

“You’re not the only detective,” you say with a wink. You smile when he chuckles, then gestures to his neck and head. “You’re compensating. You’re tilting your head to one side to avoid using the injured muscles. You probably didn’t even realize it.”

Bolin’s eyes widen. “Wait, seriously?” He tries to straighten his neck, then grimaces and lets out a yelp. “Ow!”

“Just leave it be for now,” you interject, holding one hand out to stop him. “You won’t be able to force it to straighten out on your own. Best leave it to the professionals.”

He offers you a weak smile. “And that’s you?”

You smile and nod. “That’s me. I’m a chiropractor and massage therapist; I specialize in scar tissue treatment and injury rehabilitation. Started my degree at Atege Medical University in the Northern Water Tribe, then finished it here at Republic City Medical University, and then I did my training here in Republic City at Kyoshi Rehabilitation Center. About… oh, five years ago, I moved to the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility.”

Mako raises one thick eyebrow in assessment. “So that’s… what, seven years?”

You snort. “Flattering, but no. Try closer to twelve. Medical school and residency takes a long time for chiropractors, too.” You spare a moment to watch Bolin --he’s paled since you’ve started talking about being a chiropractor, and the rest of his body’s gone tense--then try getting to the point once more. “What happened to your neck?”

He grimaces and rubs the side of his neck. “I was at the docks when the explosion went off. I didn’t get hit by the debris or anything, but the shockwave knocked a lot of us over.”

You nod along. “That makes sense. Considering how close you were, the shockwave might’ve been enough to throw something out of alignment.”

Bolin grimaces. He hesitates, then offers you a nervous smile. “Look, I appreciate you coming all the way out here, but I’m fine. I promise! I’ve had tons of injuries before --used to do competitive pro-bending, all that jazz. I know how to handle these kinds of things: a little heat, some stretching, and everything will clear up before too long.”

“Street beat’s a physically demanding job,” Lin interjects. She arches an eyebrow when Bolin opens his mouth, then continues when he closes it. “I can’t have you on the duty roster if you’re hobbled.”

“Not to mention that if something’s out of alignment, you could make it worse by stretching,” you add with a concerned frown. “And things are likely to get worse without treatment, too. I know this isn’t your favorite idea,” you say with a sympathetic smile, “but it really is best to handle things early before they become bigger problems down the road.”

“It’ll be okay,” Mako assures his younger brother. He puts one arm around Bolin’s shoulders. “Chief’s the one who called her in; she wouldn’t ask some quack.”

The corner of your mouth turns up at the commendation, but your mirth fades when you watch Bolin cover his face with shaking hands. You cock your head to the side, listening, then purse your lips when you hear a quiet sniffle. “What is it about adjustment that scares you so much?”

Bolin shrugs (and winces), then waves his hand dismissively with an unsteady smile. “Eh, it’s nothing. No big deal to let someone jerk around your neck like crazy; not like it’s gonna break or anything.” He grimaces, then ducks his head to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “That’d just be stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” you assure him. You duck your head so you can catch his gaze, then smile understandingly when he looks at you. “It’s not. Self-preservation is one of our most natural, baseline instincts. Besides, you’re hardly the first client to be scared of getting adjusted.”

Bolin straightens gingerly. “I’m not?”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I work with a lot of trauma patients; several of them have anxiety over being touched and adjusted. And I’ve had a lot of people ask me about snapping necks, believe it or not.”

Bolin turns his head to one side and assesses you warily. “And… what do you tell them?”

“The truth: I don’t use remotely enough force to snap a neck,” you say, “nor am I working at the right angles to cause a break. It’s not as easy as all the pulp fiction novels make it seem.” When Bolin doesn’t relax completely, you start mulling over other ideas to help convince him. Chances are he’s never been adjusted before, given how nervous he is, meaning he doesn’t have any previous experience to apply to what I’m saying. Short of letting him watch an adjustment-- You snap your fingers when a lightbulb turns on in your mind. “What if… what if you could watch me adjust someone else? That way, you’d be able to see that it’s perfectly safe.”

Bolin quirks his mouth to the side. “...I guess. It couldn’t hurt.”

You nod, then turn to Lin. “Would you be willing to let me adjust you, since you’ve already been through it all before?”

Lin nods without hesitation, then smirks. “I’m guessing I’ll need to take my armor off.”

“Well, since I’d rather adjust your back than crush my hand, yes,” you quip back. You shoot a reassuring smile at Bolin, then stand. “Let me set up my table.”

...

Bolin, for all his warmth and magnanimity, doesn’t coax along easily. It takes adjusting both Lin and Mako before he agrees to it (who has scarring in his left arm from a lightning injury that he got, according to him, while taking down Kuvira’s giant mechadroid less than half a year ago, and if you get a little too caught up in analyzing his injury and talking about treatment plans and Lin has to remind you --albeit subtly--that this is her office and she has work to do, well, it’s only a tribute to your commitment to your career.

Anyway.)

Between the three of you, though, you manage to get Bolin onto your massage table so you can start working on him.

He grunts as you dig into the muscles that run along his neck. “I know what you said about not using enough force, but it sounds like you’re breaking something.”

“I get it,” you laugh. “What you’re hearing, though, is the release of gas that builds up in the joints and tissue, plus the joints and ligaments being adjusted back into place.” You let up for a moment so you can reposition your thumbs, then press down again.  “Okay, deep breath in… and out… good; just like that.”

Some light examination and prodding with your waterbender had revealed the culprits: stuck rib heads in the upper back, a few misaligned vertebrae in the neck, and some very irritated and inflamed muscles. Painful, but easy to fix with the right treatment.

You curl your fingers, using your waterbending to knead the muscles in Bolin’s right shoulder. “Oh, come on… I know you’re not happy, but if you could please relax for me…”

Bolin groans when the muscle finally unkinks. “Oh, yeah, that’s the spot.”

“I bet,” you laugh. You bend the rest of the water back into your skein, then put some oil on his skin and start working the spot with your hands.

“Is it hard to work around injuries?” he asks, voice slightly muffled by the massage table’s headrest.

You make the grunt equivalent of a shrug. “It depends on the location and what state of healing it’s in. Sometimes, it means I can’t do a normal adjustment --or do one at all, really; some injuries or scars mean that moving the joints and ligaments around would cause further damage to the site. Other times, it’s a matter of waiting until everything’s healed, and then I can do normal adjustments again.”

“How can you tell which to do --oooh, right there.”

Your lips turn up in a small smile, and you keep working a tense, knotted muscle in his upper back. “The patient’s medical history tells me a lot. X-Ray imaging helps, too, if there is any --and I can usually get a good feel for what’s wrong with my waterbending.” You keep going until the muscle releases, then pat Bolin’s shoulder. “Okay, I think you’re ready for adjustment.”

As expected, he tenses. His neck works as he gulps, and when he speaks again, his voice comes out high-pitched and thready. “Are you sure?”

“I wouldn’t try if I didn’t think you’d adjust properly.” When Bolin doesn’t respond --or move--you kneel down so you can see his face through the hole in the head of the massage table. “Hey. It’s going to be okay. We’ll take this nice and slow, alright? I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do before I do it.”

Bolin nods, gulps again, then flips onto his back.

“I need you to sit up so I can put the adjustment board under your back.” You slip the board into place, then put a pillow under his head before having him shift lower on the table. “Okay, good. I’ll adjust your middle and upper back first, like I did on Lin. You might feel some discomfort in your upper back because of how the rib heads are stuck, alright?”

Bolin nods, then offers you a feeble smile. “You’re sure I’m not too heavy for you?”

You wink. “I’m stronger than I look. Whenever you’re ready, cross your arms over your chest.” Once he does what you ask, you adjust his arms so they’re in the right position. “Okay, curl your chin down against your chest… good. Alright, it’s gonna be just like how you saw on Lin. I’m gonna help lift you up, I’ll put my hand under your back, and then I’ll lay you down so I can adjust your back. Sound good?”

Bolin clenches his jaw, but meets your gaze and nods minutely.

“Alright. You ready?” When he nods again, you do exactly as you said you would --help Bolin curl upwards, put your hand under his back, against the board, then adjust the position of your arm around his shoulders. “Alright, deep breath in… and out.”

The series of adjustments up his spine go without a hitch. You grin down at Bolin after the last adjustment and congratulate him for doing so well. “You took that like a champ!”

Bolin blinks, startled, then smiles. “Eh, I’ve been told I’m a quick learner.”

“Oh, you’re an absolute natural.” You grin when he chuckles, then step towards the head of the table. “I’ll give you a minute before I do anything else, but is it okay if I feel around your neck to see where the tension is?”

Bolin pales. His eyes go misty, but he nods regardless.

You murmur a quiet “thank you,” then put one hand on each side of his neck and start prodding at the muscles. “Well, it’s better after the massage work and the adjustment.” You rub your thumb against his trapezius muscle, then grimace when it refuses to relax for you. “Actually…” You take your hands off his neck and rifle through your bag. “I think I’m going to use an activator on your neck, if you’re comfortable with that.”

“What’s that?” Bolin asks, voice fraught with panic.

You hold the device up for him to see. “I use it to tap the side of your neck; it helps loosen up your joints so that when I adjust you, we get you back to your full range of motion.” You fire the device so he can see, and your stomach sinks when you see tears well up in his eyes. “I can use it on your forearm, if you want, soyou can feel how hard it’s going to be.”

Bolin swallows hard, then nods. He holds his arm up --then blinks when you press the tip of the activator against his arm and fire it. “Oh. I thought it’d be a lot stronger than that.”

“Tui and La, no,” you say with a laugh. “The neck’s a delicate instrument; I’m not trying to make things worse for you.”

Bolin smiles shakily, but it slips back to a frown after a few seconds. “Is… Will it hurt?”

“I’ve never had a patient complain before,” you say, sincere. “I’d be stunned if you felt any pain whatsoever from this.” You smile reassuringly when he gives you a questioning look, then place the tip of the activator against his neck when he nods. “Alright. I’m going to tap you a few times on each side of the neck, then I’ll take another feel at what your joints and muscles are doing. Okay?”

“Can you… give me a minute?”

“Of course.” You pull the activator away from his neck, then place a hand on his shoulder when he inhales shakily. “Hey, deep breaths. You’re gonna be fine. I promise.” After a moment he nods again, and you press the activator back against his neck and fire it.

“...It kind of tickles.”

You let out a huff of laughter. “That’s a new one.” You finish working on both sides of his neck, then tuck the device back in your bag before putting your hands on his neck once more. “Alright, right now I’m just going to stretch your muscles some more and get your head into position, okay?”

Bolin clenches his fists at his side. “Could you --do you think you could give me a countdown before you, y’know, do it?”

“Uh…” You purse your lips, then shake your head. “I don’t think so, no. I don’t want you tensing right as I try to adjust you; you’re liable to get hurt that way.”

“It’ll be okay, kid,” Lin says when Bolin lets out a shaky breath. “I wouldn’t have called her if she wasn’t the best.”

You duck your head to hide a shy smile, then try to focus past the warm glow spreading through your chest. “Okay, Bolin. Deep breath; in through the nose, out through the mouth… good, just like that.” You slowly turn his neck, angling his head until you feel the right resistance. “Tilt your chin up; I’m gonna stretch your neck a little.” You tug gently until the muscles loosen, then surreptitiously keep working him to the proper angle. “Good… just stretching… feeling everything out…” You adjust the position of your hands on his neck. “Another deep breath in, then let it all out.” You wait for him to exhale --for his shoulders to relax--then jerk his head to the side.

Bolin grunts, then shoots you a wide eyed look. “You said you were just stretching me?”

You smile apologetically. “I needed to make sure you were relaxed. Makes things better for both you and me. Did you feel any pain?”

“No,” Bolin says after a moment of consideration. “It felt… pretty good, actually.”

“Good!” You start massaging the other side of his neck. “You think you’re still alive?”

He chuckles. “Pretty sure I’m still breathing, yeah.”

“Good stuff,” you joke right back. “Means less malpractice suits for me.” You grin when he laughs, then start stretching the other side of his neck. “Let’s do this side, and then I’ll do your lower back and get you back to work.”

***

“Sorry that took so long.”

Lin waves a hand at your apology. “It’s fine. I figured the kid would take a while to calm down enough for an adjustment.” She offers you a small smile. “Thanks for making the trip up here.”

“Of course.” You resume packing up your things, then let out a quiet laugh. “Honestly, I’m just glad it wasn’t you that needed an adjustment. I damn near had a heart attack when the receptionist told me your assistant called.”

“I told you I was fine.”

You shoot Lin a flat, unimpressed stare. “Right, because you’re the type to always consider the limits and needs of your physical well being.” You roll your eyes when she merely arches an eyebrow at you, then zip the carrying case for your collapsible table shut. “How does the department handle billing?”

“Send the bill to my assistant,” Lin answers, writing down the proper mailing address on a slip of paper before handing it over to you. “She’ll file it with the department’s insurance company. The department will pay out the rest.”

You nod and reach out to take the paper--

Lin holds it back. “Write the bill for all three adjustments. Clear?”

You smirk and pluck the paper out of her fingers. “Pay me more. Fine by me.” You grin when she rolls her eyes, then cast your gaze down to her desk.

It’s a nice desk. Solid, polished wood, with engravings and etchings of Earth Kingdom style patterns.

Unbidden, images of Lin fucking you on her desk --bending you over it, laying you out on your back, sitting in her chair while you bury your face between her legs--flood your name.

Lin either picks up on the spike in your pulse, or maybe she knows your facial expressions well enough to know when you’re horny. Either way, she smirks up at you. “Problem?”

“No…” You absently trace your fingers along the edge of her desk, then shoot her an impish smile before grabbing your things. “Call me when you have a free night.”

You can hear Lin chuckle behind you as you walk out of her office.

[winterscaptain]

co-regulating.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: following balancing out, an anon asked about aaron and mom’s first time after her recovery, so here it is!! our first fic of 2021! and it’s smut. who’s surprised? not me!! i’m doing blog housekeeping this weekend, so let me know if you want to be on taglist!

words: 1.8k warnings: smut (p in v penetration, creampie, very soft, quite tame), mentions of canon-typical injury and recovery, language

summary: “scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.” - cormac mccarthy, all the pretty horses. au!march 2021

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

You turn off the lights, crawl into bed, and slide under the covers, immediately rolling halfway onto Aaron and pulling his lips to yours. 

He makes a little surprised noise and takes the back of your head in his hand, his other arm wrapping around your lower back. You run your fingers up his abdomen under his shirt, finally landing with your palm over his racing heart. 

“Did you take your meds?” You whisper against his mouth. It wasn’t like him to forget, but his pulse had to be higher than a hundred. That might be alright for someone actively running a marathon, but for a fifty-two-year-old stabbing survivor with chronic health issues due to said stabbing it was less so. 

He laughs. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really. You’re fucking tachycardic.” 

He shakes his head and kisses your forehead. “That’s your fault. And yes, I did take my meds.” 

You hum. “Good.” 

“Any reason in particular you ask?” He’s still the picture of fond skepticism - eyebrows raised and a little smile curling at the corner of his mouth. 

You shrug. “Just got some clearances from physical therapy today.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mhmm.” Your hand slides down past the waistband of his sweats, palming his cock through the fabric. He hisses through his teeth, his hips tipping up, searching for more contact. 

His eyes flutter shut as you stroke him over his pants, your touch gentle and slow. He swallows thickly, his breath stuttering for a moment. “Are you allowed?”

“I have to take it easy,” you tell him. “But I’m allowed.” 

He reaches down for your thigh, brushing up to your ass, and he inhales again, sharp, when he realizes you’re wearing one of his shirts and one of his shirts only. You oblige him and shift to straddle him, settling down against him and circling your hips for just a little friction. 

Aaron’s fingers play with the hem and a little flash of anxiety jolts through your belly. He sees it in your face and lets go, dropping his hands to your hips. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You shake your head. “Just got nervous about the scarring. I’m fine.” 

Aaron tilts his head to the right, studying you. “Do you want to leave your shirt on? It’s okay if you do.” 

“I know.” You take a deep breath and remove your shirt, your ribs only pulling a little as you lift your arms over your head. “But I’m good.” 

Of course he’s seen you - he’s the one who dealt with your wound care when you got home - but this is the first real sex you’ve attempted since your injury. It’s silly to feel insecure, really. Aaron loves you from top to toe and you know it. He’s also got scars of his own, and you know they don’t impact the way you see him, but it’s new to you. 

Scary. 

Aaron’s hands slide up to your waist, his right thumb just brushing the angry, raised scar over your left side. You run your hands down his arms, coming to rest on his forearms. The pair of you just sit there for a moment, breathing together. 

Co-regulating. You remember. That’s what this is called. 

“Can I turn on the little light?” He asks. 

You nod, knowing he can see you. One of his hands leaves you and stretches, sliding the dimmer on the bedside lamp just bright enough that you can see each other, but not so bright that it’s harsh. 

His eyes soften as they wander from your hips, up your abdomen, and finally meet yours, watching him look at you. He wets his lips as he shamelessly checks you out and heat floods you from head to toe. You know he can feel it when you start to throb between your legs, your center pressed against his hardness. 

“There you are.” His hands slide up, reaching your chest, brushing over your nipples with his thumbs. “I missed you.” 

You smile, despite yourself. “Hi.” 

When you nod, he presses his hips up into you and you lift up, giving him space to slide his pajama pants down enough to free his cock. 

You settle back over him, grinding without letting him enter you as you slide against him. Bring a hand to the back of his head, winding your fingers in his hair while your other hand rests on his shoulder for balance. 

“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Aaron’s head tips back and gentle hands guide your hips back and forth, coating him in your arousal. His next words come through an almost-desperate gasp. “I missed you. God, I missed you.” 

There’s something in his voice that makes your breath catch, brings tears to your eyes. His eyes snap open and meet yours, his hands leaving your hips with fingers open and palms out. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, no.” You shake your head. “I think this is what the kids call catharsis.” 

He laughs a little and sits up, kicking his pants all the way off and gingerly pulling both of you to the top of the bed so he can lean against the headboard and bring a leg up behind you. “C’mere, honey.” 

You melt into his chest, picking yourself up a little and slinging your arms around his shoulders. You feel his hand between you, guiding himself into you. 

You tense with a little hiss through your teeth, and he stills. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing.” You kiss his cheek. “Just gotta go slow.”

He presses his cheek to yours, his other hand brushing over your back. “Okay. At your pace, sweetheart.” 

You finally sink down with a deep breath, taking all of him. 

The hand that was between you slides up around your back, finding a place at the back of your neck and holding you close. Aaron barely moves, thrusting up into you just as far as he can without jostling you too much, taking all your weight on his hips while supporting you with his thigh. 

You take a shaky breath, the tightness in your throat hanging on until you let yourself cry into his shirt. Nothing hurts more than it should given your injuries, you’re not sad, but you missed him. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, pressing his lips to your shoulder. 

You nod. “Yeah.” 

He doesn’t say anything else. The hand on your hip begins to guide you so he can pull out further before sliding back in. You whimper. 

The feeling of him moving within you is achingly familiar; he feels more like an extension of your own body than a separate being. 

There’s no hurry, no rush, no aim in his movement. Neither one of you tries to get anywhere, preferring the proximity to anything else. You literally can’t get closer to him. When he bottoms out, you can feel the pleasure and pressure behind your cheekbones, in your aching ribs.

He’s a perfect fit. Always has been. 

You tuck your face impossibly further into his neck, your lips locked to his pulse point, as your tears subside. 

His heart rate has slowed significantly, beating steadily, without haste, under his skin. He wraps further around you, the hand on your hip crawling up your back to meet the other between your shoulders. 

He doesn’t mean to, but he crushes you a little to his chest and you flinch, your ribs twinging. 

Immediately, his hands disappear and he stills. You lean back and press your palms to his chest for stability, breathing as deeply as you can with your eyes squeezed shut until the pain passes. You open your eyes to Aaron’s concern, guilt coloring the lines around his eyes. 

Bringing your hands to his face, you rub the tension away with your thumbs. “I’m okay, love. Just a little gentler. It’s okay.” 

His eyes flutter shut, but you keep your eyes and hands on his face as you lift yourself again, feeling the intoxicating drag of him against your walls before you drop back down. He lets out the breath he was holding as he bottoms out again, his hands returning to your waist. 

You lean forward, your foreheads meeting and noses brushing. His hands drop to your hips, guiding them to that angle that always leaves you both wanting for air no matter the pace.

Without fail, you find it together and the ribbons of pleasure curl up your spine, unhurried and gentle. You let out a breathless moan and Aaron steals it from you, capturing your mouth. Deepening the kiss, you drop your hands from his face to the nape of his neck, your fingers winding into his hair. 

The pace never changes, remains slow and meandering, even as you both get closer to the edge. You almost don’t want to finish - didn’t think you would, really - but the pleasure nevertheless builds in your lower belly, your walls throbbing in time with your heart.

Aaron’s thumbs pass back and forth over your skin where they work your hips against him. 

You reach your peak first, his precision and consistency tipping your body into a rush of pleasure that takes your breath and your vision. Aaron never frees your mouth, swallowing your cries as they leave you. 

“Good, baby. Just want to make you feel good.” It’s a mumble as he finally wanders away from your lips, wandering down your jaw. 

His command of your body prolongs your orgasm, drawing it out to a constant dull hum that thrums through you. 

Aaron never falters for a second. You know he’s entirely focused on you, but he told you once that the focus only makes it better. The effect of your pleasure on him is clear when you open your eyes, even weighed down as they are by sensation. 

Aaron’s eyes are closed, his breath leaving him in time with his movement inside you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. You fall forward into him again and his arms wind around you, gentle and mindful. 

His orgasm seems to surprise him a little, his hips and breath stutter as he thrusts up and pulls you down by the hips, spilling deep into you with a short groan. You gasp at the pressure, the last dregs of your own orgasm fluttering through you with renewed purpose. 

The two of you continue to move against each other as you come down, your body feeling looser and almost without pain for the first time in three months. Aaron’s hands trace up your back, smoothing over your skin and setting it alight. He softens inside you, but doesn’t leave your heat. 

Aaron curls forward, pressing his lips to your collarbone and wandering down your chest. You let yourself tip back, supported by his hands, as he continues down your body until he reaches the new scar. His lips pass over it three or four times before you feel a firm, but gentle, kiss right over the center. 

He straightens, bringing a hand to your face. “I love you.” 

The words sound so simple in his mouth. They make you smile. 

“I love you, too.”

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrrywildflower @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @good-heavens-chris-evans @angelsbabey @writefasttalkevenfaster @venusbarnes @marvels-agents100 @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @mrs-marcus-moreno @dwellingsofrosie @pinkdiamond1016 @aaronhotchnerr @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @ssa-morgan @violet-amxthyst @capricorngf @pan-pride-12 @mandylove1000 @joanofarkansass  @cevanswhre @infinity1321 @zizzlekwum @popped-weasels @mandylove1000 @jeor @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @bwbatta @roses-and-grasses @winqhster @the-falling-in-the-danger @iconicc @mangoberry43 @crazyshannonigans @ceceguajardo-blog @brittanymcsharry

[moon-light-jukebox]

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 9 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter 

Summary: Dr. Spencer Reid is one of the most brilliant men in the entire world...but even geniuses can be dumbasses. Once he realizes he’s made the biggest mistake of his life, the next step is getting Reader to forgive him. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Rating: Mature

Category: Angst. but then the fluff we all need. 

Content Warning: Talk of drug addiction, mentions of injuries, angst. 

Word Count: 9.4k for Chapter 9 

A/n: I’m sorry I didn’t get this out as quickly as I wanted; I know I broke your hearts in chapter 8. So, please let me and Dr. Reid put them back together. Thank you for sticking with me. 💖 Chapter 10 returns to the smut we all signed up for. 

-- Chapter 9 - “You know why.” -- 

Out of all the compliments I've received in my life, "you're such a strong person" is the one I have gotten the most often.

I was “so strong” for busting my ass through college with dreams of going to the FBI.

My friends told me I was “so strong” when I gave myself a few days to lay around and cry about my ex before I bottled it all up and moved forward.

Everyone said I was just “so strong” for joining the FBI and finishing in the top of my class at the academy.

And when I told everyone I was a profiler that hunted the most dangerous monsters on the planet? I was both “so strong, so brave.”

It’s a nice compliment to receive, but I have never really agreed with it. I’ve never really felt strong. I've always felt resilient. The two words have always felt very different to me. It took enormous amounts of strength to go to college, join the FBI, and then become a member of one of the most prestigious units; but eventually, that strength fades, or it just tires out. Resilience came when the strength was gone when the fight had left your body, but you couldn’t give in, you would endure this pain and any pain after it…because that’s just who you are.

It didn’t take strength to leave the hospital 3 days after Spencer Reid broke my heart. It didn’t take strength to go back to the same apartment where I could feel echoes of him in every room. It didn’t even take strength to not break down and cry.

I kept going because I had to. Because I was resilient.

--

“You sure you got everything you need, mama?” Morgan had been annoyingly thorough in his duties today; Garcia had assigned him to be the person who brought me home and got me settled.

I offered him a wan smile. “I’m fine, Derek. It’s just a gunshot wound. I’m actually surprised how well I’m feeling.” Not good. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel ‘good’ again.

He didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? Because the last thing I need is Garcia to throw one of her damn shoes at me again. Those things are heavy, y/n.”

I chuckled at him. “Well, you won’t get maimed on my account. I’m really okay.”

Morgan regarded me from his position by the door, his eyes ran over everything from the exhaustion on my face to my arm that was in a sling; he took note of everything before he sighed heavily. “I know it’s not my place to say but…”

“Then don’t say it, Derek.” I brought my gaze up to his, my eyes were pleading. “Please, just don’t say it.”

Reluctantly he nodded. “You call any of us if you need anything.”

I nodded. Because I would call any of them if I needed anything…any of them except the one person I really wished I could call.

--

My life went on like that for a time. On my first night home, Rossi had flowers delivered. On my second night home, JJ came by to bring me groceries. On my third night home Emily came by and helped me wash my hair in the sink because I couldn’t lift my arm yet. On my fourth night home Garcia came over with a stack of action movies and popcorn. I didn’t ask why she brought mindless action movies; I knew why, and I was grateful.

On my fifth day home, the team left on a case. The in-person visits slowed down a lot after that, much to my relief. I loved them all but they're profilers and I was so tired of pretending to be strong when the only reason I was still standing was because I was too fucking stubborn to fall down.

But still, Garcia would schedule the odd visitor every now and then to come to check on me; usually either her, JJ, or Emily. No one ever brought up Reid, and I was very careful not to ask about him. I don't know what they knew and what they didn't…but I just couldn’t talk about it.

I was cleared to go back to work on the second Tuesday after my injury, but I would still be on desk duty until I was 4 weeks out. I had sent Hotch an e-mail on that second Tuesday morning and requested to use some personal time, just until the end of the following week. His response was, “Whatever you need.”

He didn't respond to the e-mail I sent yesterday. The e-mail I wasn't even sure I wanted to send but knew I had to. I had submitted a hardship transfer request.

“Then maybe you should reevaluate your place in this team,” Reid had said to me. Maybe he was right. I had thought my home was with the family inside the BAU…but I had also thought Spencer Reid wanted my heart.

“But I think your judgment has been compromised.” Maybe my judgment was never that good to begin with.

--

Twenty-four days after I was shot and two after I requested my transfer there was a knock on my door. Scheduled visits weren’t a thing anymore. Only Garcia had been coming by; Emily and JJ would send me texts, and Morgan drove me to physical therapy a few times but that was it. So, I was very surprised when I heard a sharp knock at my door at 2 pm that Friday afternoon.

I opened the door only to find the last face I expected to see.

“Hotch,” I said, my brows drawing together.

He just gave me a rare smile. “Not who you were expecting?”

“It’s not that you’re not who I was expecting,” I began carefully. “It’s just that…when I think of cheerful visitors coming to surround me with rainbows and sunshine…I don’t think of you, boss man.”

He scoffed, which I had learned was his version of a chuckle. “Garcia is busy. So, can I come in?”

I waved my arm, offering him inside.

He surveyed my apartment; he’d never been here. None of the team had ever been here before- Stop. Don’t think about it.

“How have you been?”

I gave him a very sour look. “Peachy with a side of keen, Hotch. But that’s not why you’re here.”

He didn’t look abashed in the slightest. “You’re right. That’s not why I’m here.”

We both sat on my couch; I kept my gaze on my hands, but I felt his eyes on me.

“Why are you requesting a hardship transfer?”

I was prepared for this question. “Because there is a personal issue within my team that affects me; I can no longer be an effective agent of the FBI in this unit.”

Hotch gave me an almost smile. “That’s a very political answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

“It might be.” He sounded so thoughtful I turned to look at him. We were both profilers, but Hotch was in charge for a reason; that man saw things in ways I don’t think any of us did. “The reason might also be that Reid is a dumb ass.”

I was in no way prepared for that statement to come out of my boss’s mouth. A laugh, the first real laugh I had had in almost 25 days, burst out of me before I could clap my hand over my mouth.

He did smile then. It was a soft, sad smile. “I figured that’s what it was.”

“He’s a genius, Hotch.”

“And he’s also proof geniuses can be dumbasses.”

That one got a small chuckle out of me. “I didn’t know you were funny.”

“I have my moments,” he said dryly.

I took a deep breath, my eyes moving around my apartment, searching for something to focus on. “I don’t know what you know, I don’t know what any of you know…but I can’t stay. Not like this.”

The older man considered me for a moment, planning out his next words. I knew that the team knew that Reid and I had been…something. I hadn’t asked what they knew; I couldn’t ask.

Hotch let out a long sigh, his shoulders dropping before he spoke again. "Hayley had an affair."  

…I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond to that. “I’m sorry, Hotch.”

He just nodded, his gaze sort of far off. “The team was working a case in Milwaukee; it was right before you joined. I was considering transferring; it was right before Gideon left. I knew it, she knew I knew it. I think that was sort of the beginning of the end for us.”

I just stared at him. Hotch didn’t talk about personal things.

He continued on. “It was never really brought up again until the divorce. You think divorce will end your fights…it never works out that way.” Hotch let out another sigh. “Anyway, I think about this one specific fight a lot now. I just…She was so fucking cruel, y/l/n. She said things she knew would hurt me.”

You can’t call a dead woman a cunt, y/n. You just can’t.

“I think about it so much now because I know she lashed out because I hurt her and she was scared. I picked my job over her and Jack. And she’s right…I did.”

Enlightenment finally dawned on me.

“Hotch, I see where you’re going but it’s different,” I stressed. “Protecting the team is my job. I protected a member of my team.”

He just nodded, his eyes never leaving my face. “You also jumped in front of a bullet for a man who is in love with you, who now thinks it’s his fault you got hurt.”

“He is not in love with me!” I interrupted, not that Hotch seemed to care.

“And you also told him you loved him, for what I suspect was the first time, while we all thought you were dying.”

Hold the fuck up. “You heard me? Spencer heard me?!”

Hotch nodded his head solemnly. “Rossi figured he hadn’t told you. He was inconsolable on the way to the hospital. He rode with you in the ambulance. Morgan had to restrain him when you were taken into surgery.” I felt my lungs seize, there was no more air in the room. “His legs gave out from under him when the doctor told us you made it. He was in your room right before you woke up. He ran out when your heart rate spiked.”

That…that can’t be right. “I…I don’t know what happened while I was under, but you weren’t there. You didn’t hear what he said to me, Aaron.”

“You’re right,” he said softly. “I wasn’t, but I have been around him every day since you were injured. I’ve known him for years, y/n. He’s hurting…because he’s a dumbass.”

I tried to focus on Hotch’s words, I really did. But one thing kept playing over and over in my head. That asshole heard me. He lied to me.

--

-- Spencer POV –

“Because I love you.”

“Because I love you.”

“Because I love you.”

The worst thing about having an eidetic memory is that I never forgot anything. I remember the crushing disappointment I felt on my 8th birthday when my dad didn’t call. I remember how gutted I felt when I found Gideon’s letter in his cabin. I remember the self-loathing I felt when Emily was beaten by a deranged cult leader at Liberty Ranch because she didn’t think I could handle it.

