#so it stayed untouched for half a year until i finished it right now

[smimon]

Giant K series #24: aren't giants monsters?

This is a pretty dramatic and bittersweet episode, a kind of "doubt and reassurance" scenario. But it ends well 😊

Bonus epilogue

[confused-pyramid]

Coming Up For Air | s1

pairing: aaron hotchner x childhood bsf!reader

summary: Hotch and his childhood best friend working together at the BAU: a slow burn across the seasons.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: canon!typical violence, mentions of abuse, death of a spouse, slow slow slow burn, specific episodes mentioned in this part are 1x01, 1x06, 1x07, 1x08, 1x15, 1x16, and 1x22

a/n: I started rewatching Criminal Minds from the beginning, and this is what came out of it heh. This is the first part in a little series I'm starting that follows Hotch and his childhood best friend in the BAU, beginning with the pilot. If all goes well, this will continue through the rest of the show, with ~1 part per season :) Title is from Coming up for air by Signals in Smoke

series masterlist

You haven't used your oven in over a year. It's not that you don't like cooking - because you do - you just haven't had the time. If you could, you would blame it on the extra hours you have had to put in after starting at the BAU, but that wouldn't be fair. Your transfer to the unit was the only thing that got you through his death at all.

After your husband was shot and killed in action while tailing a kingpin of one of the New York mobs, you couldn't bear to be in this house at all. You had gone back home to stay with your father for a couple of months, but eventually you had to get back to your real life. With a month remaining on your bureau-mandated leave, you returned to the home you had shared, before one of the lower-level mob soldiers misfired -

You didn't let yourself think about it for almost a year, but time heals all wounds. The poets were right. At least you hope they are.

Even back at home, you still couldn't bear to be there alone, other than when you were sleeping. That's why your peloton was gathering dust and your kitchen went untouched, until just now.

So, of course, the call from the office comes when you're making dinner. It takes five minutes to change into slacks and a button-up, and two more to toss your half-cooked vegetables in the trash, before driving down to headquarters.

A fourth girl has been taken in Seattle, and the local PD only now decided to invite your team. You know the BAU isn't well-liked by the other departments, but that doesn't mean you aren't effective.

When you enter the building, you rush through the I.D. check and jog over to the lecture hall, where Morgan and Reid are standing outside of a neighboring office like children waiting for their father to come and get them.

Shooting them both a thin-lipped smile, you step inside just as they finish discussing the unsub's pattern.

"They want you back in the saddle," Hotch says to the man beside him after greeting you with a nod.

Your eyes are so immediately drawn to Hotch that it takes you a moment to realize that you recognize the man standing next to him. You haven't seen him since the day you were assigned to the BAU, mostly because you were technically transferred to this unit because of his extended leave.

What was supposed to be one month became six, before Hotch informed you that your temporary placement would be permanent, if you were willing to stay in Virginia.

It was a no-brainer.

You turn your gaze to Jason Gideon as everyone in the room stares at him expectantly. He looks self-assured, but you're sure the confidence is a front. "They sure they want me?"

"The order came from the director," Hotch says simply.

"Well," Gideon states, "we'd better get started, then."

Hotch glances over at you as everyone files out of the room and you raise your eyebrows momentarily, a quick check-in between the two of you. He nods imperceptibly and it's enough for now. He didn't tell you Gideon was coming back today, but now isn't the time to give him hell for that.

***

Hotch is the last to board the plane, and he takes his usual seat beside you, this time in the aisle, a few rows away from the rest of the team.

"I was going to tell you," he says as soon as you close the case file in your hands. "The section chief wants me to evaluate him to see if he's ready to return to the team."

"That's a lot of pressure." They have to know that Gideon will be able to smell him out within the day. "You sure it won't get in the way?"

Hotch makes that face you hate, the one that says he knows you're deflecting. "I was going to tell you."

It doesn't take much for you to forgive him. It helps that you trust him completely, especially after everything he has done for you.

"Still," you smile, bumping his shoulder with yours, "it would have been nice to know about the sudden change to my job security."

You're mostly joking, but his frown is genuine. "Don't be silly. You'll always have a place on this team."

He takes everything so seriously these days. You suppose it's only fair, given the files he has to sort through on a daily basis. Picking which case deserves the team's attention the most.

But he wasn't always like this. You're the newest member of the team, but you've known Hotch longer than any of them.

You still remember the first time you met him, at eight years old. He was your first real friend at school, and you became inseparable easily. Your shared love for The Beatles and Law and Order made you fast friends, and as you grew older, your interests shifted in tandem.

Sometimes when you look at him, you still see that little boy who knew too much, but still managed to always make you laugh.

***

The team disperses soon after you land in Seattle. You've never had to come up with a profile in one afternoon, but it's also been a long time since your ticking clock to find the victim was just over a day.

When Gideon and Morgan head to the latest crime scene, you join Hotch and Reid to interview the victim's brother. The moment the three of you step into his house, his dog, Sandy, starts barking up a storm.

"It's what we call the Reid effect," Hotch smiles, walking over to pet her. "Happens with children, too."

You can't help but smile as well, peering over at Spencer, who looks about as uncomfortable as he usually does.

It doesn't escape your notice that the brother looks looser now. Hotch has a way with people that traces back to his childhood self. He was always wiser than his years, something you chalk up to his need to grow up faster than he should have, but his paternal instinct comes from practically raising his brother, Sean, after his dad's untimely death.

The casual interview reveals enough about the victimology that when you head back to the station, Gideon calls the officers in to explain the profile.

You can feel Morgan's agitation wafting off of him as he watches Gideon state his assumptions with startling clarity and confidence. Hotch, on the other hand, looks contemplative, which reminds you that he's been tasked with the returning agent's evaluation.

He can see your furtive glances in his direction, even as you try to remain secretive about your interest in his demeanor. He presses his lips together to keep from smiling as he thinks about how lucky you are that you went into profiling and not covert operations.

You have never been especially good at keeping your own thoughts or intentions to yourself around him. While some would call that a weakness in this field, he sees it as your greatest strength, because it clearly shows how much he can trust you.

As a kid, you were outspoken about every idea you had, and you used your strength and willpower to look out for him when he needed it. It took him a long time to admit how much he used to need you (maybe too long), but you always knew.

***

Gideon's profile leads to the arrest of Richard Slessman and Tim Vogel, and Elle manages to save the last girl while she's still alive. You catch your breath for the first time in 36 hours as you stand with Hotch in the shipyard, watching the paramedics and local police clear the scene.

"What are you going to tell them?" you ask under your breath as his gaze turns to Gideon, who is getting patched up in the back of an ambulance.

He had goaded the unsub into shooting him instead of the girl, but your mind can't seem to focus on the silver lining.

Hotch sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, as though to hold his coat closed against the breeze. "They want to know if he's fit to be a field agent again."

Normally, you would give him shit for using that tactic. Avoiding a question by providing more information. This time, you know he's just thinking out loud.

"What would you say?" Hotch asks as Morgan walks over and sits on a barrel next to you.

"Gideon saved her life," Derek shrugs, his eyes flashing to you for a moment. "That's good enough for me."

Hotch seems to ponder this for a second. "Do you know what Gideon means in Hebrew?"

"Mighty warrior," Reid interjects, popping in to the conversation with the subtlety of a tiger.

You're confused at first, but then you remember the baby names book that was sitting in Hotch's living room the last time you visited him. "You cannot let Haley name your child Gideon."

Hotch laughs suddenly, and you can tell you surprised it out of him. Your chest warms comfortably as he smiles, his cheeks flushing softly in the chill air.

He looks over at Gideon again, deciding in real time that he's going to recommend him to come back to the team. He would never admit it to you or anyone, but he knows that if your position on the team was in jeopardy from Gideon's return, he wouldn't have been able to complete his evaluation fairly.

It was Hotch who recommended you for the open position after he was promoted into Gideon's role as unit chief. You deserved the spot, of course, but Jeff's death had still been fresh and he knew better than most how much the job can take one's mind off of the other aspects of their life.

While Hotch watches Gideon, you watch him. You can tell from the look on his face that it's a done deal. Jason's coming back to the team. It will be a change of pace for everyone, but that doesn't mean it won't be good.

Having joined the team right after the bombing, you saw exactly how Gideon changed after getting the profile wrong, but so did everyone else. What people didn't talk about was how Aaron changed too. Rising into the rank. Growing to fill the hole that Gideon left in the unit, but somehow also shrinking into himself at the same time, because that's what this job does to you...it takes and it takes and it takes until you have nothing left to give.

But sometimes that's what you need: to give something up so you know you aren't losing everything.

***

Gideon settles into the team faster than you anticipated, and soon it's almost like he never left. Even though you can see the vein on Morgan's neck pulsate every time he hijacks a profile, you can't help but appreciate the support he gives to Spencer and Elle, both of whom are becoming incredible profilers before your very eyes.

That's also why you find yourself a little worried when Hotch tells you that Reid failed his weapons recertification.

"I thought you said you were helping him practice," you say as the two of you walk past security and toward the bullpen.

"I was," he emphasizes, before correcting himself, "I did. I'm sure he was just nervous."

You nod, pushing open the doors and spotting Reid sitting quietly at his desk. "He can test again in two weeks. He'll be fine."

When Morgan hands him a whistle with a quippy joke, you sigh into your coffee tumbler, but don't bother stepping in. He's being childish, but if you try to intervene, it'll just embarrass Spencer more.

"Okay," JJ starts, "Franklin Park, Des Plaines. Yesterday afternoon."

She dives into the case, but you have already read the file (and you know Reid has too) so you scoot your chair over to his desk and lean forward so only he can hear you. "I failed my first weapons certification at the bureau too."

Spencer looks up immediately, his face colored with surprise. "Really? You're one of the best shots I know."

You smile with a shrug. "The tests aren't real life. When it comes down to it, I get the job done. Just like you will."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, but then his lips curve up into a small smile. You both turn your attention back to the front just as JJ finishes explaining the case details.

"Wheels up in 30."

The flight to Illinois is filled with heated discussions about the bureau's fruitless history of trying to profile long distance serial killers.

"L. D. S. K.s are so rare, we haven't been able to build a standard profile," Hotch explains as the jet reaches cruising altitude.

Gideon chimes in immediately. "Here's what we do know: they're always male, and they frequently have law enforcement or military experience, and they always contact the police or the media."

Elle looks confused and you echo her sentiment as you lean your hip against her armrest. "To take credit or relive the experience?"

"Both," he says simply. "All serial killers attempt to relive the ecstasy they get from their killings. Some use souvenirs taken from the victims, and others return to the dump site to interact with the body. Both modes require contact with the victim, contact which, by definition, long distance serial killers don't have."

"Our unsub hasn't contacted anybody," you point out. "What do we do until then?"

"Sometimes it's not what the unsub does that reveals the profile. Sometimes it is what they do not do."

Reid glances up from the file in his lap, and you notice that he looks at Gideon first. "He doesn't kill his victims."

"Underkill's a unique signature," Hotch ponders, standing up and walking along the cabin. He only paces when he's deep in thought. "The question is, does he shoot them in the stomach intentionally just to wound them, or is he just aiming at the biggest part of the target?"

The team is silent as you take in this new analysis. You're not surprised when Gideon is the first to speak up. "Specifically, does the unsub lack the skill to make the head shot, or simply the will to take it?"

When the plane lands, you check out the last crime scene before spending the day talking to the local police and the victims' surgeons at the nearby hospital.

That night, when you check into your hotel room, the click of the door lock closing behind you is a welcome relief from the tension of the day. Many of the Des Plaines police officers were unhappy with the team's initial assessment, because it heavily implied that the unsub may have been a law enforcement official himself.

You wash your face and change into a tee shirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, before climbing into bed and opening the case file back up again. The rest of the team has also gone to their own rooms, but you can't help but wish you had another set of eyes looking at this with you.

As though reading your mind, a knock thuds on your door and you stand up quickly, in case it's an emergency. When you check the peephole, you see Hotch standing way too close to the door.

Unlocking it slowly so you don't startle him, you open the door to find him in still in a full suit.

"Is there a problem?" you ask immediately. "Do I need to get dressed?"

He shakes his head, glancing around the hallway so quickly that you almost miss it. "I was just looking over the profile and I wanted your opinion on some thoughts I had."

The corner of your mouth twitches and you open the door further to let him in. He doesn't miss a beat as he takes a seat on the armchair in front of your bed and flips open his notepad.

"I was thinking about the bullet we recovered on the scene," he says slowly, like he's thinking through every word he's saying.

You nod, sitting on top of the bed covers and crossing your legs under you. "Garcia called after you left the station. The bullet was a .223 fired from the M-4 variant of the M-16."

"That means he's military," Hotch says, reaching his hand out without taking his eyes off his notepad. You close the case file you had laid out and hand it to him. "M-4 is a shorter barrel than the M-16, so it's less accurate and a lot harder to fire, especially at these distances."

"This level of skill indicates specialized training. That means..."

"It means the underkill was on purpose," Hotch says, finishing your thought. "What is he trying to prove?"

You purse your lips as he sits up in the chair to give himself room to remove his jacket. His pinstriped button-down is slightly crinkled under his arms, but you can tell it was freshly ironed this morning.

"Maybe he's in a fast-paced occupation," you suggest, "which would fit with the profile that he has a big ego."

"Then we're back to law enforcement."

You lean forward, your eyes following his hands as they fidget with his cuffs and undo the buttons, one at a time. You've always been attune to every one of his movements, but maybe it's just because you've spent so much time around him.

"Hotch," you whisper-yell, snagging his attention from your case file, which he tosses back to you.

He hums and you take that as an invitation to continue speaking. "Be careful tomorrow, when you're giving the profile."

One of his eyebrows lifts and you can tell he's holding back a smile. "It's just in front of the Des Planes PD. You'll be there too."

"It's not that," you sigh, shaking your head. "Everything about this profile points to the shooter being either current or former law enforcement. I'd be surprised if they didn't take it personally."

His eyes flit up to yours, his brow furrowing. "I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can, Hotch," you say with a breathy laugh. "Doesn't mean I don't still look out for you."

He pauses and it's like his whole body takes a beat. "I know."

***

You're talking to Dr. Landman with Derek, Elle, and Jason the next day when a gunshot rings out through the hospital. Last you checked, Hotch and Reid were in the E.R., but you haven't heard from them since you arrived.

"It's Phillip Dowd," a nurse informs you when you meet with local police outside the closed E.R. door.

After a quick call to Penelope, the profile becomes clear.

"He joined the army at 18," Gideon recites, pacing around the room in a vaguely reminiscent manner, "went to ranger school, did 6 years before being dishonorably discharged in '95 for conduct unbecoming. Obviously lied about it, joined the Arlington P. D."

"You were right," the police captain sighs. "He was a cop."

His hopeless tone is disheartening, and you find yourself upset for not the first time that your team was correct in their assessment.

After the initial commotion, the E.R. is silent except for a few muffled voices. You can't hear what's being said, but the lack of gunshots or loud noises is all that's keeping you from falling apart.

"It'll be okay," you hear whispered from next to you. You turn to see Derek, who presses his shoulder to yours briefly. "Hotch will know what to do."

You know there's nothing you can do from out here, especially with how precarious the situation inside is, but doing nothing has never been your strong suit.

"I know," you tell him, echoing your thoughts. "I just wish we could help."

Derek cocks his head at the S.W.A.T. team readying themselves to break the door down. "We can help. We need to give Hotch and the kid time to wear Dowd down."

His tone is light and you feel yourself laugh, ignoring the thickness that swells in your throat. "That shouldn't take long."

Derek bumps your arm again in a silent extension of comfort, and you mouth a silent thank you.

You can feel Gideon losing patience as he reasons with the captain, but he eventually buys them three minutes to do what they can. When the final five second countdown starts, you unconsciously hold your breath, only to be released when Hotch's voice calls through the door.

"Hold your fire!"

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you squeeze Derek's arm before rushing forward. Hotch stumbles past you with a murmur that sounds obscurely like "help Reid", so you push your way through the throng of civilians moving to escape until you see him.

"Spencer," you gasp, crouching down to help him into a standing position. You would never admit it to him, but ever since he joined the team, he's been something of a little brother to you. "What happened in here? Are you okay?"

"You were right," he says with a surprising steadiness to his voice. "I got the job done."

You don't ask what he means, knowing that Hotch will fill you in when the time is right. Instead, you decide not to fight the vaguely maternal urge rising within you and you pull him into a tight hug. It's more of a quick squeeze, because you don't want to push past his physical boundaries, but he doesn't complain, instead looking over at you with a small smile that's more than enough for now.

***

You find Hotch where the departed ambulance that patched Reid up was parked. All of the hustle and bustle of the paramedics and local police officers and bureau agents comes to a standstill as you walk over to where he's sitting on the edge of the curb.

"I heard what happened," you say as a way to announce your presence. "Can I sit?"

He nods without looking up, and you crouch down next to him, settling on the curb with your shoulder pressed to his. You can feel the tension in his muscles as he grips the sidewalk, his palms digging into the concrete like he could break through if he pressed hard enough. "Reid.."

"..is fine," you whisper, nudging him so he looks up to where Spencer and Jason are chattering excitedly. "He's more proud than anything."

He doesn't say anything, so you bump your knee against his. "I guess all of the physical training classes you made him take at the academy paid off."

He knows you know exactly what is running through his mind, so he doesn't bother trying to articulate it. Instead, he lets out the breath he didn't realize he was holding, and looks over at you. "Do you remember that self-defense class we took before law school?"

You're not expecting this question, and you almost laugh. "You mean the singular self-defense class you dragged me to before dawn in the summer before we started at Georgetown?"

He levels you with a look that you would think is serious if you didn't know him so well. "You don't regret it, though."

"No," you smile, your eyes blurring with emotion. That's where you met Jeff. "I don't."

He was your instructor that day. He only taught that class twice a week, between lectures at Georgetown Law, and it doesn't escape your mind that you so easily could've missed him. One day earlier or later and you never would've met him, never would've been his girlfriend, or his wife, or his widow.

Hotch remembers meeting him that day too. He had to literally come to your apartment and drag you out of bed to make the seven AM class that he had signed you both up for, and you had been grumpy the whole drive over.

There wasn't much, other than coffee, that could get you alert before eight in the morning, but the moment you walked into that gym, it was like you were wide awake. He spent the rest of the class trying not to look as the man he would later come to know as Agent Adler kept coming over to give you extra pointers, and he pretended that the coil of ice slithering up his spine was there just because he was watching out for you.

When he found out the two of you had started dating, he continued to pretend the nausea rising in his stomach was from the day-old sandwich he had had for lunch, because it wasn't fair. Especially since he was with Haley, and he was happier than he had ever been, even if the new law school course load was making it harder to see her as often as he wanted to.

But eventually, your happiness with him overpowered every protective urge he felt, and he realized that even if there was a feeling in his gut that he didn't recognize when he saw you two together, Jeff was perfectly suited for you.

***

"He's so gorgeous!" JJ coos, her hands twitching at her sides like she's trying not to reach forward and take the baby out of Haley's hands.

She brought Jack, their newborn son, in to work today to show the team, and Hotch looks prouder than you've ever seen him. "Thank you."

"If you find baldness and wrinkles attractive."

"Reid!" you chastise, swatting at him. He dodges your hands without even looking.

"Look at his widdy biddy nose," Garcia squeals, before turning to Morgan with an inquisitive look. "Don't you want one of these?"

He just laughs as he rests his chin on her shoulder. "Mm, I'll stick to practicing."

"Congratulations," Elle chimes in before returning to Gideon's side to continue discussing the new case that came in. She's always on top of things, and it's something you respect greatly about her.

"Thanks," Hotch smiles, his gaze returning to Jack after looking away for only a moment. Jack is like a siren, the way each of his little sounds or movements holds Hotch's attention so steadily. He's the most focused of all of you, but you've still never seen him this enamored. "She's amazing. I'm a little terrified."

"You're glowing," you tell Haley as the rest of the team heads to the briefing room. "How is it that you had a baby just a few weeks ago?"

"You're sweet," she smiles, before tilting her head forward. "Do you want to hold him? You're practically his aunt."

You gasp quietly, so as not to wake little Jack. "That is a title I will carry proudly. And yes, I would love to hold him."

Haley hands him to you slowly, and you make sure to support his head carefully as you cup your arms around him. He looks so much like Haley that you almost make a joke about Hotch's genes not even putting up a fight, but that nose...that nose has Hotch written all over it.

When you glance back to where the team left from, you see him turn back at the same moment and offer you an encouraging smile.

"How are you holding up?" you ask Haley, barely able to focus on your surroundings with a newborn in your arms. Maybe there is something to the siren thing.

"Jack's been incredible. He barely cries, it's kind of a godsend...but I do wish Aaron could take time off with me."

You give her what you hope is your most comforting smile. "We've been super swamped with cases here, but in all my years working with him, I have never seen him so eager to leave every night."

She laughs, a pretty sound you remember from your youth. "I know. I feel so unfair when I complain about these things, but I appreciate you humoring me."

"Not at all," you assure her, glancing back down at Jack, who is mid-yawn. "I understand completely. If I had one of these little guys, I wouldn't be able to think about anything else."

You hear her breath catch and you open your mouth to reassure her that it's fine, but she is already reaching forward to squeeze your arm. "You and Jeff would have made amazing parents."

When you both joined the bureau, you were so busy with work that kids weren't on your mind at all. It wasn't until you got settled at the BAU, and Jeff found his place with organized crime, that you even started talking about it.

You want kids, don't you?

Only a few. Maybe four or five. Yeah, five's a good number.

"I should get back to the team," you say softly, blinking away the memories.

Haley sees your face and she smiles sadly as she takes Jack back from your arms. "I'll see you soon. Tell him I'm heading home, will you?"

You nod and watch the elevator doors close in front of her, before joining the team.

***

"I can't believe you went bar hopping without me," Derek shakes his head, feigning offense as he leans so far back in his chair you're afraid it may tip over.

"I think hopping is kind of a strong word," you say, glancing over at Elle, who is perched on the edge of your desk. "We only had one bar in mind, but it closed earlier than we thought, so we went somewhere else after."

"This was a much needed girl's night," Elle grins, patting Morgan on the shoulder as he continues to pout. "We'll invite you next time."

"How was your weekend, Dr. Reid?" you ask, turning around to face him.

Spencer doesn't look up from his crossword.

You say his name again, recalling the attention of Derek and Elle, who had started talking about some trip they've been planning for what feels like months.

When he still doesn't look up, you pick up one of the BAU-provided pens on your desk and chuck it at him, just hard enough to bridge the gap between your desks, but not so hard that it hurts on impact.

"Ow!" Spencer yelps anyway, glancing up with a look that's somewhere between confusion and indignation. He picks the pen up off the ground and turns it over to see the tiny insignia on the cap. "This is FBI property."

"How was your weekend, Spencer?" you ask again, ignoring him. "Didn't you say you had some fun stuff planned?"

"I did," he lights up, instantly forgetting about the pen incident. "My local movie theater was showing reruns of the first season of the original Star Trek, so I got to experience it on the big screen."

Derek laughs and walks back over to his desk next to yours. "We have very different definitions of fun weekend plans, kid."

You're about to tell Derek that no one wants to hear what his idea of fun is when the office door upstairs flies open and Hotch and Gideon walk out.

Reid hands you back your pen, and Derek sits up in his chair so fast it's almost comical.

"We have another case," Hotch announces before coming to a stop.

Gideon takes it away. "Our unsub is male, intelligent, organized and methodical. He has the confidence of a man who's been killing for a long time."

"Only victim removed from the scene is Freddy Condore indicating some tie to him."

Hotch turns to you. "You, Elle, and Reid stay on Condore's background with Garcia. The rest of us will head to the crime scene."

You nod before standing up. "Let's go, kids."