I could remember every single crushing moment of my life with absolute clarity, including the moment when I told y/n I didn’t love her. I could see every detail of her face in that moment whenever I closed my eyes. How pain covered her face for just a moment before it went blank.  

Her face in that moment was all I saw when I was awake, but what I saw at night may have been worse. I saw her happy. I saw her laughing at some joke Morgan made. I saw her smiling at me while I explained the scientific impossibilities of the show we were watching on her couch. I saw how thoughtful she’d looked before she kissed me for the first time.

In the 24 days, 21 hours, and 16 minutes since I made the most painful decision of my life, I had regretted it and rethought it countless times. But then I remembered how her eyes fluttered closed that day, how her blood ran out of her body and down my arms, no matter how hard I pressed on the wound. I remembered how it felt to think I was going to lose her.

The members of my team were all furious with me for my decision; I even felt tension from Rossi and Hotch, though it was more subtle. Y/n hadn’t been with our team long, but she had already carved out a place in everyone’s heart…and she’d carved out all of my heart; now it was filled with almost nothing but her. At first, it was just Morgan who was pissed at me, then Emily started becoming frustrated, even JJ stopped inviting me over for dinner as much. They were all still my friends, but everything felt different.

I hadn't realized there was a giant problem until the last person I ever expected to be mad at me finally snapped. We were in the conference room discussing our last case when I had asked Garcia a question. Looking back, I can see it was a dumb question; Garcia cross-referenced everything and dug into people's lives before we even had a chance to ask. But even my stupid question hadn’t warranted her response.

“Garcia, do you know any of the victim’s extended families have any connections to one another? Even distantly.”

She had clicked her tongue against her teeth, her shoulders stiffening. “Of course I have, Reid. That’s a stupid question…but I guess we should expect stupid questions from you now. Since you’ve suddenly become an-“

“Garcia,” Hotch warned.

“Sorry, sir.” She let out a breath.

“Yes, Dr. Reid, I have checked and found no apparent connections.

She’d been avoiding me ever since.

I knew that I had made a mess of things, but the team just didn't understand. They'd only felt her warmth from afar; I'd actually got to be a part of it. They didn't know how her feet were always cold and how she'd shove them under my leg while we watched TV. They didn't know that she mumbled in her sleep sometimes, or when she was really stressed about a case, she'd grind her teeth. The pain I felt now was indescribable, but I couldn't live with losing her.

We’d gotten back home from a case earlier this morning, Hotch let us all go home around noon. Usually, he'd make us stay and finish our paperwork, but he said he had "something" he had to take care of.

Not being at work was bittersweet. Because work reminded me of her, but at least I could occupy my mind with other things; when I was home, she surrounded me. I couldn’t lay in my bed without imagining her beside me. The look on her face when she told me she was ready to be with me. For the first few days after I could still smell her shampoo on my pillow. That was long gone now.

It was just after 2 pm when there was a very loud knock on my door.

“Open up, dumbass!’

What is Morgan doing here? I got up from my couch to open my door. Morgan was in the same clothes he wore to work, he didn't look injured, but his jaw was set, his teeth clenched together. Uh oh.

“Why are you here?” I sighed. I already knew why he was here.

“I’m here,” he began, shoving his way into my apartment. “To see why you’re still being a dumbass.”

I didn’t bother correcting him. Maybe I am a dumbass.

“Morgan-“

“Nu-uh. You sit your little scrawny ass down and listen to me.”

I’m not that scrawny, I thought grumpily while I sat down.

He put his hands on his hips, coming to stand in front of me. “Reid, what are you doing man?”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled.

“Well, I’ll tell you what the fuck you’re doing, Pretty Boy. You know, we were all content to let you flounder along for a while longer. You’re smart, you’d figure it out. But that was before y/n submitted a request for a hardship transfer.”

My shoulders stiffened. I had told her to rethink her place on the team, but I didn’t mean leave it. “What? When?”

“I’m not sure when,” he replied. “Hotch is at her apartment now trying to talk her out of it.”

So that was his important business.

“Look, kid.” He came to sit beside me on the couch. “I know you’re scared. I know you almost lost her, and you couldn’t bear that. But you’re losing her now too, man!’

“It’s different, Morgan,” I protested.

“Yeah, it is different, because you don’t have to lose her! You didn’t see her when she came home from the hospital. She wasn’t even sad, Reid. She was numb. We all knew she had walls up before…but these new walls, man? They make the old ones look like nothing.”

I put my hands together, lacing my fingers tightly. “But-“

Morgan stood up. “No, Reid! No! No buts. I understand that you’re hurting, believe me. But did you ever stop to use that big ass brain of yours to think for a second that you’re hurting her too?!”

“I know I’m hurting her, Morgan,” I said hotly. “I know! But it’s better she’s hurt like this for a little while then die over me!”

“Oh, come on, kid! You can’t make that choice for her! That’s not how love works!” He let out a sigh. “You’re acting like a coward, Spencer. And that’s not the kind of man you are.”

It’s exactly the type of man I am. “Morgan, she’s…she’s everything to me. She’s the sun at the center of my universe. I can’t let her disappear.”  

“Okay, okay,” Morgan nodded, considering me. “Now, I’m not a genius but I do know some stuff after hanging around your ass for all these years. The universe would fall apart without the sun. But…what happens if the sun dims?”

“What?” My heart refused to work when I processed his words.

“You heard me. What happens to the universe when the sun dims? It’s still there, but it’s nowhere near as bright anymore. Because she may be the center of your universe but she’s still a part of a lot of other people’s…I don’t know, galaxy or some shit.” Morgan flicked his hand around to gesture at nothing, like this somehow proved his point.

“Spencer. I know you’re scared. I get it. But you’re making the choice for her. You lied to her, man. You got her to let you in and then you fucking shut her out when you get scared! Do you think she wasn’t scared to let you in in the first place? She’s never going to be totally free of danger, Reid. That’s part of what makes her who she is; she is always going to put herself at risk to help people, we all are! It’s why we’re on the same fucking team!”

The impact of Morgan’s words was a blow to the gut. What if I wasn’t keeping her safe? What if I was putting her through this…because I was afraid? Did I push her away from me for her? Or did I-

“Oh my god. I’m a dumbass.”

Morgan threw his hands in the air before slapping them against his hips.

“I fucked up.”

Morgan opened his eyes very wide and tilted his head down in a universally recognized expression of “you think, dumbass?”.

“What do I do?”

“You apologize, Reid! You go over to her house and you beg for forgiveness.”

My palms were starting to sweat. “What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

Morgan shrugged. “Then at least you tried, man.”

“Will you give me a ride?”

His face split into a wide smile. “There’s the genius! Let’s go!”

--

-- Reader’s POV --

It was just after 4 pm when there was another sharp knock on my door. I picked up the remote to pause the TV show I wasn’t watching; I had just needed some background noise. With a huff, I pulled myself off the couch and started shuffling towards the door. Hotch hadn’t been gone long, so I just figured maybe he’d come back to impart more wisdom on me.

It wasn’t Hotch. My heart stuttered when I saw that mop of curly brown hair out of my door’s peephole.

He knocked again, more hesitantly than before. “Y/n,” he called. “I know I don’t have any right to ask. But…I need to talk to you.”

My eyebrows drew together in confusion. What could you possibly have to say to me?

I cleared my throat. “Is something wrong?”

I saw his head snap up; his eyes fixed on the peephole on my door. “Yes. Everything is wrong.”  

Oh. “Are…are you alright?”

“No.” His answer was simple and firm. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you…but, please, y/n.”

Taking a deep breath, I cracked open my door. “What do you want, Reid?”

I only allowed a tiny sliver of my face to be seen through the door. “C-can I come in?”

“I…I don’t know,” I mumbled. You’re still everywhere. If I let you in now…how will you ever fade?

Reid just nodded. “I understand. I just…I owe you an apology. I owe you so many apologies.”

I swallowed; my throat suddenly coated in sandpaper. “Reid, I don’t…you don’t…”

His eyes never left mine; he was leaving the choice up to me. “I don’t have to come in. I’ll talk to you through your door. Or I can talk to you over the phone. I’ll send you letters if that is easier. Just…please say you’ll talk to me?”

Very, very slowly, I eased the door open. He was cautious when he walked in, his hands stuffed into his pants pockets. “You don’t have to-“

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “That day in my apartment… I asked you not to lie to me. And I’ve done nothing but lie to you for the past 24 days, 22 hours, and 30 minutes.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.

“I already know you heard me, Reid.”

He just nodded. “That’s one of the things I lied about. But it’s not all. It’s not even close to all. I told you my feelings changed, and they didn’t. They haven’t. I still feel the exact same way that I always have. I’m so sorry I even let you think that I didn’t l-“

“Stop.” I wrapped my arms around my middle. “I-I can’t. You…you can’t say that.” I will break if you say that.

His hands came out of his pockets, his arms outstretched, palms facing me; like I was a wild animal he was trying not to startle. “I won’t, I won’t. I’m sorry. I won’t say it until you're ready to hear it if you're ever ready to hear it. But…you have to know why.”

My teeth dug into my bottom lip; my eyes averted from him. “Why what?”

“Why I…Y/n, I just…I thought that I was protecting you.”

My face fell into a frown. “Protecting me from what?”

He stuffed his hands back into his pockets. “From me.” I opened my mouth to say something, but he hurried on. “I know I contribute to the team in some ways, but I also know other people have to pick up my slack sometimes. I just…I know members of the team have gotten hurt protecting me before.” He swallowed, his eyes blinking rapidly. “I couldn’t let you get hurt trying to protect me too. I’m not worth it.”

I felt anger start to burn in my stomach. “You don’t get to make those sorts of choices for people, Reid.”

He nodded. “I know. I was wrong.” He squared his slim shoulders, pulling his hands out of his pockets to rest them at his sides. “I fucked up. I’ve made the biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire life. And I only know one way to fix mistakes this big.” He paused, his throat working when he swallowed. “In Narcotics Anonymous the hardest steps for a lot of people are steps 8 and 9. Step 8 is acknowledging that our actions have caused pain and we need to make amends. Step 9 is making those amends and making them in a way that won’t hurt anyone.”

Hands back in his pockets, he took a hesitant step towards me. “I promise, y/n, I will never hurt you again. This isn’t an excuse, but I was so…I was so scared. I thought that…I thought that your injury was my fault. And I thought if I distanced you from such a…a colossal fuck up like me that you’d be safer.”

My body started to shake, but I wouldn’t let any tears fall. I couldn’t. If the dam broke now, I don’t know that I’d be able to put it back in place.

“Y/n, I don’t deserve the opportunity to make amends to you. But…if you’ll let me, I’d like to try. You’re…you’re everything, y/n. Everything. I even lied before when I said you were sunshine and warmth. You’re so much more than that.”

I heard the tears in his voice, but I couldn’t look at him. I’d break if I looked at him.

“You’re the sun. You’re the center of my universe. And I thought I was keeping you safe, but…I didn’t give you the choice. I took your choice away from you when you’ve always given me a choice in everything.”

I moved my eyes upwards to look at the ceiling, crossing my arms over my chest, my hands rubbing over my upper arms. “I don’t-I don’t know what you want me to say, Reid.”

I heard his shoes on my floor; I felt the air shift in the room when he took a step closer to me. “Just…Just say you’ll…that you’ll at least wait before you push your transfer through. That you’ll let me try to fix this, even though I don’t deserve it.”

A humorless laugh left my throat. “I already told Hotch to hold my transfer request.”

His voice cracked when he spoke again. “You did? When?”

“He came by about an hour ago.” I finally, finally looked at him. I saw his glassy eyes, his wild hair, and the clear pain mixed with a spark of hope on his face. He wasn’t my boy, not anymore. But…goddamnit. “He said…He said you were being a dumbass.”

Reid laughed a bit at that. “That seems to be the general consensus.”

“He asked me to give it some time. To see if working with the team again would actually be a hardship. My first day back is Monday, and I’m cleared to go back on active duty Wednesday.”

He shifted, his hands coming up to push is hair out of his face. “So, you’ll be back on Monday?”

"That's the plan," I said softly. "But…Reid, I don't-I don't know if I can…"

“I’m not asking you to forgive me. I’m just asking you to let me try to make amends for this.”

I brought my hand up to rub my forehead. “What is your goal here, Reid? What do you want?”

His face was as open as I’d ever seen it, his eyes were wide, and his lips were parted. “I want to go back to the moment you started to wake up in the hospital. I want to hold your hand and tell you how much I” he cut himself off, which I was grateful for. “And I want to be the one that drove you home. I want to be the one that helped you wash your hair. I want to be the one that sat on your couch and watched movies with you.” He sighed, his eyes shifting to the side. “But I can’t have any of that. Morgan came by my apartment around the same time Hotch was here…he told me that I was hurting the thing I was trying so hard to protect. And he said you were building a wall around yourself.

Dr. Spencer Reid brought those brown eyes back over to meet mine. “I want you to let me try to knock down that wall again.”

My voice was soft, I could feel my chin trembling, my nails were digging into my arms. “But why?”

For the first time since he entered my apartment, he smiled. It was small but overwhelmingly warm. “You know why.”

I felt something pierce my heart; it was small and sharp, both painful and soothing at the same time. “Reid…I…I don’t know if I can…I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to know,” the man said simply. “You just have to be willing to let me try.”

“But they’re just words, Reid. They’re just words. How am I supposed to believe that you won’t do this again the next time I get injured? Because I can handle being injured…but you gutted me.” I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek, using the pain to help me focus. I couldn’t let the dam break.

“They’re not just words,” he whispered. “I’ll prove it, y/n. I promise.”

I took a very shaky breath, not making an attempt to hide my pain. “I gave you everything, every single part of me and you brushed me aside. You left me in agony when I needed you.”

My choked words lashed at him, but he just took it with a nod. “I know. I don’t deserve another chance. I have no right after what I’ve done. What I’m asking for isn’t fair…but I have to ask. Please?”

“Okay.”

“What?” His words were soft, but the smile that spread over his face was the brightest thing I had ever seen.

I huffed. “You heard me. Don’t push it.”

‘Okay.” He smiled at me again as he made his way around my body, heading for my door. I wrapped my arms tighter around myself like I could somehow physically hold myself together. I heard the lock turn and the door pull open; I heard his feet shuffle through the doorway…before he paused. “Thank you, y/n.” The door clicked shut softly, and I finally allowed myself to breathe.

I wasn’t strong, I really wasn’t. Because if I was strong, I wouldn’t have felt so fucking hopeful.

--

After my conversation with Hotch yesterday, and my surprise visit from Reid last night, I expected my Saturday to be fairly uneventful. Which is why I wasn’t expecting a knock on my door at 8 pm that night.

“Who the fuck is it now?” I muttered, sighing with exasperation.

I thought Hotch was the most unexpected person I would ever see at my door unannounced, but this one caught me more off guard for so. I opened the door to see the bright smiling face of a young man in a delivery uniform. “Y/n y/l/n?” He asked politely.

“…Yes?”

He handed me a plastic bag with styrofoam containers inside. “Here you go. The bill has already been taken care of. Have a good night, ma’am!”

He was already halfway down the hall before I realized what was happening. “Wait, I didn’t order anything,” I called.

"I know, ma'am," he turned, walking backward as he spoke. "The order was placed in the store. A man came by and ordered the food, left a note to put in the bag, and told me to leave before you had a chance to refuse it." He smiled sheepishly at me. "I'm sorry, he gave me a really good tip. Have a good night!"

Frowning, I shut my door and moved into my kitchen, setting the bag on the counter. Sure enough, there was a note on top of the container.

“I know it’s your favorite. S.R.”

The thing about Reid is he had the worst handwriting I had ever seen. Even if I hadn’t suspected this was from him and he hadn’t signed the note, the handwriting would have given it away.

I went into my living room and snatched my phone off the couch before I quickly fired off a text.

“Why did you have dinner delivered to my house?”

His response came a moment later. “You know why.”

--

On Sunday morning, I had one of my last physical therapy appointments. I hadn't sustained any permanent damage to my left shoulder from the bullet. The only real issue was the healing muscle and the artery that was nicked. Even though I was right-handed, it was important in my line of work that I did not lose any strength in my left arm. The physical therapist had made an exception to see me on the weekend since my first day back at work was tomorrow.

The thought of going back to work made me incredibly nervous. I wasn't sure how things would be different. Not only did I have to worry about my relationship with Reid, but I also had to worry about how it would affect the team. I knew they all cared about me…but Reid had been a part of their family much longer than I had. Hotch’s visit on Friday meant a lot to me; I don’t think I would have been able to come back to work without it.

Despite my nerves, after being home on my couch for almost a month, I was itching to get back to doing the work I loved. I had already passed my post-injury psychiatric evaluation, which was pointless anyway as the BAU wrote the questions, but now with this approval from the physical therapist, I would only be on desk duty for 2 days once I returned.

I was so caught up in thought when I got to my apartment that I almost missed the paper taped to the front of my door. It was an envelope that looked some sort of parchment. If the type of paper didn’t give away the sender, the messy way my name was written on the front certainly did.

Calm down, y/n, I thought, reaching up to pluck the note from the door. It’s just a piece of paper. I knew my fear was irrational but trusting him after everything that had happened was terrifying. Because despite my best instincts, I wanted to trust him.

Inside the envelope was a letter, it wasn’t written on standard paper; but, nothing about the man it was from was ever standard.

--

“Y/n,

Before my mother’s schizophrenia became as bad as it is now, she used to read to me all the time. She was a professor of 15th-century literature. My love of reading came from her. Her favorite author is Margery Kempe; and when I was thinking about what I wanted to say to you, one quote in particular from Kempe kept coming to mind.

‘Patience is more worthy than miracle-working’.

The fact that you’ve given me even the slightest chance to apologize to you is the closest thing to a miracle I’ve ever seen. It's not a gift I'm going to take lightly. I know this is so incredibly hard for you. I know tomorrow is going to be hard for you, but I don't want you to feel like you're being forced to do anything before you're ready. I want to make amends, or at least try to, but I don't want to cause you any more pain.

You were patient with me in the beginning of our relationship; you were so unbelievably kind and generous – I think those are the things that made me…feel how I do now. I just want you to know that I’m prepared to be patient too. I never expected you to forgive me, and on the off chance you did, I knew it wouldn’t come easily.

I’d wait for you forever, y/n.

I don’t want to go against your wishes, but I want you to know that I’m ready. I’m ready to tell you now and every moment after for the rest of my life. All you have to do is ask and I’ll never stop telling you what you mean to me.

- Spencer”

--

My hands shook as I refolded the letter, slipping it back inside the envelope. I was dialing his number before I was even fully aware of what I was doing.

“Hello?” His voice sounded slightly apprehensive, almost shy.

“I got your letter,” I said quietly.

“I-I…I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

I let out a sigh. “No, Reid. You didn’t make me uncomfortable.”

“You’ve not called me Spencer since…”

“I’m not there yet.” I closed my eyes when I said it; even now…I didn’t want to hurt him. I’m just not there yet.

I heard him shift around on the other end of the line. “I know. You don’t have to be. I just…I just wanted to tell you how I feel.”

“And send me dinner,” I added dryly. He laughed softly before I asked what I really wanted to know. “Reid…how have you been?” I ran my hand over my forehead. “I mean…before I was…before I was shot I know you were struggling with-“

“Ah,” he mumbled when the realization hit him. “It wasn’t easy…it hasn’t been easy. I went to a lot of meetings after you were…And I spent a lot of time on JJ’s couch trying to convince her and myself that I was doing the right thing by pushing you away.”

I flexed the fingers of my left hand, my posture shifting while he spoke. “But you haven’t…I didn’t make…”

“Y/n,” he said, his voice was so fucking gentle that it almost shattered me. “I haven’t. And even if I did, it wouldn’t have been your fault. No bad choice I make is ever anyone’s fault but my own. My demons are my own.”

I sighed. “I know, Reid, but I don’t want to be…I don’t want to make them worse.”

“You couldn’t,” he said firmly. “Whenever I did think about calling a dealer, doing anything I could to not feel the pain in my heart…I-I kept seeing your face. You looked so understanding when I told you about dilaudid. You made me feel proud of myself for the first time in a long time.”

I had to put my palm over the end of my phone. I didn’t want him to hear how my breathing had become uneven.

“Y/n, I’ll do anything to have you look at me like that again.”

"I don't need to ask why do I?" I asked lightly, in an attempt to defuse the tension.

He laughed. “No, I don’t think you do.”

I found myself smiling, grateful he couldn’t see me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Reid.”

--

When I arrived to work on Monday morning for my first official day back, I was apprehensive but hopeful. The world wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t as dark as it has been.

Right when I entered the bullpen, I saw something on my desk that made me pause. There in the center of my desk was a large iced coffee from my favorite cafe, the one near my house. No matter how early I got up, I never seemed to have time to stop there before work most days. So, the fact that a cup was there in the first place was cause for notice but that wasn’t the strangest part; the ice wasn’t melted. There wasn’t any condensation on the plastic cup.

I know I’m not a genius, but that can’t happen. Right?

“There she is!”

I turned to see Rossi making his way towards me, his arm's outstretched. He wrapped me in a tight hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek.

“We’re happy to have you back, y/n.”

I smiled widely at him, meaning it when I said, “I’m happy to be back.” He gave my upper arm a squeeze before he started to walk away. “Hey, Rossi. Did you do this?” I asked, gesturing to the cup on my desk.

He just had a sly smile on his face. “I did not, kiddo.”

Of course, he didn't. After taking a deep breath, I turned to the desk across from mine. Reid was already sitting there scribbling away, doing a very good job of pretending he didn’t know I was already here. I marched over to him before I lost my nerve. “The ice wasn’t melted.”

He looked up at me, not the slightest bit surprised at my presence, a soft smile on his face. “Beg your pardon?”

“The ice. In my iced coffee. It wasn’t melted.” I waved my hand around in the air. I’m not crazy, am I? That couldn’t have just happened.

“That’s because I asked them not to put any ice in when they made it,” he said simply. “You don’t like it as much when it’s watered down after the ice melts some; so I just added the ice here.”

My heart started to beat faster. “Why would you do that?”

The smile on his face got bigger, his eyes seemed to soften somehow when he looked at me. “You know why,” he said simply.

I didn’t know what to say. So, with a tight nod at him, I turned and walked back to my desk.

The rest of my first day back went how I expected. When Morgan saw me, he gathered me up in a giant hug and spun around ignoring my demands to put me down. Garcia hugged me like she hadn’t seen me in years and brought me cupcakes. Emily and JJ took me to lunch. Hotch made me fill out forms. And Reid…well, whenever I turned to look at him, I found he was already looking at me.

--

The very next day when I showed up for work, I was suspicious. Every day since that Friday, Reid had done something. But when I arrived in the morning there was nothing on my desk. Nothing appeared out of place. Maybe it’s a fluke. Reid was already sitting at his desk, scrolling through his e-mail.

I knew what he had done the second I sat down. For as long as I had worked at this desk in the BAU bullpen, there was one wheel on my chair that was wonky. It never wanted to roll, and it always drove me insane. No matter what I tried the wheel never worked this well, and especially not this smoothly. Did he-?

When I looked over, he was already looking at me, that same soft smile on his face.

--

On my third day back at work there was nothing on my desk when I arrived, there was nothing anywhere. But I knew him, I knew he wasn’t done yet; there had to be something.

That something was on my desk when I got back from turning in my return to active duty forms to Hotch. There was a single sunflower in a vase sitting on my desk. I walked up to it and touched the petals softly. It was beautiful, but I was confused.

Walking over to his desk, I didn’t bother trying to hide the confusion or apprehension on my face. This time he wasn’t pretending to be doing something else; his eyes had been on me since the moment I walked out of Hotch’s office.

“It’s beautiful,” I began. “But I don’t understand the symbolism.”

He tilted back in his chair, looking up at me. “Sunflowers always want to be looking at the sun…and so do I.”

Because he thinks I’m the sun.

“But don’t sunflowers stop turning towards the sun when they get older?”

He just nodded. “They might, but I never will.”

I ran my tongue over my lips before I pulled both of them in between my teeth. I felt tears prick the corners of my eye. “Why?” I asked, my voice slightly thicker than normal.

Spencer stood up then; it looked like he would reach for me, but he quickly put his hands at his sides. “I’ll stop if it hurts you. Y/n, I promise to never hurt you again.” His words were earnest, his eyes were pleading. “But ‘why?’ You know why.”

I just nodded my head slightly, blowing out a shaky breath. “Thank you, it’s lovely.”

I don't know why Spencer said I was the sun because his smile at that moment was the brightest thing I'd ever seen. "Is it too much if I throw in a cheesy line, like, 'it's not as lovely as you?'"

“Brat,” I muttered, turning quickly so he wouldn’t see my smile.

That bright smile was still on his face when we all met in the conference room 20 minutes later. I saw Rossi clap him on the back when he walked in. JJ shot him a very sweet smile, it was almost motherly, like she was proud of him. Prentiss just winked.

Morgan wasn’t subtle. I’m not sure he knew how to be. He held out his fist for a fist bump, laughing openly when Spencer just wrapped his hand around it and shook.

“Alright,” Hotch said from the front of the room. Fuck, even he is smiling a little bit. “Let’s get started.”

--

Less than 30 minutes later, I was boarding the BAU jet for the first time in more than a month. We were off to Arkansas to assist the Hot Springs police department to catch a suspected serial killer.

I was one of the last ones on board; I smiled awkwardly when I saw everyone’s eyes on me.  

“What kept you, Pretty Girl?” Morgan asked with a grin.

Oh, I’m Pretty Girl now? Subtle. I shot Morgan a look to indicate I wasn’t amused. “I had to talk to Garcia.”

Rossi looked at me expectantly “…About?”

They were all just staring at me, and they weren’t even trying to hide their amusement. I sighed. “I couldn’t just leave it on my desk, you assholes.” Garcia might have squealed loudly when I brought her my sunflower and asked her to watch over it for me.

Every one of them laughed…except Reid. Reid just bit his bottom lip and dropped his gaze. He looked so much like my nervous boy that it made me ache. That was the first time I allowed myself to admit how much I missed my darling boy.

--

I was in the middle of going over victimology when a cup of coffee was sat down beside me. I mumbled my thanks, not even glancing up, just reaching out to grab it. It wasn’t until my fingers wrapped around the cup that my head snapped up.

“Morgan,” I called. “What’s this?”

His smile was very, very bright. “It’s your coffee.”

I picked up the iced coffee, giving it a once over. “Are you or are you not the same Derek Morgan that has said multiple times, ‘I ain’t no damn barista if you want special coffee you go get it your damn self'?"  

He nodded, his smile never wavering. “I am, so don’t get used to it. But when my boy has finally stopped being a dumbass and is trying to win his girl back?” He winked at me. “I’ll make an exception when he asks for a favor.”

I heard JJ laugh softly from the other end of the table. I scrunched my face into a mock glare at both of them. “Don’t you have a murderer to catch?”

He turned before leaving the room, putting a hand to his chest in a very dramatic fashion. “Pretty Girl, you should know SSA Derek Morgan can multitask!”

--

I still don’t know what it is about towns in the middle of nowhere, but it never fails, one of the cops from said town will try to weasel his way into my bed the second the case is over. I was packing up after the unsub was booked when someone cleared his throat behind me to get my attention. This time it was a tall, slightly out of shape Officer named Reynolds. His smile was greasy but at least he didn’t try to touch me.

“I’m sorry,” I said, offering what I hoped was a polite smile. “I have a boyfriend.” I always tried to be diplomatic when this happened, just because I didn’t need to Hotch reprimand me for threatening a member of the local police…again.

Officer Reynolds’ scoffed. “He doesn’t have to know.”

The smile dropped off my face, my eyes hardening. Fucker. “That’d be pretty fucking difficult since he’s a member of my team and he’s sharing a room with me.” I picked up my bag and tossed a sarcastic “nice working with you” over my shoulder before I hightailed it out of the conference room. I didn’t stop until I got to the main entrance of the precinct, where I planned to wait for the rest of the team.

“So, am I the boyfriend you mentioned?” A voice asked from behind me.

Of course. I turned to see Dr. Spencer Reid looking very pleased with himself. “I also didn’t know you wanted to share a room with me tonight. We each have single rooms though, so we don’t have to swap with anyone else…” he trailed off pretending to think. “So, who’s room are we taking?”

I rolled my eyes. “Reid, if it got some slimy cop off my back, I’d tell him you were my husband. I will throw you under the bus to save myself from a very awkward conversation that would probably lead to me punching someone.”

His face changed, he no longer looked overly pleased with himself. He looked like the same man that sat on the couch with me all those weeks ago and asked me if I kissed my submissives. He looked like the Spencer that used to be mine.

“You act like I’d mind,” he said quietly.

“Mind what? Being thrown under the bus?”

“Being called your husband.”

I froze, my eyes immediately dropped to the floor. I couldn’t look at him, I couldn’t. I let out a very shaky exhale, a sure sign that I was about to cry. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t. Why is he doing this to me?

I saw his beaten-up converse move into my field of view. He was close to me now, but he didn’t touch me. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he whispered. “But I promised I wouldn’t lie to you anymore.”

JJ walked around the corner then and he broke away from me. I just stared at my hands the whole drive back to the hotel.

--

The clock on the bedside table blinked 11:47 pm. I had been lying in bed since 9 pm trying to fall asleep. When we arrived back to the hotel, I didn’t speak to anyone, I just kept my head down and walked straight into my room. Once I was inside, I tore my clothes off and got into the shower, turning it on the hottest temperature I could tolerate.

I felt the tears; they were right there, I felt them pulsing underneath my eyes. I didn’t know how to do this. I didn’t know how to deny myself everything I had ever wanted when it was offering itself to me…I was the reason I was in pain right now, and it was all because I was so fucking terrified to trust him again.

I glanced back over at the clock. 11:49 pm.

Taking a deep breath, trying to pull some sort of courage into myself, I picked up my phone.

He’s probably sleeping, I reasoned, giving myself one last chance to back out.

But then the phone was dialing. I listened to the ringing and held my breath. Because what was I supposed to do if he didn’t answer? What was I supposed to do if he did?

“Y/n?” his sleepy voice asked, sounding disoriented but urgent. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

Everything. And no. But I couldn't get my mouth to open. I couldn't say anything. If I opened my mouth, then everything would spill out. All the pain, all the secrets, all the hopes, and fears…and it would all be bared to Spencer Reid.

In the way that Spencer knew everything, he knew what I needed then. “I’ll be right there.” I heard a rustling on his end of the line, but he never hung up the phone.

Before I was ready, I heard the same hesitant knock on my door that I heard every night he came to my hotel room just because he missed me; the same knock that I had heard that first day at my apartment. The knock was the final crack that broke the dam I had built around my emotions in an attempt to hold them back so they wouldn’t sweep me away.

I don’t remember walking to the door, I don’t remember unlocking it; all I remember is Spencer standing on the other side in the same Caltech t-shirt and sweatpants he wore in my apartment when we sat on my couch on our first real night together.

“Y/n?” His eyes ran over me frantically. He came into the room, shutting the door behind him. His hands reached out like he would grab me, but I saw the indecision on his face. “Tell me what you need, baby. Please?”

The moment that I was so afraid of happened then. The tears finally flooded my eyes and my jaw unlocked. “Spence, I’m scared.” I swallowed, trying to control my broken voice. “I want this so much but I’m terrified.”

His arms enveloped me before I was finished speaking. One hand in the center of my back, the other on the back of my head. He smelt like coffee, laundry detergent, and my Spencer. My body shook in his arms. The pain from his words at the hospital, the pain from him not being there when I woke up, the pain of losing him, and the pain of having to turn him away for almost a week when he was all I wanted; all of that pain just poured out of me while I sobbed into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, y/n,” he whispered against my hair. “I’m so, so sorry. And I will do anything-I’ll do everything to prove to you that I will never hurt you again.”

He kept holding me until my tears finally quieted, my body almost went limp in his arms. The weight of all of that pain was so heavy for so long, and now that I didn’t have to hold it, I was so tired.