Penelope's lair is just as eccentric as you remember it.

"Take a seat," she instructs before logging into her computer and opening up her criminal history database. "Just don't get too comfortable."

Your lips quirk up as Elle flashes her eyes at you, and you nod your head at the empty chair on Garcia's opposite side. Reid is already sitting on a desk chair by the back, spinning in aimless circles as he rattles off a list of markers to search for.

After a minute, Penelope stops typing. "Credit card receipts show Freddy loved crab cakes, preferred light beer and used to spend his Thursday nights with a woman in Fells Point."

You pick up a stress toy shaped like a tomato from one of her shelves and bounce it in your palm, just for something to occupy your hands.

"What about his associates?" Elle asks, grabbing a pen with a pom-pom on the end and poking it at Spencer's knee.

"Most of them have criminal records."

Elle glances up. "That much I guessed."

Penelope frowns, and looks pointedly at the pen in her hand.

"She's holding the tomato!" Elle complains, throwing a finger at you.

You lift up your hands in surrender, dropping the stress toy. "Thanks a lot, Greenaway."

"Anyway," Reid interrupts, to everyone's surprise, "One of these guys is particularly interesting. Pull up James Baker's rap sheet."

Penelope turns back to her computer as Spencer reads over her shoulder. "He spent time in juvenile detention for attempted murder, was released at age 21, and then subsequently arrested for, and this is in order, armed robbery, petty theft, burglary, narcotics sales, and rapе."

"What's so interesting about that?"

"When it comes to psychological behavior, anything is possible but this criminal history? It just isn't probable."

Elle nods in agreement. "I mean, as a minor, he began with attempted murder and then devolved into pettier crimes?"

"It's the criminal history of a fractured schizophrenic with multiple personality disorder," you sigh. "It just does not make sense."

***

Hotch calls you into his office when he and Morgan return from Baker's address. You can tell something is off before you even step through the door, so you shut it behind you and take a seat in front of his desk.

"What's going on?" you ask, your eyes glancing over his face to see if his micro-expressions can give you a hint. "What's wrong?"

He looks up with a sigh, his hands clasped on his desk. "Baker's place was an artificial dwelling, and the weapon we recovered on the scene was standard law enforcement issue."

It takes you a few seconds to comprehend what he's trying to say - a few seconds longer than usual - and your breath stutters in your throat. "He was undercover?"

"That's what it looks like," Hotch agrees. "I wanted to inform you before telling the rest of the team."

You nod, pressing your eyes closed for a beat.

He missed his pick-up, Mrs. Adler.

We'll call you as soon as we know more.

The memories start to flood back in and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter before opening them. Hotch looks blurry for a moment until your eyes adjust to the light again.

"Does organized crime know where he is?" you ask, desperately needing to fill the silence.

He looks down at the case file. "We assume so, but it's not like they would tell us. They weren't too happy that we were taking on this case at all, and now we know why."

"Maybe they'll talk to me," you suggest, even though the idea of talking to Josh Cramer makes you taste bile. You haven't seen him since a month after the funeral. It's not for his lack of trying, you just couldn't stomach looking at any of them after what happened. One missed call turned to ten and eventually they stopped trying.

There's a piercing pain behind your eyes and you squeeze them shut for a momentary relief. "It was only supposed to be three months."

Hotch's brow furrows and you don't look up at him just yet. You can already picture his expression, the anguish you know he feels for you whenever you bring up Jeff.

"It was a three month operation," you continue, knowing you won't be able to discuss it later if you stop talking now. "That's all we signed up for. Three months away from me and then he was on leave for the rest of the year, so that we could focus on us again. Maybe even start a family."

Your voice cracks on the last word and you tilt your head down to hide your face. He hates it when you cry, but that's not fair. He knows how important it is to get your emotions out, so they don't pile up inside of you, but if he had his way, you would never have had a reason to cry in the first place.

"I hadn't seen him in over a month when he was..."

He can hear the tightness in your voice and he resists the overwhelming urge to reach his hand out and take yours. You're sitting a foot back from the desk, and it's not he could reach you from here anyway, but his fingers still ache.

"I don't want to blame them, Aaron," you sigh. Your words sound watery, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his inside jacket pocket and hands it to you. He's almost surprised when you accept the gesture, pressing the cloth square under your eyes to catch the tears leaking out. You were so self-reliant as a kid, never wanting or needing anyone else's help. "I don't want to blame them, but I do. I can't help it, I just do."

Someone else would have consoled you. They would have assured you that feeling this way was natural, and that no one could blame you for feeling what you do, but that isn't who you two are. "Jeff wouldn't."

His name is like a dagger to your heart. You practically wince as Hotch digs further. "That team was his family, just like we are yours. He wouldn't blame them, not for this. Not for something he chose."

Something he chose. This is why you don't let yourself remember that day. This is why you kept that day - the day you got that horrible call - locked up inside your brain, where not even you could reach it. Because if you let yourself think about it and remember, then you will remember that it wasn't really Cramer or his unit or the bureau that you blamed. It was him.

For choosing to miss his pick-up. For choosing to go undercover. For choosing to join organized crime.

You take a deep breath and re-adjust yourself in the uncomfortable chair Hotch refuses to replace, even though it's literally splitting at the seams. Something about your tax dollars hard at work. "What are you going to do about Baker?"

He lets you change the subject. "We have to contact Agent Cramer before-

"What the hell is wrong with you people?"

Speak of the devil and he shall appear.

"Sorry?" Hotch frowns, both of you standing up immediately.

Cramer doesn't take his eyes off Hotch as he seethes with anger. "I told you, this is my case! You ran my agent through IBIS?"

"Because I wanted to know who he worked for and now that I do, I'd like to talk to him."

"You don't have him?"

You can hear your heartbeat in your skull.

Hotch looks at you then, and finally Cramer notices your presence. "Y/N...it's been a while."

Your lips press into a thin line. "Almost two years." The anger you've been trying to avoid seeps into your voice against your will and you sigh, returning to the investigation. "How long has Baker been missing?"

"About 12 hours."

"You think he ran?" you ask, watching Cramer closely as his jaw ticks.

"No, Jimmy's too experienced to run without contact."

He realizes his misstep immediately and his shoulders fall. To his credit, he doesn't break eye contact, even as his expression softens. "That's not what I meant. All I'm saying is that I think someone's keeping Jimmy from calling in."

You can feel Aaron looking at you, but you avoid his line of sight. If you're going to have to interact with organized crime, you might as well make yourself useful. "We all want the same thing, Cramer: to get Baker back to his family."

You wait outside as he explains the situation in more detail to Hotch and Gideon, and you're surprised when he's the first to leave. "Can we talk?"

Hotch comes out behind him and raises his eyebrow for a fraction of a second, a check-in. Swallowing thickly, you nod your head and follow him down the hall to the top of the stairs.

"I'm sorry I haven't reached out recently," he says as soon as you're out of earshot of the others. "You know Jeff was one of our top guys."

Your eyes shut at his name, as though someone clapped their hands too close to your face. It's almost laughable how sure you were that you were past your grief. You passed the bureau's psych evaluation after your six month leave with flying colors (because your team practically wrote the answers yourselves), and as each new day passed and you weren't so debilitated by just the thought of him, you thought it meant you were fine. Because time heals all wounds. At least it's supposed to.

"I know," you whisper scratchily, before clearing your throat. "I know that. And it's okay. We've all been busy." You look down at the bustling bullpen where his agents are interacting with your team. "Clearly."

Then you remember you're job here in the first place. "We really are just trying to help. It wouldn't hurt to keep us involved."

Cramer sighs and you know he won't refuse. "We'll loop you in."

***

James Baker is found and Vincent Perotta gets taken into custody, but you can still hear the end of the interrogation ringing in your ears.

"You were just responding to what you learned, Vincent.

When you grow up in an environment like that, an extremely abusive and violent household... it's not surprising that some people grow up to become killers.

And some people grow up to catch them."

You can't pinpoint exactly what you're feeling, but if you had to guess, it would be sorrow. Sorrow for that little boy who got dealt the worst hand you can imagine, and still turned into the best version of who he could've been.

Hotch can't get the interrogation out of his mind either. He had grabbed his briefcase and headed out to the elevators as soon as Perotta was taken away, in the hopes of avoiding everybody. He's about to let out his breath when a hand reaches between the doors and sends them flying open again.

Normally your appearance is a welcome sight, but tonight, he's had enough talking. Perotta took everything he had to give, and then some, and he doesn't know if he has the strength to go through the proceedings again with you.

"I just want to get home," he says as you stand next to him without a word and face the doors. To my family.

You don't say anything as the little fluorescent floor number ticks down - has it always been this slow - and he feels his nerves tighten with agitation. You're never silent, especially not about something like this.

Just before the elevator reaches the second floor, you reach forward and pull the emergency stop button. He whispers your name, half irritated half relieved, and you step in front of him, focusing your eyes on his. It's a classic profiler technique, both to mentally establish trust and to physically block him from the keypad.

"You're a great father, Aaron."

His mind flashes back 25 years, but he squeezes the hand in his pocket into a fist to keep himself from succumbing to the memories. "I'm trying."

He knows what you're doing, and he would normally be open to a healthy exchange between two adults, but tonight he just can't. It's too fresh.

You seem to understand at least a fraction of what he's trying to convey. Your next words are gentle. "That already makes you a thousand times better than him."

That almost makes him smile. "You can say his name, you know."

You shrug, looking at him with a glint in your eye. "Honestly, I don't think I can. I'm afraid I'll turn into a pile of ash, with the fury your father instills in me."

That's what gets him. He coughs out a laugh that echoes around the elevator, and you return to his side, giving him a moment to breathe on his own.

This time, when his mind spirals back to his childhood, he's not as equipped to block it. The memories come in flashes, a blackening bruise on his abdomen, a split lip explained away through roughhousing in the backyard, the thin scars on his hands and elbows as he finally started to fight back. He would've taken it all forever if he had to, if it meant that he could keep the horrors away from the people he loved. "I really should go."

"Yeah." You push the emergency stop back into place and the elevator hits the ground floor in no time. "I'll see you tomorrow, Hotch."

He steps out, half expecting you to follow him. Instead, the doors close and he's by himself again, and he suddenly can't remember why he wanted to be alone in the first place.

***

When the Keystone Killer is finally caught after 18 years of inactivity, he finds himself expecting for there to be some sort of celebration, either in the form of a commendation, or a much-needed break. Instead, what he gets is a mountain of paperwork.

He usually doesn't mind the paperwork that comes after a long case. It's a helpful way for him to sort through his thoughts on what went down, and to learn from mistakes that were made along the way, whether in the profile or in the capture of the unsub.

Lately, paperwork has felt like an added torture to the long hours he already spends at work. It's not that he wasn't excited about going home before, but ever since Jack was born, he hasn't been able to get out of the office fast enough. But being the unit chief of the BAU has its responsibilities, and this is one of them.

He's drowning in consultation files and case reports when you knock on his door, two coffees in hand.

"Thought that was you," he says, finishing the sentence he was writing.

You frown, setting one steaming cup down on his desk. He hasn't even looked up yet. "How'd you know? Or do you just say that to everyone who walks in here?"

His lip twitches and he puts his pen down. "I could smell the coffee. It always smells the same when you make it."

"Oh?" You weren't aware you had a method. "And how's that?"

"Burnt."

You take the lid off your cup and chuck it at him with surprising accuracy. It would have thwacked him in the forehead if he hadn't swatted it aside with his stupid catlike reflexes.

"What are you working on?" you ask after taking a scalding sip of perfectly brewed coffee.

He looks up for a beat before diving back into the file he was skimming. "Paperwork for the Keystone Killer case."

"But we just finished that," you point out before reaching forward and taking the file out from under his nose.

He huffs. "I was...looking at that."

"This is a report on what happened a couple of hours ago," you say, ignoring his remark. "You can easily do this tomorrow, or later this week."

"It's fresh in my mind now. I don't want to forget any details."

You shrug in a motion that says 'fair enough'. "Or, you could actually go home before midnight for once."

You slide another file off the top of his pile and flip it open, reading over the notes Hotch has scribbled in the margins. He's so meticulous about his job that you almost forget he was promoted just a little over a year ago. He became unit chief at the same time that you joined the team, so you didn't get to see him in his early days, but looking at him now, you almost can't imagine it. It's like he's built for this, for taking responsibility and leading people with kindness and respect.

"Elle said something on the plane today," he says suddenly, jerking you from your thoughts.

You close the file and look up as he runs a hand over his head, pushing his thick hair back just for it to bounce forward again. "She said that she's scared she's going to look up and see that her life has passed her by while she was chasing monsters."

Something cold runs through your veins and you sit up straighter in your chair. "And what did you say?"

"I told her the truth."

You smile in an effort to keep your eyes from shining. "What, that we're all doomed?"

He looks at you candidly. "That this job will eat you up if you let it." Your smile falls and he continues. "You just can't let it."

"I'm sure Elle loved hearing that."

He shrugs. "She was surprisingly receptive."

That gets a laugh out of you, even if the good humor doesn't last long. "I don't know how you do it."

"Do what?"

"This job, while also being a husband, and a father." You sigh, and you can almost feel the weight of the air as it leaves your body. "When I go home, I don't have to be anything to anyone. Most of the time it feels awful, but sometimes, after an especially bad case, I'm almost relieved when I can go home and just check out."

You aren't talking about him anymore, and he can tell. He doesn't mind, if this is what it will take for you to work through your emotions.

"We were gonna start trying for a baby."

That surprises him. Not that you wanted to be a mother - he knows that - but that he didn't know you were already thinking about it, especially because of how you grew up. You don't talk about it often, but after losing your mother to a drunk driver when you were ten, you almost transformed into her, becoming the emotional support for your family when there was no one else to fill that role.

You press your lips into a thin line and take a deep breath, your coffee cold and forgotten on the desk in front of you. "We had been talking about it for years, but with the paths our careers were taking, there just wasn't enough time before then." Your eyes look far away, and you don't seem to notice that your lips have unconsciously curved up into a reminiscent smile. "Jeff wanted five kids. Five. God, can you imagine?"

He can, but he doesn't say anything, because he knows you aren't looking for a response. Just for someone to listen.

"I'm an only child," you say with a laugh. "I don't even know what it's like to have one sibling, let alone four." But Jeff had come from a huge family, and he had wanted you to experience that. He loved how full his home always felt growing up, never without someone to talk to. Now you won't ever get to experience that. "I guess I just wish sometimes that we had tried earlier."

"You'll have it someday," Hotch says simply, practically reading your mind. "If that's what you want, you'll have it."

"I waited so long," you whisper, closing your eyes for a long moment. "I was just so afraid that I wouldn't do it right, because I didn't have my mother anymore to help me."

"You would've been a great mother," he assures you, his voice confident. "One day, you will be."

Your breath comes out like a gasp and you clear your throat to keep the tears at bay. "How do you know?"

"I just know."

***

When you push through the doors to the bullpen the next morning, you are greeted by a familiar head of blonde hair.

"Sean?"

He turns around slowly, clearly recognizing your voice, and pulls his lips up into a smile that you return. "Hey, Y/N, how's it going?"

You weren't close to him as a kid, mostly because of the age gap between him and Hotch. You had tried to make more of an effort after graduating college, but Sean was fierce in his convictions, and there were a lot of things he didn't understand about his childhood that you certainly weren't going to explain to him now.

"Good, good," you say, leading him away from the throng of staring women. You shoot them a look that makes them disperse. "You here for your brother? He's upstairs."

He nods, glancing up at the closed office door. You start to lead him to the stairwell when he stops in his tracks and turns to you. "What mood's he in?"

"Why?" you ask, your brow furrowing. "You got bad news? Nothing I need to worry about, I hope."

Sean shakes his head, glancing up at the closed door again. "Nothing like that. I'll just go up."

You let him walk up on his own, knowing he doesn't want you getting involved in whatever he's thinking about. Before you have a moment to catch your breath, the three women return to your side.

"That's Hotch's brother?" Penelope asks, standing so close you can feel her breath on your ear.

"Maybe Hotch is adopted."

"What do you mean?" you ask, unconsciously glancing up the stairs. "They're honestly pretty similar." You're only half joking. They don't look anything alike, but that Hotchner brand of righteousness runs deep.

JJ frowns. "I don't see it."

"Yeah, he looks...like that," Penelope murmurs, before looking at you. "Did you know him when you were younger? Was he hot then too?"

You choke on your own spit. "He was nine years old when I left for college, so...no."

Her eyes widen and she lifts her hands in surrender.

"Ooh, here he comes."

You look up to see Sean storming down the stairs, Hotch hot on his heels.

"Sean, listen to me."

He turns so fast, you're afraid they're going to crash into each other. "Don't profile me, Aaron."

Sean stomps out of the bullpen while Hotch watches him leave, and you can't get the striking feeling of deja vu out of your head. Two boys, 15 years younger than they are now, standing in the same positions, with the same looks on their faces.

You imagine that you and Hotch probably act the same way around each other as when you first met, at eight years old.

The memory comes easily, even with more than two decades of time standing in the way. The little boy with dark hair who had sat next to you on the school bus, just because there were no other empty seats available that day.

You hadn't said anything for the first few stops, just watched him out of the corner of your eye as he nodded his head unconsciously to the music coming out of his large headphones. Eventually, curiosity got the better of you and you tapped on his shoulder. "What are you listening to?"

He had taken his headphones off quickly, as though caught in the act. "What?"

You repeated your question before leveling him with a pointed stare that meant 'there is a correct answer'. You were a feisty kid, and you weren't always the best at making first impressions, so his steady response impressed you. "Beatles. Revolver album."

"I love that one!" you had gushed, leaning in closer without a warning to press your ear to one of the speakers on his headphones. "Is this Yellow Submarine?"

He had nodded, the confusion in his eyes slowly transforming into delight. "You know their stuff?"

"Of course. My favorite's Eleanor Rigby."

He had frowned then. "That one's too sad."

You weren't surprised by his opinion. You had yet to find a boy your age who could appreciate serious music, but liking The Beatles was a start, at least.

"I'm Y/N," you had said, extending your hand like you were starting a business meeting.

He shook your hand furtively. "Aaron."

"Maybe I'll see you around."

The school bus had stopped at your street then, and you had gotten up without another word to this boy, who would one day become your best friend in the world.

Luckily, the next day, Aaron chose to sit next to you again, this time with a second pair of headphones to attach to his compact cassette deck. Two days turned to three, and before long, you had a new friend.

***

"I can't imagine what two weeks away from this place is gonna feel like," you sigh, packing some essentials into your bag and snapping it shut. "I might actually miss you guys."

"Not me," Morgan grins, before pressing a kiss to your cheek as he zips around you. "Two weeks of pure heaven with nothing but young, beautiful adults looking to make vacation memories."

"Your friend's resort better be as nice as you say it is," Elle says sternly as she wiggles her finger at Derek, who is busy inviting Reid to join their vacation.

"Thanks, but I'm going home," he says quickly, without looking at any of you. "Have a good one, guys."

"I'll head out too," you announce, grabbing your things and following him to the elevators. "Wait up, Spence."

He doesn't seem to hear you, but you slip through the doors just before they close. "You okay?"

"Huh?" he says, finally looking up. "Oh, yeah. I'm just not looking forward to the Nevada heat."

You can tell he's lying, but you don't want to press him right before the long break. "You can always call me if you need anything. Seriously."

"Yeah," he nods. "I know."

You wave goodbye to him in the parking lot, and you're back in the silence of your home by the end of the hour.

The rest of your day is spent lazing around the house, and you're asleep when you hear a knock at your door. After Jeff's death, you started keeping your gun in your nightstand, more out of a general sense of security than any specific acute fear, but its proximity during late night calls has given you the peace of mind you needed to finally sleep through the night.

Lifting it from the drawer, you hold it behind your back as you tiptoe to your front door and look through the peephole. When you don't see anyone, you carefully pull the door open, only to find a small packet sitting on your welcome mat with your name scrawled on the top.

After bringing it inside the house and locking the door again, you pry open the seal and extract a large piece of paper covered in a series of numbers and dots.

That's when the phone rings.

***

"How's it going?" you ask Reid and Morgan as you enter the conference room where all of the Fisher King's clues have been laid out. Neither of them have taken their eyes off the paper you brought in since you tacked it up on the board.

As expected, Reid doesn't look up. "The answer to what book we need has to be in here."

"Yeah," Derek sighs, glancing over at you, "but we sure as hell can't see it."

"Yet."

You look at the numbers again, hoping that your short walk to the coffee station and back would have been enough to unlock something new in your brain. Nothing. "The answer has to be based on specific details of each person's clue." A small sound turns your attention to the couch, where Elle is lying on her side. "Is Elle asleep?"

"I'm awake!" she starts, sitting up lethargically.

At the outburst, Hotch walks into the room and points at her bags. "I'm sending you home. You need to get some rest."

"No-"

"We won't do anything without you, I promise."

"Elle, seriously, we're not any closer than we were."

She nods, her lack of sleep seeming to dawn on her as she yawns again.

"Anderson," Hotch calls out, before you stop him. "What is it?"

"I can take her home," you suggest, looking over your shoulder as she lugs her bags down the hall with bleary eyes. He looks like he wants to protest, so you speak up before he has the chance. "She barely knows Anderson. I'll make sure she's settled, and then you can send him to watch her house, so I can come back here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea," he sighs, his eyes still trained on Elle's silhouette lingering by the elevator. "We may need you here."

You cock your head at Reid and Morgan, who have been sitting in the same positions for so long, you're surprised their necks haven't locked. "It's like they said. We haven't made any progress in over an hour. I'm not helping here."

He still looks unsure, but you know it's just worry. He'll always worry about you. "Okay, go. Call me in an hour to check-in."

You dip your head in a nod and jog through the bullpen to catch Elle as she's heading out.

"So you're my bodyguard, huh?"

You laugh, pressing the button for the ground floor. "Something like that."

"Good," Elle says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn, "you're much more fun than Anderson."

"Prettier, too."

The car ride to her house starts off silent, but eventually you break your internal promise to let her come to you. "How are you feeling after last night?"

She just shrugs. "It was more annoying than anything. I'm just glad I got to enjoy at least some of my vacation."

"I heard there was blood all over your room," you point out lightly, trying to broach the subject in a delicate manner. "That can't have been fun to wake up to."

"It was all on the outside. That's part of why they weren't able to hold me. That, and Hotch's lawyer chops."

You raise an eyebrow, glancing over at her as you pull over to the sidewalk. "His lawyer chops?" You know he used to be a prosecutor before joining the bureau, but you never got to see his skills in action.

"Yeah," Elle gushes, her face brightening considerably, "you should have seen the way he walked in there. Those beat cops had no idea what hit 'em. He was in full prosecutor mode, went all rainmaker on them until they released me."

You can imagine it. If any of you were in trouble, he wouldn't let anything get between him and your safety. "I wish I could've seen that."

When you put the car in park, you help Elle with her bags and walk her up to her door, where she insists that she'll be fine on her own.

"I promised I would wait with you until another agent could come and relieve me," you emphasize, instinctively scanning the vicinity around her home as she walks inside and drops her things on the floor.

"In about thirty seconds, I'll be passed out on this couch right here," she points at the window seat behind her, "so you'll just be watching me sleep for an hour."

You open your mouth to argue but she cuts you off. "Y/N, I'll be fine."

If there's one word to describe Elle, it's stubborn, so you let her shut the door behind her and you walk back to your car. Even if she won't let you sit with her inside, you still can't bring yourself to start the ignition, so you lean your seat back halfway and close your eyes, just for a few moments.

You haven't gotten much sleep either, and you're about to doze off when you hear a loud thud from outside the car. Jerking up, you undo the clasp of your holster and push open the car door. The world is silent, except for the rustling of leaves in the wind, but you start making your way up the drive, just to be sure. There's another thud, quieter this time, and you reach for your sidearm as you ascend her porch steps. Then comes a gunshot.