“Spence?” My throat felt raw, my eyes were puffy.

“Hmm?”

I didn’t lift my head to look at him. “I’m ready to hear it now.”

Spencer froze, I’m pretty sure he stopped breathing for a moment. Then he leaned back, pulling his chest away from my face. Both of his hands cupped my face, his thumbs moving over my cheeks softly, wiping the tear trails away. Spencer held me like I was more fragile than glass like I was made of something that would crumble into nothing if he so much as moved wrong.

“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, his beautiful golden-brown eyes searching mine.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think so,” I said, giving him a small shaky laugh.

He tilted my head up slightly before his lips brushed against my forehead. “I loved you before you were ready to hear it; I loved you before you even knew I existed.” He pressed another kiss my cheek. “I loved you since the first time you smiled at me.” He kissed my other cheek. “I will never stop telling you how much I love you.” He trailed his lips over to my mouth. “I will love you forever…because no one has ever loved someone the way I love you,” he whispered, his breath washing over my lips.

I leaned forward and brushed my mouth against his. I felt the final layer of my resistance crumble. “Please don’t hurt me again, Spence.”

He pulled away to stare in my eyes. “I will never hurt you like this again. I’m so fucking sorry, y/n.”

“Just kiss me, Spencer.”

He gave me a tiny grin at the command. “I thought you didn’t kiss your submissives,” he teased.

I brought my hand up to hold his face. “You know I break all my rules for you, my darling, nervous boy.”

--

--

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[tailorvizsla]

You didn't think I wouldn't ask for some Boba Fett though now did you? (Of course not, he is the new shiny for me iuwhei) ✨ HC Of my Choice... What about having your first kiss with Boba and he doesn't #know it is your first one till part-way through or after? Am I projecting? Yes, yes I am.

Title: HC – Boba Fett and First Kiss Pairing: Gender neutral Reader x Boba Fett Word Count: ~1700 Rating: PG-13 Warnings: Boba Fett is a grumpy bastard, but you hold your own against him. Boba also gets injured, but there aren’t any graphic descriptions of the injuries. Author’s Notes: Okay, my Angle, I’ve been thinking about this one for as long as it’s been sitting in my inbox. I’m not familiar with Boba Fett’s character, so I wanted to make sure this was good for you. So, without further ado, here we go with the Big Green Grumpy Jerk who has somehow inexplicably charmed his way into my heart with a few gruff comments.

Tagging @princessbatears because chaos? :>

📚 My Master List 📚

Boba Fett isn’t a man of many words. It’s not that he’s shy or anything – he just doesn’t like talking to people beyond what is necessary. He has worked alone his entire life, so the sound of others’ voices just sort of grates on him. He especially does not like being crowded by people.

So, one day, while doing his thing, he ends up injured. It’s not even due to combat. His jetpack just…sputters out. His beskar’gam turns what should have been a fatal fall into a very painful one. He knows he has broken a lot of bones, but Boba refuses to die like this. He crawls his way back to his bike, calls for medical aid, and prays to the Maker that someone in town will come help him.

You are the only person who does come to help him. Most other people are too afraid of the Imperial remnants to work with a Mandalorian. Others are too afraid of Mandalorians to work with a Mandalorian. You? You are not afraid of much. He is not sure if you are brave or stupid. After splinting the worst of the damage, you get him onto the bike and get him back into town. It is at this point that Boba finds himself leaning toward thinking you are stupidly caring and trusting.

You inject him with bacta – the good kind that makes him giggly, sleepy, and numb – and get to work. When he wakes up, he’s wrapped in an annoying number of casts and splints, but at least he’s still alive. However, you then give him the bad news: the fall has damaged many of the delicate nerves in his back. If he fails to undergo physical therapy, there is a real chance he may never walk again. He’s no medical expert, but when he looks at the scans you took, he knows you aren’t lying.

So, Boba resigns himself to having to deal with you on a regular basis. The first physical therapy exercises are simple, yet they exhaust him to the point where he just passes out. As the days go by, he starts putting up the walls to keep you out. (Spoiler alert: you manage to find your way through the cracks in the wall, annoying him with barely any effort on your behalf.)

Now, under ideal circumstances, this shitshow would end with Boba Fett getting back on his feet, paying you handsomely for the amount of time you have spent getting him put together, and going back to bounty hunting, never to think of you again. But of course, the universe throws an even bigger wrench into his carefully thought-out plans. Someone finds out that you’re taking care of him and a whole bunch of angry townspeople converge on your little clinic. He grabs you and the two of you run. The last thing you see is your clinic going up in flames. (Boba can’t believe the shortsightedness of these people – they’ve driven off their only competent medical professional. What are they going to do next? Kill their only competent mechanic? Di’kute, every last one of them.)

And so, the two of you go off on a merry adventure, annoying the absolute shit out of each other on a regular basis. Boba especially is concerned at how easily you have managed to find every single weak point in his defenses – physical, mental, and emotional. You are a fair shot with your blaster, so when he got fresh with you that one time, telling you that your ass looked downright edible in the trousers you had borrowed from him, you drew your blaster and fired a shot off at his feet. He laughed so hard his bucket nearly fell off. (You are not sure if you are disturbed that he finds being shot at amusing. He does scold you a bit, but you do notice that he does not talk about your ass anymore.)

With your knife? You’re lethal, and he learns that the hard way when he fails to announce his presence behind you. One moment Boba is reaching to touch your shoulder and the next moment, he’s got your elbow in his face and your penknife embedded in his flak vest. Fortunately, the blade’s too short to cause serious damage, but he does not let you forget that you kriffing stabbed him when he was only trying to ask you what you wanted for dinner.

Even though Boba would rather cover himself in tiingilar sauce and crawl back into the sarlacc pit headfirst than ever admit it, the two of you make a damn good team. He goes off to hunt bounties, you stay in town to provide your medical services for a fair fee. Sometimes, when your services are not needed, you’ll hang back at the ship and do some basic accounting to keep him within his budget.

Boba grumbles when you ask to accompany him on a hunt, but he figures you really do need to learn how to defend yourself if anything should happen to him. When the two of you were surrounded by goons, you naturally fell into place behind him, your back to his, covering his shebs while he provides the heavy firepower. When the numbers are thinned to something more manageable, he sets you loose on them, letting you practice your knife skills. And by the Maker, he is impressed with how much you have improved since the last time you stabbed him.

Between hunts, you get his shebs back into fighting shape. Hell, he thinks he’s even better than he was before. The exercises you insist on forcing on him have made him more flexible than he was before, and his bones no longer creak first thing in the morning. One particularly hot, muggy day, you try to make him drink that vile green vegetable concoction you call a smoothie. Smooth his shebs, there are chunks in that liquefied animal feed. Sometimes he wonders if you’re trying to kill him on purpose.

(You don’t know this, but Boba has already arranged for everything in his possession, ships and banking accounts included, to be transferred to you in the event of his death. Hell, he has even started negotiating with a friendly Tribe to make sure you have a home to go to and your pick of their warriors for marriage, should you be interested. Boba justifies it this way: the last time his jetpack mutinied, he ended up several hundred thousand credits in debt to you by his estimation. By ensuring you have a safe place to go, and a family ready to welcome you, he can offset the immeasurable debt he owes you. It hurts to think of this, but Boba genuinely cannot bear the thought of you being alone in this cruel galaxy, the same way he had been when he was a child. So, if he ever does piss you off to the point where you off him in his sleep, you’ll be fine.)

You keep pushing and pushing, insisting that he needs B-vitamins or some other bantha-shit he’s sure you’ve made up for the sole purpose of annoying him. When you start going on about macronutrients and essential vitamins, Boba loses it. He tosses his cutlery down and goes stomping off toward the cockpit. You follow him, blathering on and on about the last blood panel you had pulled – HDLs, LDLs, and a whole slew of acronyms later, he loses it. Rather than snap at you, he shuts you up the only way his poor sleep-deprived brain can come up with.

Boba pushes you up against the wall, gently to avoid hurting you. You don’t seem at all phased. In fact, you start waving the paper at him as you try to draw his attention to his sodium levels. Boba leans in and presses his lips to yours. You finally stop talking, your entire body going stiff in response. He takes a moment to nibble along your lower lip before parting your lips with his, tongue probing a bit deeper in, and you still aren’t responding. Boba draws back and stares down at you. You’re wide-eyed and clearly in shock.

He leans in again. This time you respond clumsily, your hands clutching at that stupid piece of paper. He gently wrestles it out of your grasp and crumples it up. Then he tosses it over his shoulder, not caring where it lands. He cups the back of your head and deepens the kiss. Still, you’re not responding the way he wants, so he draws back.

“What, never been kissed before?” he asks.

Before he can say anything else, he realizes that that was your first kiss. While Boba has never wanted to be anyone’s First Anything, he realizes that he wants to make an exception for you. There’s no one in this entire galaxy who can annoy the shit out of him in one breath and then worry about his health in the next. You are his little baar’ur. After you have wormed your way under his plating and so selfishly made yourself a fixture in his life without his permission? Oh, no, no, you are not going anywhere.

He cuts off your stammering with another kiss. He takes this one slow, moving your hands to where he wants you to touch him – one at his nape, the other at the small of his back, right over that spot that makes his knees weak.

This time, you respond. Slowly, hesitantly, but as you grow more confident, your hands begin to stray. You worm your fingers up the back of his shirt and dig your nails into the sensitive skin there, making him gasp in pleasure. Then you dig your fingers into his long hair and tug lightly, earning a low growl from him. You freeze and stare up at him with wide eyes until he leans back in.

Fortunately, your big smart science brain learns his likes and dislikes very quickly. When he finally pulls away, he finds that he really likes what he sees – your shirt’s rumpled, your hair is sticking up, and your lips are red and swollen from his kisses. Then and there, he makes a vow to make sure you always look like a mess.

(Spoiler alert: quite a few more of your firsts happen right here in the cockpit.)

[kerwritesthings]

Homecoming

Summary: It hurts to crash and fall, but helps when you have someone to help pick you back up

Word Count: little over 2.2k

Warning: fluff with a slight touch of oh sad, cursing and a little illusion to naughty

Author Notes: So hey, muse is back, feeling it and she’s a cranking. I had general thoughts on this since end of Final and return to play, bullets I had vomited, maybe a paragraph but it never went anywhere. After I got J’s challenge done, it kind of just poured out in regards to those two kids. This is part of what’s now officially the Orange Blossom verse since I’m fully attached to Tyler and Clementine. 

Guess I need to get a hockey masterlist together now? Cause yeah, more words coming here for them (possibly a NSWF back half to this? maybe?) and on a few other hockey boys. Also, maybe even getting some Shawn words out too? #museisfeelingit

We’re taking off. I finally get to say see you and the boys later and really mean it.

You knew straightaway when the buzzer sounded the other night this was going to be hard, harder than last year for sure. When you talked after, it shattered you hearing him that way. You couldn’t be there and that hurt. You also knew there was more than he was letting on or even telling you, but you weren’t pushing him then; it wasn’t worth it. There’d be a time and place for that.

We’ll be waiting xo

You try to get as much set and ready, at least for the next 48 hours, so you can just both be. Fridge and pantry are full, everything is clean top to bottom inside and out. As you run through the checklist in your head, you feel a heavy head plunk down on your knee with a whine.

“I know buddy, I miss him too. He’s coming home to us right now though. Only a couple more hours,” you scratch behind the golden lab’s ear. “Let me feed you and your crazy brothers so you’re not completely batshit when your Dad gets home.”

As soon as you say Dad, they lose their minds it seems. A raucous feeding and a subsequently needed clean up after of both the kitchen and you, time is closer than you thought. You’re refiling the Brita when you hear the locks clicking open and the telltale plunk of bags hitting the floor. Then he’s there in the doorway between the hall and the kitchen. You just look at him for a moment and truly exhale for the first time since he called after the game, he’s finally home.

“Hi,” you smile, stepping closer to him.

“There’s my babygirl,” Tyler sighs deeply, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms tightly around you. “Fuck, I missed you, so damn much Emmy.”

You hold him just as close, nodding into his chest trying not to cry. He drops his head into the crook of your neck and breathes in and out slowly. Your arms wind around his waist as you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin.

“It’s too quiet…” he starts.

“They’re outside. They were going crazy in the house; I think they could tell from my energy you were coming back,” you explain. “That or it was just another Wednesday.”

He bites a chuckle back, his lips dusting against your neck.

“May need your help with them,” he murmurs against your skin.

“How bad?” you ask, hands sliding up to his face, pulling him away to look straight at you.

He’s tired, it’s all over his face. He just shrugs.

“Tyler…” you start.

“Bad,” he mumbles out, eyes slipping shut as your fingers start looping in his hair sticking out from his hat. “Doc wants me in for scans and testing tomorrow afternoon.  I’m gonna need you to drive me please, J dropped me off because I couldn’t.”

That’s why you didn’t hear the rumbling of an engine or the garage door.

“Where?” you tread lightly.

“Better to ask me where not, Em. You know the knees were acting up before we went into lockdown, but they were better than before when we went back for phase two,” he replies. “Then the hip started at the end of camp here probably from the other shit. I thought we had it under control before we left and the knees were feeling less shitty. I played the one game in round robin. Wasn’t great, but it wasn’t crazy pain and I’ve played through worse. They backed me out for precautions, you know that. Thought the rest and therapy on it would do it.”

“But then?” you probe carefully, knowing he wasn’t letting on how much the bumps and bruises of playoffs were really affecting him when he would call.

“All kind of went to hell from there though and it just unraveled,” he sighs deeply. “Definitely the right hip. Left is tweaked from compensating. Wrist was nagging too. Everything fucking hurt but, I just. I couldn’t let them down, I couldn’t. It’s playoffs. Not when we were pushing and we were that damn close. So fucking close.”

Tyler sniffs and drops his head to your shoulder.

“You have the biggest heart baby; you’d never let them down. They know that. But you need to take care of yourself and not break yourself to the point of disrepair, Tyler. Not good for them or for you, especially if you want to keep on playing,” you say. “Tabling this for now though. Let’s go see the boys, then I think you need some food, a soak and some sleep.”

“You’re forgetting something,” he whispers into your shirt, his hands holding firm at your hips.

“Hmm?” you question.

“You, I most definitely need you, Emmy,” he picks his head up and smirks before leaning into kiss you.

It starts sweet, light even then he presses into it. Tongue swiping and teeth nibbling, it’s warming up quickly. His hands flex tighter, drawing you even closer into him. You can already feel him half hard against you.

“Ty,” you break away, breathless. “Not if…”

“Nope, non-negotiable. We’ll figure out a way. It’s been almost two fucking months,” he utters against your lips before pressing into another kiss, this one quick. “I hear them losing their shit out there. Come on.”

He snags your hand, tangling your fingers together and tugging you towards the French doors to the patio. You can tell immediately in his gait, he’s in a good deal of discomfort. Knowing him, he’s refused anything heavy pain killer wise while he was playing, other than the extra strength Advil he’s only been comfortable taking. Maybe some cortisone if the inflammation wasn’t subsiding and even that would be a push to get him to agree to.

“Don’t even think about getting down on the grass you, I saw the limping,” you chide, pushing him down onto the lounge chair. “They can all attack you from here.”

He pouts, but you just flick his ear, then yank the hat off his head.

“Boys, look who I found for you,” you call out.

Three large dog heads whip around at once and make a break for you two. You back out of the way, giving the labs more than enough room to get up and around the chair. Once the initial may lay of wagging tails, jumping excitement and licking backs down, Gerry ends up on the lounge wedging himself on and between Tyler’s legs as he thinks he’s still tiny, with Cash and Marshall on either side their heads in his lap.

“Who’s the best boys? Did you miss me? I missed you. Were you good for Mom while I was gone?” he asks them, petting them each as they bask in having him back. “You better have taken good care of her. We had an agreement.”

“As good as being in the house with three boys without their dad could be,” you laugh from behind the chair, hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “They were good to cuddle with, especially on game nights.”

“Not as good as me though,” he tips his head back with a cheeky grin.

“Debatable Tyler,” you tease, bopping his nose.

“Hey,” he pouts, lip jutting out.

“You can remind me later,” you murmur, dropping a kiss to his forehead. “You spend some time with the motley crew out here. Don’t you think about running or leaving that chair, really. I’ll get some stuff pulled together in the kitchen. Any requests? I stockpiled on some of your favorites.”

“Did you make your chicken bake?” his eyes light up as he thinks about what to ask for.

“Of course I did, you asked me about that a few times when you were griping about food options,” you grin. “I’ll get that and salad ready. Boys, you need to take it easy with Dad, he’s more broken than he’s willing to admit.”

You head back into the house and into the kitchen. As you’re turning from the oven to start on the salad, you hear the thump of paws first before feeling a plop of a head on your feet.

“Marsh baby, why aren’t you outside with your Daddy?” your eyebrows knit as you look down at the dog.

The dog just huffs and sighs with big eyes looking up at you.

“He’s back now with us buddy,” you wipe your hands on a towel before bending down to pet him. “He’s missed you just as much as you missed him. You’re his first baby. Go love on him some more.”

Marshall just whines again, nudging you to try to make you cuddle with him on the kitchen floor.

“Let me finish this up, then we can all snuggle on the couch ok?” you bargain, heading to the sink to wash your hands before finishing the salad.

He didn’t leave your side as you went on your way to get the meal together, sticking closer than he did when Tyler first left. The bake would be in for a bit longer, so you slide the salad into the fridge just as everyone filters back into the house.

“Your oldest son has abandonment issues,” you call out. “Tyler, you best not. Get your ass on the couch, I’ll pull him over. There’s no rolling on the floor.”

“He’s always been the most sensitive, worse in his old age,” he jokes, sliding an arm around your waist to lean into you.

“He’s not that old, be nice,” you poke at his side. “Marshall just loves you that much. That needs like 20-25 more minutes in the oven. Salad’s done, so it’ll be easy once this is warmed through. Come on; couch, pups and maybe I’ll even let you get handsy.”

Tyler turns you, palms sliding up your hips around to your back to pull you into him. You go easily and willingly.

“Thank you, Emmy,” he says softly, nosing at your temple. “I’m so lucky I get to come home to not only these three but to you too. Means a lot. I love how much you care about those three nutzos in there as much as how much you love me. And I know it’s not easy at times, but I hope you know that without question, I love you. I love you more every damn day and I want to keep showing you that.”

You didn’t expect that. It’s never been a question on your feelings for each other, but it always hits you when Tyler gets into his feelings like that. You don’t even respond with words; you just pop up onto your toes to kiss him.

“Love you too Ty,” you murmur, a breath away from his lips.

As soon as you both settle into the couch, letting him get comfortable first as you saw the grimace when he initially sat down, the dogs fall into place too. Even if it’s only for a short break, it’s nice to feel like things are settling back into a sense of normalcy. You close your eyes and exhale, probably for the first time since they came off the ice after game six.

“Bath after dishes?” you start as you shuffle plates off the table. “No fighting me, you need it. You’re wincing at every other movement. I picked up some eucalyptus soak with Epsom salt, so you won’t smell like my lavender or jasmine.”

“You joining me?” he wiggles his eyebrows, grin as wicked as ever after taking a sip from his glass.

“We’re not fucking in the tub Tyler,” you chide him as you load the dishwasher. “Busted hips do not make for good times with water sports even with as big as that soaker is.”

“Wrecking all my fun,” he sighs with the grin still evident. “But I guess you’re right. If I promise to kind of behave, will you join me?”

You can’t help but scoff a laugh.

“Kind of behave? Shit’s sake. Only you, Tyler,” you swing back around to the table, dusting a kiss to his temple. “Let me go get stuff ready and the water all set in there.”

“Someone needs to make sure I wash behind my ears amongst other places,” he gets cheeky, snagging you to pull you down onto his lap. “No one better than you for that, baby.”

He nips at your ear before nuzzling his face into your neck before tightening his arms around your waist. You’ve missed this, missed him.

“You can distract me all you want, but I’m still not fucking you in that tub,” you laugh, your hands tracing loops and swirls against the black ink over his forearm before trailing down his hands.

“Was at least worth a shot, but I’ll take you wet, naked and full of bubbles in the water with me,” he sighs, biting at your jaw before pushing you off his lap. He takes a swat at your ass as you’re walking away.

“I’ll add bubbles, just for you, since you asked so nicely,” you call out over your shoulder, sticking your tongue out at him.

“Put that away unless you plan on using that, preferably on me,” he shouts back in the midst of laughing.

[writersrealmbts]

A Natural: Part 5

Description: Hybrid!Taehyung x Reader: You’re a single mom, and your son is your entire world. When you take him to get his first hybrid, his choice is pretty bewildering, until you realize that he was picking out a dad.

Posted: 05/24/2020

Tags: Taehyung, Hybrid Taehyung, Human Reader

Wordcount: 1,906

A/N: Oh look, another series that was never supposed to be a series. And I had to pick a new series gif because it wouldn’t show up. 

Taehyung woke you up gently, pressing kisses to your cheeks, nose and forehead.

You sighed and stretched. “Mmm, what time is it?”

“Seven,” He whispered, tilting your chin slightly so he could kiss your lips. “You said you wanted to get there early.”

You nodded. “It’s his first day of physical therapy. He was scared. Jin send any updates?”

“Haven’t checked. You okay?” He asked, feeling your forehead.

“Just tired. Always tired. I wish there was a miracle cure that I could give him. Or that I could take his pain and he could continue to be my rambunctious baby.” You buried your face in his shoulder, sighing in frustration.

The past three weeks had been exhausting. You couldn’t recall a single night where you felt like you went to bed with some scrap of mental, emotional, or physical strength. They had woken Theo up about a week and a half after he was admitted, and he had taken it well since he was still so groggy. But you hardly left his side for the first three days. The only reason you left on the fourth was because of work. You had to pay for the medical bills somehow. Now they were thinking he was healed enough to start some very minor physical therapy. He didn’t have feeling from about mid-shin down, but his brain had healed well. The doctors didn’t think there was any lasting damage now. He got the casts off of his legs and his collarbone was healed, so they were really happy with how he was recovering so far.

Taehyung spent most of his days at the hospital, and Jin and Jimin alternated nights to help you two out.

Yoongi bought you lunch most days, and visited Theo on the weekends. Bringing movies to binge and board games to play.

Theo always perked up when Yoongi got there on Saturday morning.

Namjoon brought Hoseok whenever the two didn’t have too much work, and he would bring in music stuff—instruments or tracks—to entertain Theo.

Theo loved Namjoon’s music visits, just as he loved music class the most.

Hoseok still had to catch up on some grading, and recovering his class from a week with a substitute teacher on top of his own bit of physical therapy for his leg injury. He still obviously felt guilty, but he also helped Theo learn things he was missing in class. He had told you that the kids would ask after Theo, and they even sent in get-well-soon cards.

Theo kept saying he couldn’t wait to go back to school.

Jimin drew cartoons on Theo’s casts before they were removed and Theo loved them so much that he insisted Jimin teach him how to draw, and now there were drawings everywhere.

Taehyung kissed your collarbone. “Hey, you okay?”

“Just…waking up.” You curled into him.

He chuckled sleepily. “No, you’re not.”

“Are you telling me that you’re awake?”

He gave a sleepy sounding hum. “Not really, but I know we need to get up.”

You nodded, yawning into his chest and then rolling away from him and getting up in one movement.

“Hey, Jimin texted me to call him,” Taehyung said, frowning at his phone.

You sighed. “It probably has something to do with his parents. You better call him.”

He made an almost growling sound at the mention of Jimin’s parents—who had been a continual pain in the ass through this whole process—but he calls Jimin.

You don’t pay attention much while he talks to Jimin, getting ready for the day, and only noticing that something was wrong when Taehyung growls again.

He’s pacing along his side of the bed, not saying anything but there’s a steady growl in his throat. “He starts his therapy today!”

You flinch when he scoffs, and worry fills you at the frown creasing his forehead.

“What am I supposed to tell Y/n, Jiminie?!”

“I’d suggest the truth if you want everyone to live,” You said, eyes narrowed.

He looked up and gulped. “Can I make him explain it?”

You were already in front of him, taking the phone. “What’s going on?”

“My parents…they caused a scene here and the doctors decided to reschedule his physical therapy…since my parents ordered a DNA test.” Jimin sounded apologetic.

“What do they expect to get from a DNA test?” You asked, feeling bile rise in your throat.

“I don’t know, but I’m on top of it, they won’t make a move I don’t know about. I’ll stay with him all day, okay?”

“Jimin, why did they order a DNA test?”

He was quiet, and you heard him huff out a breath. “Because they want to see if he’s actually who we claim and maybe add him to their will if he is,” He said, sounding frustrated.

“Which means they’d try to take him away from me?”

“Possibly. If you didn’t want to comply with their standards.”

“Which I won’t.” You glared at the wall. “Your family sucks.”

“I know. It’s probably better if you stay away, though, that’ll delay things because they need your permission to do the DNA testing.”

You froze. “But—”

“I’ll keep her away,” Tae said, loud enough to be heard, and taking the phone. “Call us if Theo needs her.”

You stared in disbelief as he said goodbye to Jimin and then hung up.

He looked back at you. “It’s for the best, anyway. You’re exhausted.”

“I can’t sleep, not now,” You argued.

“There’s more than just physical exhaustion,” He rebutted, then leaned in and kissed you. “He’s safe with friends. Yoongi will be there later today, with Namjoon and Jimin, just like they planned and they’ll play games with Theo.”

“I barely ever there—”

“You practically live there,” He cut you off with a whine. “Please, I know you’re tired. I know. It’s been a really hard month. But Theo’s being looked after really well. All of the nurses adore him because he’s so sweet and polite. It’s time to take care of yourself.”

You tilted your head, at a loss for words.

He stepped closer, and arms wrapping around your waist after he tossed the phone onto the bed. His lips met yours softly. “It’s time to forget you’re a mom for a few minutes. Just…be you. Be who you were before you were a mom.”

“I don’t know who that is,” You whispered.

“Then just be the person you are with me,” He whispered back, voice low and deep.

You sighed and surrendered to him, allowing him to pull you into a series of lingering kisses.

“Dress up a bit, lets go out.” He murmured, tail swooshing behind him. “Or, well…let’s go for a picnic.”

You stepped back slightly, uncertain.

“Please, Y/n. We both need to let go for a while.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek.

And you gave in, nodding. “Okay, but…I don’t know…I don’t want to deal with other people.”

“Then we’ll have a picnic in the backyard. You get ready, and I’ll go get things set up and then if you could make us sandwiches?”

You nodded.

“Then we’ll have a nice little date,” He said, grinning at you as his fingers brushed your cheek. Then his shoulders scrunched happily with his face and he practically skipped out of the room. “Remember, wear pretty clothes!”

“O-okay…” You called back, then frowned at your closet door. “I don’t know if I have anything?”

You went into your closet, looking for something pretty that was also middling between casual and Easter Sunday high teas that you used to go to at your grandmother’s senior home while she was alive.

Instead you found frustration and work clothes. Some clothes you might wear to parent-teacher conferences, or to one of the school events.

But the only date-like thing you found in your closet was from before Theo was conceived and you weren’t about to try that on. You knew how your body had changed since then and didn’t need the reminder from your closet. You’d sort of squeezed into it the last time you’d worn it anyway, and you had more hip now.

Sure, you probably had more clothes in that box, but you knew most of the clothes in ther

Taehyung came back when you had been in there for too long. “What’s wrong?”

“No clothes,” You muttered. “Nothing to wear.”

He tilted his head, then came over to look through your clothes. He pulled out a sweater and a skirt, handing them to you. “It’s a little cold outside, so maybe leggings?”

You looked over the outfit and then at him, surprised. “Um…yeah…okay.”

He nodded and walked out. “I’ll make sandwiches!”

You heard your bedroom door close, and started changing. You were surprised at how well he managed to find an outfit for you, but then again, he dressed so well himself, even on a minimal budget.

And it was a nice, casual date outfit.

You did your hair a little, and your makeup a little more. Actually put on earrings and a necklace.

Taehyung was plating sandwiches, making things look nice.

You looked outside in surprise. “It’s raining?”

He looked out as well. “Yeah. It just started. But we can still have a picnic. It’ll just have to be a living room picnic. I already cleared the space and….” He trailed off when he looked at you. His expression softened and he smiled. “Wow, y/n. You look so beautiful.”

You could have blushed, and you might have blushed from the way he was looking at you. “It’s been a while.”

“You always look beautiful,” He added, sincerity in all of his features and gestures. He took your hands in his, tail slowly swishing. “Thank you for agreeing to do this with me.”

You nodded, looking at the ground, unable to meet his gaze.

“Ooh, can I put a fire in the fireplace?”

You nodded again, stealing glanced at him as he excitedly went to turn on the gas fireplace.

Then he dimmed the lights some, and finished arranging blankets and pillows.

“Alright, I think that covers it, sorry we’re only having sandwiches.”

“I can live with sandwiches,” You replied softly, letting him lead you over to sit in the picnic area. You got comfortable while he hurried back to get the plate of sandwiches. You didn’t know your living room could feel so romantic.

He brought over the food and drinks on the bed-tray, setting it down. “It’s just grape juice, but I thought the glasses made it feel more romantic.”

You smiled. “Does. I didn’t even know the living room could look like this.”

He grinned. “We should make it look like this more often.”

You laughed a little.

He kept your laughing a little as the two of you ate, telling you stories and drawing stories of your family out.

You moved the tray and sat beside him, leaning on his shoulder.

He was still for a moment before relaxing into it. He kissed your forehead, then kept telling you about a movie he had seen.

You stared into the fire, listening to his voice. It was so soothing, so wonderfully perfect.

His lips met yours softly, then parted to lightly brush your cheeks. “I love you, y/n.”

You sighed happily, eyes staying shut. “I love you, Taehyung.”

Previous.  Next.

Taehyung Masterpost.  Masterlist.  

Taglist (must comment on taglist to be tagged from now on)

Tagging: @rosita7703, @ephemeral-mindset @forvever-ddaeng  @ncttzuuy @givebuckysomelove @alex--awesome--22  @missmoxxiesworld  @bryvada @knjhe  @i-dont-even-know-fck @young-yellkie @veryuniquenamegoeshere @lottohsehunnie​ @briramirezalipio​ 

Unable to tag: @bunnyboyenthusiast (think you changed to @kthstrawberryshortcake​ please let me know if I’m wrong or right because I have you listed for multiple stories)

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 44

Title: Aftermath

Warnings: angst, profanity, mention of a suicide attempt, talk of mental illness

Tagging:  @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @miss-smutty, @tragiclyhip​

Or read on Ao3 if that’s more your jam:   https://archiveofourown.org/works/28860450/chapters/77430731​

He spends the first ten minutes fighting off a panic attack. Chest impossibly tight and feeling as if it’s on fire; heart pounding and his hands trembling and a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow and gathering along his hairline. Head swimming and stomach lurching; the burn and the taste of bile as it gathers in the back of his throat. Legs threatening to give out from underneath him; forced to sit on the kitchen floor with his eyes closed as he leans back against the cupboards. Reminding himself to just breathe; drawing in deep, ragged breaths and releasing them slowly. Easily recalling one of many grounding exercises Doctor Klein had instilled in him years ago. A quick and surprisingly successful technique that he’s employed numerous times when he’s been alone; terrified he’d finally reached his breaking point and was in the process of losing his mind. And he can hear the man’s voice now; five things you can see, four things you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, and one you can taste. Relief surging through him when it begins to work. The nausea abating and the room no longer spinning around him; heart rhythm slowing and the vice around his chest loosening.