You start running.

[charliedawn]

Hey Charlie, how's it goin'? (I'm not sure if you take requests right now or not, so you can just ignore this)

Could you write something about reader/nurse seeing slashers without masks/in human form for the first time?

You had always been careful to treat each of your patients with dignity, never staring, never flinching, no matter how twisted their appearances or reputations. But the masks they wore—some literal, others psychological—had always created a barrier. Until now.

Jason Voorhees

It happened during a thunderstorm. You came to check on him, expecting the usual blank stare behind that hockey mask. Instead, he was sitting on the floor, mask off, as rain tapped the window behind him. His face was scarred—half-sunken eye, pale skin stretched unevenly—but his expression was soft. Childlike.

He looked up at you in panic, scrambling to grab the mask.

You knelt beside him and gently held his hand. "It’s okay. I’m still here."

He didn’t look you in the eyes, but he didn’t pull away either as you sat down to hold him. He smiled and closed his eyes.

Michael Myers

Michael didn’t remove his mask. He never did. Not during sessions, not when he ate, not even when he slept. The silence of him, the heavy breathing behind the rubber—it was who he was. But that night, you found him sitting outside the infirmary, notebook abandoned at his side, bloodied from a skirmish earlier in the day. He was calm now. Still. Something in the air felt different—softer.

You walked to him quietly, setting your med kit beside him. "Michael. You need stitches."

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached up slowly…and removed the mask. Your breath hitched, but not out of fear.

His face was pale under the fluorescent light. Sharp jaw, dark eyes—eyes that didn’t look empty but tired. Like he’d been carrying his own silence too long. A long, thin scar traced across his brow. His lips were tight, uncertain. For a moment, he looked like a man.

You leaned in and began to clean his wound. Your fingers were gentle, reverent, not flinching away like others might.

"You’re allowed to look like yourself, Michael. Not just the mask they fear." You met his eyes. "Not with me."

He blinked, slow. And though he said nothing, you felt something shift—a silent acceptance. A quiet trust. When you finished, he didn’t reach for the mask. He let you see him.

Brahms Heelshire

He let you remove the porcelain doll mask. His face beneath it was pale, his lips chapped, his expression blank with fear. But when you cupped his cheek and whispered, "There you are," he shuddered—like your words unlocked something he buried.

He smiled. Small. Frightening. But real.

Vincent Sinclair

It was late—later than usual. You stayed behind to organize the art supplies Vincent liked, rearranging paints by color gradient because you knew he found peace in order. His side of the hospital was quiet, humming with soft ventilation and the smell of wax and turpentine. When you entered his studio, you didn’t expect him to be there—let alone sitting with his back to you, half-turned, the famous mask resting on the table beside him like a fragile relic.

Your breath caught.

His face—his real face—was partially turned, still hidden in shadow, but enough of it caught the light. The burn scars, the twisted flesh on one side, the smooth human skin on the other. One side worn and raw from years of hiding behind wax, the other side…beautifully human. Painfully human.

He froze when he heard your breath hitch, hand instinctively reaching for the mask—but you gently touched his wrist.

"No, Vincent," you whispered. "Please don’t hide."

He didn’t look at you. His shoulders were tense, the weight of shame dragging him down—but you knelt beside him.

"I think you’re beautiful," you said honestly. 

His hand trembled. And though he didn’t respond, he let you stay—mask still lying untouched on the table, for the first time.

Freddy Krueger

You saw him during a rare lucid moment. His burns were horrific, the tissue pink and warped, but his cocky grin was absent. Just a quiet, haunted look.

"I wasn’t always like this," he muttered, almost to himself as he looked at you.

"I know," you replied.

He looked at you. Truly looked. "You’re one weird nurse."

"I work here, don’t I ?"

That got a hoarse laugh out of him. You didn’t tell him that even now—you could see a glimpse of the man he used to be.

Penny and Pennywise

You’d grown used to the thudding footsteps, the occasional giggles echoing down empty corridors, or the ominous hush when either Pennywise or Penny entered a room. But today, something shifted. You felt it in your bones before the door creaked open.

Penny came in first — not in his usual clown getup, but…human. Really human. Tousled brown hair falling just over his forehead, wide green eyes sparkling with mischief, and a grin far too big for his face. He looked excited — no, nervous.

"Ta-da !" he beamed, spinning slightly like he was showing off a new outfit, not a whole identity. "Well ? What do you think ?"

You blinked, caught off guard. The familiar manic energy was still there, but without the chalk-white skin and crimson paint, he looked younger. Sweeter. Less like something from a nightmare and more like a young man who’d snuck out past curfew and was proud of it.

"I—Penny ?" you asked softly, stepping closer. "You’re…well, different."

He grinned wider. "Like it ? I figured, y’know, maybe I’d try being less teeth and claws for once. Do I look weird ?"

"You look…" You hesitated, smiling. "Different. But not in a bad way."

Before he could answer, another figure stepped inside.

And then everything slowed.

It was Pennywise.

But not the version you knew.

His clown makeup was gone. In its place, raw, burn-like scarring covered most of the right side of his face, twisting the skin around his eye and mouth. His hair, once wild and fiery, was now neatly parted. He wore a vintage suit, sharp and clean, but his expression…it was unreadable. Not menacing. Not eager. Just quiet.

You couldn’t help the way your breath caught. He saw it. You knew he saw it.

"I can leave," he said hoarsely, voice rough from disuse.

"No," you whispered quickly, stepping forward. "Don’t."

He flinched, like the idea of being wanted startled him more than rejection.

Your eyes traced the scarred skin, not with pity—but with recognition. He’d survived something. The fire, the years, the hunger… Whatever this was, it was him. His true face.

"You…you don’t have to hide this," you said, softer now. "Not from me."

Penny looked between the two of you, eyes glossy. "Told you she wouldn’t scream," he whispered to his brother.

Pennywise didn’t answer, but something in his gaze softened—just slightly. Like snow melting at the edges. For the first time, the monsters didn’t feel monstrous. They just looked like two brothers who had spent a long, long time trying to survive in a world that only loved masks.

And you ? You were the first person to look beyond them.

[eyesof-kkomi]

Emergency Valentine

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

This is the first time I write a Love and Deepspace fic. My idea is, it's Valentine's day. As they were both busy on that day, so they both agree to have simple dinner together after work and have a reservation for romantic dinner. MC has finished her work early, so she waited for him to finish their work.

(Note: author is sleep deprived in between night shifts, so…)

------------

Emergency Valentine - Zayne

It was Valentine’s Day. Valentine’s Day had never been anything special to Zayne, but this year, he had made plans. A quiet dinner tomorrow—just the two of them. First time everything together always made his heart melt.

But then Zayne distinct hospital's ringtone rang - He had been called in for emergency surgery at the last minute. Right when MC had just arrived, sat down, and carrying warm cooked meals, hot cocoa, and assortments of their favourite macaroons.

Zayne shot an apologetic glance to her and pinching his nose bridge.

"It's 5 years old kid with protocore syndrome and recent MVA accident-"

"It's okay Zayne, no need to explain. Do your job well. I will be waiting"

"Promise that I will be quick and do it well, don't wait for me to start eating so you won't get sick."

MC just smiled reassuringly and waved at him dashed through the door"

MC understood, of course. They both had mutual understanding the nature of each others' job.

But surgery took longer than expected.

She had meant to stay awake, but exhaustion settled in, the warm air lulling her into a deep sleep on his sofa.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.

By the time Zayne returned, it was almost midnight. But the patient had pulled through. Has she left yet? The room had already dark. Good for her, he hoped she could get rest properly at home.

He put down his ID card on table and about to collapse onto his sofa with tired sigh, until he saw her.

There, curled up on the sofa, was MC.

His gaze swept over the scene—food containers neatly placed on the table, untouched. A set of macaroons still neatly wrapped with ribbon. A thermos of hot cocoa and two clean sets of mugs. Her bag rested on her foot, her coat draped loosely over her shoulders, and she hugged a snowman plushie.

She had waited.

Zayne’s lips parted slightly, as if about to say something—though to no one in particular.

Instead, he walked over, crouching beside her.

A small crease formed between his brows. Her breathing seemed uneven.

Carefully, he reached out, the back of his fingers brushing against her cheek.

…Warm.

Zayne’s expression shifted.

Without hesitation, he pressed a hand lightly to her forehead. Too hot.

He took out a thermometer, the reading beeped at 39.5 C. A fever.

He moved quickly to set up IV and medicines. Blankets. He adjusted the room temperature, turning on the heater for good measure.

She barely stirred.

Zayne pulled up a chair beside her, arms resting on his knees as he watched her carefully.

His fingers curled slightly.

She had waited, in the cold, without eating. That was probably why her fever had worsened.

A quiet sigh left his lips.

Now he waited. And regularly checked her ear temperature.

"Zayne…?"

She woke half an hour later, blinking groggily.

"How's the kid?"

“You’re awake,” he noted, voice even.

"He's okay now but we still need careful observation on PICU." He paused, "But I seemed to get another new patient admission."

He reached over, pressing the back of his hand against her forehead again. Still warm, but slightly better.

She let out a small, weak chuckle.

"He's okay now. But I seemed to get another new patient admission"

“Did I fall asleep…?”

“You have a fever,” Zayne said simply. He proceeded to take out warmed foods from microwave and put down on table."

She gave a small, sheepish chuckle. “I just wanted to wait for you.” “You should have eaten first.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could argue, he blowed air and lifted a spoonful of warm soup to her lips.

“Eat, my love.” he said gently.

A pause. Then, she smiled.

He was always like this—quietly taking care of her in ways that truly mattered.

She let him feed her, her body relaxing with the warmth of the meal.

He measured her temperature once again, it had gone down.

"How do you feel? Any nausea or stomach discomfort"

She shaked her head. " I'm alright now, thanks to Zayne and doctor Zayne."

Zayne smiled softly. "I bet you skipped lunch during your mission today. You should take care of yourself well."

After a while, he spoke again.

“I’m taking you home.”

His fingers lightly brushed against her forehead again, checking her temperature. Still warm.

His voice was softer this time.

“You’ll recover faster with me.”

Her heart fluttered.

She reached out, lacing her fingers through his.

“You feel guilty, don’t you?”

Zayne didn’t answer immediately. He simply squeezed her hand.

"If you get sick, I feel like I get sick too", Zayne said sheepisly while looked away.

“Tomorrow, we’ll have dinner. I promise. If you had recovered, of course.” He brought her hand and kissed it.

She smiled, squeezing his hand back.

“Okay. Tomorrow. We have all the time in the world together.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I still have ideas for other LIs, maybe I will upload it once I've finished edited it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[league-of-sam]

Part of the Family | Ghost x Reader

GhostxReaper Universe

Masterlist

Summary: Back in London, you and the rest of the 141 are taking refuge in the Price family home. It’s been five years since you’d been back, and you wanted nothing more than to introduce Ghost to your parents. t.w // angst, fluff, mention of death, bad language.

The 141 had been on the run from General Shepherd since November, hiding away in a private hotel safehouse in the middle of Amsterdam since.           

You’d all been feeling the mental toll of being stuck in the same place, and that’s why, after much begging and pleading, Laswell had agreed to a move.

So now, you were in London.

For the first time in five years, you were finally home, finally back in your childhood bedroom.

John hadn’t changed a single thing since you’d left for Special Ops. Everything was untouched, unmoved. The Price Residence was as it always had been, and the sense of familiarity it provided you gave you an unmeasurable amount of comfort and peace.

After everything, you were home.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t grow up in some kind of luxury. Your parents were CEOs of a fortune-500 company in the capital city of England. Of course, you grew up in luxury.

A large house in a gated community; Five bedrooms, two offices, a living room, double kitchen…all for the four of you.

A large house that was incredibly lonely after you lost them.

But now, it was bustling again. It was full of life and love once more.

Soap had taken your parents old room, after much reassurance from you that it was okay. Alex had returned to Urzikstan with Farah, both of them keeping in touch regularly. Gaz took the spare room, and John had his room back too.

That left your room to you and the lieutenant.

Not that you hadn’t shared a room before – because you had, you’d not left each other’s side since everything happened – but something about having him in your childhood room made you nervous…shy.

It made you feel giddy, like a teenager bringing their first boyfriend home.

The only thing you wanted to do was run to your mother, giggle with her as you gushed about him.

But you couldn’t do that.

You’d never been able to do that.

Ghost had left you in bed that morning, wanting to go for a long run to release his frustrations. It was still early, so you weren’t surprised when you wondered downstairs and only John was there to greet you.

“Mornin’, little bug.” He said as he turned to you, handing you a cup of freshly brewed tea.

You hummed as you inhaled its scent, sipping slowly as you leaned on the counter next to him, the heat from his body warming you slightly.

“Y’alright?” He asked, nudging you.

“O’course,” You smiled, “Are you?”

He eyed you curiously, his moustache rustling as he frowned, “Are ya sure?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You replied, now matching his expression, “I’m back home, finally. It’s been too long.”

“I know, but…you always find this day harder than most.”

This day?

Your brows furrowed, what was today?

It took you a few moments of staring at John, your mind whirring as the cogs turned, until it clicked, and your head whipped to the small television, the date displayed on the news.

“It’s the 23rd?” You spoke, voice small and quiet. “I didn’t even notice.”

“S’okay, little bug, we’ve had shit goin’ on, been more important things to worry about than this.” John tried to reassure you.

“Yeah, right.”

With your mood dampened, you stayed in the kitchen until you finished your tea, John trying to keep you distracted with random conversation until Soap and Gaz emerged, still half-dead from their slumber.

As usual, where Soap went, loudness and chaos ensued, so when he and Gaz started bickering over who got to make breakfast first and John engaged dad-mode in an attempt to wrangle his young sergeants, you slipped away.

And you were almost back to the safety of your room when something caught your eye.

An oakwood frame hung neatly on the wall, glass encasing the smiling faces of the Price family at Disneyland, some 20 years prior.

You couldn’t help but let a tear slip down your cheek.

What kind of daughter were you to have forgotten your own mother’s birthday?

Running into your room, you slipped on a pair of leggings and Ghost’s hoodie, almost falling over as you rushed to shove on some trainers, before grabbing your keys and creeping down the stairs, shutting the door silently behind you and climbing into your car with one destination in mind.

When Ghost got back, the kitchen was in chaos, and the three men he left in the house with you were in the living room, slumped on the sofa with their legs propped up, watching the football on the tv.

They mumbled a half-assed hello to him, too distracted to tear their eyes away.

Ghost chuckled, shaking his head before going to the kitchen, manoeuvring around the mess to chug down a glass of water.

“Good run, Lt?” Soap said, eyes not leaving the screen as Ghost walked back into the living room.

“As always, Johnny.” Ghost grunted back. “Ya should join me sometime.”

“Steamin’ jesus, Ghost, goin’ right soft, eh?”

Soap didn’t get an answer, just a swift slap to the head from behind followed by a bellowing laugh as Ghost’s footsteps banged on the staircase.

Pushing the door open as he pulled off his mask, Ghost smiled widely, ready for you to jump at him like you always did, but it didn’t come.

In fact, nothing did.

The room was in darkness, the bed not even made. That’s when dread crept into the pit of his stomach. You always made the bed; you couldn’t start the day without making the bed.

Yet, here he stood, staring at crumpled covers and closed curtains.

Running back downstairs, he picked up the remote, turning the screen black. Several rounds of yells and complaints came from the men, but quickly ceased when they saw the stone-cold expression of the lieutenant.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

His voice was harsh and gravelly, hands balling into fists at his side.

“What ya mean, Lt? She’s in ‘er room.” Soap replied, the only one ballsy enough to answer the question.

“No, sergeant. She’s not.”

John looked around the room, taking in the boys’ faces. Soap and Gaz were confused, and that quickly shifted to worry once they reached the realisation that you weren’t in the house. And Simon…he looked on the verge of killing a man.

He let out a heavy sigh, hands slapping on his knees.

“If she’s not ‘ere, I know where she is.” He spoke, “All of you be in the car in five minutes.”

The Captain needn’t say more, and the boys sprung into action, piling into the car. None of them dared ask what was going on, but they trusted him enough to find you.

What they didn’t expect was to pull up to the cemetery, driving through the rows and rows of gravestones until they reached the top.

And there, your car sat alone.

Ghost was the first to jump out, calling your name as he ran to the vehicle, only to find it empty, your phone sat on the passenger seat.

The others followed, frantically looking around for you.

“Price, where is she?” Ghost said, turning to his superior.

He didn’t need the answer though, because right behind John’s head was the crest of a hill, a large tree at the top. Below the tree sat a bench, and at the base of the hill itself, two lone gravestones stood strong.

Sat in front of them, shoulders hunched and shuddering, was you.

He let out a breath, relieved to have found you, but even from there he could see the way your body shook from your sobs.

Soap and Gaz followed his eyeline, spotting you.

“What’s goin’ on, Captain?” Gaz asked, his eyes not leaving your frame.

“Mum’s birthday today, she takes it hard every year.”

Sympathy swelled between them. It wasn’t often you spoke about losing your parents so young, and you always seemed to handle it so graciously.

Soap stepped forward in an attempt to make his way to you, desperate to be your comfort – a role he’d taken on proudly – but Price placed his hand on his shoulder pulling him back with a shake of his head.

“Go, Simon.” Price said.

Silently, Ghost followed the orders, hands shoved in his pockets as he timidly trudged towards you. He was around 10 feet behind you when your voice started to flood his ears.

“I wish you could see how happy I am…have I done you proud, mummy? Would you be proud of me? Even after everything I’ve done? John says you would, but I’m scared this might be one of the times he’s wrong.”

Ghost stopped, staying still, his heart breaking with every word you squeezed out between jagged breaths.

“I’m sorry I forgot, mummy. I promise I won’t let you down again. I’ll do better.”

He turned, seeing the others watch from the car, and made eye contact with Price, who urged him forward with a nod of his head.

“I think you’d really like Simon, mum. He’s not as scary as everyone thinks he is…I think you’d be proud of me for picking him. God, I wish you could meet him.” You sobbed.

“I think you’d like him too, Dad. He can protect me, just like you always wanted. He does protect me…fucking hell, why can’t you be here to meet him?”

You weren’t able to say any more as a hand came down on your shoulder, and you turned with a jump.

In front of you was Ghost, holding his hand out, looking down at you with his soft, grey eyes. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie, before taking his hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

You opened your mouth to speak, but were silenced by his movements.

Ghost stepped past you, a light hand on your arm to move you out of his way, and stopped in front of the gravestones.

Bowing his head slightly, his mouth opened, “Lieutenant Simon Riley, sir,” He directed to your father’s headstone, “S’a pleasure t’meet you.”

You gasped as you felt your heart burst, tears welling once more.

Not at all did you ever expect that.

“And you, Mrs Price.” He moved to your mother’s gravestone, leaning in close, “Can see where she got ‘er good looks.”

You laughed, sobbing a little as you went.

How could he have been sweet enough to do this?

Ghost turned to you then, pulling you into his arms, locking them tightly around your waist. Yours went around his torso as you smushed your face into his chest, letting your emotions run free.

“I forgot, Si.”

“S’alright, boo. Ya here now. S’all that matters, she don’t love you any less.”

He held you there for a while, for as long as you needed to calm down, until he threw a gesture to the others, letting them know it was safe to join.

The five of you spent time at the spot on top of the hill, overlooking the city below and sharing stories of the times your parents brought you there.

As you all began descending to the cars, you pulled Ghost back.

“I can’t tell you how much what you did meant to me, Simon.” You whispered, “Finally feels like your part of the family.”

“It’s nothin’.”

But it was, and he knew that.

He knew how much it meant for you to introduce him, so he did what he felt was right.

Standing on your tiptoes, you pushed up the mask, and placed a light kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

“I love y’too, boo.”

“Enough of that and get to the bloody car!” John yelled, “It’s fuckin’ freezing!”

You rolled your eyes, hurling insults to your brother as you challenged him, betting you’d beat him to the car like you used to all those years ago.

And with that, you were leaping from Ghost’s arms, flying down the hill.

Preoccupied with racing John down the hill, just as you did as children, you missed the way Ghost had faltered, returning to your parents’ gravestones, placing his hand atop them.

“I’ll look after her,” He whispered, “I promise.”

[zaptap]

forgot to post about it (more like i started one and forgot to finish and now that it's been 7 months i feel like i should just start over) but i actually went back to mario kart tour back in november, in order to play the courses from that game before playing the mk8d dlc (since im finally getting around to that game after finally finishing getting triple stars on the last wave of wii u dlc cups)

unfortunately it takes like a year to get through all of the courses because you can only race on whatever's in the currently running 2-week "tour" so it's not as simple as just opening the game and racing on all of them

also almost every course has 4 variations: the standard one, one where you drive in the reverse direction (R), one with ramps and other stuff to do tricks to keep your combo going (T), and one with both of those (R/T). additonally some courses (including all city ones) have 3 or 4 different base versions that each have those variations. so there's over 200 different courses in the game when you count them all

they stopped updating it a couple years or something back and since then they've been looping through the last year of tours, which includes every course except 3 variations of city tracks (T or R/T for all) that are apparently just lost now i guess

presumably they'll continue to loop it for the foreseeable future, so if it continues as expected through september i should be able to get through everything i have left to experience. apparently a recent update added some yet-unknown karts and a character, so there's some speculation they're going to do something, but they could just be adding some kind of mario kart world cross-promotion and leaving the rest of the game including the tour cycle untouched i think

i beta tested mkt before it released and there were several things i didn't like that i mentioned in my feedback and then when it had its public release i tried it briefly and then dropped it after seeing they didn't change a whole lot (though they did stop the cooldowns for participating in races which is something at least. i didnt complain about it because i assumed it was a necessary evil inherent with it being a f2p mobile game, so that was a pleasant surprise)

that being said though, since i'd stopped (5 years previously) they'd added a landscape mode, which makes the game SO much more playable. portrait was super frustrating because it'd keep using my items when i was trying to steer, so landscape dividing those controls into opposite ends of the screen is a massive improvement (and the wider field of view is better too)

so now i'd consider mkt tolerable. not really that fun though. im constantly frustrated by how hard it is to steer where you want to go, or how getting hit can send you from 1st to 8th most of the time (when usually in a normal mario kart game you can often hang onto 1st), or how the targeting for red shells is inconsistent or how blue shells can hit you the instant you take 1st, or how you can use mushroom boosts from right behind a cpu and they somehow still stay ahead of you, and so on

maybe if the game was more fun i might care about the ranking system, but as it is i'm just kind of sometimes trying to go for the rewards if they seem good but otherwise not caring. it is more fun to have better drivers/karts/gliders, but my priority is just experiencing the courses and i fully intend to drop the game this fall so it's not something to get too worked up over. which is good because it's already a pain in the ass to play even when the results ultimately dont matter much. just less than half a year to go though

anyway like i said i plan on getting through this before i get into the mk8d dlc. if i want to do the cups in order i'd have to wait until august before doing the first one, but if i do them out of order there are 4 cups i've played everything in mkt at this point. but i'm also trying to get through mk8d's base game still so it's not like i'm waiting to do things until i finish them in mkt (also. playing mk8d is sooooo much better than mkt wow. massive difference. i didnt play mk8d for months and i picked it up again recently and it's like oh yeah this is why i like mario kart, this is actually fun)

and i think ideally i'd like to finish mk8d's dlc before getting into mario kart world, so... yeah i am definitely not in a rush to get a switch 2. as good as that game looks

(can you believe the timing on that.... i was already working on this and knew it'd take until september before we knew mkw was coming in june. before we even knew there was a new mario kart coming. and then they just do this shit to me. thanks a lot)

[writersblockedx]

Full of Surprises

Pairing - Erik Lehnsherr x Reader Summary - Charles sends you to check on Erik; you end up staying longer than intended. Warnings - Alcohol, mentions of violence. Words- 2K

MASTERLIST

For a year now, the state had been searching for the infamous Magneto. After escaping from the pentagon prison and later pointing multiple guns at the president, he was one of the most wanted people there were. Yet still he had still yet to be found. For a long time, you didn't believe anyone would be able to find him. He was a man who wanted to stay hidden and had the power to do so.

You hadn't really been overly bothered if you were being honest. While apart of the X-men, you could never say you were specifically close to the man. Sure, you fought alongside another but there were times when you found yourself fighting against him. That was one thing you knew about Erik: He was a complicated man. And you liked to keep your life as less complicated as you were able. Which was why it was such a surprise when Charles had requested for you to take your try in finding the man.

Still, you agreed and it wasn't long until you were tracking a man calling himself Henryk in the middle of suburban Poland.

You found the perfect point for confrontation when Erik strolled into the local bar one Thursday evening. You waited long enough for him to finish his first drink, then you made your own entrance. The man was seated at the bar completely alone. His hair was longer, scruffier and his clothes were much more casual than the turtlenecks you were used to seeing him in.

You said nothing as you took the bar stool that was situated next to him. He hadn't noticed you; Erik had been too busy brushing the glass of his beer and too deep into his own thoughts. "You are hard to track down, Magneto." You stated, keeping your eyes in front of you, never daring to meet his.

Him, however, his eyes jumped to you the moment your voice reached his ears. "Just a water please." You requested the bartender before he wondered off to do as you had asked.

"Let me guess, Charles sent you." Erik didn't really have to guess, that had been more of a given point.

"He wanted to check on you." You replied.

Erik returned to gazing down his drink rather than you. "Well, I'm fine alone so you can return back to him."

"Half the world is searching for you right now, Erik. You betrayed us. You shot Raven, almost hurt Charles more than you already had done before." You started, your voice raising in the irritation that had settled in your tone. "You should count yourself lucky than all we are doing is checking up on you."

It was then the bartender returned and dropped the glass of water in front of you, delaying whatever reply Erik was beginning to conjure up. "Thanks." With that, the bartender wondered off once again.

Erik turned to you and for the first time, your gaze met another. "I am just trying to live a quiet life without the X-men breathing down by neck." He paused for a moment. "So you go run back to Charles and tell him that." Erik had always had this theory. One of which you believed was concocted out jealousy. It had first started with Raven, calling her Charles' puppet of sorts. It went on so much, it got it her head and then he started doing the same with you. But Erik had yet to get into your head. So you had believed anyway.

"I don't trust you." That was out of the blue. Erik had expected you to walk out there and then, glass of water left untouched.

The boy grinned at your words, "That doesn't surprise me." He answered. "But something that might surprise you, Princess, is that I don't really trust you either."

You supposed you were surprised. I mean, unlike Erik, the public had painted you as similar to Charles. A mutant fighting for the rights of mutants, but doing it in a way that protected humanity at the same time. And instead, like Erik did, didn't paint humanity as the opposers. Then again, maybe that was why Erik didn't trust you: The two of you were far too different in your beliefs.

But his words seemed to pull you in and you found yourself urging for answers. "And whys that?" You questioned.

"Well, to start with, you walk into a bar and order water." Erik argued.

"I'm working." Technically, you were. Maybe you weren't stood in front of a class, but you still had a job you were set to do.

Erik grinned and leaned in just slightly. "Let me buy you a proper drink." He offered and you felt his eyes linger a little longer.

And so you found yourself torn in two. There sat the temptation to stay here, settled and maybe let yourself relax a little. Or there was what you knew you were meant to do. You were meant to finish what you were doing here, get up and leave and return back to the school. But what harm would one drink do?

"One." You told Erik before he was waving down the bartender once again.

You must have had at least seven, maybe more, that night. To be honest, you couldn't really remember. Only that by that point, the bar was empty and you were getting glares because you had yet to finish your drinks and leave. And, surprisingly enough, you found yourself laughing with the same man you believed you disliked. You supposed it was the drink that had brought both your barriers down and, in doing so, you were able to have many civil conversation. From past shared memorise, to current human politics and then mutant politics to then guessing how many toes Hank's children would have.

But once you finished that drink, you didn't dare order another one with the way the bartender had been starring at you. "Well, I best go find a hotel for the night." You declared as you slipped out from the barstool, throwing your bag back over your shoulder.

"I thought you were going back to the school?" Erik had questioned as he finished his own drink.

"Well, considering we sipped at our one drink for so long, there's no way I can make my plane now."

Erik nodded in realisation; he had been the reason for that. "Right." He muttered before watching you turn your back to him and wonder towards the exit. An urge seeped into his mind then. One of which, had the two of you not just been so friendly back and fourth, he would have kept quiet. Alas, Erik had found that maybe you weren't as bad as he had originally made you out to be.

"You'll not find a hotel." He called out, pulling your feet to a stop as you turned back to look at him. Erik was still staring down his empty glass. "We're in the middle of nowhere, you don't find many tourists visiting." Erik finally glanced back at you. "It's not much but I have a couch and a roof."

Given no other choice, you agreed and returned to Erik's home.

He was right in saying it wasn't much. It was barely even a home. Three rooms and a roof. But you supposed that was all Erik needed. He showed you around the house. Offered you food, of which you felt it right to decline, then gave you a blanket, a pillow and a spare t-shirt for you to sleep in. That was all it was. Colleagues helping one another out. As weird as it felt, being in Erik's house knowing there wasn't any work related reason for you to still be here. Erik was just helping you get through the night before you caught the first plane back tomorrow morning.

You woke up to the sound of food sizzling, followed by the smell of something fried. It pulled you to the land of the wake before you felt your eyelids open, setting on a casual looking Erik as he cooked breakfast. You laid still for a moment or two until the man sensed you from behind him. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He apologised.

You slipped out from beneath the blanket which had comforted you throughout the night. "It's fine." You told him, still stood in only the borrowed t-shirt he had given you. "I'm gonna go get changed."

You never got far. Erik glanced back at you once again, half his focus on you, the other half on his almost ready bacon. "They're in the wash." He muttered as if he felt that could have been the wrong thing to do. And when you said nothing in return but made an awkward shift in your stance, Erik went on, mentioning to his small table and the two chairs which accompanied it. "Sit," He urged.

With nothing else to do, you obliged.

It wasn't long before Erik was serving the various 'all American' breakfast onto two different plates and placing one in front of you. "It might amaze you to know, I'm actually a good cook." He stated before either of you had even had the chance to pick up your knife and fork.

You raised a brow in response, "Really now?"

"Try tell me otherwise." And so you cut at your food and readied some sort of comment to combat Erik's ego when it came to his food. But, as you were beginning to realise, the boy came with many surprises. And he was right when you found yourself amazed by his certain skill. "See." The man smirked.

"Fine, you have successfully proved me wrong." You spoke with a smile painted at your lips. Erik was beginning to constantly be proving you wrong.

And so the two of you picked at your plates. "When do you leave?" Erik then asked.

You shrugged, "An hour or so."

Then, before you had barely even finished your words, Erik jumped. "Let me drive you to the airport." It was hasty, almost desperate.

You were already shaking your head before you had even declined. "Honestly Erik, you have done enough already." Not to mention, how out of character that seemed to you. "I'll get a taxi and leave you be. And don't worry, I'll tell Charles that you have been absolutely fine out here alone." You went on, figuring that was the reason he was being so kind.

Yet, still, Erik leaned forward, his palm landing on your own. "I've spent the last year living alone, working in manual labour, please just let me drive you to the airport." He insisted.

Like you had been doing for the last 24 hour, you gave in and agreed.

It hadn't taken the two of you long to clear up, get changed and jump into the car. An hours drive or so and you were outside the airport. Of course, Erik had once again insisted he see you inside. Just because.

"Thanks again, you really didn't have to do any of this." You told him with a smile.

The boy shoved his hands into his pockets. "I'm sure you'll relay back to Charles how corporative I was." He joked.

"That your reason for being kind to me?" It seemed the only logical reason.

Erik took a step closer to where, if he were any closer, he would have fallen into you. "Maybe." He mumbled and before you could reply with anything at all, he closed that small gap between the two of you.

He really did seem to keep amazing you.

You were the one to pull away, not letting your gaze fall from his own. "You should go, I'm sure an airport isn't the best place for a man in hiding." You reminded him.

"That's why I didn't bring the helmet."

With that, you took your step back from the boy, knowing if you weren't to leave soon, he would insist on you staying some time longer. "I'll see you soon, Erik." He only nodded as his goodbye, giving you the go ahead to turn your back on him.

A trip that had only meant to be a small one, had left you with more question than when you had first arrived.

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

I Pick the TV Show, Rogers Shuts His Cake-Hole | Bucky x Steve x Reader (Angst, Fluff)

Category: Angst, Fluff (Suggested) Age: 14+ Trigger Warnings: none, other than the standard explicit language Ship: Bucky x Steve x Reader Summary: Steve Snaps At Reader When He’s Stressed, Resulting In Her Being Very Upset Request: "can u write where steve/bucky is overwhelmed with something and when reader asks to help or is telling them to relax they snap at reader and reader is hurt which makes them feel really bad afterwards. thank you sm. i love ur writings. and this is anon right? is it alright if u dont post my response if its not anon? im sorry. thank you so much. ur blog always pictures great stucky imagines. 💗💗💗" Contains Spoilers for: N/A Word Count: 2,488

---

A given, the super-soldier had been on nonstop missions for the last month or so, but she thought she was helping him feel better, not making him feel worse.

“Would you like anything to eat, Stevie? You’ve barely moved all day.” (Y/N)’s voice is small. Quiet.

She’s leaning through the door of his study where he’s sat putting together his mission reports from the last three or four missions he’s been out on.

He shakes his head but doesn’t even turn to look at her.

Sighing, the woman walks further into the room where her boyfriend is slouched over the desk.

“You gotta take a break, Stevie.” She whispers, resting her hands on his shoulders.

She notices the way they tense up, but he still remains silent.

His fingers continue to write up his report on the laptop.

“I’m worried about you, Stevie; talk to me.”

“I’m busy, (Y/N).”

“I know you are, baby, but you’ve gotta look after yourself too.” She attempts, leaning down to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away.

The woman furrows her brows.

“Steve, please, you’ve got to-”

“(Y/N), just stop!”

The shout is sudden and it makes her flinch back away from the man as he turns to face her.

“I’m fine, alright?! I don’t need you babying me all the time!”

She doesn’t respond for a second, surprised at her lover’s outburst.

He says nothing more, simply turns back to the laptop and continues typing away.

“Steve, look how stressed you are. Can you please just-”

“STOP! Okay?! Just stop! Leave me the fuck alone while I finish these neverending mission reports. For once in your life can you just understand that not everything is about you?!”

(Y/N) swears that being shot in the heart wouldn’t hurt half as much as the words that just came out of the man’s mouth.

Her mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, but that hurt.

Is she really that bad? Is that the truth behind all of this? That she’s clingy? Thinks everything is about her? That was never her intention. (Y/N) is well aware of how important being an Avenger is. Hell, she is an Avenger, for Christ’s sakes.

She says nothing more and leaves the room.

She can’t even decide if she feels sad. No. She’s not sad, she’s not angry, she’s not… anything.

Numb.

Naturally, her feet lead her to their room. Steve’s room. They all basically share the super soldier’s abode since they all got together, but right now she doesn’t dare open the door.

Doing a full one-eighty spin, (Y/N) takes herself back to a place she barely touches anymore. Her room.

It’s pretty empty. Most of her clothes are in Steve’s room, in her own walk-in wardrobe. Her bed is perfectly made from the last time she slept in here - maybe a year ago?

The woman walks around her bed and straight onto her bedroom balcony, overlooking the lake at the back of the compound, and stays there. For three-hours. Until Bucky comes looking for her.

He came home from his mission about thirty-minutes ago only to find their shared room of Steve’s empty. He searched just about everywhere, completely clueless.

“FRIDAY, where’s (Y/N) and Steve?” He finally gives in.

“Captain Rogers is in study five, and Agent (L/N) is in her private quarters.”

Now that makes the brunet furrow his brows.

Why would (Y/N) be in her room and not his or Steve’s?

He prioritises finding (Y/N) first, knowing Steve will be writing up mission reports, no doubt.

Despite them being together for over six-years now, he hesitates when reaching for the handle of her bedroom door. Instead, the man opts to knock.

No answer.

“(Y/N)?” Nothing. “Doll, it’s me; can I come in?” Nothing.

Bucky tries the door handle and finds it unlocked, yet still hesitates.

“Baby?” He calls out. Again, nothing.

He’s cautious now. Scared.

Her room looks as untouched as the last time he saw it, which was a few months back when she was after one of her plushies.

“(Y/N)?”

It’s when he feels the chill of the midnight winds ruffle his hair that he realises her balcony doors aren’t fully closed.

Striding straight over, his eyes widen at the sight of his girlfriend curled up in the corner of the outdoor area, crying.

“(Y/N), baby, hey, what’s wrong?!”

Bucky immediately drops to his knees in front of the woman, reaching for her hands and gently tugging them away from her tear-stained face.

“(Y/N), doll, look at me.” His voice is gentle. Soothing.

She does almost instantly but her sadness stays.

“What happened, baby? Are you hurt?”

The fear and sincerity in his voice is enough to prompt the woman to shake her head. Yes, she’s hurting emotionally, but he needs confirmation that she’s not dying.

The woman immediately sees the relief take over his features, but he’s still concerned.

“What’s wrong, doll?”

Her eyes stray away from his, not wanting to tell him what’s got her so upset.

“Hey, no, look at me, baby,” He whispers, hand lightly grasping at her chin to raise her face back up to his. “What’s got you so worked up, (Y/N)?”

Another shake of her head as she tries to escape her lover’s hold.

“Baby, please, you’re scaring me.”

Her face contorts into something close to heartbreak as she wants nothing more than to reassure the man in front of her.

“It’s okay, Buck.”

“It’s not okay! Doll, I haven’t seen you cry since Stevie nearly died on that mission in Ohio like two-years-ago! Talk to me.”

She takes a deep breath and wipes her face of the shedding tears.

“Do you want me to get Stevie?”

The question is innocent and makes sense, but her eyes widen and she shakes her head desperately.

“No! No, please, no.”

That truly makes the super soldier concerned.

“Doll, please can you tell me what’s happened?”

Never in the last eight-years that Bucky and (Y/N) have known each other has she been so reluctant to see Steve.

Another sob escapes her and it’s breaking his heart.

“Baby, please.”

“Steve got mad at me, alright?!” She manages an attempted shout. “I just wanted him to look after himself.”

“What happened? What did Steve do?”

He’s concerned. Massively.

“I was trying to get him to eat; he hasn’t eaten properly in so long. He’s so overworked and he’s hung up on all these mission reports. He told me that not everything was about me - shouted at me; told me to stop.” She’s whimpering and sniffling again now. “Please get him to eat something, James.”

That last sentence is the one that crushes him. She’s upset, yeah, but above all that, she’s still worried about the blond super soldier.

“Come on, baby, let’s go to our room and get into bed, yeah? I’ll go and speak to Stevie.”

Her eyes meet his and she looks scared, but the ocean blue gaze that he returns makes her bound to his every command.

The woman nods.

“Okay.”

“That’s my girl.”

With the help of the Winter Soldier, (Y/N) manages to stand up, letting him lead her out of her private room and into their shared one of Steve’s.

“Here, let’s get you into your PJs, yeah?”

He doesn’t leave room for negotiation as he helps his girlfriend strip out of her casual dress and into one of his oversized t-shirts.

“You get snuggled up in bed, doll. I’m going to go and get Stevie, okay?”

He hates how she looks nervous at the mention of their other lover’s name.

“He loves you more than words can describe, baby girl, I promise you. He shouldn’t have lashed out at you, I’m gonna talk to him, okay?”

A hesitant nod and forced smile is enough for now.

“I’ll be back shortly, I promise.” He leans over and gives the woman a kiss on the lips, leaving her with one of her favourite shows playing on the TV.

“Bucky,” Her choked up voice calls out just before he leaves.

The man turns from his place in the doorway.

“I love you.”

The smile that takes over his expression is contagious.

“I love you too, baby girl. More than anything.”

Despite his reassurance to the woman, he’s pretty damn pissed for a number of reasons about Steve losing his cool with their girl. Reason number one being, how dare he? Reason number two being, he knows better than to overwork, yet here we are.

Bucky doesn’t even knock once he approaches the glass doors of the study where Steve is sat typing away on the laptop.

The blond doesn’t even glance up to see who entered. He barely heard the door open which enrages Bucky further.

The brunet slams the lid of the laptop shut without saying a word, prompting Steve’s head to shoot up, glaring daggers at whoever has interrupted him.

“What the fuck, James?!”

That makes Bucky really get annoyed.

“Are you serious right now, Rogers?”

“I’m in the middle of about seven different mission reports, Buck, I’ve gotta finish them.” The man sighs, going to open the lid of the PC once more, only for Bucky to hold it down. “James, seriously,”

“No. What you need to do is explain to me why our girlfriend has been crying for the last God-knows how many hours?”

That makes Steve snap back to reality.

“What? (Y/N) has been crying? Is she okay?”

Bucky literally rolls his eyes at that.

“Are you fucking serious, Steve?” He repeats, Steve looking confused, expression contorting as he realises that his boyfriend is seriously angry at him.

“Bucky, what’s wrong? What’s happened?”

The Winter Soldier’s head lolls back as he groans in frustration.

“You seriously have no idea?” He asks, rhetorically, watching Steve look almost scared. “Do you often shout at your girlfriend and forget it happened?”

Cap’s eyes widen at that, and he visibly gulps.

“What?”

“She came in here to make sure you were looking after yourself, which you weren’t, by the way, and you tell her that not everything is about her?! Are you fucking stupid, Steve?!”

He remembers it all too well in that moment, turning his head down to avoid the frustrated glare of his male lover.

“No. No, you don’t get to look away from me. Look at me.” Bucky demands, watching the blond super soldier reluctantly do so. “I come home from my own exhausting mission, search for (Y/N) for thirty-minutes, and find her crying her God-damn heart out on the balcony of HER room; not our room, Steve, no. Her room.”

Steve’s heart shatters and his eyes widen once more.

(Y/N) hates staying in her room. She’d always be in his or Bucky’s without a doubt.

“I- Buck-”

Bucky shakes his head and stands back upright as Steve is lost for words.

“I’m not mad at you, Steve. I get it, you know? You’ve been overworking for the last month, I know you’re stressed, but fuck, baby, you can’t hurt her like that. Do you know how much my heart fucking shattered when I saw her curled up in the corner of her own God-damn balcony?! It tore me apart. She hasn’t cried since you nearly fuckin-” Bucky chokes on his own word as he walks away from his lover.

“I’m sorry! Buck, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have let Fury send me on that many missions, I- I should’ve said no. I’m sorry.” Steve attempts, standing up and following the brunet, turning him around to face him once more.

“It’s not me you need to be apologising to, Stevie.”

Captain America nods and leans up to press a kiss to the man’s lips.

“I’m sorry, James.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and forces a smile.

“I forgive you. Of course I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean it, but I swear to God, if you hurt her again…”

Steve is already shaking his head.

“I wouldn’t dream of either of you getting hurt. Where is she?”

“Our room.”

He nods and begins heading toward the woman to which he owes more than he can give.

The door is half ajar when Steve gets there, he slowly opens it to reveal his girlfriend in all her glory, curled up under their Captain America themed duvet - which Sam bought the trio as a joke last Christmas. Her face is clear-as-day red from her earlier upset, and it breaks his heart.

The man knocks gently on the day as if not to startle the poor girl.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He offers a solemn smile when she turns to see who’s there.

He hates the way he can see her hesitation to speak to him as opposed to her usual squeal of his name, arms opening wide to welcome him into her cuddle-fest.

“Hi.” She manages, forcing her own smile.

There’s silence floating between them, the only sound being Jensen Ackles, in his role of Dean Winchester, talking a load of nonsense about pie on the TV that’s streaming Supernatural.

“Baby, I’m so sorry.” Steve manages, taking a step toward the bed. “Nothing can excuse the way I yelled at you, and I’m so sorry for that, but, sweetheart, trust me when I say I didn’t mean it. I was so stupidly stressed, and I should never have let it get to that point.”

She nods, truly believing his words, but it still hurt.

The blond sits down on the edge of the bed, not daring to cuddle his girlfriend until she’s comfortable.

“I love you so much, (Y/N) (L/N).”

A bigger smile taints her lips at that.

“I love you too, Steven.” Her voice is barely a whisper but he hears it clear as day.

“Can I hold you?”

(Y/N) smiles and shakes her head as if he was being silly.

“You never need to ask permission for that, Stevie. No matter what.”

With another sad smile, he pulls the woman into his arms and holds her tighter than ever before.

“I’m so sorry, my love.”

“I forgive you, but no more missions for a while.” She whispers.

“Yes, boss.”

Bucky’s leaning against the doorframe, watching the interaction. He took a detour to Tony’s office and made sure to give the billionaire a piece of his mind about making sure Fury didn’t have Steve on any missions for a long time.

“Is this the last episode?” The brunet speaks up, stripping himself of his clothes as he enters their room properly.

“Yeah.” (Y/N) nods.

“I still think we should watch Vampire Diaries instead.” Steve chuckles, mirroring Bucky’s actions.

“I pick the TV show, Rogers shuts his cake-hole.” (Y/N) teases, mocking a line from Supernatural and snuggling herself in the middle of the bed, sandwiched between the two super soldiers - where she belongs. “I love you both.”

“Love you too, sweetheart.”

“Love you always, doll.”

TAGS

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Stucky x Reader Only Tag List: polarbearnamedpanda | @marvelous-glims

SFW Only Tag List: @piper-koko-barnes-rogers

[noteguk]

bad behavior | jjk | m

This is in the same universe as “bad influence.” It can, however, be read as a stand-alone. 

— summary; in which staying late to volunteer at a self-help meeting was the best decision you made in a while. 

— contents and warnings; smut, the endless adventures of badboy!jk x goodgirl!reader, public sex (in a church…), dirty talk, fingering, degradation (name calling) but also praise, unprotected sex, clothed sex, creampie, cum play, there is a window and also reflections, rough sex, cockwarming, jk being a lil shit because that’s his main personality trait, jk smokes (only mentioned), enemies to fuckbuddies: dawn of the first day 

— words; 8.2k

— author’s note; for the anon that asked how their first time was like ;) join me as we explore the lore of this godforsaken couple 

It was your mother’s idea for you to find a new place to volunteer. According to her, it had been a long time since you experienced “the invigorating energy of community work” — last time was when you were trying to level up your college application — and it could really “soothe your anxious soul” during the trying times of college finals. Apparently one tutoring program and two research projects weren’t enough to distract you, but you could see where she was coming from. 

In the end, you accepted. The old places you used to volunteer in had either shut off their programs or were just too far away from college for you to consider. At first, you decided to follow your mother’s suggestion and tried to work with children — “small miracles”, as she called them — in a local daycare. Which ended up being a terrible idea. 

You liked giving back to the community, you really did, but it wasn’t long until you realized that working with infants hasn’t been your wisest decision, and that children weren’t miracles at all. You got tired of going home covered in paint and with pieces of playdough entangled in your hair, and that was when you weren’t unlucky enough to get hit with other, less clean fluids. 

So you eventually gave up — both on the daycare and on the faint idea of one day going into pediatrics — and searched for a new place. After having to yell your way through retirement homes, and getting fed up with washing people’s sidewalks, you finally settled in a program that was flexible and light enough for your intense college hours: preparing (and then later cleaning up) a room that was reserved in a local church for weekly meetings. 