The first time he’d an episode, he’d thought he was having a heart attack. Waking up from a dead sleep and finding himself filled with the most profound and overwhelming sense of terror and impending dread; the walls feeling as if they were closing around him and the pain and the tightness in his chest near crippling. He couldn’t even be sure if he’d been dreaming; if a nightmare filled with horrendous images of his wife and children being physically and sexually tortured had been what kickstarted things. It wouldn’t have been the first time. Horrific and brutal dreams involving his family tearing him out of many a night’s rest; sending him scrambling for the bathroom in order to vomit and then finding him sobbing uncontrollably in a fetal position on the floor. Taking several minutes for him to reach full consciousness; brain finally able to register his surroundings and identify them as familiar and convince him that he -and his family- were safe and sound. Suddenly aware of the touch of his wife’s hands and the sound of her voice. Finding her kneeling beside him and speaking to him in that soothing and patient way she’d long ago developed just for him; a palm moving in slow circles in the middle of his back as the fingers of her other hand repeatedly combed through his hair. Neither worry of fear clouding her eyes or furrowing her brow; displaying nothing but love and understanding and tenderness. She was no stranger to those kinds of moments; she’d seen many a fellow Marine wake up in the field in the midst of a panic attack or a night terror and had watched the methods deployed by field medics in how to properly handle them.

While he’d been comforted by the way she’d handled things before AND after, he’d also felt ashamed; sickened that she’d had to not only witness him at his most vulnerable, but be the one to render aid. Toxic masculinity, she’d said, when he’d admitted how pathetic it had made him feel; a woman half his size having to take care of HIM. Years having it drilled into him that any sign of weakness or display of emotion made him a lesser man; one that would never be respected or able to properly provide for his family, never mind protect them. She’d never laughed at the ridiculousness of it; never told him to simply get over that line of thinking or looked at him as if he WERE losing his mind. Instead listening quietly and intently; alternating between rubbing his shoulders or holding one of his hands in both of her own as he talked about all the ways his father had attempted to ‘teach’ him how a real man should be. Stern and strict. Controlling. Intimidating. Abusive. Admitting he was terrified of one day cracking and following in his own man’s footsteps; worried he’d begin treating her just as horrible as his mother had been so many years ago. And she’d leaned in to kiss him; cradling his face in her hands and using her thumbs to clear away the wayward tears that trickled down his cheeks. Pulling back and gracing him with that smile that’s always been reserved solely for him; so beautiful and pure and perfect and letting him know just how much he IS loved.

“You could NEVER be like him,” she’d assured him. “Ever. You have too good of a heart. Too big of one. And you love me way too much.”

It’s always been humbling; the blind faith she has in him, the adoration and respect she’s consistently shown. Over the years he’s battled with the belief that he doesn’t deserve any of it; this beautiful and incredible woman so full of light and brightness showing that kind of affection and love towards him. The one person solely responsible for everything that is good in his world; a stable home surrounded by the comfort and security that comes with the familiarity and routine of domestic bliss, seven incredible children that are the embodiment of everything that is amazing and beautiful about the two of them. She’d not only saved him that day on the Sultana Bridge, but in so many other ways as well; her patience and her unwavering loyalty and steadfast belief in him always helping him through every battle he’s faced

The one true constant in his life; the sleepy smile he wakes up to every morning and the warm body that presses against his and the tender touch and the soft kiss that he’s blessed with every night. His most steadfast supporter and cheerleader; spending weeks sleeping on fold out beds alongside of him in the hospital, always there in the recovery room when he comes to after a surgery, attending gruelling physiotherapy appointments and even lending a hand when she was heavily pregnant with Takota and Brooklyn. Never letting his misguided anger and frustration bring her down; always quick with a smile or a kiss to his cheek or a comforting and encouraging hand rubbing his back. No matter what, he’s always been able to rely on her being there. Enthusiastically greeting him the moment he walks through the door; whether he’s been gone a couple of days or a couple of weeks. Always happy to see him even if it’s through a FaceTime session; all the tension and the stress of the job evaporating the second she smiles and he hears her voice. Those little trips she’ll make into the gym or the office; bringing him something to drink or eat and then sitting quietly on the sidelines waiting for him to finish his workout or his job responsibilities. She’s always been there. Even during the darker and the more trying times; taking him back time and time again and forgiving the lies he’s told and overlooking the promises he’s broken.

When she leaves, he attempts to chase after her. Prepared to beg and plead with her to forget everything he’d said about wanting to die; just come back to the house where she’s safe and warm. He’ll do whatever it takes to make things right. To fix the mess that exists inside his head and become the man that she deserves; the rock and the fervent supporter and ferocious protector that she’s always believed him to be and he’s failed to live up to time and time again. He’ll tell her whatever she wants to hear; make promises that he fully intends to keep, attend more therapy if that’s what it will take, even do a stint in rehab to get all the carvings for the meds and the booze out of his system. There’s nothing he WON’T do for her; no monster or demon he won’t slay for her, no battle he won’t fight, no war he won’t suit up for. As long as she’ll just stay. Come back to their home and their children and their marriage; fulfill those vows of ‘til death to us part’. He wants to believe it isn’t about him; her need for breathing room and space. But he knows full well that he’s put too much of a burden on her; time and time again leaning on her and expecting her to give way more than she possibly has to give.

He has one foot out the door when the signs of life sounded from the floor above; giggling children and doors being tossed open and little feet racing for the bathrooms. And he has to abandon all plans on going after her; forcing himself to get his shit together for the sake of his children. There’s morning cuddles and kisses to give and mouths to feed. Tales of wild and vivid dreams to listen to and smart ass comments and jokes to laugh at. They rely on him more than she does; a grown woman that is fully capable of handling her own no matter what situation she finds herself tossed into. She’s strong and tenacious and extremely resilient; not needing him, but choosing to be with him and enjoying being provided for and loved and protected. His children fully depend on him; requiring him to put food in their bellies, having to assist the littles in getting clean up and dressed, being Tanner’s ‘person’ when it comes to needing stability and routine. And it frightens him in a way. The realization that she actually doesn’t require him; knowing full well that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself and their seven children. It further feeds into his belief that walking away would be easy for her; her strength and confidence urging to make a break for it. So self sufficient and so independent that one day she WILL decide that it’s all too much. HE’S too much. And his entire life will be forever altered.

TJ and Declan team up to keep the smallest kids busy; hunkering down with them in the living room and plying them with cartoons and their standard ‘appetizers’ of glasses of chocolate milk and poptarts. He tends to preparing breakfast; scrambling eggs and cutting and chopping various fresh fruits. Tanner stands on a chair beside him; excitedly rambling as he shares every detail about the extremely vivid and excited dream from the night before. Always the helper in the kitchen, he enthusiastically mixes three separate bowls of pancake mix because he always insists that ‘extras’ be added BEFORE starting the cooking process; bananas and chocolate chips for Brooklyn, raspberries and pineapple for Alannah and Millie. Tanner was the one he’d been most worried about; concerned that his mother’s uncharacteristic absence would frighten him and send his emotions into a tailspin. She hasn't just been Tyler’s constant, but the kids’ as well; practically raising them singlehandedly due to the job keeping away from home for weeks at a time. She’d spent six months being the only full time parent. Exhausting herself with caring not only for a home, but three preschoolers as well; Millie just shy of entering junior kindergarten and the boys still in daycare.

Mummy has always been there for ALL of the kids. Nurturing them and caring for them and spending the better part of seven years pregnant; selflessly sacrificing her body and some of her sanity in order to give him the large family he so desperately craved. Waiting until they were all old enough to be out of the house to make her dream of owning the bookstore come true; able to work around school and daycare schedules so she could spend as much as time as possible with them. And while it had been difficult at first for them to adjust to her being gone for prolonged periods of time, they’ve gotten used to it; accustomed with mum and dad going away -ALONE- for a week or two in order to give one another the attention and the time that they so rightfully deserve. They’re all strong in the belief and that faith that mummy will ALWAYS come back; never once fearing that if once she walks out the door, she’ll never walk back in. Mummy would NEVER abandon them.

It’s helped; keeping his body and his mind active. Concentrating on the simple task of making a meal and focusing on every word tumbling from Tanner’s mouth. Hearing the giggles and the conversations that drift into the kitchen from the living room. But the worry and the fear still nibble at him. It’s two fold; concerned not only that her time to think will lead her to the realization that she simply can’t deal with him and his issues any longer, and that there’s someone out there that would take advantage of her being alone. IF the neighbour is a threat, she isn’t working alone; too ‘out there’ with her curiosity surrounding him and his family to be the one in charge. It would be too obvious; her desperate attempts to get closer to him and cause issues in his marriage. Anyone with any background knowledge of him knows exactly what would hobble and weaken him; grabbing a hold of his wife and using her as a leverage. And as much as he tries not to allow his mind to go down that rabbit hole, it’s inevitable. The thoughts of what they’d do to her -mentally AND physically- enough to once again bring about the panic; chest tightening and his heart initially fluttering and then the pace quickening.

Five things you can see. Four you can touch. Three you can hear. Two you can smell. One you can taste.

He repeats it over and over again in his head. Thankful when his chest loosens and the nausea and the light headedness pass and his hands no longer tremble.

*****

Addie’s the last to join the family. Chin tucked into her chest and her hair falling over her face; a dramatic pout curving her lips and her normally brilliant and sparkling eyes dark and brimming with tears. Frederick the koala tucked tightly under her arm; not saying a word as she struggles to climb onto Tanner’s now empty chair. Impossibly tiny for five, but filled with confidence and independence and resiliency.

“What’s up with you?” Tyler inquires, and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “You look like someone kicked your puppy. Didn’t sleep well?”

“I slept fine.” That voice is tinier than usual, sad and full of despair. And she brushes her hair away from her face and presses the heel of a palm into one eye, then the other. “Where’s mummy?”

“She had to go out for a little bit.”

“Where? Where did she have to go?”

“To do stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“Mummy stuff. Things mummies do.”

“Did she go to the store? Is that where she went?”

“I don’t know, Peanut. She just had to go out.”

She heaves a heavy, forlorn sigh. “When will she be back?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

He consults the digital clock on the stove. “Thirty minutes.”

“That’s a LONG time,” Addie whines. “ Why didn’t she tell me she was leaving?”

“You were asleep. She didn’t want to wake you up.”

“Mummy never leaves without saying bye to us. And she never leaves in the morning. She’s always here when we get up. Why would she go somewhere? She never does that. That’s not a normal mummy thing to do.”

“Well, sometimes things come up,” he attempts to reason. “That we can’t help. Don’t take it personal, okay? That she didn’t say bye to you. She probably thought you wouldn’t be up until later; when she was already home.”

“Can I call her?”

He nods in the direction of the phone charging on the nearby counter. “You could, but she didn’t take her phone.”

“Now I’m really worried,” Addie promptly bursts into tears. “Mummy never forgets her phone!”

“Ads, it’s okay,” TJ assures her as he joins them in the kitchen. Scooping his little sister off the chair and into a tight, comforting embrace, her tiny arms and legs immediately circling his neck and waist. And he presses a kiss to her forehead and strokes her hair; body proceeding to sway side to side in an attempt to soothe her. “Mum’s forgotten her phone lots of times. She was always leaving it behind when I was your age.”

Addie sniffles noisily. “She was?”

“Yup. You know how many times she had to run back into the house? Or we had to drive all the way back to get it? Tons! You just weren’t around then. By the time you came around, she’d gotten better at remembering it, that’s all.”

“She’s coming back, right?”

“Of course she’s coming back. She wouldn’t leave us. Or dad. Why would she do that?”

Addie shrugs.

“She loves all of us. Way too much to ever leave us behind. She probably just had to go and help Ovi and Riya. It gets crazy; planning a wedding. Tons of stuff to do. They probably just needed some help.”

“You think that’s it?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s it. I mean, they wouldn’t ask dad. He wouldn’t be much help.”

Tyler grabs one of the dish towels from off the handle of the stove and playfully swats his older son upside the back of the head with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Mum would be better at that kind of thing. Weddings and parties and all that. That’s not exactly your field of experience, dad. You’re more the get the spiders and the snakes out of the house and fix and build stuff kind of guy. And a big time ass kicker.”

“Daddy DOES kick a lot of ass,” Addie agrees.

“Plus, he’s a WAY better cook,” TJ adds. “So isn’t it kind of good that he’s the one that’s here? That he’s the one who gets to make breakfast?”

She nods. “Daddy makes the best breakfasts EVER.”

“Exactly. Mum and dad know their strengths. People who work well together do. And they’ve been together a long time; ever since Millie was in mum’s tummy. That’s a long time to be in love with each other. If dad says mum will be back, then she will. He knows her better than anyone.”

A lump of emotion settles in Tyler’s throat and threatens to choke him. It’s a mixture of things that have him feeling weak and vulnerable. The level of tenderness and compassion that inhabits his oldest son; the patience and the understanding and the unbridled love he shows to the smallest of his siblings. Addie has especially taken to him; TJ her ‘person’ if daddy isn’t around to turn to for help or comfort. He’s both humbled by his son’s genuine praise and blatant adoration, but left feeling unworthy of it; knowing full well he’s broken many promises and disappointed his children in the past and often failed in his role as not just a parent, but a husband. And the fear continues to nag at him; the worry that either his wife will return and announce she simply can’t take it -HIM- anymore, or that a threat is just waiting in the wings to grab her.

“I wish she didn’t have to go,” Addie says, as her older brother’s fingers brush away her tears. “Mummy always spends time in the morning with me. When I first get up. Ever since I was tiny.”

“Ads,” TJ pushes his fingers through her hair; moving it off her forehead and making her giggle when he scrunches his face and brushes the end of his against hers. “You’re STILL tiny.”

“I meant tiny, tiny. When I was still in diapers. Mummy would get up with me and she’d make herself a tea and she’d get me a drink in my sippy and then she’d cuddle me on the couch and we’d watch tv together. It’s our ‘thing’. I don’t want to miss our ‘thing’.”

“I’m sure mum didn’t want to miss your ‘thing’ either,” her brother assures her. “It had to be really important for her to miss it. Mum would never just skip out on your ‘thing’ for no reason. Does mum EVER do that? Take off and not do something important with us?”

Addie shakes her head. “Never.”

“So it had to be something really big and really important for her not to be here. Don’t worry; mum will be back. Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I dunno. Probably in time for breakfast. She has to eat, right? If it would make you feel any better, I’ll do your ‘thing’ with you.”

“It’s mummy and my thing, though.”

“I’m sure mum would be cool with me taking her place just once. It’s just for today; tomorrow she’ll do your ‘thing’ with you again. You really think she’d mind?”

“I don’t think so. But just this once.”

“Just this once,” TJ promises. “I’ll even drink tea. So it’s like being with mum.”

You HATE tea. Like daddy.”

“Yeah, I do. I think it tastes like ass. But I’ll drink it anyway. If it makes the experience better for you.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course I would. You’re my Ads. It’s what older brothers do for their baby sisters. Especially one as cute and awesome as you.”

Addie’s eyes widen. “You think I’m cute? And awesome?”

“Your mum’s Mini Me, right? And mum’s cute and awesome. That means you are too.”

“I love you Tyler.” She presses a noisy kiss to each of his cheeks, then his lips. “You’re the best big brother. Ever.”

“Well, don’t tell any of the others…” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “...but you’re my favourite little sibling.”

“I knew it!” Addie whispers in return.

“I’ll make my tea and get your chocolate milk,” he says, and places her on the ground. “You go wait in the living room. Tell Declan I said to put what YOU want to watch on.”

“Okay!” She hurries from the room, then stops at the breakfast bar that serves as the divider between kitchen and dining room. “Don’t forget! It goes in my favourite cup!”

“I know. The purple one with your name on it in pink glitter. This isn’t my first rodeo, Ads. I got you.”

“You’re awesome, too!” she declares, and then hurries for the living room.

“You’re good with her,” Tyler praises his oldest son. “VERY good with her.”

“She really IS my favourite,” he admits. “I mean, don’t get me wrong; I love ALL of them. Even Millie. Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“But there’s something different about Addie. The way I feel about her. Like, I feel like I HAVE to take care of her. Protect her. Maybe because she’s so small? And so cute? Maybe because she IS so much like mum? I don’t know. I just know how I feel. Does that make sense?”

“Total. And let’s face it; mum’s your favourite too.”

“Well, yeah. She’s my mum. She carried me inside of her. At the same time as Tanny. I love you, dad. You know I do. But that’s my mum.”

“You know, you’ve got more of her inside you than anyone realizes. And believe me, that’s a good thing. A damn good thing.”

“She’s my ‘person’. Like you are with Tanny. We all have our ‘person’. Mum is your person, right?”

“She is. Always has been.”

“Just like you’re hers. That’s what's good about you and mum. You’re not just married. You actually LIKE each other. You’re friends. BEST friends.”

“She’s definitely my favourite human. My favourite BIG human.”

“Dad…” TJ’s voice and face become sombre, and he lays a hand on Tyler’s shoulder. “I don’t know what happened or what’s really going on. Or why mum really did leave. But I know she loves you. No matter what.”

The lump in his throat returns; tears well in his eyes.

“She’d never take off,” his son assures him. “There’s too much between you guys. I’m only ten and even I know that. And you what ELSE I know? I know that you guys are stronger together than you are apart.”

“Yeah…” Tyler swallows noisily. “...we are.”

“It’s going to be okay,” TJ promises. “YOU’LL be okay. You always are.”

****

She finds a cafe four blocks from home. A tiny hole in the wall place that she’s only stepped foot in once before; heavily scuffed and creaky hardwood floors, a half dozen mismatched tables with formica tops and metal chairs with weathered, red vinyl cushions, their full menu printed on chalkboards mounted on the wall behind the lone register. And she returns the waitress’ welcoming smile with a forced one of her own before making her way to the counter that stretches across the front window; sliding onto one of the bar stools and placing her knapsack style purse in her lap. While she’d been hopeful that the fresh air and warmer temperatures would help both clear her head and improve her mood, her nerves remain on edge; her shoulders painfully tense and the lingering uneasiness in her stomach no match for the deep and profound ache that has settled in her chest. It’s a hard thing to hear; the person you love more than anything in the world...who you’ve devoted your entire existence too...confess to thoughts of suicide. They’ve been there before; his brain attempting to convince him that her life would be better off without him in it. That he’d no longer be a burden on her. A broken and troubled man locked in a constant battle with his own mind; waging war against not only mental illness, but the demons of addiction and alcoholism.

Years ago he’d hit rock bottom. Weeks spent contemplating taking his own life; ending with a hand written suicide note on her pillow and a loaded gun in his hand. She’d returned to the house unexpectedly; forgetting her wallet in the bedroom and having to delay the start of a shoe shopping trip with the kids in order to retrieve it. There’d only been four of them then; Millie and the twin boys in daycare and Declan just shy of six months old, and she’d left them in the car with Ovi while she’d run inside. The house had been eerily still and quiet, yet she hadn’t given it much thought; assuming Tyler was either in the gym with his headphones on and music cranked or out working somewhere on the property. Her blood had run cold when she’d heard it; the faint, yet telltale sound of a magazine being snapped into a handgun and the safety being switched off. And she’d found him sitting on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, revolver resting on his thigh and his finger hovering near the trigger. To this day she’d never seen him look the way he had in the moment he’d regarded her standing in the doorway; face stern and determined and his eyes impossibly dark and empty.

“You need to leave.”

Four simple words. His voice devoid of all emotion.

She had refused to turn around and walk away. It hadn’t even been an option; no matter how nervous or terrified she’d been. She had known that he wouldn’t pull the trigger with her in the room; even at that depth of darkness and despair, he wouldn’t want her to see THAT. Knowing it would haunt her for the rest of her life; her entire world altered and forever haunted by blood and gore and instant death. And he wouldn’t have taken them both out; brain still allowing him to realize that he couldn’t rob his children of BOTH their parents. Instead of leaving, she’d sent Ovi a text message saying to grab the extra keys to her car from their hidden place in the kitchen and take the kids into town; ordering him to keep them out until she called him and let him know it was okay to return. Then she’d simply closed and locked the bathroom door and sat down on the front and leaned back against it. She wasn’t leaving him like that; determined not to let his mind convince him that he needed a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Even to this day, she’s unsure of how long they’d sat there. Time slowly ticking away as they did nothing more than stare at one another from across the room. Tyler becoming agitated by her presence; upset that she’d interrupted him and was hampering from ‘getting on with it’. It had quickly turned to anger. Pissed off that she wouldn’t leave and that she wouldn’t listen to him when he said it was for the best; that his absence would make her and the kids’ lives so much easier. And she’d sat there silently as he ranted and raved at her; emotionless as he called her every hurtful name in the book in hopes of finally breaking her and giving her no choice but to abandon him. She hadn’t taken any of it to heart; knowing he was in the middle of what could possibly be a psychotic break and that getting all the pent up rage and fear and stress off his shoulders was the best thing for him. And when he turned the mean and degrading words towards himself, she’d slowly began moving towards him. Anything too sudden and too quick could have been bad news; aggravating him and angering him and sending him into a full out rage. Eventually she’d ended up sitting at his feet with her palms on his knees; eyes locked on his and her voice calm and steady when she informed him that she wasn’t going anywhere. He wasn’t the monster his brain was making him out to be. He was a big man with an even bigger heart, surrounded by people who loved him and wanted nothing more than for him to be alive and well. Reminding him to just breathe; to ignore that voice in his head and just listen to hers instead.

When he’d finally broken down emotionally, she’d been able to gingerly pluck the gun from his hand and remove the clip; tossing both where he couldn’t reach them and then kneeling between his splayed thighs. His face cradled in her palms as he openly wept; her heart breaking as she listened to all the hateful words -directed at himself- that spilled from his mouth. Pressing a series of light kisses across his forehead and down the bridge of his nose and over his lips; fingers combing through his hair as he begged and pleaded with her to help him. He was lost, confused, and terrified; wanting to die yet not wanting to leave her and his kids. In the end, he’d agreed to let her take him to the hospital, and she’d made quite possibly the hardest decision of her life: admitting him to the psychiatric ward and agreeing to have no contact -whether in person or by phone- for two weeks. It would give him the time to rest; body AND brain desperately needing a reprieve. And doctors would get the chance to analyze and investigate; come up with a diagnosis and a game plan and get him the help that he needed.

She hasn’t thought of it in years. That moment in Colorado when she’d come so close to losing him. It hasn’t been that bad since; able to get past the monsters and the demons that continue to haunt him, fighting through depressive episodes and always coming out the other side. And while she’d suspected that his brain has been playing horrible tricks on him and trying desperately to alter his version of himself, it had still hurt like hell to hear it; his confession knocking the air out of her lungs and nearly ripping her heart from her chest. She’s always been able to help him; yanking him away from many an edge, instilling confidence in him after Nathan had cruelly snatched it away, successfully convincing him that he needed medication or therapy. Now she feels helpless; no tricks or plans up her sleeve and simply no energy left to come up with any. It’s a lonely existence at time. A spouse with significant mental health problems and lingering physical issues caused by a list of traumas too vast to name.

For five years they’ve successfully fought back and kept the worst at bay. Learning and adapting healthy coping mechanisms, attending counselling -both separately and together- and making friendships with others in similar situations. This is the worst she’s seen him in a long time, and she knows how difficult it is for him to even get out of bed in the morning; fully aware that he’s at the point of putting one foot in front of the other simply because his family needs him to. She wants to believe that things will start to improve once they’re home. He’ll be back in his ‘happy place’; the warmth of the sun and the feel of the sand between his toes and the smell of the ocean. It’s comforting to him; their home at the end of a very secluded gravel road, the acres of property, and the water right in their backyard. The surroundings ground him. The sound of both the waves and the various wildlife that wanders their property, the wind that blows through the dense forest and tousles the leaves on the trees. He’s easily soothed there; usually needing nothing more than a hike through the woods or a surfboard and a couple hours with the waves to bring an end to even the roughest of ‘down moments’. But the fear is immense. The worry that not even being back in Australia will be enough this time. That he’s spiralling too hard and too fast and not even the water and the sun can make even the slightest bit of difference.

Tears threaten once more. Ones of heartache and fear and desperation. Wanting to reach out to someone...anyone...yet needing space at the same time. She’d avoid her familiar haunts out of fear of running into someone she knows. Wanting to avoid Jacobi with his endless and hopeful flirting and Frank with his dry humour and his well meaning concern and curiosity. Even Desi; the brother she would have loved to have growing up and who she absolutely adores. So compassionate and understanding; always lending a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on. Coming in contact with him would have only made things worse; fearing she’d not only lose it emotionally, but find herself unable to put the pieces back together and be of use to her family. Instead she’d stayed away; wandering in the opposite and unfamiliar direction and hoping and praying her mind would sort itself out before coming in contact with humanity.

It hadn’t worked. And now emotion threatens to choke her and tears prick her eyes; thankful for the oversized shades she’d slipped onto her face before leaving the house.

*****

“You okay, hun?” The waitress cautiously approaches; a glass of ice water in hand and concern on her face. Easily recognizing the tense shoulders and the repetitive, nervous bounce to her legs.

“I’m alright." Her voice quivers with emotion, and she noisily clears her throat. “Just a rough morning.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I heard that. A lot of people come in here when they’re feeling down. We're nice quiet, little place to escape to, I guess.”

Nodding in agreement, she reaches for the water offered to her; chewing anxiously on her bottom lip and quickly pulling her hands back when she notices how bad they’re trembling.

The waitress gives a compassionate, understanding smile and sets the drink down on the counter in front of her. “Do you know what you want, love? There’s no hurry and I’m by no means rushing you. You can take as long you need to decide or sit here all day if you want. Or until we close at three, at least.”

She casts a glance over her shoulder; hurriedly choosing a strawberry and apple flavoured and a plain croissant and then turning her attention to the bag in her lap. The kids had given it to her for her last birthday; picking it out themselves on a family trip they’d made weeks earlier to Cairns. Black leather with rose gold stitching around every edge and throughout the straps; a large rose gold heart -engraved with all of their initials- dangling from the zipper on the side pocket. She rummages through it, top teeth pressing into her bottom lip and her brow furrowing as her search comes up empty. Cell phone nowhere to be found amidst the chaos of old receipts, handfuls of take out napkins from places in New York City and back home, various small toys and trinkets the three littlest had gotten her to ‘hang onto’ and promptly forgotten about. Panic and frustration quickly sets in and has her dumping all of the purse’s contents onto the counter in front of her; trying desperately to hold back not only a flood of tears, but the string of profanities that threaten to burst from her mouth.

She knows the kind of drama it will cause at home. Not just her uncharacteristic early morning absence, but being totally ‘incommunicado’. Tanner and Addie will take it the hardest; the former not appreciative of even the smallest of changes or hitches to his normal routine and the latter used to their long standing ‘morning dates’ of tea and chocolate milk while cuddling on the couch and watching cartoons. And Tyler’s anxiety will be through the roof. Needing the reassurance that she’s fine; safe and sound and not in any danger and not harbouring any plans to abandon her family. The latter is pure paranoia; the long standing belief that she’ll one day see him as a burden and finally decide to cut ties. Logically he knows that she’d never walk away from him or their children; devoted to to their babies and loving him more than she ever thought she could love someone. But when his brain is waging war against him, he isn’t able to think rationally. Those internal voices screaming at him. Insisting that he’s simply too much work and completely undeserving of how she feels about him and the life they have together. And it’s him that she worries about the most; wanting to prevent his mental state from sinking even further and fracturing completely.

“Looks like you really are having a hell of a day,” the waitress comments as she returns with Esme’s order; placing the steaming mug of tea and the croissant on the countertop.

“I forgot my phone,” she frets. “Some days I swear I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached. And I need to call home. I REALLY need to call home.”

“I’ve got you, sweets.” The younger woman shoots her a wink and pats her shoulder comfortingly and then wanders off, quickly returning with a cordless phone and offering it with a sympathetic smile. “Someone there must be worried about you, huh?”

“A handful of someones. A husband. Seven kids.”

The other woman releases a long, low whistle. “YOU have seven kids? You’re not yanking my chain?”

“I’m not. I really do have seven of them.”

“All yours?”

Esme nods.

“Seven kids came from that tiny little body?”

“Yup,” she confirms. “Including two sets of twins.”

“Get out of here!”

“My second pregnancy was twins and my last one was twins. First time was two boys, then I had a girl and a boy.”

“I didn’t think that was possible. Having more than one set. How old are all these kids?”

“Almost twelve, ten and a half, eight, soon to be six, and four and a bit.” She finds talking about them calming; hands no longer trembling as she shoves objects back into her purse.

“That’s seven kids under twelve. And seeing as your littlest are four, you spent the better part of seven years pregnant. Intentionally?”

“A couple WERE surprises,” Esme admits. “Happy surprises. Very happy.”

“And all the same daddy?”

“All the same daddy. I know; it seems pretty far out there. Having that many. Especially in this day and age.”

“Not just THAT. But having that many and looking like you do? You must have found some fountain of youth or somethin’. I only have three and I feel like I’ve been through the damn ringer most days. You’re a lot stronger than I am, that’s for sure. And you must have the patience of a saint.”

“Oh trust me, I don’t. I have an extraordinary LACK of patience. My husband on the other hand? He’s a legend. He’s always Mister Calm, Cool, and Collected. Nothing much fazes him when it comes to being a dad.”

“Well what’s that saying? Opposites attract? You probably balance each other out.”

“We do. Somehow. He can be so serious and so quiet and introverted and I’m on the other end of the spectrum. He always jokes that he likes going places with me because all he has to do is stand there and smile and let me do all the talking.”

“Been married long?”

“Twelve years in October. Best twelve years of my life. Hands down. He’s a good guy." She smiles, and proceeds to repeatedly dunk the tea bag in and out of the steaming water. “A REALLY good guy.”

“Then you better give that really good guy of yours a call. Let him know you’re alright. Take your time. And enjoy your goodies.”

She gives a smile in appreciation. Waiting for the waitress to tend to other customers before dialling the house number; ten rings passing by before the call is sent to voicemail and she disconnects. She tries his cell next; frowning when that attempt also gets sent to messaging.

“Hey…” she begins, nervously drumming the nails on her free hand against the porcelain of her mug. “...you not answering your phone can only mean one of three things; you’re busy with the kids, you still refuse to answer numbers you don’t recognize, or you’re really pissed off and ignoring me. I hope it’s not the latter. I didn’t leave to punish you. Or make you feel bad. Or guilty. I just needed some time. Some fresh air. A chance to clear my head. It just really got to me; you admitting what you did. But we’ll deal with it and we’ll get past it just like we’ve gotten past so many other things. I love you, Tyler. No matter what your brain is telling you right now. And I’m safe and I’ll be home soon.”

Disconnecting the call, she sets the phone down on the countertop and slips her hands under her sunglasses; thumb and forefinger tightly pinching the bridge of her nose. Sighing heavily, she presses the heels of her palms into her eyes. Desperate to control the hot, bitter tears that threaten to fall.

*****

She’s halfway through her second mug of tea when movement outside the window catches her attention; a blur of a fur trimmed hood on a winter coat, long blonde hair that shimmers in the sunlight, and the glint off the gold chain strap of a ridiculously expensive Gucci bag. Next year’s style; released to only a select few that could afford to pay the exuberant price and enjoyed outwardly gaudy accessories. Natalie had been so proud of that purse; making a conscious and annoying effort to draw as much attention to it as possible when she stopped by that morning. Launching into an unneeded and entirely unwanted explanation of being on the ‘short list’ at many high end boutiques courtesy of friends in high places. So obnoxious. That 'holier than thou' persona and her valiant -and completely unsuccessful- attempts to cause problems in someone else’s relationship. Delusional and determined and so very out of line.

The waitress greets the other woman by name when she first steps into the cafe, and when Natalie turns to head towards a seat the inevitable happens; eyes locking with Esme’s and her face blanching and her smile quickly disappearing.

The anger is immediate. The surprise visits and the other woman’s attempts to degrade and humiliate her while standing on her front porch, the spying out the living room window and then following her and Tyler on their date, the supposedly coincidental moments Natalie had managed to bump into him; whether alone or with the kids. They’d long ago stopped keeping secrets from another and he’d been quick to tell her about all the run ins with their new neighbour. Neither believed the incidents were random; Natalie not exactly hiding her interest in him, nor her attempts at causing problems between them. And now knowing personal information that neither of them are ever forthcoming about; placing the blame on an undeserving TJ when confronted.

It’s the latter that infuriates her the most. One of her children being dragged into some thirsty and pathetic woman’s drama. And when Natalie quickly turns on her heel and rushes out the door, Esme abandons her belongings and hurries after her, managing to catch up when the neighbour has to stop and wait to cross the street.