The entire ordeal took about two to three hours off your day, and more than half of it was spent as free time: waiting for the meeting to end, cramming piles of information in a small room next door. You didn’t really know what the meetings were about since they changed practically every month — they were, at first, a support group for teenage mothers, then it became an AA meeting, then a group for drug users trying to quit. Lately, you were starting to think that the church just gave away the room for whoever had the money to rent it, so it wasn’t a surprise when it was reserved for a motivational speaker to give confidence lessons. 

You had researched the guy, some old dude with an unpronounceable name and a sketchy background, and found exactly the type of person you had expected. Yes, you were in the house of Christ, but you were still being heavily judgmental of the fact that he was giving those talks when he had no qualifications whatsoever, and was probably making bank off all the self-help books he regurgitated at least twice a year to prey on vulnerable people. You did share your worries with the administrative office of the church, but they ultimately fell on deaf ears, and you gave up on the idea of kicking his ass out of the holy grounds anytime soon. 

It was after one of those pseudo-motivational talks that you walked into the empty room, ready to clean everything up before rushing back to your place, where your roommate had promised to greet you with some wonderful takeout. The chairs were still placed in a circle on the center of the room, where they had been since forever, and you made sure to align them perfectly before you moved on to the litter that had been thrown around the place. 

One good thing about those self-help meetings was that they were a lot cleaner than a lot of other attendees, so the “picking up the trash until your back started to hurt” part passed by surprisingly fast. You had just moved on to the snack table, analyzing what you could still save, when your soul almost left your body. 

“Hey, you,” you heard a known voice behind you. “What are you doing in here?”

You swiftly turned around, heart thumping violently against your ribcage. You didn’t know how you hadn’t let out the biggest, most blood-curdling scream ever, but that was just the first of many miracles of the night. “Jesus Christ,” you wheezed out, taking one hand to your chest. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like this.” You swallowed dry, some part of your brain recalling that he had asked you a question. “And I’m volunteering here.” 

“I didn’t sneak up on you, you’re just jumpy.” Jungkook scoffed, leaning against the doorframe with that stupid playful smirk curling up on his lips. You didn’t know they allowed demons inside the church. “And of course you are.” He rolled his eyes. 

Maybe a few months back, his mocking tone would’ve stung a bit more. However, you had been tutoring Jungkook for about three months then, suffering through endless sessions of his whining and complaining, and you’ve grown used to his passive-aggressive antics already. You learned that Jungkook was a shark seeking for blood, waiting for any crack that would allow him to jump into a perverse little joke — about how you behaved, your priorities, or even the color of your highlighter. You, of course, always stood your ground and threw his comments right back at him — which was his initial plan, as you’ve come to realize. Jungkook enjoyed playfully arguing with you, and you thought that it was another level of strangeness and masochism you simply didn’t have time to dissect. 

Still, Jungkook (shockingly) wasn’t the terrible person you once thought he was. Every once in a while — when he was trying to talk you out of teaching him — the conversations you two would have were actually mostly pleasant, and he wasn’t awful to hang around when he dropped the whole badass persona to act like a real human being. You would even dare to say that Jungkook could be actually funny at times, and not in the bitter, sarcastic way he usually was. Sometimes, you dared to think, he could actually be reasonably nice. And also kind of cute. Even hot. 

But you would never actually admit any of that out loud. Or even to yourself, really. 

“And you?” You asked, turning back around to face the table full of half-eaten food. That looked like a battlefield, and you could already tell that there were only a few survivors left standing. “What are you doing here? Repenting?” 

Jungkook chuckled dryly. “You wish. My parents want me to quit smoking,” he said. You could not see him, but you could hear him walking closer to you as you fumbled with the large Tupperware. “We settled on this crap instead of a forced intervention.” 

You scoffed. Most of the food before you was unsalvageable — some of the cupcakes had been bitten once and then placed back, and you wondered how someone like that could function in society. “You don’t seem very motivated to quit,” you mumbled. 

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “I don’t really care.” 

His voice was much closer to you, and you felt the air leaving your lungs for a pitiful instant. You convinced yourself you had only gotten scared again. “You should care about the growing possibility of lung cancer.” 

He shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s not really on the top of my list of priorities at the moment.” 

“And what is?” You asked. 

“Amongst other things…” he trailed off and, suddenly, he was standing besides you, pointing at the chaotic pile of sweets. “I actually came back to grab another one of those cupcakes. The chocolate ones are great.” 

You didn’t know why, but his comment broke the odd tension that you didn’t even know that was there, clicking you back into your previous mentality — the one that you just wanted to finish cleaning up so you could leave soon. “All yours,” you told him, “grab as many as you want.” 

Jungkook hummed in satisfaction, reaching out to grab one special brown cupcake — an untouched one, thankfully. “I love when you talk dirty.” He almost moaned before shoving the cupcake inside his mouth, taking a huge bite off it. Dramatically, Jungkook rolled his eyes and sighed in delight. “These are fucking great.” 

You chuckled, glancing at his direction. Jungkook was dressed in all black, like he usually was, and you were starting to recognize a newfound admiration towards his constant use of leather jackets. What? He looked good. “I’m glad the self-help sessions are paying off,” you commented, swiftly placing the cupcakes inside the transparent container. 

Jungkook was paying attention to your actions now, like he noticed you were there working for the first time. “What are you doing with the rest?”

“The church will probably donate it, give it to the homeless or something.” You shrugged. “Or they’ll eat it, I don’t know. I just clean up the place and leave.” 

Jungkook laughed at that, taking another monstrous bite from his cupcake and throwing himself on one of the nearby chairs. Your eye twitched a little at the thought that he had ruined your perfect circle, but you’d have to fix that on your way out. “Sounds absurdly boring,” he sang. “And they’re not even paying you.” 

You sighed. “After all the places I’ve volunteered in, boring is a blessing,” you told him. You had just placed five hot dogs in the container, and you were starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to feed people in need with those suspicious sausages. “But, yeah, you probably don’t care about any of that.” 

“You don’t know what I care about,” Jungkook said matter-of-factly. You didn’t know if he was trying to tease you, but his voice came out so soft and monotone that you couldn’t really be mad about it. It was true, after all: you didn’t actually know what he cared about. Sometimes you thought that he could read you better than you could read him. “Want me to stay here with you? This place is probably empty already.”

You could not hold back your laugh at that, turning around so you could look at him. “Are you offering to be my bodyguard? In a church?” 

Jungkook pouted. There was a thin line of chocolate on the side of his lips, which he quickly licked clean. “I’m trying to be nice.”

You giggled, turning back towards the disgusting food. The rest was mostly trash, but you were happy enough with the amount you had managed to find in a good state. “That’s new.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked. “I’m always nice.”

“Always is a strong word.” You smiled, closing the lid of the Tupperware. You had managed to fill three small containers with the leftovers and, honestly, that was a big victory. “But you can stay or you can leave, I don’t mind. I’m almost done anyways.” 

He frowned. “Is that your answer?” 

You turned around. “What? You want me to beg for your company?” You smiled. “You’re mistaken if you think I’d ever do that.”

“I’m staying.” Jungkook crumpled up the piece of cupcake wrapping and threw it in the trash can besides your body. He watched you for a moment as you started to throw the leftovers away, your back turned to him and a distracted look on your face. When he broke the silence again, you were throwing the last piece of bread in the bin. “Why are you volunteering?” 

“Because I like giving back to the community.” 

Jungkook sneered at your words. “Seriously now. Don’t lie, we’re in a church.” 

“I do, actually,” you stood your ground. There was a vague sound of crickets coming from the half-open window and the low buzzing of the fluorescent lights above you, but, other than that, the city was covered in absolute silence. Perhaps that was why you felt so at peace. “But my mom told me it would be a good thing to keep myself relaxed. You know, take my mind off college stuff.” 

He hummed, and you heard him getting up from the chair. “You always do what your mom tells you?” 

You met his gaze. “Didn’t your parents make you come here?”

He smiled. “Not the point.” 

Before you could hold yourself back, your lips were curling up. Again: Jungkook wasn’t absolutely awful to be around when he actually acted like a human being. “When she says something I agree with, yes,” you told him. “My ego isn’t bruised when it comes to following someone’s idea.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “You’re saying that mine is?”

“I didn’t say that.” You smirked and turned back to the table. You started piling up the used plastic cups, already eyeing all the used plates, forks and knives that you’d have to throw away. The daycare had better eating manners than that. “Thought we were talking about me.” 

“We were,” Jungkook agreed. One of his inked hands moved to the table, and you were about to tell him that he could eat more of the cupcakes when you realized that he had started to reach for the discardable plates, throwing them away. You really didn’t think he’d help you. “Finals are coming up, though, and you care about that shit. Shouldn’t you be using this time to study or something?”

“I study while you’re out here listening to becoming your real self or, I don’t know... waking up the giant within,” you said. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.” 

He hummed, his nose cringing up at the disgusting remains of food that stuck to the plastic forks. Jungkook seriously didn’t know how you could do that for fun. “You know there are better ways to relax than cleaning up a dusty room, right?” 

“Probably,” you agreed. The cups were already in the trash, alongside with the plates, and there were only a few crumpled up napkins to get rid of before you tasted the sweet nectar of freedom. “But here I am. That’s what I chose for myself.” 

“Literally any other option would’ve been better,” Jungkook pressed on. “Isn’t that obnoxious friend of yours in cheer or something?” 

“Who? Jisoo?” You smiled at him. No one had ever called her obnoxious, but you couldn’t say that the title didn’t fit. Jisoo could be really… intense when it came to standing up for what she believed in. “She is. She invited me to join her already, if that’s what you’re gonna ask, but it’s not really my thing.” 

“It’s a shame,” he mumbled, leaning against the table. It was a beautiful miracle how clean that room had become just by getting rid of the piles of gross food, and you had proudly thrown the last piece of paper inside the trash bin when Jungkook spoke up again. “You’d look really hot in that outfit.” 

You stopped in your tracks, taking a second to digest the claim he had so mindlessly thrown your way. Just like all-things-Jungkook, a pleasant conversation could not last long, so you weren’t even surprised that he managed to ruin that talk with such a fuckboy-esque comment. 

Also like all-things-Jungkook, he managed to awaken a reaction out of you that you didn’t even know could be there. With a faint heat in your cheeks and a frown blossoming amongst your features, you actually felt a little bit of... satisfaction with the fact that he thought that you’d look hot in that skimpy outfit. At the same time, you wanted to slap yourself for falling into his charms so easily. 

In that conflicting turmoil of emotions, all you could say was a monotone, “You cannot be serious right now.”

Even if you kind of wanted him to be serious. 

“I’m being dead serious,” Jungkook didn’t back down, much to the elation of your ego. You felt like a schoolgirl being recognized by her crush, and the idea alone made your stomach curl onto itself. What the hell were you even thinking about? Yeah, Jungkook was pretty hot, but he was also kind of a douche and you didn’t want to get involved with that mess of a person. Or at least that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. “I mean…” he continued, “you’re even rocking this knee-level dress right now, can’t even imagine how you’d look if—“ 

“You can shut up now, Jungkook, thanks,” you interrupted him. Because you didn’t know how to act when he was so blatantly flirting with you, you switched back to the same passive-aggressive behavior that you had given him for the past three months. Call it self-preservation, call it panic, but your mind simply didn’t know where to go from there. “And I’m also done here, so you can skidaddle back to whatever swamp you came out of.” 

“Awn, don’t be mean, princess.” He pouted. Jungkook was a master at getting you worked up, and you had just given that to him on a silver platter. Maybe if you had mock-flirted back, he would’ve baked away. You would never know. “I was just fucking with you, you’re too easy to tease.” 

You pressed your lips together, hip touching the corner of the now empty table. “You were pretty much harassing me,” you said playfully. 

“I was not.” Jungkook smirked, shoving his hands inside the pockets of his pants. When had the two of you gotten so close? There was barely any space between your chests. “But it’s okay, I’m not gonna compliment you anymore, don’t worry. You don’t have to be so defensive.” 

“I’m not being defensive,” you said, defensive. 

“What, is it the church setting?” He raised his eyebrows, taking a look around. “Is it making you uncomfortable?” 

“No,” you answered, crossing your arms before your chest. Jungkook followed the movement and his gaze got stuck on the shape of your breasts for a second too long, making a newfound wave of heat rise up to your cheeks. “Not as much as you’re trying to make me uncomfortable right now.” 

He chuckled. “You do look cute when you’re shy,” Jungkook teased, taking a step towards you, and you took another one back, pretending you were just going to lean against the table. You sat on it in a weird diagonal position, with one leg still on the ground and the other dangling over the edge. Jungkook was so close that, when he spoke again, voice just above a whisper, you could feel his breath on your skin. “If you don’t want me here, just ask me to go and I’ll go.” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. The atmosphere was filled with electricity, your body drowning in the warmth of his presence, the sharp seriousness in his dark eyes, and you could not bring yourself to say anything. Did you want him to leave? 

No, you realized in a rush of adrenaline, you didn’t want him to leave at all. 

Jungkook raised one of his eyebrows. “Hm? Nothing?” He smirked, placing himself between your legs. Every nerve of your body was screaming for you to touch him, to just wrap his mouth with yours, and you simply could not respond to any of its commands. “You’re full of surprises.” 

You found your voice at that comment, heart hammering against your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re a smart girl, you can figure it out.” Jungkook placed one strand of your hair behind your ear, his gaze flickering down to your chest. From where he stood, he could see the beautiful mounds of your breasts peeking under the fabric, licking his lips at the sight. “Can I at least say that I like your dress?” 

Jungkook’s palm slithered up your knee before you could even react, moving towards your inner thigh and raising your dress along with it. His touch was electrifying, and you found yourself craving more of it, a sigh caught on your throat at the tenderness of his hot skin. 

“Something tells me that your compliment isn’t so innocent,” you told him, leaning your head back slightly so you could hold his gaze. “Aren’t you gonna complete that and say that I would look better without it?”

Jungkook chuckled. “The idea is compelling, I’ll admit it,” he said, rubbing soft circles on your skin. His other hand slithered around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “But don’t need to take it off to fuck you.” 

Your eyes grew wide at that, brain short-circuiting. You frankly couldn’t believe that was happening — the fact that Jungkook was so shamelessly trying (and honestly succeeding) to initiate sex with you. In a fucking church too, of all places. “What- what did you say?”

“You heard what I said.” His stare didn’t falter. Jungkook was looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you seriously wouldn’t mind if he tried to. You'd deal with the social and psychological implications of that another time. “Just tell me to stop and I’ll do it, princess. No hard feelings, promise.” 

This time, you spoke out and the firmness and certainty in your voice surprised even yourself. “I don’t want you to stop.” 

“No?” His voice sounded like honey, so deep and melodic even through the thick layers of his sarcasm. You had never heard him get so serious, so focused, and the thought that it was all for you was igniting a fire inside your guts. “You wanna get fucked in a church?” 

You bit your lip, blinking up at him. The point was: you wanted Jungkook, of all people, to fuck you. The fact that it was in a church was just the cherry on top, and you didn’t care about it as much as you should — your mom would be weeping blood if she knew what was going on, but you weren’t planning on telling anything to anybody. “And what if I do?” You asked back teasingly. 

Jungkook smiled, knocking the breath right out of you. You could only hope that you didn’t look as horny as you felt, because your pride was still on the line. “Told you that you were full of surprises.” He pushed one of your legs open, making you lose your support on the floor. Now, both of your feet were dangling off the edge, body trapped between his strong arms and thighs on either side of him. “Are you a virgin, baby?”

You shook your head, and your voice reached you a bit later. “No.”

“Naughty,” Jungkook said, leaning in. He stared at you like a lion stalking its prey, his gaze lingering on your parted lips before, at last, he tilted his head to the side, deciding to move towards your neck instead. “But if you have the taste I think you do, you probably had some lame missionary sex with some goodie-two shoes.” 

When he started kissing your neck, you almost forgot to give him a response. You had to bite your lip to suppress a moan, instead producing a low, shaky sigh. “And if I did? What’s the problem with some lame missionary sex?” 

“No need to get mad, I’m on your side here,” Jungkook said, one of his hands navigating up your waist, between the valley of your breasts, before grabbing your boob. That time, you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped you. “Did he make you cum?” 

“Sometimes,” you said, slightly flustered. You didn’t think you’d be discussing your sexual history with Jungkook, but, well, there you were. “He was alright.” 

“Only sometimes?” Jungkook chuckled, the vibrations of his deep timbre vibrating through the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb grazing your nipple. The heat between your legs only grew, your entire body practically begging to feel more of him. “That’s a shame, I could do better.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t start getting cocky.”

“I never stopped being cocky,” he responded without hesitation. Well, he was right. “And I do have a good track record.” 

“Doubt it,” you said, the ghost of a smile lingering on your lips. You knew that you were playing a dangerous game, pressing right at the weak spots of his inflated ego to see how he would react. Perhaps you’d be luckier trying to poke a bear with a short stick. “You wouldn’t know the difference between a real and fake orgasm even if it hit you in the face.” 

Jungkook leaned back and looked at you for an instant. You knew he had caught onto your challenge straight away. He liked it as much as you did, there was no doubt about that. “Let’s see, shall we?” he asked. There was no denying the devilish aura that was all around him now, suffocating you with its tempting heat. “How long do we have?”

“I’m locking up the room tonight,” you said, watching as his eyes sparked with an emotion you could not decipher. “But I wanna get home before ten. Have homework.” 

You could see him fighting against the natural urge to ridicule you for saying something like that at such an odd time, but, at the end, he managed to avoid it. “More than enough time.” Jungkook placed one hand on the back of your neck, gaze darting hungrily toward your lips. “Come here.”

And then his mouth was on yours, and everything else was white noise. Jungkook kissed you much slower than you had anticipated, taking his sweet time caressing your mouth with his; hands exploring the curves of your body and teasing their way underneath your dress. He sighed heavily against your mouth when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss, his soft tongue poking out and entering your mouth perfectly. Jungkook was a good kisser, you had to admit it, and he got your knees weak sooner than you’d like. 

His body was hot and firm against yours and you could feel the outline of his abs underneath your fingers as you trailed your hands down his torso; his quick heartbeat drumming on your palms. Jungkook’s breathing got heavier as you hooked your fingers on the hem of his pants and tugged him toward you. Instantly you noticed the outline of his hard cock against your inner thigh. 

Then, something switched. Just as you had reached out to touch his hardness, squeezing it lightly underneath your fingers, Jungkook groaned against your mouth and bit down on your lip. You had barely any time to react before he was pulling away from the kiss, gaze darkening. 

“Such a tease,” he mumbled hoarsely, his breath hitting your mouth in soft waves. His hand was hovering over your heat, his middle finger pressing down on your sensitive nub, making you whimper. “You don’t know what you do to me.” 

Jungkook was much quicker than your thoughts and, within a second, the motion of your panties being pushed aside made you fumble closer to him; your hands holding tightly onto his shoulders when he finally decided to touch you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned next to your ear, making your mind go blank for a split second. The teasing motions of his digits brushing your entrance were enough to make you whimper, hips thrusting forward in a failed attempt to make him move further. “Look at this, you’re soaking my fingers. Wanna get fucked that bad?”

But he didn’t let you respond. The sudden intrusion of two fingers inside your pussy made your back arch, nails digging in the leather of his jacket as Jungkook opened you up. “I—” you tried to speak, but it was hard to think when he started pumping his fingers in and out of you. The sounds of your wetness were a filthy symphony filling the quiet atmosphere. “Jungkook, what—” 

“God, that’s so tight,” he groaned, speaking through clenched teeth. His voice was enough to shut you up at the spot, a frail moan dripping from your lips. “Relax, baby, you’re too tense. Let me take care of you, alright?” 

You nodded, eyes drifting shut as he continued to pump his fingers in and out of you. You hated to admit it, but Jungkook was already winning against your ex by a long shot: the way his digits brushed inside you, gradually moving apart to stretch you, got you searching — begging — for more. You were sure you could cum around his fingers and, when he curled them up and they dragged against your sweet spot, the idea became a lot more palpable. 

“Jungkook, you’re taking too long, I’m gonna cum like this,” you complained, chest rising and falling under the waves of your upcoming orgasm. You could feel it building up in your stomach, ready to snap, and you didn’t want it to happen around his fingers. “I wanna feel you.” 

Jungkook breathed out at your needy request, placing a kiss against your jaw. “I’m just getting you ready for my cock, baby,” he said. A loud moan dripped from you when he unceremoniously added a third finger, your legs trembling on either side of his body. “I don’t know if you can take it.”

You scoffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you said, only half aware of the fact that your voice sounded more like a whimper than a serious comment. “I can.” 

He smirked wickedly. You really were pushing his buttons. “We’ll see about that,” Jungkook responded. 

Within a second, right as your orgasm was about to wash over you, he removed his fingers from your pussy. The frustrated moan you let out was quickly swollen by him, his mouth rogue against yours and the sweetness of his tongue intoxicating you — probably those stupid cupcakes, you thought. 

“Turn around for me,” he asked. 

You quickly did as he requested, putting your feet on the ground before turning your back to him, hands leaning on the table. Jungkook placed one hand on the curve of your spine, pushing you down until you had your chest against the surface, ass perked up and pussy in full display for him. There was a gush of cold air against your flesh when he pulled up the fabric of your dress and tossed it over your waist, exposing your lower body for him.

The boy hummed at the sight, one of his legs kicking your feet apart so he could position himself in the middle of your thighs. “You’re pretty all around,” Jungkook commented, one of his palms grazing your asscheek before grabbing it. His motion was harsh, needy; earning a whimper from you. “Knew you would be.” 

Through the dense clouds of your desire, there was still some part of you that managed to make fun of that situation. “You spend your free time thinking about my ass?”

“Won’t answer until I have a lawyer present,” he joked. 

You felt his fingers hooking around the fabric of your panties, pushing it further to the side so you had your cunt fully exposed for him to see. The drumming of your heartbeat almost drowned out the low groan he produced at the sight of your flushed heat. 

“Princess, your pussy is dripping so much…” Jungkook trailed off, one of his fingers tracing a line between your lips. He felt the urge to eat you out, to lick you completely clean and make you cum on his tongue, but he decided that would have to wait for a different time. “Is this all for me?” 

“Yeah, all for you,” you said, weak. There was a thundering exasperation building up inside you, motivated from your denied orgasm and from the way that Jungkook was taking his sweet time. 

“Good girl,” he mumbled and your chest was filled with pride. “Can’t wait to fuck it.” 

“Then don’t wait,” you practically begged. “Just rush.”

He removed his finger from your heat. “Shh… be patient,” Jungkook told you and you swore you could practically hear the smile in his voice. You could hear him shuffling behind you, the sound of his zipper opening echoing around that still room. “I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” 

You whined at the abrupt feeling of his warm cock rubbing between your folds, its tip hitting your clit after every languid thrust. “Fuck,” you cried out, shaky. Jungkook wasn’t lying when he said that he was big, his length was so thick that you were starting to get second thoughts whether you could take it or not. Not that you would ever admit it out loud. “Just put it in, Jungkook.” 

But Jungkook was having way more fun just teasing you. “Pussy’s so wet for me.” He breathed out, his hands tightening around your hips. You felt him throb between your folds, and the sensation got you searching for air. “You’re soaking my cock, baby. You want it that much?”

“Y-Yeah.”  

Jungkook hummed, leaning in so he could place a kiss on your shoulder. “I’m gonna fuck you like you deserve to be fucked, princess,” he promised, his length still rubbing between your folds. He was so hard and heavy that your mind was spinning, your lungs drowning in expectation. “Gonna fuck you so well that you’re never going to forget it. Do you want that?”