“I don’t fucking think so,” she snarls, and steps in front of other woman, preventing her from stepping off the curb. “You’re not going to run away. Not from me. You have pissed in the wrong woman’s front yard way too many times.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t…”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about. Is this some sick little game of yours? Following Tyler and I around? Trying to act all surprised and pass it off as a coincidence when we run into you?”

“It IS a coincidence. All of it is. Just because you’re paranoid…”

“I’m not some stupid and naive little housewife, Natalie. I have been around sneakier and way craftier and sketchier people than you and believe me, I was never shy about calling any of them out on their bullshit. There’s no way they’re all coincidences. The night Tyler and I went on our date? We saw you watching us out your living room window. You didn’t exactly try and hide it. And then you just randomly show up at the same restaurant? Who was the guy? Just some stranger off the street? Did you really think we’d care? That you’re with someone? I don’t give a shit who or what you do. And I know damn well Tyler doesn’t either.”

“He’s certainly been pretty attentive. To me. For a guy that doesn’t care.”

Esme scoffs. “When he said you were delusional, I don’t think he realized just how far off the reservation you actually are.”

“He said that? He called me delusional? Why would he say that? Why…?”

“Because you ARE! You are off the charts delusional! And maybe you’re more than that. Maybe you’re legit insane. Because you are something else. You are conceited and annoying and plain fucking crazy. Who the hell do you think you are? Showing up at my house and talking to me like you do. Following my husband around. Do you actually wait for him to leave? Do you stand at your window and watch him go? Do you just wait around to see him and jump at the opportunity to chase after him? Because that’s not all creepy or stalkerish. What the hell is your issue?”

“We had a connection. At the park. At the restaurant that day. Yesterday at the American Girl store…”

“Oh my god,” Esme laughs. ”You ARE nuts. Certifiably. There was no connection. At least not on his end. He thinks you’re just as insane and unhinged as I do. Tyler is NOT interested in you. In anyone. I don’t know what planet you’re living on where you think you can just walk into someone else’s life and try and steal their husband away, but…”

“You can’t steal what wants to be taken.”

“I can guarantee that he doesn’t want to go anywhere. That my husband is happy. Satisfied. Extremely. And he’s not going to throw that or his relationship with his children away for someone like you. He doesn’t want anything to do with you. He has made that perfectly clear time and time again. He has told you to stay away from him. More than once. I don’t know what part of ‘fuck off’ you don’t understand…”

“He’s just putting on a good front. For you. Because he DOES love you. He’s just not IN LOVE with you. Not anymore. And it happens. It’s been over ten years. People fall out of love all the time. I mean, he obviously loves you as the mother of his children. You’ll always have that to bond you together.”

“There is something majorly wrong with you. You need help. PROFESSIONAL help. My husband DOES love me. In every way you can possibly love a person. I have never doubted that. Not a single moment in the past twelve and a half years. We have a good thing. A damn good thing. And we are not letting you screw that up. You’re obnoxious and you’re insane and I want you to stay away from him. Stay away from Tyler. He’s told you and now I’ve told you. And if I have to tell you again…”

Natalie smirks. “What would YOU do about it?”

“Why don’t you try me and find out? I have dealt with bigger and better and badder than you. And I’m still here. I am telling you right now; stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. Don’t walk past our house. Go totally out of your way if you have to. But if I find out that you even go past a place where he is…”

“And you call me nuts? Listen to you. Willing to fight for some man.”

“He’s not just some man. He is my husband. The father of my children. And I will fight to the death for him. I will protect him no matter what. Against anything and anyone. Stay away from him, Natalie. He’s not yours to have. He’s not going anywhere. So go and find some cuckold house wife that will let you tie her to chair and force her to watch while you fuck her husband. You’ve got the wrong woman to mess with. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of ANYONE. Stay away from him.”

“Look at you. You say I’m pathetic? Look how you’re acting. Listen to things you’re saying. You’re possessive and controlling and…”

“Maybe if you had a husband that loved you and you loved in return, you’d understand why I’m being this way. But it sounds like you can’t keep ‘em. What happened to the District Attorney? In Chicago?”

Natalie blinks. “What?”

“Did you forget that the internet exists? That once something is on there, it lives forever? Couldn’t keep him happy, couldn’t keep a string of extremely wealthy -AND very much older- men happy before him. And then there’s the ex husband. Doesn’t he own a sports team? Hockey, right? In Columbus?”

“How do…?”

“What? You think you’re the only one that has ‘people?’” Esme makes air quotes around the last word. “You have no idea the circles I’ve travelled in. Or the people I’m still in contact with. Or the friends I have. I have ways of finding things out. Ways you’ve probably never dreamed of. I don’t know what you’re up to, but you’re not very good at it. You’ve made it more than obvious that you’re interested in Tyler; physically, sexually, personally. You haven’t even tried to hide it. So you’re either really new at all this, or just really, REALLY bad at it.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re not making any sense. Now if you’ll just…” Natalie attempts to step past her, but Esme stays firm; placing herself in the much taller women’s path and blocking her escape.

“You didn’t think I’d look into you? Or have someone look into you? We can dig deeper, you know. Much, much, MUCH deeper. And I don’t think you want that. So how about you cut the shit and stop your crap and stay away from my husband. From my FAMILY. Because you have no idea who you are messing with. What kind of damage we can do. So if you value your life the way it is, you’d keep your distance. Because if you don’t? We will turn over every stone and ruin you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s a promise. Like I said; we’ve dealt with bigger and better. Scarier. And dangerous. You’re nothing. You’re a small, harmless fish in a big pond. And it would be easy to ruin you. Is that really a chance you want to take?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Or who you’re talking about. I admit; I AM interested in Tyler. Very interested. And I’m not lying to you when I say there was a connection. One that he’s too afraid to act on.”

“You’re still on that, huh? Still insisting there's something there? There isn’t. And you damn well know it. Tyler would never, EVER, form a connection with anyone else. Especially with the likes of you. So knock it off, Natalie. It is all one sided and I’m sorry that hurts you to hear this, but my husband can’t stand you. He thinks you’re nuts. And he wants you to stay away from him. How many times does he need to tell you? How much plainer does he need to be?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt you. I’m sure at one time he loved you with everything he is and everything he has but…”

“He DOES love me. With everything he is and everything he has. And he loves his life with me. With his children. There is nothing between the two of you. There never will be. So unless you want things to get very unpleasant for you, you’ll back off.”

“Is that why he came onto me? At the American Girl store yesterday? Is that why he propositioned me? Suggested we abandon the kids for a bit and find a storage closet?”

Esme chuckles. “Right. Because THAT would totally happen. First of all, my husband is NOT a cheater. He is -and always has been- one hundred percent faithful and loyal. No other woman in the world exists to him. Not you, not anyone else. Just me. That’s it.”

“Is that what he tells you? Stroke the old ego? Let you think everything is okay and he’s not straying?”

“That IS what he tells me. I know Tyler better than he knows himself. And when he says things like that? He is one hundred percent genuine. I have spent twelve and a half years with that man. Sharing a bed with him. A life. I know him in ways no one else does. So don’t even try and pretend you have any clue who he is or what he thinks or how he feels.”

“And you call me the delusional one? That’s rich.”

“Second of all, even if he WAS a cheater, he would never do something like that; suggest something that crude and disgusting. Not with two of his children and his granddaughter right there. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to opening your legs for, but my husband isn’t like them. He is a decent, good man. Who loves his family. Who’d do anything to protect them. Who would stop at nothing to keep us all together. So you can try this bullshit until you’re blue in the face. You could talk all day about it; tell lies about him and try and convince me that he’s a horrible person and that he wants to leave me for you. I won’t believe you. Because I KNOW him. And I also know you’re a lying piece of shit.”

“Well you just know everything, don’t you,” Natalie sneers. “Little Miss Perfect. With her great marriage and her horde of children and all her money and big, beautiful house and amazing life in Australia. You’ve just got all the answers.”

“I am far from perfect. I’m the first one to admit I’m anything but. But I recognize a train wreck when I see it. And you are the biggest I’ve seen by far. Stay away from my husband and stay away from my kids. If you ever even think about dragging one of my children into your crap again, I will come to your house and pull you out by your hair and beat your ass in the middle of the street.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Mess with my husband or my kids again, and I won’t try. I will do it. Don’t underestimate me. Tougher people than you have made that mistake. Walk away, Natalie. If you know what’s good for you. I won’t tell you again.”

“You have no idea who you’re threatening, little girl. No idea at all.”

“God, you’re a real piece of work, you know that? And I’ve worked with some real winners, let me tell you. Just stay away. From Tyler, from my kids, from me. Or the next time you’re told? It won’t be this civil.”

Gathering the sides of her hoodie around her body, she crosses her arms over her chest to hold the fabric in place; eyes on the sidewalk as she begins the short trek back to the cafe. Exhaustion suddenly taking hold; a level of weariness that muddles your brain and seems to settle deep within your bones. She wants nothing more than to go home; kiss and cuddle her children and hear their voices and their giggles. And to be engulfed by those big, strong arms; so powerful and capable of so much damage, yet impossibly soothing and gentle at the same time. Her own arms curling around his waist; eyes closing as he tucks her protectively and lovingly into that solid, muscular chest. No matter how trying and stressful and scary a situation, everything in the world seems right when she’s with him; the warmth of his body and the familiar smell that clings to his clothing and the sound and the feel of his heart beating against her. It’s as if time stands still; everything and everyone else in the universe ceasing to exist. It’s always been like that; feeling safe and secure and protected whenever she’s in his presence. And she reminds herself that they’ve gotten through worse; the demons of his past, his ongoing battles with alcoholism and drug abuse, a six month separation, the aftermath of both trips to Dhaka. And each time they’ve only grown stronger; that intense and profound bond pulling them through even the darkest and scariest of situations. This too shall pass. It will take days. Weeks. Maybe even months. But It WILL pass. And as long as they remain a united front, nothing -or no one- could possibly destroy them.

She reaches for the handle on the cafe’s door just as another customer emerges. Slightly startled when the glass and metal swings towards her; giving a small yelp and jumping back and flattening herself against the brick behind her.

“Sorry about that, miss.” The patron steps through; placing a hand on the door and keeping it open for her. “Didn’t mind to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I was in my own little world and…”

Her voice trails off when she looks up at him, smile quickly fading. Heart hammering wildly in her chest; entire body going rigid and sweat gathering along her hairline as her stomach churns agonizingly. It’s been years since she's seen him; tall and barrel chested and broad shouldered light brown hair now almost completely gray, sparkling hazel eyes. Logically she knows it can’t really BE him. After all, Nathan had ended his life years ago in New Zealand; effectively wiping out any threat he could have posed, yet doing very little for the torment and the heartache that he’d caused her. The years of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse that very nearly broke her.

It isn’t possible. The dead simply don’t come back.

“Are you alright?” He asks, and lifts a take out cup of coffee to his lips. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m just...I’m…” she struggles to gather her composure. There’s a distinct twang to the man’s voice. Brooklyn, if she can recall from her time spent in New York City. Her mind swims; the shock of seeing a deceased man's face and the lingering terror that his hands, words, and body had long instilled in her. “I’m fine,” she manages a smile. “You just look like someone I used to know. That I was pretty close to. Took my breath away.”

“Good memories, I hope.”

“There’s some,” Esme admits. “But I’d be lying if I said there weren't more bad ones.”

“Well I hate hearing that. Especially coming from a pretty little thing like you. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I was in my own little world. It's just been quite the morning. To say the least. And seeing you…”

“What’s that that people say? About everyone having a twin out there somewhere? That’s probably the case. I’m probably that guy’s twin. Sorry if my face brings back some bad things for you.”

“It’s alright. I think I need to just get home. Back to my family. I’ll feel better then.”

“I hope so. You take care now. Sorry to have spooked you. You have a good day. With that family of yours.”

“I will,” she manages another smile; not as nervous and shaky. “Thank you.”

She remains in the open doorway, watching as he saunters down the street. No sign of a hitch to his left leg or a swing to the right hip; injuries Mark had sustained when a tank in a convoy he’d been travelling in hit a roadside bomb; the blast powerful enough to eject him from the light armoured vehicle travelling meters behind. Between the normal gait and the Brooklyn accent…

“Get it together.” she orders a loud, and briefly closes her eyes. “He’s dead. Long dead. There’s no way it’s him. It CAN’T be him.”

Taking in a deep breath, she releases it slowly and opens her eyes, frantically searching for the man that had stood before her just a few short moments ago. The sidewalk is empty for blocks. No sign of her dead ex’s ‘twin’; no one rounding a corner, no car pulling away from any of the curbs. Her heart begins to settle; the pounding in her chest and her ears relenting and the terror that once held her firmly in its grasp finally letting go.

[ashdumpsterpile]

ao3

It’s a sexy, sexy day when Beckett gets her promotion to the Cerritos.

She’s been a lower decks officer on the USS Vulker for six slutty years and it’s been the closest thing to paradise that she’s experienced since that time Marvin tried to snort Dorito dust and ended up summoning an ancient wish giving god when he sneezed it out on an alien substance Dr. L’Vertiss was analyzing as a possible cure for the parasites that were infecting the Academy.

Being a lower decks officer meant three things: contraband, causal hookups and constant disrespect of Starfleet Protocol. Everything Beckett wanted in a career. Fortunately, the Vulker was the bottom of the barrel when it came to starships, so they weren’t exactly looking too close to her record. Which was fine by Beckett, who was trying to fly under the radar ever since her mother had demoted her so hard, she’d ended up on a whole other ship, quadrants away from the Cerritos.

Thanks Mom.

So anyway, it’s a sexy, sexy day when her mother calls her, mainly because she’d just gotten out of alien jail and gotten a cool tat out of the deal, but also because she hasn’t heard for her mother in a while and, okay, maybe she misses her just a little bit. Even if she’s probably calling for Not Good Reasons.

Beckett flips her comm open and steels herself to get yelled at for whatever.

“I’m retiring,” are not the words Beckett is expecting. She squints suspiciously at her comm, vaguely concerned that a shapeshifter has replaced her mom.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re not.”

“Beckett—”

“You love being Captain and sitting in the chair and telling Ransom to stop giving himself sexy eyes in every reflective surface! Why would you retire?”

Her mom pinches the bridge of her nose, looking tired. “This is why I wanted to tell you in person—”

“Tell me what in person—”

“—Shaxs is dead.”

Beckett stops walking. Blinks down at her comm. Once. Twice. “What.”

“So is half the crew. This is less of me retiring and more of me…cutting my losses before Starfleet officially demotes my ass.”

Beckett’s day is slowly turning into an unsexy day. “And you’re just letting them!? You’ve been a Captain for what—”

“Beck—”

“Fifteen years and a Starfleet Officer for even longer! They can’t demote you—”

“They can and they will. Look,” Mom sighs. “They’re putting together a new crew as soon as the Cerritos is given the clear. There’s barely anyone left from the main crew who even wants to stay after this mess.”

“What happened?”

“That’s classified,” Mom says, which Beckett takes to mean hack my official report if you want to know. “And don’t go digging for it,” she adds.

Beckett resists pouting, only because the situation is so. Weirdly serious.

“I’m not calling you because of that, however. Ransom is being transferred to the Titan. It’s only thanks to his initiative and Officer Boimler’s quick thinking that we’re even alive right now.”

The sound of the warp core, buzzing in the background, seems too loud, all of the sudden. Beckett swallows, feeling sick.

“Officer Boimler is being promoted to Captain. I’ve recommended you as his First Officer.”

Beckett doesn’t realize she’s laughing until she starts choking from it. A group of ensigns, clustered at the end of the hallway she’s standing in, give her weird looks before quickly vacating the area.

“That,” she says, once she’s caught her breath, “is the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard.”

Mom gives Beckett her Captain™ face.

“I’m an ensign. Lower decks. Bottom of the barrel.” Beckett continues, grinning. “Not officer material.”

“Top of your class. Present in the Dominion War. Only gets demoted because she cares more about people than rules.” Mom gives a smug smile. “Perfect match for the Cerritos.”

There’s a weird, hot pressure in the corner of Beckett’s eyes. “Mom.”

“Boimler has a stick up his ass, he could use someone who loosens him up a little. Pays less attention to protocol,” Mom adds.

Beckett shakes her head, smiling. “I’d give him a heart attack a week in.”

“I’m counting on it. At least think about it, will you? And for god’s sake, go shower. I can see the filth on you, light years away.”

Beckett laughs, but this time it’s real. “Yeah Mom, I will.” Then, “I’m glad you like. Didn’t die or whatever.”

Mom rolls her eyes. “Thank you, problem child. So am I. I’ll take to you later.”

The connection blacks out, leaving Beckett staring at her own dim reflection in the screen.

She does look like shit. Maybe a shower isn’t a bad idea after all.

_____

The letter stays in her inbox for six unslutty days before she finally clicks on it. Turns out, even though Mom is no longer a Captain, her recommendation must’ve meant something because there it is, a nice, shiny, transfer request.

It’s signed Captain Brad Boimler and that is where Beckett draws the line because she is not working for someone named Brad.

Maybe if you had been on the Cerritos, Shaxs wouldn’t have died, a snide voice sounds in her brain. Beckett immediately shuts that voice down because that’s fucked up and she didn’t go through four years of Starfleet mandated therapy to still be fucked up.

(She’s still kinda fucked up, but that’s okay.)

Dad finally starts spamming her inbox—and she really wants to know how Mom got him on her side, they’ve barely spoken since the divorce—so Beckett, with great reluctance, reviews the transfer request again.

It’s bullshit.

“This is bullshit,” she tells Dad.

“I know, but if I have to get one more message from your mother, demanding why you haven’t taken the position—”

“Okay, fine I’ll do it, but only because I want to see why Mom promoted Brad to Captain.”

_____

Mom either promoted Brad to Captain because he was that good of a suck up or because his hair is super distracting. Either way, Beckett is two seconds away from saying fuck this shit and demoting her own ass back to the Vulker.

He walked through the door like a minute ago and she’s already had him pegged. His clothes are neatly pressed, hair perfectly coiffed, and his hands nervously flutter around, as if he’s unsure what he should be doing with them. He can’t have been an officer longer than a few months before he was promoted Captain, that’s for sure. Beckett literally has no idea what Mom was thinking when she gave him the chair.

She waves him down toward her table.

Brad takes one look at her unbuttoned collar, nonregulation boots, and unkempt hair and sighs. “Captain Freeman recommended you?” his voice is disbelieving.

“That’s the word, my dude.” Beckett leans back, eyeing him over the half empty glass of whiskey she’s been nursing. “Captain Brad, take a seat,” she says, in her Serious voice.

Captain Brad sits across from her. “It’s Captain Boimler, actually.”

“Brad’s fine.”

His eye twitches. “Officer Mariner—”

“Ensign,” she interrupts, cheerfully.

Brad pauses. Blinks. She gestures to the single pin in her collar.

“Oh. Wait. What?”

“Yeah, I was lower decks on the Vulker before Captain Freeman emotionally blackmailed me into meeting with you.”

She snaps her fingers at the bartender and gestures toward Brad while she waits for the man in question to process the fact that a lower decks ensign was being offered a First Officer promotion.

It, surprisingly, takes only a few seconds before he bounces back. “I didn’t have time to look at your file,” he admits, sounding a bit frustrated. “I’m usually more on top of my work but—”

“Don’t sweat it, Bradthaniel. If you’d read my file, I seriously doubt you’d have agreed to meet with me.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You kill an Admiral or something?”

“Or something,” she agrees, mind flashing back to all of the redacted and classified sections of her file. The bartender places a glass of purple liquid in front of Brad and refills Beckett’s drink. Beckett salutes him lazily with her glass. “I’m more interested in you. How’d you land a captaincy at, what, twenty-six?”

“Twenty-nine,” he grits out, as if that still isn’t weirdly young to be that high in the chain of command. “How’d you get Freeman to recommend you?”

“Oh, I didn’t,” she flips her ponytail obnoxiously. “She called me.”

“Sure.”

“What, am I not ‘First Officer Material?’” she mocks, wrapping finger-quotes around her words.

He rolls his eyes. “No offense—”

“Complete offense already taken—”

“But you are the least promotable person I’ve ever met.”

Beckett grins. “Now you’re getting it. We got a Bridge Crew yet?”

“I—” he blinks at her for a moment. “I’m still trying to put the rest of the Bridge Crew together, but it’s been insane lining up schedules and—”

“Leave it to me.”

“Wait, what?”

“That’s my job. You manage me, I manage the crew. I’m basically a glorified secretary now.”

Brad looks like he’s seeing an error screen in front of his eyes. “So, you’re taking the job,” he concludes, voice hilariously defeated.

“Someone needs to make sure my M—uh, Captain Freeman’s ship doesn’t blow up.”

“I handled it fine the first time.” He rolls his eyes carelessly, which kind of pisses her off.

She gives him a smile. Knows it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Tell that to the 567 casualties.”

His face goes very pale. An incredible feat considering his already milky complexion. She can’t tell if he’s angry or about to cry. “Shut up. You weren’t even there, how would you know—"

“Yeah, you were there, so why the fuck didn’t you do something?” she hisses. All she can see is Shaxs’ scarred face in the back her head. She’d been a pain in the Bridge Crew’s asses, but most of them had been genuinely upset when she’d been transferred.

“You’re a pain in my ass, but you’ve got guts,” Shaxs had admitted once, looking impressed, which was his way of saying you’re fucking adopted go do 200 pushups.

Beckett has seen a lot of death in her 26 years, but this one hurts because this is her Mom’s family. Half of them are dead and she wasn’t there and fucking Brad was.

Fucking Brad is still staring at her, eyes unreadable, mouth set in a hard line. He snatches up the file and flips it open, fingers deftly shuffling through the printed-out paper documents she’d complied last night. “I’m overseeing ship repairs tomorrow. 0500 hours. Be there.”

“Wait what?” Beckett hears herself say, aware that she’s gaping at him.

“I’ll have to run these through background checks before I can approve them for transfer, and I’d like to meet with them in person before I make any decisions.”

“Dude.”

“What,” he snaps, eyes meeting hers defiantly.

“You’re seriously approving my transfer?”

“Do you not want me to?” his brow furrows in confusion.

“You called me the ‘least promotable person’ like ever! I just like insulted the fuck out of you!” she whisper-shrieks. “You’re supposed to get mad and tell me to fuck off back to whatever corner of the galaxy Freeman dragged my ass out of, not make me your First Fucking Officer.”

“Well I’m not. Congratulations First Officer Mariner, you’re expected to report for duty—”

“Oh fuck you—”

“On the Cerritos three weeks from now during her relaunch.”

Beckett is on the verge of stabbing this bastard in the eye with his own stylus. “But why?”

Brad pauses, halfway out of his seat, hands still clenched tightly around the file. “Why what?”

“Don’t be fucking coy, why are you approving my transfer, you absolute nugget,” she hisses.

“Captain Freeman recommended you.”

“Are you seriously that much of a suck up—”

“The Cerritos isn’t that great of a starship, but Captain Freeman is a good captain,” Brad interrupts. “We went through some real shit together. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. The least I can do is honor her last request.”

And with that, Brad stands up and sweeps out of the bar.

“Dramatic exits are my thing!” she shouts after him.

_____

She’s pissed, mostly because Brad had the actual audacity to approve her transfer, but also because how fucking dare he be an actual nice person?

Okay, maybe not a nice person, she decides, as she crawls out of bed at 4 fucking thirty am. Morning people are hell spawn, but he’s a decent person.

Whatever, it’s not as if she’s going to start liking him or trying to be his friend or whatever.

“If it doesn’t work out, I can get myself demoted in like two days,” she decides, out loud, tying her hair out of her eyes. Her reflection stares back at her, tired.

So of course, Brad is annoyingly awake.

“Of course you’re a fucking morning person,” she mutters, falling into step behind him.

“Haven’t had your coffee yet?” he snips back, eyes glued to his data padd.

She glares at his back, but makes no comment.

By the time Beckett is fully awake and functioning, she’s already dissociated three separate times and had a mini panic attack twice.

The ship is FUCKED.

The primary hull has been completely ripped apart, like something took a large bite out of the side, and both propulsion units are missing. Beckett peaks over Brad’s shoulder and gets a good look at the interior damage.

“You guys ejected the warp core?” she shrieks in his ear. “Dude that is so badass.”

Brad jumps and pushes her off him. “Wha—get off me, what are you doing—”

Beckett snatches the padd away from him and begins to rapidly scan through the damage reports. “Shit, it’s going to take weeks before we’re back in space. What’s the ETA on getting a new core in? Oooh, we should also add reflective panels, I hear the Enterprise is so bright, nothing ever gets done on there.”

Brad snatches his padd back. “Yeah, I think we can pass on that one.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Being a Starfleet Officer isn’t supposed to be fun—although I do find enjoyment in managing and organizing information—”

“Oh yawn, you’re a pencil pusher.”

“Did you just say ‘yawn’ out loud?”

“Do you need your hearing checked, Captain Brad?”

“It’s Boimler,” he hisses.

“Captain Boimler Brad,” she corrects, easily.

He stomps off, all huffy, but whatever. It’s not her fault Captain Brad doesn’t have a sense of humor.

_____

It takes about a month for the Cerritos to get back into working condition. Beckett would be impressed with how quickly Starfleet is able to get her back in commission, except for the fact that, well. It’s Starfleet. They’re great at what they do, even if what they do isn’t so great.

By then she’s already sent her Dad over seventeen furious voicemails and threatened her mother with six different kinds of legal action if she doesn’t “pick up her goddamn fucking comm.”

Mom does pick up her call and she does agree to meet with her.

“This is bullshit,” she says, after hugging the ever-living shit out of her favorite parent. “I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

Mom rolls her eyes. It’s like looking in a mirror. “Kiddo, I’ve never been able to make you do anything.”

This was probably true, but Beckett needs someone to blame. “He’s worse than you. Or Dad. Mom he likes paperwork. He’s a morning person. Yesterday he asked me my opinion on the Oxford comma.”

Mom makes a complicated face. Beckett suspects she’s trying not to laugh. “That does sound like Boimler,” she admits, sighing. “Please tell me you’re playing nice.”

Beckett decides not to tell her about the whole “I was a bitch to him because I have no idea how to grieve” deal. “Hey, I can be nice.”

“Hmm.”

“Okay, maybe I’m giving him a hard time, but come on! You could have chosen anyone to promote. Hell, you should have picked Ransom, not transferred him!”

“Ransom doesn’t have the head to make tough calls.”

“And Brad does?”

Mom gives her a look that says she knows something Beckett doesn’t. Beckett hates that look. “I think he knows what he’s doing when he forgets he’s in charge.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means give him a chance before you decided to drop him in a wormhole,” is the dry response she’s given.

Beckett makes no promises.

_____

The Cerritos leaves Starbase 375 on an uneventful day. About eighty percent of the original crew has been completely replaced, most notably, the Bridge Crew. Senior staff is now complied of Officer’s Captain Freeman had promoted before her resignation, but there’s are a few that Beckett herself has recommended. Seems like Brad had actually taken a look at the file.

Beckett takes her seat next to Captain Brad and prepares herself for the madness that’s going to commence from being First Officer on the lamest ship in Starfleet.

The Cerritos has been in deep space for three boring, uneventful weeks.

The only fun Beckett has found in any of it is by torturing Brad. And she’s not even trying! Beckett just has one of those personalities that rubs well-organized people the wrong way. Yes, sometimes she thrives off chaos, and yeah she does things in her own time, but it’s just who she is.

Brad doesn’t seem to appreciate any of her suggestions, calling most of them illegal and dangerous and being all shouty about it.

He’s also a huge stickler for regulations and shit. It’s way, way worse than working with Mom. Beckett’s about to start climbing walls from the sheer boredom of being a First Officer. The only thing she does anymore is sleep, paperwork and fight with Brad, rinse, repeat.

And then she meets Lieutenant D’Vana Tendi.

The first thing Beckett thinks when she runs into the hyperactive Orion is that if Dr. T’Ana had retired along with the rest of the senior crew, Tendi could have easily picked up the mantle. The girl’s a fucking prodigy, mad scientist level of genius.

The second thing Beckett thinks when she meets Tendi is I am way gayer than I thought I was.

“Hey, you’re Mariner!” Tendi chirps, excitedly bouncing up to her. Dr. T’Ana, who had been discussing something medical and boring with the Orion, groans and stomps off the minute she lays eyes on Beckett. Which, rude. Beckett didn’t want to talk to her anyway.

“Oh nice, my reputation proceeds me,” Beckett grins, brushing off her hurt. “As does yours, Lieutenant Tendi.”

Tendi’s cheeks turn a little blue.

There’s an amused snort behind her. “Already flirting with the locals, Mariner?” a familiar voice dryly asks.

Beckett’s mouth drops open. “Rutherford?”

Rutherford, who was messing anxiously with a cyber implant over his eye that he definitely did not have three years ago, grins at her. “Long time, no see!”  

Tendi whirls around. “You know Mariner?”

“She used to be lower decks with me,” he explains.

“Yeah, back in the day,” Beckett agrees, examining her nails. “It was pretty badass.”

Rutherford snorts and gives her a look which clearly conveys I know why you were transferred dumbass. Beckett gives him a look back and hopes it communicates to shut the fuck up.

“You driving Boimler crazy yet?” Rutherford asks, instead of spilling her dirty secrets.

Tendi does this cute snort/giggle thing behind her Padd. “Like you haven’t been present for his ‘daily complain about Marin—‘”

Rutherford lightly kicks Tendi who quite promptly shuts up.

Beckett frowns suspiciously at them.

“Anyway, it’s great to see you Mariner!” Rutherford continues. “Congrats on making First Officer by the way,” he adds in a tone of voice that implies that she will be telling him exactly how she had landed the position later.

“I guess my record speaks for itself.” Beckett smirks.

“Uh hu,” he eyes her disbelievingly. “See you at the bar after our shifts?”

Beckett sighs. “I’ll have to pass. Brad gave me so much fucking paperwork to do that I’ll never get a day off again.”

“Look at you following the rules!” Rutherford punches the air. “I knew you had it in you. I guess I’ll see you around!” He hops off the bio-bed and heads off toward Engineering.

Tendi frowns after him. “At least he still sounds like himself, right?”

That’s a weird thing to say. “Huh?”

The Orion blinks up at her, startled. “Oh, you don’t know? He was in an accident. Full year of his memory completely wiped. He remembers Brad, and you, I guess, but.” She looks down, defeated.

“Oh.” Beckett feels squeamish at the sudden emotion present in the conversation. “That, uh, that really sucks.”

“Yeah.” Tendi shakes herself. “Well, enough buffer time, I’d better get back to work. It was great meeting you, Mariner!”

“Likewise, Lieutenant Tendi,” Beckett flashes her most charming grin. “See you on the Bridge?”

Tendi glances back at Dr. T’Ana, who’s impatiently glaring at them. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

_____

The next few weeks go by in rapid succession. It’s either very very boring and leaves Mariner missing her life as a lower decks officer or it’s incredibly fast pace with weird shit that leaves her chasing the next adrenaline rush.

But of course most days it’s just Brad yelling at her.

“If you could have your report for Second Contact with the Diququeue’s by tomorrow morning, that would be great.”

“Uh huh.”

“Also, I need you to stop trying to pet J’viv, his culture finds it offensive.”

“Sure thing.”

 “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?!

_____

“Officer Mariner could you—what the fuck are you wearing.”

“Oh yeah, the Padroiques gave me this cool jacket.”

“I don’t even—what—Mariner, go take it off!”

“But it’s pink!”

“It’s putting hair all over my Bridge!”

“That’s not hair it’s—”

 “Oh my god just get rid of it.”

_____

“What the fuck was that!”

“That was me. Doing my job. First Officer stuff.”

“That was you practically starting a war with the Gorgonvians. Again.”

“Dude, their government is super corrupt!”

“That’s their problem! Stop antagonizing alien Ambassadors!”

_____

“Why would you tell them to go fuck themselves?!”

“They pissed me off!”

“I actually can’t handle you right now. Get off my Bridge and go irritate someone else.”

“Fine!”

“Fine!”

_____

“This isn’t working,” she tells Rutherford, snatching at his drink. He gives it up with a sigh and wearily watches her down the purple liquid.

“Maybe start listening to him for once? He is the captain.”

“And that isn’t weird to you? Dude, didn’t he start out lower decks?”

This gets an eye roll out of her usually positive friend. “We all started lower decks. That’s how Starfleet works.”

Beckett decides not to mention that it was definitely not how it worked for her, as that explanation would include revealing that she’s. Well. A Starfleet brat.

“Besides, he’s been a Lieutenant for about a year now and he really handled the Parkled crisis really well. Not that I remember,” he adds, looking a little downcast.

Beckett wrinkles her nose. “Wait, the Cerritos was taken down by Parkleds? No fucking way.” She pulls her data padd out and began tapping away.

“Please don’t hack any mission re—”

“Too late.”

“—ports. Oh shit.” Rutherford rubs at his human eye with one hand. “See this? This is why you’re driving Boimler up a wall.”

Beckett glares at him. “Brad needs to chill out.”

“You need to chill out,” he corrects and then winces. “Sorry, that came out mean. I mean, maybe just try being nice to him? Like what’s the worst that could happen?”

Beckett’s eyes narrow.

_____

“Here, Jen made coffee.”

“If you’re trying to poison me—”

“Why would I poison you?!”

Brad gives her a deadpan stare.

“With coffee!” she adds, for good measure. “I would never defile the gods’ nectar!”

“Ugh, fine,” he snatches at the mug. “Just please stop shouting.”

_____

“I don’t get it!” Beckett rants to Tendi, who’s frowning down at her data padd like it holds the secrets of the universe. “I’m being like super chill for once and he’s still mad!”

Rutherford, who’s doing something cool and science-y to the transporter pad, glances up. “Your version of chill involves way more stabbing than most peoples.”

Tendi nods, eyes still glued to her padd. “Maybe try not challenging Klingons to duels and Boimler will calm down.”

“Uh, he challenged me and then was a sore loser. Not my fault. And I bought Brad a milkshake afterwards to make up for it!”

“Boimler did say that it was unfairly delicious,” Tendi says, pensively.

“I don’t think that was a milkshake,” Rutherford mumbles.

“Point is, why doesn’t he like me yet! Everyone likes me except lame people!”

“So, you don’t think Boimler is lame anymore,” Tendi inquires, grinning at her.

“Shut up, he’s the lamest.”

Rutherford and Tendi share a conspiring look. “Sure.”

_____

So, Brad almost dies. And so do Tendi and Rutherford, because it seems that even though Brad is captain now, apparently the three of them are a tight little trio who’ve been getting up to no good the whole time Beckett was on the Vulker.

That explains a lot actually.

Anyway, there’s some Away Mission nonsense and Beckett just happens to be on the Cerritos because Brad claims that she’s too high strung and that he hasn’t had enough coffee to handle her.

Whatever.

Some shit goes down—again, Beckett isn’t there and doesn’t bother to find out the exact details until much much later—that involves Rutherford and Brad getting infected by some alien disease and suddenly Tendi is dealing with an outright war between the local Camisitites and the Federation and by the time Beckett gets their asses beamed back onto the Cerritos, it’s almost too late.

Rutherford is going to be fine, thanks to his cyborg implants but Brad isn’t looking too hot which means Beckett is Acting Captain.

Fucking great.

It takes her maybe two, three days tops to settle everything out with the irate Camisitite nation and find a cure, but it all works out in the end.

“If you want a Missions Report you can have it after I’ve taken a shower,” she informs a groggy Brad. He blinks up at her from his bio-bed, taking in her disheveled hair, bloodstained shirt, and exhausted expression.

“…cool,” he mutters. “Go away.”

She scoffs at him, dragging a seat up. “I’m good here, actually.”

Brad wakes himself up enough to give her a half-hearted scowl. “Do you ever do as you’re told?”

“Not really, no.” She examines her nails. “Your fault for signing my transfer.”

“So this has all been punishment? Because a good person talked you into a nice, well paying job that I signed off on. I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get you,” she retorts. “Command fucking sucks. It was way cooler when I was an ensign.”

“But you’re really good at it,” he says, surprised. “You’re smart and badass and like way better at everything than everyone else.”

“Wait what?”

“You could have everything! And you’re just wasting it? Do you want me to kick you off ship?”

“Maybe!”

“Well I’m not going to!”

“Why not?!”

He glares at her sullenly. “Figure it out yourself, if you’re so smart.”

_____

“I can’t figure it out!” she snaps, resuming her wild pacing.

Rutherford, who looks like his unending patience is finally, for once, running out, sighs.

(People seem to be doing that a lot around her recently.)

“Figure what out, Mariner?”

“Why did the bastard make me his First Officer?”

“Maybe he’s hot for you,” Tendi suggests, eyebrows wiggling up and down. Beckett shoves her face away.

“Shut up, no way.”

“Just ask him?” Rutherford suggests.

“I did! Like twice! First time he gave me stupid answer and second time he deflected.”

“He gave it to you because he likes you, dummy,” Rutherford says, giving her a friendly shove. “Not like that,” he adds, as Tendi began make kissy faces. “But like. He thinks you’re cool.”

“He thinks I’m cool,” Beckett parrots, unimpressed.

“You are pretty cool,” Tendi agrees. “You like kick everyone’s ass and are super smart and you have street cred.”

“Street cred,” Beckett repeats, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, we’ll go with that.”

“Point is,” Rutherford went on. “He thinks you’re cool. And you know what? I think you think he’s pretty cool.”

Beckett makes a face. “I do not, take that back.”

“You think it’s impressive that Freeman promoted him and it has you all pissy because she threw you off the ship, but you secretly think he’s smart and you think it’s funny that he gets all tied up in knots over protocol,” Rutherford summarizes.

“What are you, my therapist?” Beckett snaps.

“I’m you’re friend. And I think you could be his too if you tried?”

Beckett groans, dropping her face into Tendi’s shoulder. “Fine maybe you’re a little bit right. He hates me though.”

“Trust me, he doesn’t hate you,” Rutherford says, grin in her voice. “You annoy the fuck out of him, sure. But he likes you plenty or he’d have gotten rid of you already.”

“So what do I do?” she mumbles into Tendi’s uniform.

“Go apologize, dumbass,” Tendi advises, shrugging her off her shoulder.

“Ugh.”

_____

She finds him laying on one of the Observation Deck floors, a half-drained bottle of blue substance beside him. Before she can change her mind, she flops down into a seated position next to him. They’re drifting through hyperspace, creating that weird blue effect as their ship speeds past distant stars.

Beckett takes a swig of his contraband, grimacing at the bitter taste.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” he says, staring blankly out into space.

Beckett feels surprise at his admission—yeah, this man is a bit of a wreck, but he seemed to the type of guy whose contingency plans had contingency plans—but decides not to show it.

“Congrats dumbass, neither to the rest of us.”

Brad frowns. “You always know what you’re doing.”

This actually coaxes a surprised laugh out of her. She collapses backward, laying on the cold deck beside him. “That’s where you’re definitely wrong, dude. I never know what I’m going to do until I do it. Could be committing arson today, could adopt one of those turtle-puppies we saw on Karklon III last week, the list goes on. We’re Starfleet Officers, we have to be flexible about shit,” she adds, turning her head look at him.

He continues to stare straight ahead of him. “I think you make a better Captain.”

Okay, so he’s in a brutally honest mood. She can chill with that.

“I think I’d get us killed in a week,” she counters, truthfully. “I’m way too impulsive to be in charge. For every badass rule breaker, we need pencil pushing stickler, ya know?”

“So what,” Brad turns his head to the side, squints at her skeptically. “Now you want to work together?”

She drops her chin into the palm of her hand, leaning on her elbow. “I’m just saying, maybe I could get myself demoted back to the fucking Vulkner again and maybe you resign your position and become one of those sad sad researchers that get eaten by their own plants and Starfleet discovers your remains six years later when they have to find a cure for a face-eating parasite or whatever. Or,” she continues, before he can interrupt, all pissy, “maybe you need to loosen up, and maybe I need to suck up to command a bit more.”

It’s the closest to an apology as he’s going to get from her.

(He’s been kind of a bitch too, and they both know it.)

Brad turns back to the window—if you can call the entire wall being made of glass a window—and sighs.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt to give it a shot,” he muses—his version of an apology as well, she notes—and then adds, “I can always demote you.”

“Ha! You couldn’t last a day in the chair without me and you know it,” she replies, smugly. “You pretend like you want constant order and everything to be perfectly organized and on schedule, but I know the truth.”

“Really now?” he dryly says. “And what’s that.”

She grins, leaning in. “You’re secretly a rebel.”

“Fuck off.”

“Pffft, I saw your eye twitching during our report to Admiral Travional. You were practically begging me to spill my coffee on him.”

“Okay, I did not tell you to do that—”

“Oh, and that sexy, sexy moment when Tendi punched Captain Lohnersen out? You never once wrote her up for—”

“He was harassing her, I wasn’t going to write her up when he clearly was disrespecting—”

Beckett dangles the bottle of ale in front of him. “Why Captain Brad. Is this. Gasp! Contraband?!”

Brad laughs, snatching the bottle away from her. “I found it in your quarters.”

“And just what were you doing in my quarters, my good sir?”

“I’ll have you know I was dropping off paperwork. That you still haven’t done. From three weeks ago.”

“And you just swiped it off my desk. Tsk, tsk.”

“Confiscated it,” he corrects, still grinning up at her. “For research purposes, of course.”

“Of course.” Beckett grabs the bottle again. Takes another swig. “Surprised you’re still conscious. This shit can blind you, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know.” He grabs the bottle back. “So maybe slow down.”

She rolls her eyes because she has clearly proven numerous times that she can hold her liquor but decides not the start anything. It’s weird, getting along with Brad, but not…unpleasant.

“Hey,” she says, poking his shoulder. “I’m glad you didn’t die.”

His face looks pinched. “Thanks for not letting me die,” he replies, suddenly wary.

She scoffs. “Like I’d let anyone die under my watch.”

Brad sits up. “You mean like I did.”

“Oh.” Beckett blinks at him. “Oh shit. Dude, I was just being an asshole then, I didn’t mean it.”

“But you weren’t wrong. If I had been smarter or—”

“Dude, you cannot think like that,” Beckett grabs his shoulders and makes uncomfortably steady eye-contact. “Even if I had been on the Cerritos when shit went down, I don’t think I could have saved him. You guys were on a time crunch with no backup and I’m surprised Rutherford survived the explosion.”

Brad’s eyebrows furrow. “Wha—did you read Freeman’s Mission Report? I told you to stop—”

She waves him off.  “Doesn’t matter. Point is, stop beating yourself up over it. And stop letting assholes like me make you feel bad,” she adds, as an afterthought.

“Only if you stop challenging people to duels in the Jefferies Tubes,” he counters.

“Deal,” she lies. “You should get in on some of those duels, though. You seem like a sword guy.”

“I can’t even tell if that’s a euphemism or not,” he mumbles. “Are we cool?”

“The coolest,” she confirms. “At least until you see my Missions Report.”

Brad sighs deeply and flops back down. “I’m not even worrying about that right now.”

“Good, because I definitely broke like every protocol ever.”

“Of course you did.”

“And I told the Camisitite’s to call me Captain Mariner, First of her Name.”

“Oh my god—”

“And I challenged their leader to a duel.”

“Mariner what the fuck.”  

[irwinkitten]

decisions | poly!kayshton

requested by anon:  Okay so we all know how protective alpha!Kayston is about omega!reader but what about her getting sad and needy cause she’s watching them help each other through their ruts and won’t let her join even tho the doctor gave the okay on it. Like they’re afraid to hurt her physically but don’t realize they’re hurting her emotionally. notes: this was intending to be like, 600 words long??? HA. that was never gonna happen. don’t like it, don’t read it. (there is also some abo!lierra in here too) warnings: angst, smut, fluff word count: 4.6k. (600 words my fuckin ASS)

donate to my ko-fi here

@sexgodashton​‘s abo!sos stuff can be found here

-

Being pregnant with twins was certainly an experience for you. Being pregnant with twins after being impregnated by two Alphas was something else entirely. 

Mercifully for you, because of the pregnancy, it meant that you stopped going into heat. But when a bump had started showing, your alphas had turned to each other when their ruts had hit them.

This appointment you’d attended alone, their ruts having caught the three of you by surprise. Your doctor was surprisingly kind, a Beta. And she sensed a question that was burning your mouth. 

“Even if it feels stupid to ask, sometimes asking helps.” She encouraged gently. 

“Will their ruts hurt me or the babies?” And you felt the lone tear fall. She handed you a tissue with no hesitation. 

“No. It’s perfectly safe for both of them if they’re rutting. The only thing I wouldn’t recommend is both of them. It won’t cause any damage from what we’ve seen in previous cases like yours, but it’s better not to take the chance. One of them, yes. Both of them, it’s not been proven to be dangerous but it’s not been proven to be safe either.” Her words were both comforting and frustrating. 

“They’ve been focusing on each other instead of you, haven’t they?” Her question wasn’t unkind, but the tears fell regardless. 

“It’s like they can’t even touch me any more and it’s driving me mad but they won’t listen. And I can hear them and it hurts to think like this because it draws back to the fears of just being a breeding purpose.” You’d never admit that to your Alpha’s. But some of the words that had been slung at you had stuck. 

“It might be presumptuous of me, but I can always put you in touch with a therapy service. It’s not to make you believe the rhetoric spouted by the bigots,” she cut in at your outraged look, “but to help you go through all of this. I might be a professional but even I recognised that both of your alphas are famous.” Her dry tone caused your face to grow warm and you hesitated. 

“I could maybe take a look.” You finally admitted quietly and she handed you a small card. 

“Don’t be too mad with them. They’re just thinking that they’re doing the right thing and are entirely misguided because of it.” 

You nodded your thanks to her before leaving, booking the next appointment. When you got into the car, you made the journey home, wondering if you could step into the house knowing that their scent was going to drive you crazy and they wouldn’t do anything about it. 

You could hear them as soon as you stepped through the door, and you steered your thoughts away from being rejected. 

But it didn’t make it hurt any less. 

Grabbing a blanket and a couple of pillows from the living room, you headed out to where the porch swing was, curling up and wrapping yourself in the blanket as you muffled the heartbroken tears that fell. 

Whether they knew they were hurting you or not, you couldn’t stop the pain, the loneliness. 

When the house fell silent, you pressed your face into the pillow, unwilling to give them worry. You weren’t too sure if you’d be able to face them at that moment. 

Taking the decision to stop your heart from breaking further, you called Luke. When he greeted you, you couldn’t find the words to ask if you could stay with him. 

But he understood. 

“I’ll be around in fifteen. At least tell your dumb alphas that you’re coming to mine or they’ll panic.” Part of you wanted them to panic, to feel that worry. But you hummed an agreement. 

When you made your way upstairs, it was quiet. When you stepped in your shared bedroom, joy tried to ignore the heartache at the sight of them wrapped up together, asleep. 

So you quietly packed some clothes and made your way downstairs, leaving a note on the kitchen counter for them to find when they woke up. 

Luke has arrived and once you were in the car and he was pulling away, you cried. 

“What are they doing, sweet thing?” And you told him everything.

When you’d arrived at his, Sierra was there to greet you, her concern melting into annoyance at your alphas. 

“They should know better.” She muttered as she took your hand and guided you inside.

When your bag had been set by the stairs, her arms drew you into a hug. Her touch felt wrong and yet you leaned into it because it was the first piece of physical affection you’d gotten and the small, sad thought caused the tears to fall. 

“Sweetheart.” Sierra’s concern was overwhelming and you held onto her tightly. And then it clicked for her when she caught a whiff of their scents on you. 

Without another word, she pulled you upstairs to the spare bedroom, her arms and body wrapping around yours as you cried. 

“Love?” Luke had followed helplessly behind, feeling at a complete loss of what to do. 

“Their Alpha’s haven’t touched them during their ruts. It’s probably the worst thing they could’ve done because our sweet omega here is trying to convince their mind that it’s not a rejection. That it’s out of care. But they’re hurting.” Sierra’s voice was soothing and her hand ran up and down your back as you struggled to contain the sobbing. 

“But, this?” His hesitation was met with a warm smile from his mate. 

“The physical connection with an Alpha is a form of grounding. More often than not it’s an Alpha they know, which is why we’re like this. You’re emotional support but they need that physical touch, especially with the babies.” Luke’s face was a picture. 

“Babies?” 

“Surprise.” You muttered into Sierra's shoulder. 

“Oh sweet omega, you were never gonna be able to  hide that from other Alphas. Luke here is just a bit slow on that uptake and scent change.” Sierra teased and you simply sighed in return. 

Eventually Luke crawled behind you and didn’t protest the other omegas touch. 

It had been very hit and miss with the pregnancy, other omegas touch having made you feel physically ill. Part of you suspected it was because you were nestled into Sierra. 

“Is it wrong for me to say I’m glad that we don’t have a third?” Luke’s quiet huff instantly had guilt rushing through you. 

“Sorry Lu.” You whispered and he scoffed, his arms tightening around you. 

“Don’t apologise. I’m just thinking out loud. I know you’re mates and this doesn’t bother me, but sharing another? I don’t know how I’d feel.” He murmured and you chuckled. 

“I wasn’t sure at first. But they were both so possessive, Kaykay more than Ashton, and I wanted them both. I guess there’s something guiding us with our mating, at least our attitudes. You wouldn’t have a third if you got jealous easily. They get jealous, yes, but when I’m not focusing on them after so long.” Your voice seemed to get heavier and Sierra tutted gently. 

“Questions later. Rest sweet thing. When can I expect your mates to start storming the walls?” 

The order wasn’t quite an Alpha’s order, but your body began to submit regardless. 

“Probably when they realise that I meant what I said when I told them I was spending a few days away.” You replied before you finally fell asleep. 

When you next woke up, you felt confused. You were still sandwiches between Sierra and Luke and your bladder was about to burst. 

You shifted, climbing over Sierra before rushing to the bathroom, your bladder feeling the relief once you’d peed. When you returned to the room, Sierra was sat up. 

“Looks like you needed that last night sweet thing. We thought you’d wake up to the smell of food but you didn’t even twitch.” Her tone was amused and you felt your eyes unable to meet hers. 

“You should’ve woken me, I need to-I have to still eat even when I don’t want to.” It explained why you hadn’t been hit with morning sickness yet. 

“Don’t worry. It happens. Let’s get some food started and this big lug of an omega should get up then.” 

You followed her downstairs, and watched as she began to make breakfast. You’d retrieved yourself phone from your bag to find the battery nearly drained as well a lot of missed calls. 

Plugging it into a charger, you opened up the texts from your mates, noting the apologetic tones. You sighed. 

“I guess they’re feeling sorry.” Sierra murmured and you nodded. 

“I know they are, but this, this is different.” You hummed and she nodded. 

“It is. You’re more than welcome to stay another night.” She murmured gently and you nodded in return. 

“I appreciate your hospitality.” The two of you shared a smile as you heard footsteps upstairs and she dished up the food. 

When Luke got downstairs, his hair was ruffled and he couldn't contain his yawn, but he greeted you with a grin before greeting his mate with a kiss. 

You looked away, the sharp pain giving you a shock, your hand reaching up to grasp over your heart.

Sierra was immediately in front of you, her hands cradling your face as you shrugged to take in any kind of breath. 

“You’re not going catatonic on us sweet thing. Yes your Alohas have been dumb but they’ll come back to you.” And your mind latched onto those words, the few tears that had fallen made you feel slightly guilty. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m sorry.” You whispered and she shook her head.

“Despite them being idiots, letting you fall into a catatonic state would make everything worse. And I’m certain your Alphas would rip me a new one.” She murmured as she cleaned your face free from the tears. 

You didn’t argue with her as she finally pulled away and returned to breakfast, your mind replaying her words over and over to ease the pain in your chest. 

“So I was thinking, maybe winding the two very dumb alphas up today, what do you say?” Luke’s question was so casual you very nearly didn’t pay attention to it, trying to keep your mind focused on the fact that they hadn’t rejected you. 

But you’d heard his words and felt that they deserved some worry. 

“Luke...” Sierra's tone was a warning and he grinned impishly at her. 

“We’re just going out. But you aren’t going to know where, and neither are they. I’ll take my phone so we can call if we need it, but today is an omega day.” He turned a cheeky smile in your direction and you tried to smile back, but it felt like a grimace.

“It’d be nice to be around people who don’t make me wanna throw up.” Both Alpha and omega snorted their drinks in laughter before the three of you went and got ready for the day. 

By the time the car was down the highway, you ignored the tug that was begging you to go home. You knew you were going to go home but you needed to teach them a lesson. 

Even if it hurt you. 

It was a day of the beach mostly. Neither of you were looked at twice, not with your two marks and his singular one. And if there were fans about, they left the two of you alone. 

You’d done some shopping, finding the silliest finds that you could for your mates. You’d picked out the most obnoxious shirt for Ashton, knowing he’d probably wear it, paired with the most ridiculous board shorts as well. For Kaykay you’d picked up some outrageous skirts that held clashing colours as well as another obnoxious shirt. But you’d also picked out some nicer gifts as well. 

As you walked about, stopping every now and then, you were feeling more relaxed for the first time in weeks. 

It felt like a small piece of freedom which soothed your aching soul. 

“Do you think if I asked, they’d move closer to the coastline?” You asked as the two of you got ice cream. Luke paid for you, much to your dismay. 

“I think they’d move to the ends of the earth if you asked them to. However I know that Ash has been looking at either selling up or expanding. Why the coast though?” You were walking along the parade, your arm looked through his as you hummed, trying to process your thoughts. 

“It just feels soothing. I know that it’ll be hell during tourist season but if we could find a quiet place with a nice sized garden along the coastline? It’d be ideal.”

The two of you finished up, heading back to the car. The sun was beginning to set and you knew that Luke had promised for the two of you to be back for dinner. 

You hadn’t expected to see Ashton’s car parked just outside of the driveway, causing your eyebrows to shoot up. You also didn’t expect to hear shouting from within the house when you stepped out of the car. 

“You two are thick fucking Alpha’s if you really believe that to be a way to treat your Omega!” Sierra’s voice cut through the air and you shared a look with Luke. 

“I guess she decided to give them the what for.” He muttered as the two of you made your way back inside. 

“We’d damage them or the babies, it’s why we-”

“Says who? Did you talk to your mate? Ask their doctor? I held your mate as they cried last night because of you absolute morons!”

The shouting had masked your entry back and you slowly made your way to the sound of the shouting. 

“If anyone should be shouting, it should be me.” You muttered as you stepped into the living room and three pairs of eyes snapped to you. Sierra smiled. 

The relief on Kaykay and Ashton’s faces made your anger surge. 

“You don’t get to look at me like that.” You snapped, causing both of them to reel back in shock. “Had you listened to me the first time, you’d have found out that it’s fine for you to be with me when you rut. Maybe not both together but individually, yes.” 

Their faces fell and you turned to Sierra. 

“I know you extended the invite for me to stay tonight, but I think we’d best get home.” She smiled and pulled you in for a hug. 

“You’re welcome back anytime.”

When Luke pulled you into a hug, you held on a little bit tighter. 

“We need more omega days.” He whispered before letting you go. 

“I did have the best day today. Thank you.” And he beamed. 

You made your way upstairs and collected the few things you’d brought before heading back down to where your two silent Alphas were waiting. 

The journey home was excruciating because they held their silence. You refused to give any satisfaction of breaking the quiet, so the journey was held no conversations or music as Ashton drove the three of you home. 

When you were back within the walls of your own home, you headed up to the spare room and this finally broke their silence. 

“Are you, you’re not sleeping with us?” The hesitation in Kaykay’s voice made your chest hurt once more. But you tried to ignore the side that was screaming at you to crawl back into your room with them. 

“Unless you two are going to touch me, no.” 

Her hand reached out, fingers curving your cheek with a hopeful look in her eyes. You could only sigh. 

“You know I don’t mean like that.” You got out and her hand dropped. 

“We could hurt you, hurt the babies.” Ashton finally whispered, the determination that you’d seen days before, replaced by uncertainty. 

“If you’d have bothered to even try and listen to me last week, you’d have realised that one of you won’t do any damage. The whole fucking point of being your mate and omega is to help you.” You finally snapped and Ashton flinched back. 

It felt wrong on every level to see him so, submissive. Even Kaykay had her eyes on the floor and you felt wrong, wrong, wrong. 

You were their omega. 

“Please, look at me.” The words were a broken whimper and their heads snapped up. And you weren’t entirely sure what changed, but they were both surrounding you, their scent so unique and welcoming as you held onto them both. 

“Please I can’t take it. I’ve cried so much. It hurts my soul being like this but all I feel like is just a thing for you to breed and then for you both to turn to each other.” You finally got out, and the realisation of your words hurt you more than you realised, a sob breaking free. 

You caught a glimpse of the matching looks of horror on their faces and you felt the guilt begin to eat you up for making them feel like that. 

But then Kaykay spoke up. 

“Sweetheart, we didn’t realise it was hurting you this much. Oh god I’m so sorry.” Her arms were around you and you barely moved as the both pressed against you, your body relishing in the fact that you were pressed between your Alphas. 

Only when you’d calmed down, did they finally move, but it was to bring you back to your own room, Ashton leaving for a moment to retrieve your things. 

In those few moments, a side of you was clawing at you to follow him, but you were encased within Kaykay’s arms. So you whined. 

“Sweetheart?” Her voice was gentle and soothing. 

“Alpha.” You whimpered in return and she understood immediately. 

“Ash baby, come back.” Her voice was calm and the second he was back in the room, you settled. “Sweet omega, how did you survive like this?” There was no patronising tone, her curious genuine as Ashton crawled in and pressed against you. 

“Survive what?” His voice held confusion and she pressed a kiss to your lips before getting off the bed. Your eyes tracked her as she walked around the room, but the moment she left the room for longer than fifteen seconds, the whines began to escape, fingers digging into the sheets, torn. 

She stepped back into view and your body relaxed. 

Pushing yourself up, you crawled across the bed to her, kneeing up when you reached the edge of the bed where she stood. 

Kaykay smirked.

“Needy little omega. So desperate. We’ve been such piss poor Alphas, making you think you were nothing but something for us to breed. But we need to rectify that. Make sure you know that we want you.” Her voice was husky and you tried to keep your breathing steady. 

You were going on your instincts at this point, the desperate need so strong and demanding. 

“Please Alpha.” 

You could see she was visibly hard, and she glanced over her shoulder to Ashton. 

“I can see your worry, but we take our sweet, willing omega one at a time. Make sure they know they’re all we want.” You bit back a moan at her words. The bed shifted and you watched as they both got undressed, Ashton taking the chair in the corner. 

She helped you off the bed, undressing you with practised ease, her fingers feeling like fire on your skin. 

“Back on the bed little omega. Hands and knees facing your Alpha.” You did as you were told, eyes studying Ashton as his hand moved up and down his cock slowly. 

You felt Kaykay press behind you, the bed sinking with her weight. She wasted no time, burying her cock inside of you, a loud moan falling from your lips. 

“Needy little omega.” She murmured as her hips began to move and you knew that you weren’t going to last long at all. 

Your first orgasm surprised her, pulling a stunned gasp from her lips as your arms trembled from holding you up. 

“So desperate for your Alpha’s that you’re barely being fucked and you’re already making a mess. Oh baby we’re gonna have fun with you.” You whined at her words, fingers grasping at the covers. 

With one hand on your hips, she leaned forward, her other hand gripping your shoulder and pulling you up against her. 

The new position had you seeing stars, head falling back onto her shoulders as she continued to drive into you, her lips playing with her mark on you and you knew she wasn’t too far off. 

“Look at your Alpha when I knot you little omega. We may have already bred you but fuck, show him how good this feels.” Her words were much lower, and you couldn’t fight the command, head tilting back towards Ashton as you felt the shift and you moaned. 

Your eyes stayed locked with Ashton as you came again, Kaykay’s orgasm following and her teeth sinking into her mark, your body twitching as she held you in place, her breathing heavy. 

“So perfect little omega. Are you ready for your Alpha to fill you again?” You gasped, a whine escaping as you felt the knot already in you deflate and Kaykay slid out effortlessly. 

“Come sit on your Alphas lap little omega. You’ve been so good for us.” His words were coaxing and you slowly climbed off the bed, legs trembling a little. 

Kaykay remained on the bed, her body almost flopping into the bed sheets as her eyes watched you both, Ashton’s arms catching you as you half collapsed into his lap, straddling him as you did. 

“So good for us little omega. I promise you we won’t do this again.” His words had a profound effect as you ground against his cock, a whimper leaving your lips as his hands pressed into your hips, lifting you up and your hand gripped his cock, the other grasping his shoulder as he settled you down, a low moan escaping from him in time with another whine from you. 

“Alpha.” The word escaped and he shifted the two of you until his hips began to rock against you and you could feel your eyes rolling back as he fucked up into you. 

“God I’m so sorry little omega, denying this from you when I should’ve listened.” The words were a low growl, your mind spinning as you felt Kaykay come up behind you, her lips working your neck. 

With both of your Alpha’s stimulating you, you knew it wasn’t going to be much longer and Ashton groaned as your body shook and the orgasm hit you, his low moans having a dizzying effect on you. 

“Keep cumming sweet omega. Cum on his cock till you’re spent.” Kaykay whispered and you didn’t fight her words as the angle he was driving into you, sent you spiralling once more before he chased his own high, his knot expanding inside of you. 

His teeth sank into his own mark, Kaykay’s teeth sinking in a second time and you felt everything in you settle, the care of your Alpha’s driving away any doubts as you all caught your breath. 

“I’m so sorry sweetheart.” Ashton finally whispered as he drew back and your lips found his, gentle and soothing compared to the desperate and needy kisses. 

“Talk to me. Don’t shut me out. Even Sierra recognised that you doing this to me was both stupid and dangerous.” You whispered in return and he sighed as he pulled out and groaned at the sight between your legs. You smiled gently. 

“I know you’re in a rut but both of you look like you haven’t slept.” Ashton pulled you back to the bed, Kaykay having retrieved a cloth to clean between your legs before crawling up your body, dropping a kiss to your lips. 

“Then nap time sounds amazing sweetheart.” She whispered, her body settling next to yours. Ashton has discarded the cloth before settling on your other side. 

Their scent enveloped you as your mind settled, falling asleep with ease as their hands rested over the small bump. 

—

You ended up waking up the following day and despite how tangible your mates scents were, it wasn’t overwhelming and desperate like the last few days had been. 

Kaykay’s face was nuzzled into your neck, her breathing slow and heavy. Ashton’s fingers traced light patterns on your barely showing bump, his face pressed into your hair. 

“I know you’re awake sweetheart.” His voice was soothing and soft. You hummed in response, unwilling to lodge your mate from her position against you. 

Ashton made no further attempt to talk as you just enjoyed the peace of being wedged between them both, your heart and soul seemingly allowing the moment to balm the edges that had appeared over the last few days. 

“You really hurt me.” You finally whispered. Ashton’s hand stilled only for a moment before he continued and you took that as a signal to continue talking. 

But the words wouldn’t come. Or at least, words that wouldn’t break his heart. 

“It felt like my chest was caving in at the thought of you both rejecting me, or even just using me to breed pups and then turn to each other.” The tears were in your eyes, lifting a hand to wipe them away. 

Ashton held his silence, knowing you needed to get this off your chest. 

“All I could think was that the fans were right and I was nothing to either of you.” This time a sob broke free, and a gentle squeeze from Kaykay alerted you to the fact she was awake. 

“We made the wrong judgement without your input, and would have lost you because of it.” Ashton spoke softly, the pain in his voice certainly telling of how much he cared. 

“I’m your mate. Your third. I’m carrying both of your pups for fucks sake.” 

“And we picked the wrong decision. I know our hormones and emotions were high yesterday, but when I said I was sorry, I meant it sweet omega. You’ve changed us for the better but we’re both headstrong alphas who need you. And we nearly lost you.” Kaykay’s voice was filled with sleep and you could only hold on to her and Ashton’s grip around you got tighter. 