“Yes,” your voice was a pathetic moan, and you hated your body for betraying you so easily. “Yes, please.” 

After another pec on your shoulder, Jungkook leaned back. “Be loud for me, alright?” He asked. “Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed hard — what were the chances that someone would hear you? You had no idea. “Yeah, whatever you want, just fuck me.”

“Whatever I want? That’s a dangerous thing to say.” He moved around behind you, making you flinch when you felt his cock align with your dripping entrance. The anticipation was driving you insane. “Might have to see if you’re up for it another time.” 

There was an answer somewhere in your mind — you could swear there was — but it was quickly forgotten the second that Jungkook pushed himself inside you. The drag of his cock was a delicious torture, streching you out and filling you up to the brim until you were shaking under his touch, both of you moaning at the sensation. 

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, hands turning into fists on the table. Your cheek was pressed against the polished wood, hot breath creating small white clouds on the surface. 

Jungkook released a shaky sigh when he felt you clenching around him, your body desperately trying to move closer to him. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed, his hands holding onto your hips for dear life. Gradually, he moved himself away from your pussy just so he could slam back inside, marveling on the way you trembled at the feeling, crying out his name in the prettiest of whimpers. “Your pussy is so fucking tight. Squeezing my cock so well.” 

Took you only an instant to realize that you were absolutely addicted to the feeling of his cock inside you, the heavenly push of his hardness in and out of you as he slowly started to set a pace. “Oh my god, I’m—” a pitiful hiccup interrupted you, turning your voice into a sharp cry. “That’s so good, Jungkook.”

Jungkook chuckled behind you, his thrusts starting to pick up speed. Your eyes closed in endless bliss, every part of your brain focused on the sensation of his fat length stretching you up. “Told you I’d be, not my fault you didn’t believe me,” he said, but you could tell that his confidence had started to wear itself thin — he, too, seemed to be much more focused on the way that your bodies met. “Do you touch yourself, princess?”

You almost didn’t know how to answer him, a deep heat rushing up to your cheeks. “W-What?”

“When you’re alone, baby,” he practically hissed. You were bouncing on the table then, your body jerking up and down as he fully pistoned his cock inside your heat. “Do you play with your little pussy?”

“Y-yes,” you stammered, embarrassed. “S-Sometimes.” 

“Show me how you do it,” he requested in-between huffs, lust dripping from every syllable. Jungkook spoke to you like a siren, effortlessly inducting you to comply with everything he wanted. “Come on. Don’t be shy, I wanna see you play with yourself for me.” 

You didn’t even know if what you were feeling was shyness, but there was a veil of hesitation that covered your actions. As your hands moved downwards, one of them clenching around the fabric of your dress and pulling it up while the other trailed over your mound, you felt strangely vulnerable, exposed. At the same time, you wanted to do what he asked you to, wanted him to wash you over with compliments until your mind was going blank. 

So you closed your eyes and focused on the sensation of two of your fingers coating themselves in your wetness, then their pressure on your clit. You whined at the feeling, pleasure exploding in your veins as you started to rub yourself, tracing small circles on your sensitive spot. There was no way you could ever reach that sensation again, the sweet motions of your fingers combining perfectly with the thrusts of his hard, fat cock inside you. You were doomed. 

“That’s it… just like that, baby,” Jungkook whispered, obsessed with the sensation of your walls fluttering around him. You had gotten so tight that he thought he would see heaven at any second now. “Feels good?” 

“Y-Yeah, so good...” you struggled to get out, “feels amazing, Jungkook.” 

“So perfect for me,” his praise shot straight up to your core, making you mewl under him. God, the way that you were tightening around him was going to drive him insane. “You feel so fucking good, I can’t stop fucking you.” 

Jungkook took one of his hands to your neck, using it to guide your body upwards until you had your back pressed against his chest; his hot lips assaulting your neck. The new position made it so much easier for his cock to drill inside you, reaching even deeper and hitting sweet spots you didn’t even know you had. It wasn’t long before you were moaning out, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure overtook you. 

“Just take a look at that, baby,” his voice broke you out of your hypnotized state.  “Look at you. Such a good slut, just taking everything I’m giving you, touching yourself for my cock… fuck. Could watch you like this forever.” 

You had to take a moment to understand what he was talking about, and then you saw it: the window. It stood silently across the room from you, half open, and the glass combined with the darkness of the night gave a perfect reflection of the two of you. You could see yourself, the mess you had become, as Jungkook pounded in and out of you and your fingers worked on your clit; the darkness of his hungry gaze as he followed the motions of your body against his. 

Even if you cried out at the sight, your body freezed up a little at the thought of someone walking by and seeing that private spectacle. The possibility itself was minimal — the window gave way to the side of the land, where a big, thick fence separated it from the nearby houses; most of the ground covered by large trees and bushes — but it wasn’t zero. You couldn’t even begin to imagine the humiliation that would come from being seen like that. 

He, of course, noticed your change of demeanor right away, and you could see in the faint reflection that he had smirked at that realization. “What is it? Are you worried someone is going to walk by?” Jungkook almost groaned against your ear. His cock continued to pump ferociously in and out of you, and you couldn’t even understand your own thoughts for a moment. “That someone is gonna see you get fucked like a good slut?” 

“It’s not—” a moan cut your sentence short. Not like you knew where you were heading, anyways. 

“No one is gonna see you like this, know why?” Jungkook was grunting, his fingers tightening around your throat. You cried out at the feeling, your cunt clenching around him in a way that got him fucking you even harder. “Cause this is all for me. Just for me.” 

Then he was pushing you back on the table, your chest crashing against the wooden surface and his hands yanking you by the waist. Jungkook was fucking you so hard that your worries left you as soon as they arrived, your mind a turmoil of desires and broken exclamations that didn’t give space to anything else but him. 

“You look fucking gorgeous like this, stuffed with cock,” he marveled at the sight. There was a known wave of pleasure hovering over you, ready to crash at any given moment, and you stopped rubbing yourself just so you could prolong its arrival. “Wanna see you cum for me, make a mess for me, baby.” 

The words left you in a confusing, broken order, “Jungkook, I can’t… too much… can’t...” 

“Shhh, you can,” he was slowly easing you into your orgasm, his cock drilling in and out of your pussy. Jungkook fucked like a machine, fast and precise, and you didn’t think you’d be able to forget that anytime soon. “You told me you could take it, so now you’re gonna take it. Don’t you wanna be good for me?” 

“I- I want to… I’m so close,” you cried out, pressing your forehead against the table. You didn’t know how it hadn’t broken yet, with the way that Jungkook was fucking you so mercilessly hard. “I’m so, so close.”

“Cream my cock, baby, come on,” he urged you on, his member throbbing inside you at the thought. Your legs were so weak that you knew you’d fall facedown on the floor if he wasn’t supporting your weight with his strong arms. “Be a good girl and cream my cock for me.” 

And that was it. That was all that you needed to push yourself over the edge, submerging you in ecstasy and making you squeeze him so deliciously. “J-Jungkook!” You moaned out his name again and again, unsure of how loud you were being, but also not caring as much as you should. Jungkook realized he loved hearing you call his name more than anything else. “Fuck! Oh my god!”

“That’s it, baby,” he moaned back, his thrusts a sloppy, uncoordinated mess. He was hypnotized by the view of your cunt hugging him, your wetness dripping down your thighs as you rode out the last seconds of your orgasm. “Pussy’s so fucking tight, so fucking perfect— gonna cum too.” 

You gasped out at the sensitivity that was starting to spread, every movement shaky as you tried to push yourself against him. “Yes, please.” You looked over your shoulder, meeting his hooded gaze. Jungkook looked like a god, his dark hair sweaty and messy and his lip trapped between his teeth. That image would plague you forever. “Cum inside me, please.” 

He groaned loudly, eyes closing for a second. “Fuck, that’s so fucking hot,” he hissed, chest heaving with anticipation. You knew he was close, everything pointed to that, and all that you wanted was to see him reach his high, using your body like it was just a doll for him to fuck. “Didn’t know you’d want to be filled up with cum, princess.” 

“I’m full of surprises.” You smiled — a pretty, fucked-out smile that got Jungkook grunting like a madman. “I want your cum inside me, Jungkook, please.” 

“Gonna fuck you full of my cum, don’t worry— Shit.” The sounds he was making were heavily: those breathy, high-pitched moans that echoed all around you; broken by deep grunts that had your thighs shaking. Jungkook fucked himself in you like he was meant for it, throwing his head back and closing his eyes as he finally found his orgasm. “Fuck! That’s it, fuck—”

Jungkook called out your name and mixed it with praises and curses when he came, spilling himself inside your pussy. You sighed at the feeling, taking in the blissful sensation of having his hot cum spilling out of you, dripping down your legs as he continued to thrust inside you, milking out his orgasm. 

At last, he started to wince from sensitivity. His body collided against your back, his heavy breathing fanning your neck as he tried to collect himself. “Fuck, baby,” he mumbled, “you’re amazing.” 

“You’re not so terrible yourself.” You could not help the smile that appeared on your lips, nor the way that you melted against the surface of the table, drowning in his heat. 

Still, you couldn’t stay there for much longer: it was already a miracle that no one heard the chaos going on in that room, and you weren’t trying to push your luck for the night. Especially since you had a pile of homework (and possibly — now cold — takeout) waiting for you at home. 

You raised your body, leaning against your elbows. “I have to leave,” you told him, taking one of your hands to lay on top of his tattooed one, trying to ease his grip from your waist. “Now if you could just…” 

“Shhh, shhh,” Jungkook hushed, unrelenting. He was much stronger than you, and your muscles were too weak for you to try and do much, so you eventually gave up. “Stop moving. Let me feel you around me for just a bit more.” 

You frowned. “Why?”

“I like it,” he said simply. His breath was a faint caress against the skin of your neck, and you didn’t have much fight left in you. “We all have our tastes.” 

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so weird.”

“Don’t kinkshame.” Jungkook pouted, then pressed a kiss against your shoulder. “You just begged me to fuck you in a church, remember?” 

“Yeah, I guess I don’t have much place to judge.” You laughed dryly, then looked over your shoulder. “Why is your cock still hard? How long is this gonna take?” 

Jungkook groaned, clearly annoyed. “Shut up and enjoy the moment.” 

~ 

The so-called moment lasted about two more minutes (which was kind of impressive, you thought) before Jungkook softened and slipped out of you. You hated to admit but you kind of liked the feeling of having him still inside you, completing you as his lips danced around your neck; fingers tenderly playing with your hair. You never thought Jungkook would be so gentle after fucking you like that, but you guessed that you weren’t the only one that was full of surprises. 

Jungkook, apparently, also liked to admire his work. After he had slipped out of you, he made you sit back on the table just so he could stare at his own cum dripping out of you, a glimmer of satisfaction in his dark gaze. He had pushed his white release back inside you and smirked up at you, asking, ever so kindly, for you to go home like that, filled with his cum. 

You, of course, promptly accepted it. 

“By the way,” he called when you two had already stepped out of the church, enveloped by the coldness of the night. There was only one solitary light pole illuminating his features, making him look like one of the saints in the chapel — nothing but fake advertisement, in your opinion. “Wanna know how much I got in that immunology test?”

“How much?” You asked. 

“Eighty two.” Jungkook smiled brightly then, and you found yourself joining him. “Never saw a grade so high in my life. And that counts all the times I’ve cheated too.” 

“Seems like the tutoring sessions are paying off.” You crossed your arms before your chest, the hem of your dress swirling around your knees. The night was weirdly peaceful after everything that had taken place. 

“They are.” He nodded. “I’m looking forward to the next one. Helps that my tutor is kind of a hottie too.”

You scoffed. “So I’ve heard.”  

“And, by the way?” 

“Yeah?”

“You would look better without it.” He pointed at your dress, a sly smile already sprouting on his lips. “Hope to see it next time.”

“Good night, Jungkook.” You rolled your eyes, already turning around — yeah, like there would ever be a next time. 

~ 

BAD INFLUENCE COLLECTION

TAGLIST: 

@taehyungieskith​ @fan-ati--c​ @btstrasht​ @crazy4myself​ @sashimi-mochi @ft-multi @kooafraid @dianaaviny @ggukkieland @cryinginmypromdress @kissestothesky

[notanotherreidgirl]

K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Summary: Spencer doesn't recognize a song JJ was singing and Reader helps him out

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: 18+, blowjob, public sex, cumplay, implied sex, language

Word Count: 1250

A/N: This was inspired by this ask - thank you anon!

“Psst!” you jolted when you felt a crumpled post-it hit the back of your head. You swiveled around in your chair to see a little pile of colorful paper at your feet and Spencer waving at you with one hand. “How many of these did you have to throw before you hit me?”

“Do I have to answer that?” You quirked an eyebrow and nudged a fluorescent pink post-it with your shoe. He groaned. “Fine, 31”

“31! Jesus Christ, Reid. I’m like three feet away from you!”

“You’re actually 4 feet, 7 and a half inches away.” Shit. He could feel panic bloom in his chest and he sent out a silent prayer that you wouldn’t ask why he knew the exact distance from your desk to his. He tried to be quick with his recovery. “Uh - anyway, I wanted to ask you a question? About that song? The one JJ was singing earlier?"

You looked around the bullpen for the first time in hours, realizing that it was just you and Spencer. You inclined your head slightly, taking a moment to survey him. “You’re telling me that you stayed 4 hours late to ask me about a song?”

“Well um - no! I - uh - I did have work to finish.” He flushed, snapping his mouth shut before he made an even bigger fool of himself. What he didn’t say was that he stayed to watch how your face scrunched in concentration, how you narrowed your eyes slightly when confused, how you drummed your fingers against your stack of files when the internet was being slow. You raised a skeptical eyebrow at the untouched pile of files on his desk, all set to be delivered to Hotch first thing in the morning.

“Oh, really?” you scooted your chair a little closer. 4 feet, 2 inches. “Well then, what are you waiting for? Ask away, Dr. Reid.”

“Um - I - well, I didn’t have much to go off of. I think JJ only sang the first verse but I think it was something about being in a tree. You know, tree climbing was first practiced as a sport during the 70s in California and it was internationally recognized in 1994. The International Society of Arborists continues to host International Tree Climbing Championships every year. However, given the high unlikelihood of Penelope being a competitive tree climber, I am inclined to believe that there is a less literal meaning. Perhaps it -”

You stood up and the rest of his words withered in his throat. He wasn’t used to being the one looking up at you and there was something exhilarating about having you tower over him. He shifted in his seat slightly, trying to recall more facts about the lucrative world of competitive tree climbing in a poor attempt to dampen the growing tightness in his pants. “Would it help for you to hear the whole song?”

“Y-yeah” he managed to squeak out, far too flustered by you already and now you were offering to sing to him. You smiled, all too aware of your effect on him.

“Kevin and Penelope sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes babies in a baby carriage.” As you sang you approached him, punctuating each word with a step towards him - 4 feet, 3 feet, 2 feet - until you were standing right between his parted legs.

“O-oh” he cleared his throat and tightened his grip on the armrests of his chair. In any other situation, he might be more interested in Penelope’s new relationship but Kevin was the farthest thing from his mind right now. He couldn’t decide where to look. Certainly not straight ahead with you so close and up towards your chest was definitely a no-go. Luckily, you made the decision for him by dropping down to your knees, capturing his gaze with your own. That look in your eyes sent a thrill down his spine and if he didn’t know better he would say it was the feeling of all his blood rushing between his legs.

You toyed with his tie before giving it a tug and drawing his lips against yours. He was a good kisser for someone who couldn’t recognize a simple schoolyard song about it, threading one hand through your hair to bring you in closer and slipping his tongue into your mouth. But you pulled back before you could get swept away, moving down his jawline with soft kisses spaced between each letter murmured against his neck. K-I-S-S-I-N-G

He was so overwhelmed by the feeling of your soft lips trailing down the column of his throat that he almost missed you unfastening his belt. “What are you doing?” he asked breathlessly.

“What do you think, Dr. Reid? You know, for someone so smart you can be pretty dumb” you grinned when you finally got the zipper open. “I’m gonna give you a blowjob. You know what that is, right?”

He nodded slowly as you pushed down the waistband of his underwear, blushing an even deeper shade of red when his erection slapped against his stomach upon its release. You bit your lip in anticipation and looked up at him with hungry eyes before going any further. It took him a moment to realize that you wanted his permission and his already frenzied heart started doing flips in his chest. “Please, Y/N. I-I wanna feel you”

You swiped the bead of precum gathered on his tip and spread it up and down his length, squeezing just enough to elicit a deep groan. You took your time, drawing your mouth in close to let your warm breath travel up his length and elicit a sudden twitch. Waiting until he squirmed with impatience and let out soft, pitiful whines before you took his cock into your mouth. He sucked in a sharp breath when he hit the back of your throat having to clench his thighs in an effort to control himself and you hummed with satisfaction, nearly shattering his threadbare self-restraint. “Shit, Y/N. Yes, just like that. Please, you feel so good.”

You bobbed up and down expertly, swallowing around his tip each time you descended. He was visibly trembling, unable to say anything more than your name. At the very last moment you withdrew your mouth, working him through his release with your hand so you could take in how pretty he looked when he came. Except pretty didn’t even begin to describe him. Maybe beautiful or gorgeous or stunning or perfect but you had a sneaking suspicion that there wasn't a single word in any language that could describe how lovely Spencer looked with his head thrown back, hips bucking up from his seat, face contorted in pleasure.

He came down from his high breathlessly, a reddish tinge reappearing on his cheeks when he looked down at his mess.

"What else don't you know, Dr. Reid?" you sat back on your heels, trailing a finger up his spent cock and collecting a drop of cum. "Tell me, do you know how babies are made?"

"O-of course I do" he spluttered, his face turning bright red.

"Hmm, I'm not sure I believe you." You popped your finger in your mouth before reaching up and adjusting his tie, tightening it the slightest bit. "Why don't you prove it?"

---

The next morning you heard Spencer softly singing to himself in your shower. Spencer and Y/N sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G

Taglist: @thatsonezesty13 @rosienie @newyorkaqua @coldlilheart @spencerreider @newgirlinhell @ssa-natalya-reid @lauryn-need-help @spencerscumrag @gublerzwhore @beepbooptoop @stylesstreet @zoeygraygubler @deiondraaa​ @Nct-nyny @optimisticcloudmoon @centiaaa​ @ifvckedurmom @6r4cie @dontcallmekittens​ @subbyspencereid​ @kuolonsyoja​ @Goldengubler5 @reid-me-a-story​ @spencerreidsmommy @aharvey979​ @reidsbookclub​ @lunajoyce3 @kaz_2y567​​ @mystical-and-modern-marauder @marrymespencerrei @idk @blayneve @heymxparker

Click here to join a taglist and here to tell me what you thought of this one!

[ava-achlys]

The Boyz NSFW Scenarios

Lee Jaehyun (Hyunjae) - Intoxicated [Requested]

Request: dom Hyunjae + overstimulation

badboy! ceo! Hyunjae x PA! fem! reader

Warnings: petnames, dirty talk, slight degradation, a lot of grinding lol, some choking, Hyunjae is a narcissist here

Finally finished this one for @jaepocket ! Thanks for requesting, I hope you like it 💕hope you don't mind that I made Hyunjae an asshole lol

Work parties have taken a toll on your boss, and as the best personal assistant in the world, you help him home.

You kept a watchful eye over your boss throughout the Christmas party. Year-end parties were lined up back-to-back for the most influential entrepreneur under 30 in Seoul. Jaehyun was being extra charming tonight, wooing men and women alike with his dazzling smile, charisma, and powerful aura. He knew he was untouchable, and it showed in his walk. Long legs that could rival any model, perfectly coiffed light brown hair, and a designer tailored suit hugging him in all the right places, showing off his broad shoulders. He glances over to you, and shoots you a wry smile from across the room. No one else might have noticed, despite the fact that everyone who spoke to him couldn't take their eyes off him, but a subtle flush dusted his cheeks and there was a slight glassiness in his eyes that alerted you. Jaehyun has definitely had too much to drink. You stride over to him, and he politely excuses himself from the flock of older women giggling and sidling up to him, and meets you halfway on the dance floor.

He walks to you with a slight wobble, and reaches out to steady himself... by grabbing your hips. "Hey you," he grins, thumbs softly rubbing your waist through the thin material of your dress. You resist the shiver that runs down your spine, the warmth emanating from his hands a welcome sensation since the place was freezing. A mansion full of people and it was still cold? The hosts hadn't bothered to turn the heaters on. That's probably how the rich stay rich, you supposed. It definitely didn't help that you were wearing a skin-tight cocktail dress, with a little slit up the thigh. "Sir, I think you've had enough to drink tonight," you murmur, gently tucking a lock of golden hair back into place. Jaehyun grimaced. He had a glass of wine with every group that approached him that night, and he wasn't feeling too well now, considering everyone wanted to meet with the Lee Jaehyun™, one of Seoul's most prominent and eligible bachelors.

"Let's get you home then, sir, you really need some rest. Or rather, your liver does," you sigh, offering your arm for him to hold on to so he doesn't fall flat on his face in public, possibly ruining his reputation. He lets out a hearty laugh, and intertwines his arm with yours, trying to maintain a power walk out of the place, nodding at other party-goers that greet him in passing. He gratefully gulps the fresh air outside as you wait for his chauffeur to pull up in his stupidly expensive limousine, helping him to clamber gracefully into the backseat once it arrives. You're about to shut the door to book a ride home for yourself when he tugs on your arm, a blazing fire in his eyes as he looks up at you, and you know he wants you to come home with him tonight.

You glance around quickly, making sure no one is watching you get into the car with him, but really, who would question a PA ensuring that her drunken boss gets home safely? You quietly slip into the plush leather seats, leaving a space between you two just in case he feels stuffy or nauseous. Jaehyun roughly loosens his tie, and you can't help but stare at his large, veiny hands. Before you can snap out of it, he catches your eye and smirks, using those very hands to yank you closer, almost sitting on his lap. You yelp in surprise, your hands flying up to his broad shoulders. He smashes his lips onto yours, messy with tongue and teeth and a moan escapes you when you taste the sweet alcohol on his tongue. His warm hands roam all over your body, deftly pulling up the hem of your short dress so he can run his hands up your thighs and grope your plump behind. "Been staring at your ass all night, who said you could wear a dress like this?" he growls against your lips, squeezing the flesh tightly to prove his point.

You weakly push him away, and he stares at you, offended that you don't seem to want him, when you're usually so pliant and obedient for him. "I don't think we should do this, sir, you're not thinking straight," you stutter. Jaehyun barks out a laugh, startling you. "Am I? I'm not drunk, kitten, I only spoke and acted like that so we could get out of that damned party. And maybe I'm not thinking straight, because all I've been thinking about the whole time is ripping that fucking dress off your body, you fucking minx," he snarls, grabbing you again and manhandling you to straddle his lap, sounding completely clear and level-headed. He had everyone fooled; even you, and a crushing disappointment engulfs your heart.

You don't get to feel sorry for yourself though, because Jaehyun is pulling you close, grinding the obvious bulge in his slacks against your clothed pussy as he makes out with you again. You let him run his hands all over you, feeling his lips trail down the side of your lips and down your neck, smudging your lipstick everywhere. Jaehyun doesn't care, clearly, he just wants to make a mess out of you, and you gladly let him, both of you so absorbed in each other that you didn't feel the car roll to a stop. You hadn't even noticed the opaque partition had been pulled up until you heard the electronic buzz of it being lowered, and the indifferent voice of the chauffeur came through. "We've arrived at your destination, sir and miss."