“If I had to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I would. You deserve better than how we treated you.” Ashton’s voice was gentle as you shifted around, wiggling so that you could look at him, a stern look in your eyes. 

“I do, but you’re my stubborn alphas who still forget that their omega is not an alpha, no matter how much sass I give you both. I accept your apologies and when I’m not so angry about it all, you know I’ll forgive you. But you have to promise me, both of you promise me that you’ll never do this again.”

“You have my word, little omega.” Ashton didn’t hesitate with his words, and you turned to Kaykay. 

“I promise you, sweetheart. It won’t happen ever again.” And you could hear the honesty in their words. 

“Good.” You felt petulant but being wrapped up in both of them felt too good for you to want to willingly be away from them. 

You knew the bond needed to settle and you were not going to say no to a day with your alphas, especially when they were like this. 

Settling into their embrace, Ashton resumed tracing patterns on the bump and your mind followed it slowly before you fell back asleep, murmuring a soft “love both of you.” 

-

if you wanna be on the poly!kayshton taglist, just hmu

@sexgodashton​, @loveroflrh​, @calumsmermaid​, @cashtonasfuck​, @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​, @iovehemmings​, @wokeupinjapanisabop​, @converse-luke​, @itjustkindahappenedreally​, @tobefalling​, @cal-puddies​, @hemmingsmendess​, @queer-5sos​, @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles​, 

[twin-brother-at-the-wall]

Creator, Headcanons, Story & Rules

Creator:

the-blackholeus

Rules:

-       You can send as many asks as you want, but don’t spam the same questions.

-       Don’t be rude

-       Please be patient

-       Don’t insult anybody, everyone is welcomed here.

Story:

Kenzo is the twin brother of the infamous Right Hand Man.

They both grew up in an orphanage where they were abused and hit at every little mistake they made. As teenagers, they had enough and decided to run away, forming a plan.

But somehow, the orphanage found out about it, and tried to prevent it. Right Hand Man was able to escape, but he had abandoned his brother, how had dripped and fallen, unable to escape the caretakers. He cried and yelled out for him to come back, but he never did, and Kenzo lost his voice.

After bringing him back to the orphanage, he was sent to the mines to die, but against all odds, Kenzo survives every sickness and the horrible treatment of the caretakers and their leaders, and began to grow at size and strength. At a very young age, Kenzo was already the tallest and the strongest in the entire mines, and had taken it upon himself to protect the other children, taking their punishments and helping them wherever he could.

But that protection resulted in the death of a caretaker, which made the others and the leader furious. He was taken away, punished horribly, and completely driven from his sanity, becoming the perfect weapon and tool. But he regained his sanity, and began to protect the children again, now working against the caretakers.

After years of torture, abuse, starvation and emotional torment, the orphanage had gotten problems, and had to get rid of the evidence, which meant blowing the mines up, killing the children down there. Only three of them survived, and one of them was Kenzo, who became the only survivor as the other ones died of the horrible injuries they had to suffer from the explosion.

One entire year, he spent his days alone down there in the mines between boulders and corpses before he was found by a bunch of soldiers. After he was contained, he was brought into a hospital where he was locked away to heal.

After a few days, two certain men named Dmitri Johannes Petrov and Grigori Olyat heard of this man, and soon came to get him, wanting him to work as some kind of special guard. After realizing that he had nowhere else to go than the closed asylum, he accepted. Since then, he lived at “The Wall���.

It, however, has taken very long for him to even let himself be seen, and reacted very violently to everyone, but eventually, he began to warm up to Dmitri and Grigori.

Headcanons:

Kenzo:

-       Kenzo likes to be alone, but he is found around Grigori and/or Dmitri sometimes.

-       Kenzo is obviously blind on his right eye, but his left one has an excellent vision, and nothing gets past him.

-       His age, nationality and surname are unknown, but they do know his first name. How? I don’t know.

-       He’s the tallest. He and his brother are incredibly tall and muscular, but he would often stand in a hunched position to make himself smaller when he's scared.

-       He’s often found hiding in the dark area of “The Wall”. If you see a shadow-like person standing in the dimly lit halls staring at you, that’s him.

-       His special stare creeps many people out, even Dmitri and Grigori. No matter how many times they see it, it sends shivers down their spines every time. It’s especially creepy when he’s standing in the darkness.

-       He only does it when he feels threatened or when he’s aggressive, though.

-       He’s very muscular, but also very skinny. If he takes his shirt off, you can count his rips with ease.

-       He doesn’t eat often, and when he does, it’s only a small amount of food. His stomach is messed up after years of starving.

-       Kenzo has earned himself the name “Creepy Redhead” or “Quiet Redhead”. He doesn’t mind. Anything is better than the names the caretakers at the orphanage called him.

-       Kenzo actually has breathing problems. It’s a consequence of the explosion damaging his lungs. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet and the doctors didn’t see it because he awoke before they could treat him fully. Dmitri and Grigori know something is wrong though.

-       He also is heavily Claustrophobic. Try to lock him up and you will regret it. It’s questionable how he manages to hide in the vents though…

-       He has many social disorders that he will probably never get healed from.

-       He’s incredibly aggressive towards new people. It’s likely for them to get killed when they try to escape or interact with him in any way.

-       His hair is long, like…really long. It reaches down to his knees. He doesn’t see the necessity to cut it.

-       He doesn’t have a home on his own. He lives at “The Wall” because he feels most comfortable there. Dmitri tried to take him home once, but that didn’t go very well.

-       He is a very light sleeper. The smallest noise will wake him up.

-       He is a master in climbing, hiding, and sneaking. He had to do those things in the mine or in the orphanage and he had enough time to practice them. Dmitri often finds him in places where he is not supposed to be.

-       He actually loves music and does have a great talent to sing, but he has lost the will to put it to use, and so he prefers to just listen.

-       He likes to draw. It’s some sort of therapy to him to deal with everything that happened in his life and not to go completely insane. They are really detailed and beautiful, but he doesn’t like showing them. Only Grigori, Dmitri, and the head of the medical staff, Dr. Virginia(OC)  are allowed to see them. It’s a way of communicating without forcing him to talk.

-       He doesn’t know about his brother being a part of the Toppat Clan yet.

-       He does have the same accent as his brother.

Grigori Olyat:

-       Grigori’s a very talented fighter and is able to kick ass with ease. Mess with him and you’re either dead or in the hospital.

-       He’s very proud to be “The Wall”’s second in command, even though he doesn’t show it, and does everything so it would stay that way.

-       He is actually a very calm person, and no one can anger him very easily

-       He has quite a sweet tooth. He loves cake and any kind of sweets, but he keeps those urges under control because he has to stay in shape to work at “The Wall” (He does eat cake or some other dessert in his lunch break, though. XD)

-       He’s very skilled with a gun, and only rarely misses his target. You shouldn’t try and provoke him too much or you may have a bullet wound.

-       He wasn’t born in Canada, he lived in Russia when he was a child, but he moved there when he got a job at “The Wall”.

-       Grigori is fifty-one years old and has been working at “The Wall” for thirty, soon thirty-one years, so he got there when he was quite young. Not much was expected from him, but he proved them all wrong by becoming the warden’s right hand man in five years.

-       He actually has curly hair, but he brushes it back.

-       He actually has a tragic past. He was beaten by his parents once in a while, so he knows a part of the pain Kenzo goes through, a reason why he felt so sorry when he first saw this bundle of misery.

-       Next to Dmitri, he’s the first person Kenzo ever spoke to after he was abandoned. He was so shocked that he didn't even respond.

-       He has something hidden under his shirt that he treassures greatly.

Dmitri Johannes Petrov:

-       Dmitri’s a very serious man and doesn’t take pranks well, but he doesn’t mind a joke if it comes from Grigori or Kenzo once in a while. Sometimes, he’ll even chuckle.

-       He’s quite tall, not as tall as Kenzo, but taller than Grigori.

-       He works a lot, and I mean a lot. He has made himself an office at home where he could do the leftover paperwork. He doesn’t like it when his work is unfinished, like at all. Sometimes, he even stays up the whole night. His temper is more than awful the next day.

-       He might be one of the oldest people in “The Wall”, but don’t underestimate him. He can easily kick your ass and bend himself in ways many young people can’t. He might be old, but he’s in perfect shape.

-       Dmitri is a full-blooded Russian, but he moved to Canada when he was a little child. He never stopped speaking Russian though and didn’t even bother to get rid of his accent. He thinks it’s a part of him.

-        His family was very cold, affection was unknown for him for a very long time, so he might not be the best to come to when someone needs comfort. He does try his best though when someone does.

-       He smokes sometimes to calm his nerves.

-       He isn’t that much of a drinker, but he doesn’t decline one after a busy day. He also has a very high tolerance for alcohol, which means it takes a while for him to get drunk.

-       He has been the warden of “The Wall” for fifty years and has ruled the complex with an iron discipline since the day he has taken over. After the outbreak, the hot-headed old man did even more to secure “The Wall”. Say hello to an electric fence.

-       He’s a hothead and gets furious very easily. Don’t take it too far, he is very skilled with weapons.

-       He carries a dagger around all the time. It’s hidden under his shirt, and he has easy access to it. It’s very well taken care of.

-       He’s one of the first people Kenzo ever talked to and honestly prides himself for getting the trust of such a broken soul.

-       Just like Grigori, he has something hidden under his shirt that he treassures greatly.

(That’s all I’ve got for now. More might be added over time)

[theonewiththefanfics]

Hawkins’ Charm (Part 1/?)

Synopsys: They had gotten out of Hawkins. After all the shit that had happened, all the heartache and pain, Billy and the Reader had gotten away from that hellhole, building their life in California as he had dreamed. But when Max’s graduation rolls around and they go to celebrate, it’s as if the Upside Down was just waiting for all of them to return. And it has a bone to pick.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x f!Reader; platonic!Steve Harrington x f!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, implied SMUT

Warnings: implied SMUT but not full on, blood, gore, mentions of death and injuries, mentions of abuse, swearing, mentions of anxiety and PTSD

Word count: 5007

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT CONDONE BILLY’S ACTIONS AND THE THINGS HE’S DONE! THIS IS BASICALLY AN AU, WHEN REALLY LOOKING AT IT! SPOILERS FOR S3! READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!

Billy was a sight for sore eyes as he stepped out from the ocean, blond curls stuck to his head much like his swim trunks to his legs, the board slapped under his armpit as he shook out the warm droplets from his locks.        He ran past a little girl with light hair as she built a sandcastle and dropped down next to Y/N, who had been hiding under an umbrella to escape the direct heat of the day, a book clutched between her fingers.        “You gotta come into the water,” he groaned and laid down on his back onto the sheet, eyes locked onto hers that were hidden behind sunglasses. “It’s amazing.”        And it was. Everything was amazing ever since they’d fucked out of Hawkins. He was a different man; he had scars to prove it. The second September had rolled around, and he had been discharged from the hospital, Billy had gathered his stuff, Y/N hers, and together they’d made their way to California.        “I bet it is,” she mumbled still not looking down at him, “but stuffs getting pretty amazing here as well,” she nodded with her chin to the book where the main character was gearing up for the final showdown.        Billy huffed and rolled on top of Y/N’s legs making her grunt as she felt his weight settle on her thighs, and his hand snatched away the book, but not before dogearing the page.        “Yeah, well, the weather report says it’s gonna be pretty shit for the next two weeks, so why don’t you keep that for when we can’t get outside the apartment, and get a bit wet right now,” his tone was sultry and suggestive even though he meant it in a bit different of a way than usual. But Y/N could also play that game.        “I dunno,” she slid her palm up his chest noting how her blue nail polish had chipped away at the edges, “I’d like it if it was you making me wet.”        She got the reaction she had hoped. Billy moaned dropping his head to her chest, and his hands wove around her waist gripping at her sides as if she’d disappear unless he held onto her.        For so long it had felt that way. Y/N had been an enigma when he’d first seen her. She had made sure everyone in Hawkins knew – she was back. 

       Def Leppard blasted through the air as she drove inside the school’s parking lot, hands tapping against the wheel to the rhythm of the song. Billy’s eyes had immediately latched on to the Oldsmobile 442 and the Y/H/C haired kid who jumped out of it.        “Don’t be late, I have shit to do!” a girl hollered after the boy as she stepped out of the car, but he just held up a middle finger in response, as she heard his old friends scream in excitement seeing Alex return to their group.        “Is that Y/N Y/L/N or are my eyes deceiving me?” Steve Harrington’s annoying voice was next, but the smile that the girl threw his way from where the other guy was coming behind him, knocked Billy off balance. He didn’t even know her, yet he was already done for it.        “I dunno,” she bounded over to Steve and wrapped him in a tight hug, making Billy suck harsher on the cigarette between his lips. “Is that the King of Hawkins or just a dick?”        Steve sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn’t even get the chance to say he’d been dethroned a year ago when Nancy’s squeal made him put his hands over his ears.        “Holy shit, I can’t believe you’re back!” she leapt out of Johnathan’s car without even waiting for him to properly stop.        “Better believe it, Nance!” Y/N muttered in the crook of her best friend’s neck. “Hawkins!” she suddenly hollered. “Your heart and soul is back!”        Billy had watched the interactions without even a word, just admiring the stranger with the shining Y/E/C eyes before Tommy and Carol broke the silence with a scoff.        “Can’t believe that bitch is back," she mumbled under her breath.        “What?” Billy whipped his head to the side and saw Tommy shake his head.        “After Barb went missing, she moved to New York. The Big Apple for fuck’s sake.” Seeing the blond’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated. “They were best friends. Guess it took a toll on her, and she couldn’t stay here anymore. The chick’s really an idiot if she’s back. Fuck, what wouldn’t I give to live in New York?”        Carol only sneered. Y/N had been one of the most popular girls in school, but she hadn’t been a bitch or stuck up, and every guy seeing her step out of the car in the mornings would instantly start to drool at the sight of her.        “Hey Y/L/N!” Carol yelled over the commotion of the arriving students and plastered on a fake smile, drawing Y/N’s attention to her group. When Billy saw her eyes scan over him, he felt an unfamiliar feeling settle in the pit of his stomach. He bristled a bit as she gave him a small smile before giving Carol the attention she craved. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Thought you’d forget our small town after moving to the East coast.”        But Y/N just shrugged leaning against Steve’s side. “Hawkins has it’s… charm.” She was not going to admit that the real reason her mom had moved them to New York was because of her anxiety and PTSD since the Demogorgon incident had been so bad she spent her nights jolting awake every five minutes. Thinking it was because of Barb’s disappearance her mother decided to take Y/N away from the place that stimulated those fears.        Now that she was done with therapy, they’d come back for senior year. Despite everything, Hawkins was her home.        Billy snorted at her response, and that only made her raise her eyebrow. “Hawkins’s a shithole.”        “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Y/N winked in his direction, making a smirk appear on his face. Yeah. He liked her a lot already.        “You going to Tina’s bash tonight?” Carol butted in, popping the bubble she’d made with her gum.        “Depends, are you gonna be there?”        Carol scoffed. “Of course. Everyone who knows what fun is, will be there.”        “Then Imma pass,” Y/N gave her a sarcastic smile. “Don’t want my night ruined by a bitch in faux leather pants.”        Steve, Nancy and Johnathan all let out small laughs as she turned around, hooking her elbow through Steve’s and Nance’s arms making their way into the school, and leaving behind the new king with his lackeys.        But Billy had to just make her notice him fully. “Hey sweetheart!” he hollered, making Y/N turn around and smirk. “And if I said I was gonna be there to keep her away from you?”        “I dunno,” she yelled back at him. “Are you gonna save me a dance?”        “I’ll save the whole night for you!”        Y/N gave him a wide smile and skipped backwards, not giving him an answer. As the bell rang, he yelled again after her, but she just waved her hand above her head and disappeared into the crowd.        In the end, she had shown up at the party. With AC/DC’s TNT roaring through the house, Y/N had pulled Nancy and Steve along. Johnathan was back at his house, Will and the rest of the Party welcoming Alex back with their usual D&D match, but because Joyce had to take a late shift, he was stuck there babysitting.        “I’ll get us drinks,” Steve said over the loud noises and the counting as someone was doing a keg stand.        The two girls nodded, and Y/N started to sway to the rhythm of the music.        “He’s bad news, I’m telling you,” Nancy repeated for like the twentieth time that day.        “I’m not going to do anything, Nance, come on,” she whined and chuckled. “Yeah, he’s a hot piece of ass, but you mess with my friends, you mess with me. I was just trying not to be a complete bitch.”        “I mean that’s pretty impossible, but sure,” Carol’s sarcastic voice invaded their conversation, and Y/N had to give herself a mental pep talk to not clock the other girl in her teeth. Some things had changed in Hawkins, but that hadn’t.        Turning around she put a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Takes one to know one.”        “Don’t be a dick, Carol,” Billy interrupted before she could sneer a response. “Besides, I think I saw Tommy sucking Vicky’s face so you might wanna check up on that.”        With a flick of her hair, she stomped away weaving between the already drunk and the about to be drunk people.        “I didn’t need you to save me,” Y/N remarked. “Let alone from Carol. She’s a pain in the ass, but she’s harmless.”        “Yes, well, I did promise to keep her away from you,” Billy turned his charm on from ten to one-hundred as usually by that point the girl was ready to slip to her knees, but not her.        “That’s before I found out that the biggest dick is not the one between your legs, but just you.”        “Come on, dollface,” he leaned against the doorway where she’d remained as Nancy had gone to look for Steve and what was taking him so long to get the drinks, “you told me to save you a dance,” Billy said through a sly smile, but his heart dropped to his stomach when she responded, arms crossed over her chest. Usually, when a girl did that, his eyes immediately would flit down to be greeted by a gorgeous sight, but Y/N’s face had none of the light-heartedness that he’d seen in the morning.        “And it turns out, you beat up one of my best friends, and a middle schooler last year. I don’t deal with shitbags like that.”        Billy’s jaw clenched as Y/N turned around and ventured into the kitchen having given up on her two friends to find their way back. They’d meet at some point.        “Yeah, well it was warranted.”        “Really?” she raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow downing a cup of Pure Fuel like it was nothing when even Billy scrunched up his face while drinking that piss. “So, what did Lucas, a thirteen-year-old did so bad that he deserved to be smashed against the wall by practically a grown up?”        He hated being called out like that, the fist at his side balling up in anger as Y/N just stared at him unwavering and steady.        “Thought so,” she muttered, grabbed another drink and ducked under his arm that had been placed by her head        For the first time in his life, he said, “How do I make it better?” as she turned to look at him where he remained in his spot.        “You start with an apology,” and then she was lost between the moving bodies. He’d searched for Y/N throughout the night but was unable to come upon the feisty new-girl-that-was-not-so-new, and somehow, he knew she wouldn’t show up unless things changed.        And though he hated change because nothing good had ever come out of it, he actually tried. The next day after basketball practice Billy had apologized, through gritted teeth and clenched fists, but he had asked Steve’s forgiveness, and that same evening he’d followed Max inside the arcade to see Lucas and say he was sorry.        Despite how he had started off the previous year as the Keg King and the newly crowned King of Hawkins, slowly Billy started to clean up his act. Sure, he never backed down from a fight once he was involved making sure the person knew not to mess with him, but he no longer instigated them, unless it was warranted, and the walls he had so meticulously built around his heart were broken down brick by brick by a girl with a wide smile and eyes that sparkled like the stars in the sky.        The following summer changed everything though. As he’d gotten a job at the local pool in order to gather a bit of money for when he’d skip town for California, an alien from another dimension had taken control of his body. It was right after their eight-month anniversary as he’d taken Y/N to see Terminator because of her incessant begging, his world had been turned upside down. Literally.        Billy was basically a prisoner in his own mind, made to watch how his hands had wrapped around Y/N’s throat at one point and squeezed so hard that she’d passed out. It was Eleven’s harsh slam of telekinetic power that sent him through the concrete wall of the boy’s locker room at the pool, that somewhat allowed him to understand what was happening.        But it was far from over. Only when the Mind Flayer had brought its monster to the mall, Eleven limply hanging over his shoulder as he placed her on the floor did his eyes snap to the back of the court and zeroed in on his girlfriend’s face. More so the blue-black bruises that adorned her neck like a brutal chain.        Fireworks exploded all around him, and he felt the Mind Flayer recoil in pain from the flashes. It was Y/N firing a shotgun to take its attention off of the incapacitated girl when Billy was able to fully break free from the grasp, it had on him.        Two tentacles latched onto his sides, but the pain would all be worth it if he could make it right. He’d been the one to screw everything up. He had to make it right.        One that was aimed dead centre on his heart came flying out of its mouth, but it never struck. It hovered in the air a bit, as Billy saw Eleven’s outstretched hand keeping it away, and then next motion was a leaping Y/N with an axe in her hand chopping away at the limbs before the Mind Flayer retreated and stumbled all around as it screeched loudly at the feeling of the Gate being closed.        The last thing Billy saw before the monster the Mind Flayer had created fell dead, was Y/N’s face with tears streaming down it, her gentle palms holding onto his cheeks, and he heard Max calling his name.        He woke up in absolute agony, his sides burning and screaming from where the thing had latched onto him. After having heard Billy’s whimpering, Y/N’s head shot up from where she’d fallen asleep and called for a nurse. As he was sedated once more, he had dozed off to the soft whispers of her voice telling him it would all be okay. He wasn’t alone. And she’d be right there. His father hadn’t even visited, but Y/N never left. Never would.        And she was right there. Sunglasses pushed up to her forehead and smirking at him, gentle palms having settled on the nasty scars that adorned his sides. Y/N still loved him despite that.        “Trust me,” he groaned coming back to the reality of California and out the memories that had been his senior year and summer in Hawkins. “I wanna do that so bad, and I know I don’t have to do much to have you writhing and panting my name,” Billy leaned down and bit her earlobe, hearing Y/N’s shaky exhale. “And I will when we’re home, don’t you worry… but first, we gotta catch the little monster!”        He flipped around and grabbed at the little girl that had stopped playing in the sand and had decided to sneak up on the pair.        “Daddy, no!” her loud squeals as Billy tickled her sides were echoed by the other kids also laughing somewhere down the beach.        “You think you can sneak up on us and not suffer the consequences?” he gently lifted the toddler in the air and blew raspberries on her stomach making her laugh harder than before.        “Mommy, save me!”        “Sorry, hunny,” Y/N replied placing her sunglasses back on her nose, “I can’t hear you!”        But the girl just laughed harder, and Billy’s smile widened. This was his life now. A kid, a wife, a beautiful apartment that overlooked the beach. He’d gotten his dream despite all the shit that had happened, despite the shit his dad had put him through, calling him worthless and a waste of breath, Billy had proved him wrong.        Well, Neil didn’t know that. The only person in Hawkins he still kept in contact with was Max, who was also the only person in his family that knew about his marriage and baby girl Clara. He wasn’t going to let Neil taint the one pure thing in his life.        “Mommy save me from the tickle monster!” her daughter screamed as she was running to jump in Y/N’s arms, Billy chasing the three-year-old. She was just about to let Clara leap in her lap when her little fingers dug in her own sides, grabbing at the skin and tickling her.        “You traitors!” Y/N laughed seizing her daughter and returning the favor.        That’s how their day went – giggling and relaxing by the beach, with Billy surfing the waves of the Pacific Ocean and helping Clara build sand castles from time to time. As the sun slowly dipped closer to the horizon, they gathered their stuff and placed everything in the Camaro that Billy still couldn’t let go of.        Their cat Thor greeted the trio as they finally arrived home, Y/N having been and still being a nerd in her own right.        “Kitty!” Clara squealed, and the cat dashed away from her grabby hands.        “Come on,” Y/N sighed placing the big beach bag on the floor and putting her daughter on her hip, “let’s go get a bath, otherwise you’ll make the house one big sand pit.”        The apartment was beautiful, and every day Billy marvelled as to how they’d gotten there. He had actually been a really good student despite his antics. His dad would have his ass if his grades dipped down below a B-.    When they arrived in San Diego, he was going to apply for a local auto shop to work as a mechanic, but Y/N had come into their beat-up studio apartment with a flyer that advertised an accountant’s position at the same agency she worked at.        “You’ve always been good with numbers,” she’d mumbled while handing him the flyer. “Why not try and get an interview? It wouldn’t hurt, would it?”        It truly amazed Billy as to how much faith Y/N had in him. She pushed the man to do things that were out of his comfort zone, but never in a violent way. If he said no, she’d back off, though remained encouraging. She was the reason he’d gotten into university in the first place, and she was the reason the two of them were in their final year of it, with him majoring business management and her photography and journalism.        “Okay,” he’d sighed. “I’ll call them up tomorrow.”        He actually had. Y/N had helped him button up his wide-open shirt and made sure he was as presentable as possible.        “Good luck,” she’d leaned over to his side and given him a kiss before bounding off to her own office leaving him to rehearse for the questions that could be asked.       It could’ve gone better but it also could’ve gone worse. A week later he’d had a job offer, and let’s just say, the next day Y/N went to her job with a noticeable limp which her co-workers teased her relentlessly about.        Slowly but steadily they climbed the ranks of the PR company, and a year later, they had enough money to put down a deposit for a beautiful double bedroom apartment that overlooked the Pacific, because by that point, for Billy it was no longer to provide for Y/N and give her the best possible, nor was it to spite Neil who was still doing the odd job in Hawkins. It was to give the bean growing inside of his girlfriend the utmost that he could.        And he had. Billy had made sure of it.    A week after Clara was born, despite his protests that Y/N should not get out of bed and should rest, they went to the courthouse and got married.        Max had been pissed off that she wasn’t invited to the wedding, and that he hadn’t informed her he was a father the second Y/N found out she was pregnant, but Billy had just taken the berating through the phone with a soft smile on his face as he watched his wife give his daughter breakfast.        “You’re not even listening to me are you, shitbag?” Max sighed rolling her eyes.        “Nope,” Billy replied, the smile never fading. “Not one bit.”        That smile hadn’t disappeared even now three years later. As he got ready to prepare them a homemade meal, because both of them had been quite lazy during their time off work, the phone rang.        “Hargrove’s,” he grunted and heard a ‘yeah, no shit,’ from the other side of the line.        “Hello to you too, Maxine.”        “Call me that again, and I’ll knock out your teeth. We’ll see if Y/N likes you when you’re missing some of those pearly whites.” As an almost eighteen-year-old the redhead had sure become even more spunky than he remembered.        Billy heard the water running indicating that Clara was having her bath. “Listen, I don’t have much time, the girls will be out soon, and I haven’t started dinner.”        “Aww,” Max cooed. “Look at what a doting husband you are.”        “Unless you want your skateboard showed down your throat, you’ll shut it, and tell me what’s happening.”        “My graduation’s happening, that’s what… and I was wondering if you and Y/N were coming.”        Of course, Billy remembered that Max was a senior now, but he hadn’t really intended on driving back to Hawkins. Ever. They’d talked about her flying out to California during the summer, but he’d been quite clear he wanted nothing to do with Neil, and unfortunately that meant missing Max’s big day.        “Look,” he heard her sigh, and the water turned off in the bathroom. “I know you didn’t leave things the best way here but… I miss you,” it sounded like it pained Max to say, and Billy smirked, “and I miss Y/N, and I’d really appreciate if you two came.”        He heard the little pitter patter of Clara’s feet as she rushed to the living room and leapt up to the sofa, her tiny body adorned by a Winnie the Pooh robe, and Y/N’s shirt was very much so splashed by soap water.        “Max?” she mouthed in his direction, and he nodded.        “I don’t know if we can afford much more time off or find Clara a nanny in such short notice.” There were only two and a half weeks left until the ceremony, and though it was only half true, they were actually real issues. He knew Y/N was definitely going back, her brother was graduating as well, so he had decided to stay with their daughter while she was there for a bit.        “Then bring her with,” Max whined. “You know I love that little gremlin.”        “Hey, watch your mouth, that’s my gremlin you’re talking about,” but where once there would be animosity in his tone, nothing but love could be heard now. Almost five years away from Neil did wonders. “Besides, I don’t want him anywhere near her, so if we’re going, Clara’s staying in San Diego. You’ll be able to see her when you get here.”       “Fine,” Max grumbled. “Just please call me sometime this week, if you’re coming.”        He sighed and looked over his shoulder where his girls were making them dinner because he’d been preoccupied with the call, Clara holding the jar of sauce. “I’ll talk to Y/N, and we’ll figure something out.”        “Okay,” she sighed in defeat. “Tell your wife and kid I love them. Bye.”        “Yeah, yeah, whatever, bye.”        The thought of seeing Neil or Susan made the rage that had been flushed out of his system years ago, come back with a vengeance, but it melted away the second Clara asked, “Who was that daddy?”        He turned back to face his family and shook his head with a smile, bringing the blonde girl to his lap as Y/N placed plates of spaghetti Bolognese in front of them. “Just Max.”        “Is she coming?” Clara gasped in excitement.        “A bit later in the summer, you know that.”        “But I want now!”        “Clara,” Y/N soothed the toddler that was about to throw a tantrum, but there was a warning edge for her to behave in her tone. “You know Max can’t right now. She’ll finish school, and then she’ll come for a visit.”        But their daughter crossed her tiny arms over her chest and turned away her head when Billy tried to put the food in her mouth. “I hate school. School stupid.”        “Clara! What did we talk about using those kinds of words?” Y/N scolded her.        She didn’t even respond, her Y/E/C eyes looking at the wall.        “Clara,” Billy said her name in a low tone. His temper was always in check around the two, he’d never let anything jeopardize the best thing in his life, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t strict when needed. “Answer your mom.”        “Only grown-ups can use them,” Clara mumbled and accepted the fork of spaghetti, her arms still crossed.        “And are you a grown-up?”        “No,” she grumbled again but it came out unintelligible because of her chewing.        Billy just chuckled as did Y/N. They cleaned their plates in silence, the only other sounds being the honks of cars down in the streets of San Diego before he pulled her out of the chair, and her small fingers wrapped themselves in his curly hair. He’d still kept it long saying it was too much trouble to go to a barber, but he had been considering cutting it, though, in moments like these, where one of his girls softly carded their fingers through the locks, he instantly decided not to.        “Come on, you little Terminator,” he huffed and plopped down on her bed. “Let’s get you to sleep.”        “Monsters?” Clara extended a finger and pointed at her closet. Billy was up and throwing the doors open, pushing her little dresses, shirts and pants aside. If only she knew how real monsters were.        “None.”        “Under the bed?’        Crouching down he looked at the carpeted floor and shook his head. “Nope, not one.”        “Okay,” she said through a sleepy yawn. A few more seconds later, Billy stood up pecked her forehead and whispered a ‘goodnight princess’, but she was already out like a light.        He found Y/N washing up the last of the dishes, and his face immediately fell to the crook of her neck as his arms wrapped around her waist bringing their bodies flush against one another.        “Max asked to come to her graduation?” her fingers were damp with dishwater as she wove them through his placing the last plate to dry on the rack.        “Mhm,” Billy mumbled. “And I wanna go. I actually do, it’s just… I can’t’ have him ruin the one good thing in my life. I can’t have that asshole taint this…”       He meant his new life. Neil hadn’t even met Y/N properly, just seen how she had climbed in Billy’s car one time, and once his son had come back from his date, regarded to her as just ‘one of his new sluts’, so there was no way Billy would let him anywhere near his wife.        “He won’t,” she had turned to face him now, running a cold thumb across his cheek. “Not if you let him. We’ll be there for Max and Alex and all of those other little shitheads. Not for Neil or anyone else.”        He knew Y/N was right, as always. Well, except that one time they’d run off to the beach, and she’d been so confident she could surf but then on the first try had plopped into the water as if she was a baby deer just learning how to walk.        “You know how he gets under my skin,” Billy let out a shaky sigh, gripping on Y/N’s hips a bit tighter to ground himself. “I hate the person I become when he’s around.”        “Not gonna lie, I don’t like that Billy either,” she mumbled in his shoulder. “But that’s why I’m gonna be there every step of the way, and I won’t let him hurt you.”        Billy let out a sad snort. “I should be the one saying that to you.”        “Yes, well, I kinda get pissed off when someone I love is either upset or being hurt. Demogorgon, shit friends, a shittier father… things don’t end well for them.”        “I love you, you know that right?” he muttered pulling back and looking into Y/N’s eyes. Clara’s eyes.        “Yeah, I do, you absolute softie,” her lips were like clouds, gentle and fluttery as they skimmed over his. “I love you too.”        “Do you think we could get Jess to watch Clara on such short notice?” Billy referred to the high schooler they always hired if they wanted to have a date night or had a company thing.        “I’m sure she won’t mind.”        “Fuck,” Billy groaned letting his forehead rest against Y/N’s. “And here I thought I could leave Hawkins behind.”       He felt her shoulders lift as she shrugged. “It has a disgusting way of pulling people back. But I think that one time it did, somehow things turned out better in the end. Maybe it won't be bad this time around either.” Her smile was faint, but it was there as she remembered meeting the boy who’d become her life.       “Can’t deny that.”        But as Billy connected his lips to Y/N’s his hands hoisting her legs around his hips and carried them to their bedroom, something in Hawkins was stirring awake. Something evil and craving to destroy.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @sweet-ladyy @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan

A/N: My first Billy fic :) I just wanted to write this cause I think there was so much they could do with that character and to be quite honest I’m a bit upset about him being axed off :D But I do gotta say - Stranger Things has more balls than Game of Throne. don’t come for me please :D

This might be a 2 parter 3 parter or even a mini-series, but we’ll see how things go. If you wanna be tagged, drop a message :)

Also, I wanna say sorry to those who saw spoilers on my blog. It was not my intention, and I completely forgot to tag the reblogs that contained them. Again, didn’t want to ruin that for you, but it was an honest mistake done at 3am. 