Without so much as a thank you, Jaehyun flings the door open and tugs you into the building's lobby. He owns the whole building obviously, but he lives in the penthouse suite, swiping his keycard to unlock his private elevator. He wastes no time attaching his lips to the back of your neck as he presses you up against the walls of the elevator, grinding on your ass the whole way up. He leaves you panting when the doors open, and he goes to punch in his keycode. The lock beeps, and Jaehyun snarls when he's halfway through the door and you're still lagging behind, knees too wobbly to walk properly thanks to his earlier ministrations. "What are you waiting for kitten?" You shake your head, embarrassed that sloppy make-outs and grinding like lovesick teenagers is enough to make your head spin.

Jaehyun strides towards the bedroom, stripping his expensive clothes as he went, but instead of making a right turn to the master bedroom as he usually does, he makes a left to the guest bedroom. You don't have time to ponder, because he's pulling you in and shoving you onto the bed, dark eyes staring you down as he fumbles with his belt. The intensity of his gaze makes you tremble. Is it from fear, excitement, or a morbid combination of both? He finally gets all his clothes off, and his hard cock is swinging heavily with every step he takes towards the bed. He prowls, like a predator, and you're too petrified to even strip or prepare yourself, but apparently that didn't matter to him.

"You still on the pill?" Jaehyun demands, and you nod feverishly. "Good." And with that he rips your lacy panties off in one fluid motion, and hikes your dress up to bunch up around your waist. You hear the material rip, but before you could bemoan the hefty price tag, Jaehyun slides his throbbing cock inside you, making you arch your back as you moan loudly at the intrusion. He gives you barely any time to adjust, knowing how much you like taking it raw, and starts thrusting harshly. You can't help but moan loudly, almost going cross-eyed from the mixture of pain and pleasure. You clamp a hand over your mouth when a particularly shrill moan slips from your lips, but Jaehyun tugs it away, wanting to hear how good he makes you feel. It's nothing more than an ego boost for him, but you comply.

Jaehyun gets sick of missionary fairly quickly. He does enjoy seeing your pretty face contort with pleasure, and watch your makeup run. But he likes fucking you from the back even more, loves the way you get on all fours for him, loves the way your ass jiggles when he spanks you, and loves how your legs give way when he's done making you see stars. He pulls out for a moment, flipping you over onto your hands and knees easily, ignoring the surprised gasp you make when he shoves his cock back into you. He picks up the pace, hitting your g-spot dead-on with this new angle. He wraps a hand around your throat, the expensive gold bands adorning his fingers pressing delightfully into your windpipe. He squeezes lightly as he slams into your core, and you scream, climaxing without warning.

The sudden clench around Jaehyun's dick has him swearing lowly. "Did I say you could cum, kitten? You know you have to ask for permission," he grunts, fucking you through your orgasm, maintaining his relentless pace. Your head is foggy, and you try to apologize, but every sharp thrust Jaehyun makes cuts your words off. He doesn't let up, using you to chase his own climax, slightly aggravated by yours. He presses down the middle of your shoulder blades, pushing you down further into the sheets so you're not holding yourself up with your hands anymore. You're grateful, because you can barely support yourself anymore, and you need a break. Except he doesn't give you one, hoisting you up by the hips to pummel even faster and harder into you, and your upper half is practically dragging along the sheets with every snap of his hips.

The delightfully torturous graze of silk sheets against your raw nipples, and the rough pads of Jaehyun's fingers relentlessly abusing your swollen clit sends you teteering close to the edge again. You can't cum, no, you won't cum until he tells you to. You want to be good for him, even though you're so close to climax again that it hurts. You hold out, gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles turn white, when a particularly hard press against your clit and a low growl of "Cum for me now, kitten" sends you screaming once more, vision turning white as your searing-hot orgasm rips through your body.

You barely register Jaehyun's groan as he continues grinding into your g-spot, your pussy clenching almost painfully tightly around him, milking his cock dry as he blows his load deep into your warmth. You collapse forward onto the bed, trembling from exhaustion, chest heaving desperately to replenish your lungs with oxygen. Your whole body is sore and you know it's probably going to be worse tomorrow, and dark fingerprints are going to decorate your skin too. Above you, Jaehyun is still holding your hips up, pulling out of you with a grunt, cock hanging limply as he pants harshly. He watches idly as his cum drips out of your abused cunt, trickling down your legs, and drops your legs unceremoniously.

He stretches his legs, and gathers his sweat-drenched, possibly cum-stained designer clothing off the floor as he walks towards the door. "Clean yourself up, you know where everything is. I need you in the office early tomorrow morning." Jaehyun utters without so much as a glance back at your naked body, and the door shuts behind him with a loud click that echoes through the suddenly cold room. You hear him humming to himself and drawing a bath, and you shut your eyes, trying to suppress a sob at how horrible you feel, both physically and emotionally. Sex with Jaehyun was always hot, rough and mind-blowing, but recently you realize you always felt empty afterwards. Because he'll immediately turn cold once he's gotten his fix, leaving you to clean up after yourself and sometimes even make you hail a cab to go home afterwards. At least tonight he let you stay over, even though it's in the cum-stained bed in the guest room, without any post-coital care.

As you lay there, fresh hot tears stream down your cheeks, and you wonder if all the alcohol in the world could wash away the pain you felt of being used as Jaehyun's personal fucktoy; manipulating you into catering to his every whim and then carelessly throwing you aside once he's done.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time And Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 8

You come across an old photo book full of untouched memories and decide to go through it with Harry, though there are some things you decide he doesn't need to know and some things you'd rather forget. (Takes place mostly through Marauders era flashbacks)

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

Ch 8 .:Snapshots, Secrets, and Sentimentality:.

“Hey, Harry?” you called out into the living room where said boy was reclined on one of the large charcoal armchairs, “I found something you might want to see.”

His eyes widened behind the round frames of his glasses as you carried over a large, leather bound book that was thick with laminated pages. You sat across from him on the couch, setting it down on the coffee table in front of you.

“We still have a few more hours before the others arrive for the meeting,” you said, “and I don't know when the next time we'll be able to talk like this will be.”

“Wait,” he said before you could open the book, “you aren't staying?”

“I can't,” you smiled at him sadly. A statement that was true for a multitude of reasons you'd rather not get into with your godson. “I wanted to show this to you before I left, though.”

With a wave of your hand the book's pages gently flipped open, revealing a number of old magical photographs. The page you had turned to had a picture of James, and you could see Harry's eyes lock onto it. His father was beaming at the camera, holding up the Quidditch cup as two of his Gryffindor teammates held him up on their shoulders.

“Now you see why everyone always tells you how much you look like him,” you chuckled, “that's him in his fifth year, same as you now.”

Harry stared in wonder at the photo. He really did look like his dad. James was slightly taller, lankier, but he had the same disheveled waves of dark brown hair and boyish grin as Harry. Their faces were nearly identical; except for the eyes, of course.

The photo right next to that one was you wearing a Seeker's crest. You were posed, standing with the rest of your team with a wide smile on your face. Harry's brow furrowed as he spotted an unknown yet somehow familiar boy next to you with curly black hair and light eyes.

“Who is that?” he asked, “he almost looks like—”

“Sirius?” you finished. Harry nodded. “That would make sense,” you said, “that's Regulus, his younger brother.”

“I. . . didn't know he had one,” Harry said in wonder.

“Well, you know he doesn't talk about his family often.”

“Right. . .” Harry trailed off for a moment, “but you knew him? His brother?”

“Yeah,” you said, feeling a tug at your heart, “We were friends, for a while.” Your eyes subconsciously looked up towards his room which now stood empty. “He, um. . . he died, some time ago.”

“Oh,” Harry said, not knowing what to say, “I'm sorry. . .”

You gave him a small smile in thanks, trying to shrug off the grim feeling the memories brought up as you turned the page of the book to the next.

This photograph was one that was moving— you and James in your Quidditch captain's uniforms. He was reaching over, ruffling your hair while you were ducking to avoid him, pushing his face away and turning his glasses askew despite the grin on your face.

“We both became team captains in year six,” you said, smiling fondly at the picture, “we'd squared off as Seekers the year prior, so it was only natural. You were already playing Seeker your first year, weren't you?”

��Yeah,” Harry said bashfully, “although my first time catching the snitch was bit rough to say the least.” You laughed at that, recalling the time he told you the story of how he had caught the snitch with his mouth his first match.

“You take after your father, for sure,” you said, “he was always a creative flier; came up with all sorts of purposefully confusing strategies as captain. By the time the other team figured out what he was doing, he'd have already caught the snitch and the match would be set.”

Harry felt pride fill his chest at your words, glad he was taking on his father's good qualities.

“So you were a Seeker your fifth year and played until you graduated,” he recalled, “but I thought you said you played Chaser before?”

“Well, sort of?” you admitted, “Not officially. My introduction to the game was unconventional, to say the least. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1974   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

James and Sirius huddled with the rest of the Gryffindor team on the Quidditch pitch, gearing up for the match. The energy around them was electric, the stands packed with students and faculty from every house.

“Remember, keep to the left,” Halls, their team captain, said sternly, “and take advantage of Parkinson's blind spot. If Rollins and the rest of the Chasers start scoring above 40 before halftime, we'll go in for the Pincer.”

Sirius nodded, determined to win this match. It was the first one of the season, so a lot was riding on this. However, his attention was diverted as the crowd's cheers suddenly grew louder. The Slytherin team had arrived on the field, marching towards them. Something Sirius didn't expect to see, however, was you, dressed in Chaser's robes next to his brother.

“What are they doing here?” Sirius scoffed as he spotted you, “they're not even on the team!”

“Rollins took a spill last practice,” Vanity said as she stepped forward. The Slytherin captain had a wicked grin on her face, “(L/n)'s a last minute replacement. Don't bother trying to argue, I've already cleared it with Madame Hooch.”

“Convenient of you to tell us ahead of time,” Halls' eyes narrowed.

“Is there a part of 'last minute' that escapes your understanding?” Vanity rolled her eyes.

“Well, no matter,” Halls said, “you've lost your best Chaser, we don't have anything to worry about.”

“That classic Gryffindor confidence,” Vanity smirked, “we'll see about that. I don't choose just anyone to fill in.”

Halls scoffed as Vanity turned on her heels, not bothering to look back.

“Seems you've found yourself another game to lose, (L/n),” James smirked at you.

“Have I?” you arched a brow, “what's our score now? 10-9?”

“10-10 since I got you with that scalene water in the Prefect's bathroom,” James reminded you, “how was being half fish for a day?”

“Marvelous, felt just like you,” you quipped.

“Settle down, everyone,” Madame Hooch said, stepping out onto the field, “Potter, (L/n), I know you two have taken to pranks on each other in class, but I don't want to see a lick of that up in the air, understood?”

“Perfectly,” you said, a smirk sneaking onto your face as you mounted your broom. 

“Wouldn't dream of it, professor,” James said with sarcastic flair.

Sirius eyed you cautiously. Gryffindor had flying class with Hufflepuff, so they'd never actually seen you fly before, but there was no doubt that if Vanity approved of you, you had to pose some kind of threat.

“Take your marks,” Hooch said, and you rose off the ground in unison, staring each other down. “Let the match begin!” With a strong, well placed kick, the Quidditch case was thrown open to release the bludgers and the snitch, and as she threw the quaffle up in the air you lunged forward into a dive. You were just about to grab the ball when a blur of red and gold nearly knocked you off your broom.

“Potter has the Quaffle!” Kingston commentated from the box, “he passes to Longbottom, who evades Catchlove and Regulus Black. Longbottom scores! The first ten points go to Gryffindor!”

The patrons in the red and gold stands went wild, the roar deafening in your ears. This was definitely different from flying class. You had to get it together.

The hair on the back of your neck suddenly stood straight up when something whizzed right past your head as you barely moved to dodge it. Sirius gave you a passive shrug from the other side of the field, a beater's bat resting on his shoulder.

“Tosser,” you grumbled under your breath. You had half a mind to throw him right through the left-field hoops without his broom, but dealing with the bludgers wasn't your job; you just had to evade and score. You wouldn't let your team down.

Your eyes searched the skies for the quaffle again, and found it as you spotted a Gryffindor snatch it out of Catchlove's hands. You built up momentum, lowering your body to your broom handle as you picked up speed, swiping the ball from the red Chaser's hands before his eyes could register. You flew under him before their team could rearrange formation and spun around quickly, swatting the quaffle towards the lower right goal with the tail end of your broom. Their Keeper dove to block it, but was one second too late. The ball flew through the hoop and straight into Regulus' hands, who looped back around and threw it through the top right, leaving the Gryffindor Keeper too disoriented and too low in the corner of the goal posts to do anything about it.

“(L/n) outmaneuvers Johnson and scores!” you heard the commentary box boom, “Regulus Black follows up with another goal, we are 20 Slytherin to 10 Gryffindor, what a quick turnaround to start off the match!”

You huffed, impressed that Regulus was able to make the most of your shot. You knew he was Sirius' brother, but that was about it. He was a year younger than you, so you didn't have any classes together and never really talked to him before.

“Nice shot,” you said, flying next to him.

“Same to you,” he said with the slightest upwards quirk of his lips.

“Oi, keep it up you two!” Vanity shouted, hovering over you before dodging the bludger that flew her way, “Black, keep point on Johnson, he's off his game today. (L/n) I want you on intercept and watch for Potter.”

“Gladly,” you smirked, flying off towards the other side of the field. You were starting to feel more comfortable in the air, like you were when you were just flying by yourself; the sounds of the crowd disappeared over the wind rushing in your ears, and you were able to concentrate on your main objective:

Kicking James Potter's arse.

And that you did. The all too confident smirk that seemed to be permanently plastered to his face disappeared when he suddenly felt the weight of the quaffle leave his hands. A victorious smile graced your lips at his dumbfound expression as you threw the ball long to Regulus, who caught it with ease, swatting Johnson away like a fly before scoring another goal.

“(L/n) passes to Black who scores another ten points for Slytherin!” Kingston announced, “it looks like the two rookie players are really hitting their stride now. Choosing (L/n) as a last second fill in is really paying off!”

Sirius' eyes narrowed, grunting in frustration as he hit another bludger your way. Regulus' head turned at the sound of the crack of the bat and signaled over to one of your Beaters, who tossed the bat his way just in time for the Slytherin to send the ball flying back towards his brother. Sirius cursed under his breath, rolling to the right and spinning out of control for a moment before reorienting himself.

“Hooch, what gives!” he shouted, “penalize them!”

“Fair play under protection,” Hooch denied him, “you've been taking headshots, Black. Be grateful I'm not docking you.”

Sirius grumbled a few choice words under his breath before flying back into the fray.

“Thanks for that!” you called over to Regulus.

“Don't mention it,” the boy said, his expression still fairly neutral save for the slight smirk on his face. How the hell was he so calm during this game anyways?

You continued to work with Regulus throughout the match; you'd found a system that worked, and your captain told you to roll with it. Pass after pass you intercepted and scored, mainly targeting Potter not just because Vanity had told you to, but because it brought you a considerable amount of personal enjoyment.

That's when you saw it— a tiny, nearly imperceptible flash of gold that whizzed by your peripheral vision. Neither of the Seekers had caught sight of it yet, but you watched as it zoomed low towards the ground, hovering just beneath one of the crowd stands.

“Oi, Talkalot!” you shouted over the crowd at your Seeker, “Dive low at Hippogriff, now!”

You'd only had  a few hours to look over the strategies that Vanity laid out for you, but you knew the Slytherin team had come up with code words for each quadrant of the Quiditch pitch so you could alert your Seeker if you saw the snitch without the other team knowing where it was. You hoped to Merlin you'd gotten the code right, and you exhaled in relief as Talkalot zoomed past you, taking a sharp dive straight down.

“Nice eye, (L/n)!” she shouted over her shoulder, her voice trailing off as she went after the snitch at top speed.

Sirius' eyes widened as he saw the sporadic move from your Seeker. That could only mean one thing.

“Halls, they've got eyes on the snitch!” he shouted to his team captain who cursed under his breath, taking off in Talkalot's direction, but her lead was too great.

“She's got it!” Kingston hollered into the mic, “Lucinda Talkalot has caught the golden snitch, scoring 150 points for Slytherin! Our score comes out 50 Gryffindor to 230 Slytherin, and this match is over!”

“Slytherin wins!” Madame Hooch proclaimed from her broom.

Everyone in the emerald stands cheered so loudly you thought their tents would topple. You couldn't believe the amount of adrenaline coursing through your body in that moment. It was a complete sensory overload as you were bombarded by the Slytherin team, mostly comprised of people you hardly even knew, and thrown on top of their shoulders and they cheered for you.

“What a game, (L/n)! I never knew you could play!”

“Where the hell have you been all this time, eh?”

“You better try out next year or you're dead!”

You laughed at the last comment from Vanity, people buzzing around you as soon as you were set down. You broke away from the congratulatory comments and pats on the back, however, as you spotted James across the field. You couldn't help but rub this in his face a little.  

“Why so blue, Potter?” you grinned as you bounded over to him, “what was that about me 'finding another game to lose'?”

For once, James had no clever comeback, and his face flushed as you laughed at his expression.

“I do believe that leaves us 11-10,” you said cheekily, doing an overly exaggerated bow before tossing your broom from your left hand to your right and stalking off.

“Not for long,” James said to himself once you were out of earshot, equal parts impressed and supremely annoyed. It was time for him to pay another visit to Zonko's. He'd show you blue all right. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“After that year I tried out for a permanent position as Seeker,” you said, “your father and I concluded our prank war, Sirius and I put aside our differences, Lupin vouched for my involvement with the map, and the rest is history.”

“I seriously can't believe you became such close friends only two years later,” Harry said, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“Neither could we,” you said, “it was just a series of chance encounters that we learned we were more similar than we thought. I really do believe that friendship can come from anywhere, Harry. Even more so when you least expect it. So if there's anyone around you that you think you might never get along with, I'd say it's worth it to give them a chance.”

Harry paused at your words. There were more than a few people who came to mind.

You turned to the next page, which was a spread of you and the rest of the Marauders in more casual settings. One could clearly tell you had taken them of each other, if the shaky camera movement and blurry rendering were anything to go off of.

You smiled to yourself as you saw a photo of you and Remus asleep in the Hogwarts library, lightly leaning against each other with your eyes peacefully closed. Suddenly the camera flash jolted through the photograph, and you two bolted upright. You glared at the person taking the photo and reached out to smack the camera away, the picture going blurry for a moment before resetting. Harry laughed at the brief repeating scene, as did you.

“Your father took this one,” you huffed, “because of course he did.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1977  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You rested your head in your palm as you transcribed a few spells into your notebook. The lantern in front of you gave you just enough light to read the elaborate Latin, as the sun had long since set. Your eyelids felt annoyingly heavy, attempting to close on their own as you fought against them to stay awake.

“How are you holding up?” Remus asked with a slight grin, catching you jump awake at his remark.

You and Remus had gotten permission from Madame Pince to use the library after hours to study; after all, you two were outstanding students. If James and Sirius had made the request, they wouldn't have gotten so positive a reaction.

“I've been more awake in my life, but I really need to get this done tonight,” you sighed, “NEWTS start next week and I have to be ready.” You stared up at the boy who was looking at you with obvious concern. “I'm fine, Moony. And I don't want to keep you here, so whenever you want to head off to bed, feel free to.”

“It's no trouble,” he said, “I'll walk you back to your common room, at least. At this rate you'll fall asleep in the middle of the hall for Filch to find you.”

You gave him a light but well-meant glare, groaning as you turned your tired eyes back to the parchment in front of you.

“Why the sudden all-nighters anyways?” Lupin asked, “I thought you'd be plenty prepared.”

“My Charms marks haven't exactly been the best lately,” you admitted, “that's kind of important if I want to become an auror, Remus.”

“Really?” the lycanthrope said, surprised, “but you're always in the know on some spell or another I've never even heard of. You've even made some of your own, right?”

“Yes, but the Ministry wants people who can conjure a corporeal patronus, not someone who made up a spell that makes antlers grow on someone's head to make a very specific joke.”

“Well, I thought it was impressive,” Remus laughed, thinking back to James asking him 'why does my head feel so heavy?' “but I see what you're saying,” Remus continued, “Have you thought about Dumbledore's proposal? Joining the cause might call for some more specialized tasks that would fit you well.”

“Right,” you bit your lip, “I just. . . I don't know. It's a lot to take on. A big part of me is scared, Remus. I'm not like you guys. I can't just fearlessly leap into a battle without any second thoughts. James and Sirius gave their answers so quickly and. . . I couldn't say for sure right away like they could. Honestly, I was terrified, and I still feel guilty because of it.”

“Fear is wisdom in the face of danger, (Y/n),” Remus said, “It's nothing to be ashamed of. No one is forcing you to make this decision right away, nor are they requiring you do it alone. There's a war going on out there, (Y/n). No one would blame you for not diving into it headfirst.”

“Always the quoter of muggle proverbs,” you chuckled lightly, “thank you, Remus. Really.”

A quiet yawn snuck into the back of your throat, and you stretched out of your chair to try to get feeling back into your body.

“Maybe I should turn in soon,” you said, your voice already groggy, “just a few more transcriptions. . .”

Remus stayed by your side as you continued to work diligently, and he found himself smiling at your innate stubbornness. It was something he greatly admired about you; when you decided on something you stuck to it no matter what, sometimes to a fault. You fought to keep your eyes open, even as your head began to slope and your handwriting gradually became slower.

Lupin was beginning to tire himself, which surprised him. He was naturally nocturnal, after all, and usually had no issue staying up to the early hours of the morning. But the quiet scratch of your quill against the parchment, the occasional sound of a page turning, and the smell of your shampoo that wafted with the motion, all lulled him into a sense of ease that was much too easy to doze off to.

Just when he thought he might fall asleep, he almost jumped out of his skin as he felt a soft pressure on his shoulder. He looked to the side to see you sleeping peacefully, your head having slipped from your palm and onto the soft fabric of his sweater. His face flushed a deep red, and he thanked Merlin you were sound asleep. He was caught in between embarrassment and slight panic as he instinctualy wanted to wake you but also ensure you actually got to sleep tonight.

He meant to wake you, he really had, but his mind and body betrayed him, and without even knowing when, his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off into quite possibly the best sleep he'd had in weeks.

The flash of the magical camera was blinding, even through your closed eyelids. White spots danced in your vision as you groaned, shielding your face from the camera.

“MORNING, LOVEBIRDS!”

Remus jolted awake, remembering last night's events in an instant and banging his head on the bookshelf beside him in an attempt to put some distance between you two.

James was stood there, camera in hand and doubled over in laughter.

“Prongs, you better start running before I skin you and turn you into a pair of shoes,” you growled.

“How is it that I always catch you two sleeping together?” James chortled, completely ignoring your statement, “Can't be long till you get it on to the other sense of the phrase.”

And that's when you lunged at him. Too bad he didn't take your advice for a head start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That twat,” you said fondly, a statement that about summed up your and James' friendship.

Harry found himself smiling as you recounted your memories with his father. It made him feel that much more grateful for what he shared with Ron and Hermione.

“Oh, Merlin,” you laughed as you saw the next picture. You, Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and James were standing side by side, Slughorn smiling in the middle of all of you. “This was the first and last Slug Club party that we ever attended all together,” you said, “Like I mentioned, Lily and I had always gone, and—”

You caught yourself.

And Severus would pretend to be reluctant tagging along, you finished in your mind. After what happened he stopped attending the parties.

You cleared your throat.

“Ahem, well, we'd always gone together as friends but none of the boys ever went with us,” you said, “It was our last year, and Lily finally convinced James to tag along, because by then they were together and he was contractually obligated to do so. I talked Sirius into coming because Slughorn had been trying to get him to come for years, and I made Remus my plus one. So for the first time ever, we were all at the party.”

“So it was the last party of the year?” Harry asked.