P.S. what did ya think?

P.S.S. if you wanna be added to the taglist or removed, please drop a message :)

[the-odd-job]

astridkolch replied to your post: “astridkolch replied to your photo: “Tobias,...”

Everything and anything. Let the beast come out, lol 

Read more! Because this’ll get long.

For starters, his full name is Tobias Draken Ilsilla, and as a random fun fact, the -lla ending in Gwandanan surnames is kind of like the -nen ending in Finnish surnames, in that it’s absolutely EVERYWHERE and the vast majority of surnames end in it. Tobias is no exception, obvs.

BUT WHO IS HE AND WHAT IS HE LIKE. He’s not too dissimilar to Sideswipe in that he’s very happy go lucky, but unlike Sideswipe sometimes, he can also get serious at the snap of fingers and doesn’t get swept into the search of fun and excitement the same way Sideswipe does. He’s more grounded and... Reasonable I guess is a good word. He LOVES physical activities though. Yeah, he can sit down and chill, but he’s happiest exerting himself and has always excelled at physical activities, not due to natural talent, but just because he’ll bust his ass off and has a blast while at it. He’s the one that’s gonna be running around the racetrack for ages and doesn’t seem to tire no matter what he does, because he’s just done so much that his stamina is through the roof. That translates into his feline form as well, no surprise there.

As well as that, he’s big on nature and nature conservation and the whole “live in harmony with nature” spiel. Which isn’t an uphill battle to take on on Pangeia, since the humans are very eco conscious already and take a lot better care of their planet than humans on Earth do.

He is an introvert though. Not shy, he acts reasonably outgoing and handles himself in social situations just fine, but he loses mental spoons while at it. He finds Sideswipe particularly troublesome because Sideswipe is just the most extroverted of all extroverts and has endless social energy and zeal, so while Tobias does like Sideswipe a lot and can spend a lot of time with him, he kind of needs some significant downtime afterwards. Not always easy with how close the twins are, but he manages and Sunstreaker knows about the whole situation and will try to arrange some alone time for either just Tobias, or for Sunstreaker and Tobias.

Anyway yeah, he’s good friends with Sideswipe and they’re both playful and enjoy jesting around together.

With Sunstreaker, Tobias balances out Sunstreaker’s semi-seriousness and dry sense of humor by being very understanding of Sunstreaker’s stances and views while adding his own spice into all interactions and easing tensions that easily form with how intense Sunstreaker is. A similar role to what Sideswipe takes, there. He’s also of similar physical ability as Sunstreaker/the twins, and can keep up with Sunstreaker and vice versa, and they can effectively tire each other out where many others will just tire long before they do.

Tobias isn’t prone to being overtly chatty though. Rather, if someone’s talking with him, he’ll chat right back with matching exuberance, but if someone’s quiet, like Sunstreaker tends to be, then Tobias is perfectly content being quiet too. And where Sunstreaker is very selfish, Tobias is very selfless. Not just with Sunstreaker, although Sunstreaker gets the most of it on account of their partnership, but really with everyone. He’s a reasonably kind individual, but he can be very mean without any pangs of conscience if he feels he or someone he cares about was slighted. He doesn’t have a temper though, so while he can get into physical altercations and isn’t opposed to them, it’s not because he just snapped and saw red like has a habit of happening to Sunstreaker. He’s just... Willing to completely throw down with someone, even if he doesn’t look for excuses to do so. He loves sparring though. Like, even very violent sparring that leaves the participants bloody. He doesn’t shy away from pain and in general he’s a pretty brave individual, and gathers even more courage from Sunstreaker, while also being levelheaded enough to make Sunstreaker think twice about something Sunstreaker and/or Sideswipe want to do that goes kinda beyond fearless and into the land of stupid.

And obviously, Tobias is a shifter, hence why he was so buff and generally well developed even as a teenager, which is what age he’d be in the pic. He dresses really casually and in kinda ragged manner sometimes, which drives Sunstreaker absolutely nuts. Sunstreaker also hates his hair and would love nothing more than for him to take some actual care of it, but naaaaah just let it grow and tussle it up a bit.

Basically Sunstreaker thinks he looks better as a cat. Sunstreaker was never mean about it though even if Tobias knew that was what Sunstreaker thought, so he could just joke about it without having to worry about Sunstreaker trying to force him into a mold of Sunstreaker’s making. 

Speaking of shifting, Tobias was the first of their year to finish his transformation and was ahead of the others several months even though he’s younger than most of them, having born towards the end of the year. His parents both had partners, so he was always pretty familiar with that lifestyle. His parents also got him tested for shifting when he was just a baby, and didn’t hide that fact from him, so he’s always known he’s a shifter. He’s pretty accepting of that fact and will just say there’s no point in considering the alternative of being a stayer, since he, you know, isn’t one. He’s pretty tall as both human and feline, taller than the twins, and the twins aren’t exactly short either. As a human he was a bit lanky too, bit he mostly grew out of that as a feline.

He was born and raised in a town on the smaller side, some ways away from any big cities, to parents named Ilse Ilsilla and Theo Alevavilla. However, once military school started, both him and the twins were assigned to a school at an approximate halfway point from where they both lived, so at the campus they’re all pretty far from their childhood homes. 

Like most students, Tobias was kind of terrified of Megatron (and his partner) and not the happiest camper around when Sideswipe started chasing him, even less so when Sunstreaker joined in and suddenly they’re dating and that is honestly the absolute worst, what’s he supposed to do around them when he has no idea how he’s supposed to address someone that high ranking that’s also dating his partner. Kind of a mess if you ask him, but obviously Megatron and the twins keep at it and Tobias just... Kind of learns to live with it even if he never loses that fear mixed respect he feels for Megatron.

After twins and Megatron have started dating, the twins and Tobias graduate and are assigned to the front where they spend some time putting all their training to good use. Unfortunately Tobias eventually ends up injured pretty badly, and while the promise is that he’ll return to full health eventually with very few physical reminders of what happened, it’s a process that will take quite a bit of time and physical therapy, so him and Sunstreaker are reassigned and Sideswipe requests to go with them. They return to the school, this time in teaching roles while Tobias tries to regain his health. The twins and Megatron proceed to get married in that time and Tobias is there at the wedding like. I guess this is happening. Help.

And Megatron and the twins are perfectly happy, nothing with that, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have their arguments, sometimes pretty heated ones, just because both Megatron and Sunstreaker have big tempers and Sideswipe doesn’t always manage to smooth everything out. As such, Sunstreaker spends some nights with Tobias, ranting about Megatron while Tobias gets to offer a listening ear and enjoy Sunstreaker’s company.

The relationship between him and Sunstreaker is never romantic, as that of partners rarely is, and it’s never sexual either. Tobias has actually never had sex in his whole life. Not because he wouldn’t have had the opportunities, he’s just... Kind of wanted to reserve that for someone really special. So far he hasn’t found anyone, but he’s not too bummed over that. There’s still time, and he always has Sunstreaker.

Unfortunately his playlist is very short for now:

Skillet -  Feel Invincible

Drum Tao - High Hopes

I was actually surprised with how easy he was to draw after he finally agreed to tell me what he looks like. Like, obviously I didn’t go into too much care with him, but that I got him done into one evening at all was rather impressive for me. I was a bit undecided on the eyes ‘cause the color options for those would’ve been pale blue, pale grey, or the dark brown I ultimately went with. But he gets striking eyes as a feline so it’s nbg if he has just basic brown eyes as a human. I didn’t necessarily let them be as dark as they’re supposed to be ‘cause they’d need to be dark enough to be near black, but eh. Practice makes perfect.

And his skin was originally a little lighter so I had to fix it ‘cause he’s supposed to have a reasonably dark skin.

[bekahfics]

Plenty

"The week was going poorly." An exhausting week has the left the members banged up and in need of some Advil, hugs, and a good rest. Luckily they have each other.

(also can be found on ao3!) 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The week was going poorly. Concert after concert had left all of the members exhausted and in want of some much needed food and rest. And yet the following evening they had found themselves in the gym. The trainers were usually insistent that they needed to keep their fitness up or things would just get harder. They would have a twelve hour flight to sleep on the following day anyway.

However, Jimin was quickly turned away by the trainer. His neck was heavily taped and the managers had seen him down muscle relaxers and Advil in the car earlier.

“I will be fine. A bit of soreness won’t kill me.” Jimin whined as the team trainer pushed him towards the door by the small of his back.

“For the love of God, I can feel the tense muscles in your back and you can hardly turn your head at all. Not to mention you were limping on your way in here. You think we can’t see all the tape under your shirt and sweats.” The stern eyes of the trainer bore into his skin.

“But I-”

“No buts; off to the pool with you. Stretch a bit. Take it easy.”

“I’m just a tad tired. I really think I will be fine. I’ll lift lighter weights and I’ll skip running if you really do-” He brought forth his best puppy dog eyes.

“Jimin. Bed or pool. Those are your options.” Jimin had a feeling he wasn’t going to win this battle.

“Pool…” Jimin murmured trudging towards the door.

“Good. The hot tub should relax your muscles a bit.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t come up with much of an argument. The trainer was right. His muscles ached and pulsed. His neck was stiff and immobile. The trainer's hand had left a residual throb in his back, even from the soft touch.  He could barely hide his limp as he wobbled out of the weight room and towards the elevator to retrieve his swim trunks.

As he rounded the corner he slammed into a tall body. Jimin crumpled to the floor with a soft cry. The strong arms of manager Sejin caught him before he hit the floor. Though it didn’t save him from the pulsing pain of his neck as it whipped backwards.

“Shit, you ok? I was just looking for you. Trainer said you would need your suit.” Sejin’s voice was deep, and perfectly soothing to the exhausted singer. He melted into his side as tears began to stream down his cheeks.

It was only then that Yoongi spoke up. Jimin had yet to notice him standing beside their manager. He had been too busy falling to the floor to see his second eldest hyung.

“Oh Minnie, you want to go back upstairs and lay down? Hyung will come with...”

Jimin released another hitching sob. He hurt. Even with the support of his manager, his bad knee trembled beneath his weight. His neck and shoulder pulsed beneath layers of athletic tape and muscle creams. And now he was going to get out of shape and gain weight and disappoint everyone and-

“N-no. I just want to go to the gym.” He drew in a deep breath as his cheeks heated with the embarrassment of crying, not only in front of his hyung and manager, but in the middle of a hotel for no reason. He wasn’t dying. He was fine.

“Sorry. S-sorry. I’m just going to go get my swimming trunks.” Jimin dragged his hand across his eyes in a desperate attempt to minimize the salt on his cheeks.

“Hey,” Yoongi stepped forward, drawing his dongsaeng into an uncharacteristic hug. His grasp was firm but gentle on the younger’s aching form. “It’s alright. We have your swimsuit. And I’m not allowed at the gym either.”

The bulk of Yoongi’s shoulder brace was suddenly so apparent to Jimin. His hyung must have been banned from the gym session also. He burrowed his face into his hyung’s chest and wiped the salt from his eyes. Yoongi's breath was warm on his neck and his hand circled pleasantly over taunted muscles.

“It’s ok.” Yoongi’s voice rasped in his ear. The familiar lilt of Gyeongsang satoori eased the anxious pounding of blood in Jimin’s ears. “Let’s go swim, okay?”

Jimin rubbed the bottom of his nose with the pudgy side of his index finger. Sejin nudged the orange material of his bathing suit into the crook of his arm.

“Yeah… yeah. Ok. Let’s go swim.” Jimin resisted the urge to nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The water lapped at their chins as they swam. The indoor pool was filled with steam from the hot tub in the corner, and the humid air eased the dryness of Jimin’s throat. As he floated in the shallow end of the pool, Jimin couldn’t help but sigh.

Yoongi was swimming lazily a few feet away. His brace was off but a handful of athletic tape remained, though Jimin knew his shoulder pain wouldn’t be eased by it. The car accident he had been in during debut had left him with horrific nerve pain. Some days he was mercifully without pain, and others the burning sensation spread from his neck down to his fingertips and through his spine. Going by the stubborn wrinkle between his brows and his pouty lips, it seemed today was a rather bad day.

Jimin slipped beneath the cool water and paddled his way towards his hyung. He flung water into his face and giggled as Yoongi sputtered. The pair began to splash aggressively, bursting into the laughter at the distraught sight of one another's face as they squinted through water droplets and aching shoulders.

“Hey!” Yoongi cried as Jimin sent a wave of water cascading over his head.

The pool door slammed shut and the splashing immediately ceased as the youngest walked into the room with manager Sejin guiding him. Jungkook’s nose was flushed red and tears clung to his cheeks. The boys watched anxiously as he was settled on a sun chair, laying on his stomach with his head hidden in his arms.

The elder members exchanged worried glances as they made their way towards the edge of the pool. They clung to the edge, allowing the water to take the weight off their joints and splashing ever so slightly, Sejin began to guide the massage tool over the maknae’s legs. Though they all knew the instrument (jokingly called “The Hammer '' amongst the team for it’s odd appearance) greatly eased muscle pain, it hurt in the moment.

Jimin turned to Yoongi, eyes wide with pity. Yoongi sighed in understanding.

It appeared that half the team had been banished to the pool.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook moaned into his forearm as his manager massaged his legs. His head pounded with exhaustion. His half assed work out had only lasted about five minutes before the trainer had forced him out of the gym.

He had run out of tears a few minutes ago and could only manage a pitiful sniffle when Sejin asked if he was ok.

“All done Jungkookie. Go get dressed, alright?” Sejin offered him a hand.

Jungkook peeled his burning eyes open. He must have dozed off in the lounger. As he dragged himself to his feet, Jungkook could feel the eyes of his hyungs searing into his back. His cheeks flushed red but he accepted the swimsuit from his manager before trudging off to the changing room, rubbing his eyes gently.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“He’s alright.” Sejin said preemptively, turning back to the other members. “ I was working out with Taehyung but the trainer called me over.”

“Is he hurt?” Jimin’s brow furrowed with worry and his full lips tugged downward at the corners.

“Exhausted. Sore. Overworked. He just needs some time off. We thought a bit of splashing in the pool might help. The warm water might ease some of the pain too. I was thinking that the other mem-”

As Jungkook wobbled back into the room, goggles dangling from his wrist, the conversation faded.

“Hi Kookie! Come swim with us!” Jimin invited enthusiastically, splashing some water towards his dongsaeng playfully.

Jungkook set towards the edge of the pool, attempting to dive in, he broke the surface of the water. His aching muscles wouldn’t cooperate. The water splashed over the edge of the pool. But he swam quickly towards his hyungs and crashed into Yoongi’s open arms.

“Oh, it’s alright. You’re ok.” Yoongi crooned into the youngest’s ear. It was clear that he was exhausted. Though they avoided babying him, in times like these Jungkook’s wide eyes and big nose overtook those unspoken rules. “Shh, it’ll pass. It’s alright.”

“Let’s swim a bit then we will get some Advil and food. Maybe some ice…” Jimin ran a hand through Jungkook's drenched hair, pushing the bangs from his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook took a shaky breath. “let’s just swim.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Half an hour later, Yoongi had finished all of his physical therapy exercises and Jimin was completing the last of his stretches on the kiddie step of the pool. Jungkook floated across the deep end of the pool, long limbs spread wide like a starfish.

Though they were chatting idly, the room was filled with an overwhelming peace. The scent of chlorine and aloe hung in the air.

Yoongi had volunteered to massage Jimin’s neck, he could manage it just fine with his good arm and the younger was clearly hurting. Initially Jimin had agreed happily, now he regretted it. Another moan escaped his mouth as his fingers dug into an especially tender spot.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi muttered, easing the pressure of his touch, “All done.”

“S’ok. It feels good… mostly.” Jimin was ready for a nap, or a new body. The swim had eased some of the tension but none of the pain. He was ready for another dose of painkillers.

It seemed that Yoongi was too, as he reached into the pocket of his discarded sweats for a beat up sleeve of pills. He popped two out and swallowed hard to down them without water.

“Thank you, hyungie” Jimin said softly as he settled back into the deeper water. He gave his knee a good rub as he gently shifted some weight on the swollen joint.

Yoongi hummed in acknowledgement as he squirmed his way across the step into the shallow end of the pool.

They floated in peace with only their faces and toes peeking up above the water. Jungkook could feel the tension leaving his shoulders. The water was perfect. Warm enough to be comfortable but not nearly warm enough to feel hot.

The peace was quickly ruined when the handle of the door slammed into the wall and four sweaty boys hurled themselves half clothed into the pool. Hoseok and Jin landed just next to Jungkook, submerging him in their wakes. Taehyung had penciled jumped in softly, settling next to Yoongi with hardly a splash. The last one in, Namjoon had hurtled himself into the pool and landed just on top of Jimin’s feet.

The dancer was dragged underwater by his hyung’s weight and his shrill of pain was hidden in a trail of bubbles. He clawed his way to the surface and clung to the edge of the pool. His knee pulsed from the unforeseen attack, Jimin had just managed to cough up the water in his lungs, when he noticed Namjoon’s large hand patting his back and his other arm snaked around his waist to hold him up.

“Shit I’m so sorry. I should have been more careful. I just didn’t realize I was going to go so far when I jumped and, ” Namjoon blubbered his apology.

“Hyung,” Jimin rasped, effectively cutting him off. “It’s alright. You didn’t mean to.”

“Can I do anything? I know your knee is messed up and that definitely didn’t help.”

“I think I’m going to go lay in the hot tub for a bit. Trainer thought it might help. The hot water.”

“Honestly, we should all do that.” Hoseok piped up from the other side of the pool where he was now floating beside Jungkook on a pool noodle.

Namjoon kept his hand tucked around Jimin’s waist, bearing as much of his weight as possible, as the pair limped across the pool deck.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once settling in the hot tub, an unusual silence overtook the group. Jimin nestled up to a jet in the wall, allowing the gushing water to ease his back pain. Jungkook seemed to have a similar idea, though he was half asleep on Jin’s shoulder by the time the whole group had settled into the tub.

“ Tough day, huh?” Taehyung awkwardly broke the silence.

“Hmmhmm, but we will endure. That’s what tylenol is for afterall.” Yoongi contributed.

“I’m more of an Advil guy myself.”

“Same here, Tae.” Jimin piped up. “Besides Yoongi hyung, you don’t take over the counter painkiller anymore.”

“Right. Only the strong stuff for our hyungie!” Tae wiggled his eyebrows in an overdramatization of seduction.

“It’s not my fault they don’t do anything for the nerve pain” Yoongi pouted. “You make it sound like I’m sort of a drug addict!”

The members exchanged glances before bursting into laughter. It would take a lot of Advil and ice to get everyone to sleep soundly tonight. And perhaps a few managers to lean on before they got to their rooms at all. But for now, there was the hot tub, the laughter, and each other. Pain or no pain; Jimin though that was plenty.

[millie-ionaire05]

Saudade - Ot 7 | 09

Ot7 BTS

Genre: Psychological Thriller

Rating: M (Mature)

word count: 2,188

Trigger Warnings: Hospitalization (rehab, mental institute). Mental health issues (Text Reason to 741741 if you need to reach out for help). Insinuated M x M (if you squint hard enough). Substance abuse (alcohol, pills | call 1-800-662-4357 if you are dealing with this). Weapons (gun, knife). Smoking (cigarettes, weed). Mentions of suicide/attempted suicide (National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255). Violence (murder/attempted murder). Mentions of blood. Mentions of therapy sessions (these are not accurate representations, please leave it to proper professionals). Mentions of physical abuse (Call 1-800-799-7233 if you are dealing with domestic violence) WE DO NOT GLORIFY THESE WARNINGS/TRIGGERS; THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY, AND DOES NOT RELATE TO ANY OF THE MEMBERS. IF YOU ARE DEALING WITH ANY OF THESE, PLEASE REACH OUT TO YOUR LOCAL AUTHORITIES FOR ASSISTANCE, OR THE NUMBERS LISTED ABOVE.

↤ Previous | 09 | Next ↦

January 14th, 2018 | 15:20

   “I think he’s starting to remember.”

   Yoongi’s words reverberate like a threat in his brain as he downs another bottle of soju, disregarding the shot glass he’d previously been using. The desire to quiet the voice overrides the need to take things slow. Namjoon stumbles, colliding softly with the wall. He shifts, his back sliding clumsily down until his ass hits the ground and he releases the bottle, hearing it roll across the floor a bit from him.

   From his pocket he pulls out the drawing Yoongi had brought and his heart begins to thrum furiously beneath his ribs. A smudge of the graphite used tints his fingers as he unfurls the paper. Swallowing hard, he stares at the dark image, the strokes seemingly etched hurriedly on the page as if the artist felt the inspiration would disappear from his mind before he could finish it.

  As he continues to stare, the raven becomes a blur, Namjoon’s eyes beginning to lose focus. Could things have been different if he had tried more? If he had intervened and forced them to talk it out, would things not have gone so far? Would they all not be so estranged from each other?

   Letting his head fall back as despair washes over him, he turns to gaze over at the afternoon light streaming into his place from two square windows high above a small table and chair set against the container wall. In his peripheral vision, he makes out the tattooing needle, ink and supplies he has stored in that area and sits up, eyes widening slightly. He stumbles up onto his feet, sauntering over unsteadily before plopping down into the chair, his mind now locked on one thought only.

   Tattoo the bird as tribute.

   Even in his inebriated state, he doesn't worry about making a mistake. This was the one thing he was good at. His fingers are nimble, steady as he opens a new needle and attaches it to the nail gun along with the ink. An incessant buzzing soon fills the quiet space as his brows furrow in concentration.

   He barely feels the pain of the needle as it rapidly punctures his flesh repeatedly, delivering the black ink to the space beneath his skin. At the faint sound of police sirens in the far distance, a memory from the prior year comes to the forefront as he focuses on each line and stroke. A memory of him and Taehyung as they’d been tagging a concrete hedge in the middle of the night. After a few drinks, the two had grown bored, looking for something to do. Taehyung had brought a few cans of spray paint and suggested they add a bit of art to the playground not too far from where they were. He hadn’t really been down for that, but Taehyung had insisted and he didn’t want him to go alone. It wasn’t long before they had reached the spot and Taehyung began spray painting the area.

   They chuckled and teased each other as Tae colored the cement, both too busy enjoying themselves to notice the police car patrolling the area. Blue and red lights flashed across the wall, alerting Namjoon first. Straightening, eyes-wide, he tapped Taehyung’s arm, his chin jutting out to the area behind him, simultaneously snatching up his younger friend’s backpack. Taehyung turned, mouth and eyes turning into large O’s before the two began to run.

   Though their feet pumped swiftly, eating up the pavement, they were no match for the police and were soon caught, the officers none too gentle as they slammed them against their vehicle. Namjoon couldn’t help but grin over at Taehyung as the cuffs clicked into place around his wrists. Taehyung returned the gesture with a boxy smile of his own, even as one of the officers opened his bag, the spray cans spilling out onto the asphalt below. His smile dissipates as the officer grows rougher with Namjoon, yanking him harshly, hurting his arm as they straighten him up. It was then that Namjoon noticed the shift in Taehyung’s eyes go from mirthful to worried.

   He had been concerned with how the officer was treating Namjoon, but he had also come to realize that his parents would be notified of his arrest and were not going to take it well. Especially his father. Taehyung’s father was very strict and was known for physically showing his displeasure in the way of bruises and nicks that would decorate his skin.

   Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as if to clear the images from his mind. Letting out a heavy breath, he stands, walking towards a tall floor mirror he has leaning against the opposite wall. He’d placed it there for his clients to check out the ink he’d apply to them. Namjoon turns his forearm towards the mirror, twisting his wrist left and right as he takes in the image he’d permanently etched there.

   A lump forms in his throat, as he remembers receiving a frantic phone call from Jin just a few days after Taehyung and he had been arrested.

   “Slow down, Jin-hyung. I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Namjoon urged.

   He could hear Jin take in a breath and let it out before he made another attempt to convey his message.

   “It’s Taehyung,” he began again, his voice shaking terribly. “He...Jesus, he tried to kill himself, man.”

   “What?!” Namjoon exclaimed, his heart falling with a thud into the pit of his stomach.

   “Look, we’re nearby,” he’d informed him. “Can-can I just bring him over? I can’t do this on my own.”

   “Yeah, yeah.”

   “Just have a towel and some clothes ready...for both of us.”

   “Wha…”

   But Jin had hung up without elaborating and after a few seconds of staring at his phone, random scenarios accosting his mind, he’d sprang into action, grabbing towels and clothes for Jin and Taehyung. And he’d been right. It had not taken but about ten minutes for them to reach his place.

   After Jin had pounded on his door, Namjoon opened up to the sight of Jin holding up their younger friend. Taehyung raised his head slowly, his cobalt blue hair plastered to his head and face. He moved as if his head weighed tons, his eyes meeting Namjoons almost reluctantly. The dark orbs swam with guilt and exhaustion. Snapping to, he reached forward to help Jin bring Taehyung in.

   The two assisted Tae with undressing and drying up. There was a lavender tint to his lips, his face pallid and devoid of it’s usual tanned color. His skin was icy to the touch. Namjoon shivered fearfully. They dressed him quickly and Namjoon had to bite his tongue to keep from demanding what had happened. He led him to his sofa bed while Jin went into the bathroom to switch into dry clothes.

   Taehyung didn’t speak as he crawled onto the pull out bed, his eyes already fluttering closed as his head touched down on the pillow. Namjoon tucked a thick blanket around him, squeezing his shoulder gently before straightening up. Jin was just stepping out of the bathroom, his dark brown hair slightly dishevelled.

   “Can we talk outside?” Jin questioned, glancing over at Taehyung’s presumably sleeping form.

   Namjoon nodded and grabbed coats for both of them. Zipping them up, they stepped outside, puffs of steam expelling from their mouths as they met the cool Spring evening.

   As the door clicked behind him, Namjoon could no longer wait for the details, demanding, “What happened?” Jin ran both of his hands through his hair in exasperation, his usually plump lips pressed tightly together in a thin grave line.

   “My being there was just pure chance, ya know?” he started, head shaking as he paced back and forth. “I keep trying not to think about how differently this night would have turned out had I not had the fucking sudden urge to go night fishing.”

   “Jin-hyung,” Namjoon insisted. “Just tell me what happened.” He paused, staring at Najmoon, his eyes full of terror.

   “Like I said, I went to the pier to go night fishing, fish bite good in this type of weather.” He closed his eyes, trying to get himself back on track. “Anyway, I had casted my line when I saw the moonlight gleam off of something in the water. At first, I just thought it was a dolphin, but it wasn’t moving. I turned my flashlight towards the object and realized it was a person. I didn’t even think twice. I took off my clothes and jumped in.”

   “Jesus,” Namjoon swiped a hand down his face in surprise.

   “I couldn’t really see their face, I just grabbed them and swam with them to the water's edge. Once on shore, and we were beneath a street lamp, the blood drained out of my body when I saw it was Taehyung. He was so pale, his lips blue. God, I panicked for a moment, but it was just a moment. I performed CPR on him and it worked, obviously,” his hand signaled towards the door.

   “How did he end up in the water?!” Namjoon exclaimed.

   “When he came to, he didn’t want to say, but he finally admitted he had climbed up the scaffolding and jumped in. Since he doesn’t know how to swim, he was hoping he would drown.”

   “What? Why?”

   Jin shook his head, “He said he didn’t want to be a disgrace to his family.”

   “Shit,” Namjoon cursed, biting at his lower lip. “His father must have reamed him pretty badly for him to want to go to this extreme.”

   “Yea,” Jin agreed, stuffing his hands into the pockets of the coat.

   “Look, I’ll take care of him tonight,” Namjoon dropped a comforting hand on Jin’s shoulder. “Go home, get some rest. I’ll talk to him. He’s going to be ok.”

   Jin nodded, “Ok. I’ll call in the morning to check up on you two.”

   Jin had left then and when Namjoon re-entered his home, Taehyung’s eyes were open, staring out, unseeing.

   “Tae?” Namjoon called softly, and his eyes refocused and landed on him. “You’re ok. You’re safe now.”

   “He told you,” he whispered, despondently.

   “Of course he did,” Namjoon sat down cross-legged before Taehyung. “We are all brothers after all and we don’t keep things from each other.”

   “Yeah,” he sighed.

   “You want to tell me what happened?” Namjoon probed. “I mean, what made you want to do this?”

   Taehyung drew his body into the fetal position, his brows drawing down tightly.

   “My...my dad didn’t take my arrest too well,” he admitted. “He beat me when I came home and told me I was a disgrace and had brought dishonor to our family. I figured killing myself would restore my family’s honor.”

   Namjoon’s eyes glittered with unshed tears, as he tried to remain strong for his young friend.

   “No. Killing yourself will not restore your family’s honor, Taehyungie,” he told him softly. “Living an honorable life will. Don’t do anything to get arrested again and work hard. That’s all you have to do. Can you promise me that?”

   Taehyung sighed, but nodded. “I promise.”

   “OK then. Let’s get some sleep.”

   Putting down a comforter on the floor, Namjoon curled up underneath a blanket next to the sofa bed, and slept knowing Taehyung was alive and well next to him.

   Namjoon picks up the soju bottle he’d released earlier and throws it angrily at the mirror. What had happened to their brotherhood and their promise to never keep things from each other? The glass shatters, falling in a glittering cascade at his feet. He looks down, his reflection a broken image across hundreds of shards. He catches sight of the white lily tattoo on his other forearm that he’d previously given himself.

   “Namjoon, listen, it’s Jin,” his hyung sighs heavily into the phone. “I got a missed call from Taehyung earlier. He’s been arrested again. He asked me not to tell you, but you know what happened last time and I couldn’t…. You have to get him out. We can’t let his parent’s find out this time.”

   Namjoon replays the voicemail left the previous night, cursing himself for drinking that night and not bothering to charge his phone.

   Namjoon takes the picture of the bird and walks to his kitchen to grab another drink, whiskey this time, pouring it into a short glass. Pulling a lighter from his pocket, he brings the sheet towards it as he flicks it open. The paper instantly kindles, growing brighter as the flame licks up the dry surface. Namjoon’s eyes follow the chard edge as it swallows up the initials that had been scribbled on the back. When there is nothing but a corner left, he drops it into the amber liquid. As the hiss quiets, he brings the alcohol to his lips. The ash and whisky slide down past his lips to mingle in his gut with the beer and soju he had previously drunk. Jin's pale face flashes before his eyes just as he passes out in a heap on the floor.