“Um, well, no,” you laughed, “it was the last party we were invited to. Let's just say your godfather thought it would be funny to enchant the ice sculptures to chase Lucius Malfoy around the dance floor. I'll admit, watching that stupid blonde ninny run screaming from a rapidly melting octopus to the tune of a classical string quartet was pretty entertaining, though Slughorn obviously felt otherwise.”

Harry chuckled, clearly seeing the spark of mischief in Sirius' eyes, even through a photo. As Harry's gaze drifted across the page, he noticed an empty space near the corner of the book. A discolored square remained where a photo should have been, the caption reading 'Christmas, 1976.' As he saw the way you ran your fingers lightly across the page, he decided against asking you what used to be there. He instead turned his attention to the next photograph, which was one taken in an all too familiar setting.

“Hold on,” Harry said, pointing to the picture, “that's the Gryffindor common room!”

“Sure is,” you grinned, “that secret passage from the dungeons to Gryffindor tower went from being used purely for pranking purposes to a way for us to actually hang out together at night.”

You stared down at the photograph fondly. You all looked so much older than the first pictures. You and James were lounging on the couch, not bothering to hide the overly full glasses of firewhiskey in your hands. Sirius and Remus were sitting on pillows on the floor, caught in the middle of a fit of laughter before all four of you turned to the camera which flashed. A pang of hurt and anger hit you square in the chest as it did. Peter had been the one taking the photo.

“I remember this day,” you said, an expression Harry couldn't quite figure out on your face, “it was the night before graduation. Our last night at Hogwarts. . .”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1978   ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A giggle rose in your throat as you took yet another drink of firewhiskey with James and Sirius, something that Remus insisted you were going to regret come morning.

“Oh, don't be suck a stickler, Moony,” Sirius guffawed, “tonight's the night! This time tomorrow we'll be packing up camp and heading out into the great unknown.” He made an expansive gesture with his hand that was cut off promptly by James smacking him upside the head.

“I'll brew a pepperup potion tomorrow if anyone really needs it,” you assured Remus.

“Not really the point, (Y/n),” he rolled his eyes.

As you leaned back to look at the four of them, all grinning like idiots and laughing, you felt a strange sense of sadness come over you. This was your last night at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the place you had spent most of your life and where you had met the people you could no longer imagine that life without. As the reality of that fact sunk in, you grew quiet.

“Everything's going to be different after tomorrow, isn't it?” you said.

The boys looked surprised at your sudden and intense declaration, and James was the first to break the tension you'd created.

“Aww, Fangs is getting all sentimental,” he grinned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I will toss you out this window, Prongs.”

He laughed, poking you in the cheek, his smile only widening as you huffed in annoyance.

“It won't be different,” he promised, more serious but with that smile ever present on his face, “we'll still be friends. We'll still be a pack. And besides, after we graduate we could go. . . well, anywhere together! Just think, the five greatest heroes Hogwarts has ever seen, going on top secret missions from Dumbledore, saving the world!”

“It'll be dangerous, James,” you said, “there's a war going on, remember?”

“What war could ever break us up, huh?” he said reassuringly. You felt your heart swell at the remark. “And besides, you're gonna have to see me next year for the wedding anyways! Lily wanted it sometime in Spring.”

“. . .”

“WEDDING?!” you, Sirius, Remus, and Peter screeched, practically in unison as if it had been planned and rehearsed. Chaos erupted in the room, and you couldn't care less if you woke everyone in Gryffindor tower.

“You sly git, when were you gonna tell us?!” Sirius whacked his friend over the head with the map.

“I just did!” James said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head, “And ow, Merlin, Pads. . .”

“You hit me first!”

“I can't believe you just dropped that on us,” you said, “Lily actually agreed to this?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” James huffed.

“Hey, I'm just saying you tend to drift off into fantasy land when it comes to her,” you said, putting your hands up in mock surrender, “I was just making sure this was rooted in reality.”

Remus laughed at that, lifting the needle on his record gently.

“They have a point,” he chuckled.

“Yes, I actually proposed, and yes she actually agreed,” James said, a lovesick smile on his face, “I wanted to get married pretty soon after we graduated, and she had no problem with that. She said she'd want to start a family—”

“Oh GOD,” Sirius said, drunken horror on his face.

“An actual nightmare,” you joined in playfully, “imagine another one of you running around. Even Lily's DNA couldn't balance that out.”

“Alright, that's it,” James said, “you're not gonna be godparents anymore.”

“I'd be terrible at that anyways,” Sirius chortled.

“I disagree,” James said earnestly, and the comment struck Sirius completely off guard. He chocked up the welling tears in his eyes to the alcohol, taking another sip to mask it.

“You're going soft, Prongsy,” he grumbled.

“Look who's talking, tough guy,” James laughed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder.

“We should take a picture,” Peter suggested quietly, turning red when everyone stopped what they were doing to face him, “I-I mean, since (Y/n) was worried about things changing, and we're all graduating, a-and who knows when—”

“Good thinking Wormtail,” James beamed, pulling you closer and leaning down towards Sirius and Remus so you could all be in the frame.

Peter was looking down at his shoes, fidgeting with his wand.

“Peter, you don't wanna get in the picture?” you asked.

The large framed boy jumped at your voice, looking nervously between the people he had come to know as his friends. There was an oddly fearful look in his eyes that left as soon as it came— a look you wouldn't understand until years later.

“N-no, that's alright,” he said.

And that was one of the last peaceful days of your life you could recall.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I haven't even thought about these in the longest time,” you said, staring at the faded photos, “it's crazy to look back on them. It feels both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.”

The next page immediately summoned a lump in your throat.

“This was their wedding,” you said, fighting to keep your voice level, “the year after we graduated.”

Harry looked down at the dozens of photos of the ceremony and party that took place after; James at the altar in his burgundy and gold embroidered suit, and Lily walking down the isle with a bouquet full of the flowers that shared her name. Remus raising a champagne flute to the large crowd of guests as he made a heartfelt speech. You and Sirius dancing under the floating lanterns made to mimic the Hogwarts ceiling.

“Your father never was one for subtlety,” you laughed lightly, “he wanted the ceremony to be as extravagant as possible. He pulled out all the stops. . . and then, the very next year, they announced that they were going to have you.”

You looked up at Harry, and the resemblance he shared with two of your closest late friends conjured feelings of happiness, love, and deep, cutting sadness all at the same time.

Your fingers moved to turn the page, wanting to move on to something else, but you froze as you saw the edge of the next one. So much for that plan.

“I think that's enough for now,” you said quickly, smoothing the page back down, “the others will be arriving soon for the meeting, you best get washed up.”

Harry was curious, of course, but he nodded, not wanting to press for anything else as he reluctantly headed back upstairs.

When you were left alone with the photo book you sighed, bringing yourself to turn the page to see a picture of you and Severus. You were beaming at the camera, proudly holding out your perfectly brewed Draught of Living Death, the photo having been taken by Slughorn to put up on his famous wall. One of your arms held the cauldron haphazardly, the other slung around Severus' shoulders. He certainly wasn't displaying your level of enthusiasm, but a small smile graced his expression, allowing his lips to fully curve upwards, which was as close to 'beaming' as he ever got. He looked so much younger— less burdened.

Right next to that photo was an older one from 1973. It was one you had taken from the top of the oak tree, with Severus and Lily looking up at you. You knew he'd be here soon, and you knew you should talk to him, but you found yourself stuck back in the cycle of doubting every opening spiel you came up with.

You groaned in frustration, snapping the book shut and resting your forehead on the table as stress flooded your being. You refused to live in this perpetual state of dwelling on what happened. You were ready to talk, you just had to take the first step.

Chapter 9 coming soon!

Taglist:  @sleep-i-ness, @blackpinkdolan, @parker-natasha, @ornella0910 @undertaker1827 @thatwierdo-koemi @nxstalgicnxbxdy @calaryssia @aleksanderwh0r3 @juggysgirlfriend @beautifulsweetschaos @kattirin @mialupin1 @crazy-obsessed-fangirl, @youcantbesirius @pan-pride-12​

[averytiredfanfictionwriter]

Clan (Technoblade x demon!reader, Philza x demon!reader)

Word count- 2,210 Content Warnings- none that I can think of Ao3 link- right here.

My first post back in a while. I’m sorry about the absence to whoever might care- a lot of things popped up in my personal life that stressed me out, on top of my graduation fast approaching. But I’m back now, and this might not be the Karl or Ranboo fic that was promised, it is at least something. Those will both be coming within a week or two, I just need to finish up some stuff and then edit them. So follow if you want to see when I post those, or just reply on this post saying that you want to be tagged when I do post them. Enjoy! Reblogs are appreciated, as well as likes. So if you could just do both, that would mean the world to me!

Techno’s used to being alone. He lived the first hundred years of his life that way- until he met Phil. And then Phil left. And he was alone again. 

But when he met Y/n, that all changed. He never had to worry about being alone again. Immortals are rare, and meeting another one is even rarer, but the two were inseparable. She never disclosed where she was from, or what the tattoos of strange runes on her body meant, and Techno knew better than to pry into matters that didn’t concern him, but he couldn’t help but wonder what she was thinking about as she stared out the window with her eyes clouded over and memories of a past time playing in her mind.

When Phil came back, it was easy for the pair to fit him back into their lives. Even though Y/n had never met him before it was as if they’d known each other for centuries before then. The three easily settled into a calm daily routine and when they returned to their own houses in the little community they’d created for just them at night, they fell asleep having forgotten what life was like before they’d met. 

The three gods never worried about what would happen when they were found. After all, they’re immortal. They’ve lived to see the rise and fall of countries, rulers, and everything else. Them of all people know that nothing is permanent. But none ever stopped to consider that what they had wasn’t permanent.

It started when Techno woke up in the morning. The arctic always lent itself to freezing mornings but this one felt colder than the others. It could be because he had expected to wake up with Y/n and Phil next to him on the couch, and was surprised that they would go back to their own houses. But it was much more than that- even if Techno couldn’t have known.

Phil and Techno looked in silence for any trace of Y/n around their community when the sun hit the middle of the sky and she still hadn’t shown her face. Any places she might have gone off to in search of quiet or a place to nap. But that didn’t appear to be the case and their search turned up empty and in vain. 

Techno retreated into himself. He found the note she’d left when he and Phil returned from their search and he didn’t say anything, instead heading down to the basement in his small house and shutting himself in to work on ‘very important stuff’ as he told Phil. Phil didn’t believe him-  Techno wasn’t exactly quiet in expressing the emotions he felt about Y/n leaving.

Phil wasn’t quite as emotional as Techno. He was more than two hundred years older than the pink-haired man. He was used to the constant ebbing and flowing of life, of the appearance and then disappearance of people. That’s not to say it didn’t hurt, but he knew that it’s the way of life. People come, and then they go. To stop it would be to disregard the nature of humans as a whole.

He was a little surprised when Techno came back up at the end of the night and, while silent, had refused to acknowledge that she’d even existed there in the first place. He ignored the building next to his where she’d slept and kept her belongings. Whenever Phil tried to bring her up, Techno would shut out the conversation and pretend he hadn’t heard him. It wasn’t healthy, and Phil couldn’t blame him because he was still young but he just wished he wouldn’t be so heartbroken to the point of refusing to acknowledge that she ever existed in the first place.

This went on for months. Almost a whole year had passed and the building that contained Y/n’s belongings went untouched. All the delicate keepsakes from past adventures, photos of strangers that neither of the men dared ask about, and the bookshelves lining almost every wall and so full of books from all over the world- it all gathered dust. Until finally she came back.

Phil almost didn’t recognize her at first. The tired weariness evident in the dark circles under her eyes and the dragging of her footsteps, but everything else was the same. The dark hair on her head now long enough to braid- much to his excitement- and the multitudes of runes covering her body, with the additions of quite a few now. One of the newest things though is the several piercings and jewelry that she’s wearing. The most prominent of which is the chain hanging around her neck, a medium-sized precious stone of unknown origin hanging off of it. 

“Y/n…” Phil said, dropping the wood he held in her arms in favor of running over and embracing her.

She hugs him back, the feeling almost foreign to her now. But now that she’s back, she doesn’t intend on forgetting it again.

“Where’s Techno? I need to talk to you both.” Y/n mumbles into Phils' shoulder, and for a minute he feels the cold flush of fear at the thought of her leaving again.

“He’s inside his house. Here, I’ll take you there.” Phil can’t help but feel like he’s showing around a visitor. The community has changed quite a bit since she’d last been there but the dread-filled feeling that he gets at the thought of her leaving again, coming back to say that she’s leaving and never returning, is more than he could take.

“Techno. Where are you?” Phil calls out as he enters the house and the chill of the room makes him shiver.

“Downstairs.” A gruff voice calls back, followed by a grunt of frustration.

“Well, can you come upstairs real quick? We have a visitor.” The word is bitter on his tongue and the look that flashes quickly across Y/n’s face makes him wish he’d chosen a better wording.

“Fine.” The ladder creaks and then Techno is peeking his head through the hole that leads down the basement.

“Y/n. What are you doing here?” It’s not entirely a question, and Y/n winces at Techno’s harsh tone. “Why are you back now? What, was living out there not as good as you thought it was? Well, you can leave. We don’t want you back here. We’re doing just fine on our own.” 

Y/n feels destroyed. She didn’t expect Techno to react positively to her return, but she didn’t expect this.

“Can I just tell you why I left?” She asks, and Techno snorts.

“Sure. Go ahead. Lay on us this wonderful reason.” Techno’s voice drips with sarcasm.

“There were some people I needed to find- had to find.” She says and Techno laughs.

“Really. That’s your reason. You had to go find some people so you left for ten months. You didn’t even think to tell us in person, instead, you just left a note. Hell, you could have taken us with you. We would have happily gone with you. I would have happily gone with you. I’d have done anything for you. But it appears that the feeling wasn’t mutual, since you barely bothered to leave a half-assed note telling us.” Techno shouts, having climbed fully into the room and stood towering over the girl.

“You don’t understand. This was not a trip you could have made. Neither of you would have been able to!” Y/n shouts back. 

Phil backs away, settling into the couch on the other side of the room. 

“What do you mean, I don’t understand. I understand perfectly. You abandoned us. You abandoned me. Well, you know what, I don’t want you back here. You need to leave. Get your things and leave. Right now.” Techno says and it feels like Y/n was just punched in the gut.

“What? Techno you’re not serious?” Phil’s astonished. Of everything he thought Techno would say to Y/n, this wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, I am. Now get out.” Philza protests and Techno starts yelling at him as he tries to shove her out of the house.

“My clan was killed! I had to find their bodies!” She shouts out over the two men and Techno stops pushing her.

“Clan?” He asks and Phil stares at her blankly.

“You’re a demon?” He asks and Techno looks back and forth between the two.

“Part demon, yes. My clan was killed and I had to find them. I needed to know who was left. And… I’m now the leader of a clan that doesn’t exist anymore. They were all dead.” Her voice breaks at the end of her sentence, and the sorrow overwhelms her. She’d done a good job on the trip there and back of not crying, of ignoring what happened. But saying it out loud makes it real, and something inside her snaps with those words.

Suddenly the runes tattooed on her and the amount of gold jewelry she’s wearing makes sense to Phil. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Techno pulls her into his arms protectively.

Phil stands from the couch and joins them. The combined warmth of the other two hybrids is almost too much to bear, but Philza hugs them anyways. Y/n’s sobbing continues for a little longer, but soon it turns into muffled sniffles and the shaking of her body calms a little bit.

“It’s up to me now to find a new clan. Custom is that I have to either join one or find others to form one with. I don’t think I’ll be able to stay here. Most of them require you to live with the group.” Y/n whispers as she pulls away from the hug.

“No. I won’t let you leave. Not for a second time.” Techno says stubbornly, and Y/n shakes her head.

“I don’t have a choice.”

“Yes, you do. We’ll be your new clan. Even if you can’t give us the jewelry of your brothers and sisters like tradition dictates, we can still be your clan. Technically your clan doesn’t have to be other demons.” Phil smiles at her. Techno doesn’t know why Phil would know that, but he doesn’t question his knowledge either way. Phil’s lived a long life before he and Y/n came into the picture.

“You guys would do that?” She asks and he nods his head eagerly.

“Of course. We were already really close before- nothing’s going to be changing.”

“Yeah. What do we have to do to join your clan?” Techno asks.

“Well, we basically have to get married to each other. It’s really just an unbreakable promise to stay with each other and protect each other until we die. Soooo… forever. Are you guys sure this is what you want? Because once we do this we can’t go back.” Y/n looks at them in worry.

“Yes. We both want this. You belong here with us. Life was horrible without you here. I had to deal with Phil all alone. The full force of his attention was on me. It was a never-ending nightmare.” Technos voice is dry as he delivers the joke and Y/n laughs as Phil protests.

“Hey. You forget that I was equally as stuck with you. It’s not easy when you live with a piglin who never gets cold and forgets that not everyone is as lucky as him.” Phil says and Techno mimics his words.

“Whatever you say, old man. But Y/n, I’m a hundred percent serious about joining your clan. I never want to let you go again.” Techno says into Y/n’s shoulder.

“Yeah, it was so quiet without you here mate. And cold. So, so cold.” Phil wraps his wings around the two human furnaces and holds them close.

Even though he’s more than two hundred years older than the pair and knows the reality of life- that eventually they’ll get bored of each other or tired and leave- he finds himself wanting to never let go.

“Here, hold out your hands,” Y/n tells them as she pulls out of the hug.

The two men do so without hesitation, and Y/n places a ring in each of their hands. They’re heavy, made of an unknown metal to most who walk the earth and they’re burning hot to the touch as if they were just forged and taken out of the fire.

“But… you’re not supposed to?” Phil says and the woman shakes her head.

“It doesn’t matter if my clan is made of demons or not. I’m still going to give you guys the rings signifying our bonds.” She says and Phil nods.

“Now… who wants to go and slaughter some orphans?” Techno asks, clapping his hands together.

Y/n shouts yes and drops her bag on the ground, running out the door. Techno hangs back a moment, pausing only to look at his reflection in the mirror- at the heavy ring on his tusk. It’s stopped burning and has turned into a comfortable warmth.

“Hey, you good mate?” Phil asks and Techno smiles.

“Never better.” He eyes the half-demon waiting outside in the snow, her tail swishing on the ground behind her. 

“Good. Because now there’s no getting rid of her.” Phil smiles and they join the girl waiting outside, ready for whatever adventures lie ahead.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Pressure

Finale to Push and Pull

Warnings: noncon sex, oral, violence, abuse, and death.

This is Lee Bodecker (who is already dark!af) and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Life changes and you’re swept up in the tide.

Note: Alright, here’s out final part! Lee is such a bastard man.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

“You left a stain On every one of my good days” 

-Disease, Matchbox Twenty

🚔

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s mantle as a moonshiner. When he got home, he went to the shed and tinkered with the sill. He met with the same men your father had and even began to act like him. Quiet, terse. He ordered you and your brothers around as he emulated the dead man.

Will had grown quiet. In those days he spent at home with you, you’d noticed how distant he seemed. He was the youngest, the sweetest. When your mother had passed, he had been the most distraught but he seemed numb to your father’s absence.

And Cal; Cal was just as oblivious as ever. You almost admired how he always went through life without heed for the past or future. He only seemed to live in his own little bubble as he floated along; untouched and unaffected by the taint of Knockemstiff.

And you, you were just an afterthought in the lives of the men around you. You cleaned after them, cooked for them, and saw that all was in order for them to exist. They didn’t give a second thought to their dirtied dishes or torn trousers. They just left them for you to tidy and mend.

And Bodecker. You hated just the thought of him. Hated the way your stomach churned as you recalled that mighty heat he’d stoked within you. The feeling you knew was so wrong. How could you feel that way when he was touching you? When you didn’t want him to touch you? You didn’t want it, right?

Your nightmares were stained in your father’s blood. You woke with a start at the gunshot as it echoed inside your head. Every morning without fail. Visions lingered as you dressed; the gun, Lee’s voice, the blood seeping into the dirt. You shuddered and pressed your hands to your face. 

Had it really been so long? A month already.

You descended the stairs and yawned into your sleeve as you hugged yourself in the early morning chill. It was early, the men would not rise for another hour or so.

Maybe not. You heard the crackle of a log and the whisper of a page being turned. You stood in the doorway of the living room. Will sat on the rug before the fire, bent over a book as the flames licked behind the grate.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he spoke before you could. “But I’m almost done my book.”

“That’s good,” you neared and lowered yourself beside him, “What are you reading anyway?”

“Lord of the Flies,” he marked his page, “I think… I think it’s about good and evil. If people are born one or the other, you know?”

“Oh?” You crossed your arms over your knees.

“Yeah, I mean, if we were allowed to make our own rules, would we make them for us or the for the good of everyone?” He wondered, “Because even with the rules, we do the worst, don’t we?”

“I suppose but… the rules don’t really make much difference around here.” You snorted. “Not in this town.”

“You think it’s different somewhere else? In the city? Maybe in another country?” He chewed his thumbnail.

“I like to hope so, not that I’ll ever know,” you said, “Is this about daddy?”

He shrugged. He dropped his hand and stretched his long legs before him. “All the good went with mama.”

“Don’t say that,” you admonished.

“It’s true. How many times did he take the belt to you? And why? Because you made him think of her.”

“You really think that?”

“He was nasty to all of us,” he sighed, “But nastier to you. And I can’t even be sad that he’s gone.”

“Death is hard, Will,” you touched his shoulder, “It’s hard to know what you’re feeling about it. Sad ain’t so clear as it should be. It could be staring at the wall or tossing and turning in your bed or sitting up in the early hours and readin’ some book by yourself. It’s not always a feelin’, sometimes it’s in the things we do.”

“It’s just a book,” he muttered.

“But you lookin’ for daddy in it, ain’t ya? Askin’ if he was good or bad.”

“I know he was bad,” Will said, “It’s why I don’t feel bad for him. Probably ran his mouth at whoever it was who gave him what he got.”

“Don’t talk like that,” you took his hand and squeezed, “Please. For me.”

He looked at you. The light of the fire flickered in shadows across his face. “You know, you never had to take care of him. Or us. You should got out and married.”

“Maybe I didn’t have to,” you sidled close to him, “But how could I leave my little brother, hmm?”

“I’m a man now. Almost.” He said. “Arn won’t let you stay. I know it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Him and Rose from the diner. He’s gonna marry her. Won’t be no place for you here. Or Cal. Or me.” Will said. “And I’m gonna go work down at the yard. Or maybe the factory.”

“You should finish school.”

“For what?”

“You’re the only smart one. You could find your way. Get a degree.” You urged. “You should do all of that. You shouldn’t stay here.”

“And leave you behind?”

You sniffed and hung your head. “No, I’m grown. I’ll find my way and I won’t get in yours. You got half a year left. You’re too close to quit.”

“I don’t know…”

“Mama always wanted you to do something big. She always said you were special.” You said. “A lawyer? Maybe even a doctor. Imagine that.”

He was quiet. He squeezed your hand and wobbled his foot as he thought. “You should leave too. Leave this town. We could both go once I’m done school.”

“No, no, you can’t be takin’ care of me.” You argued.

“Why not? You’ve taken care of me.”

“Because that’s what women do. I promised mama I would.” You liked the idea of leaving but it was terrifying. Even if you did have that courage, you knew you wouldn’t be gone for long. And if fate didn’t bring you back, you expected something, or someone else, would. “If Arn decides to toss us to the curb, I’ll see you through the rest of the year and then you’re gonna go out and make mama proud.”

He nodded and leaned back on his hands. “I know no one else ever gave you a chance but you should start givin' yourself one. You’re too good for us. Too good for everyone in this damn town.”

🚔

When the Sheriff showed up next, you were alone. He walked into the house without knocking, as had become his habit, and sat at the table as you prepared a roast for dinner. He watched you silently and you tried to ignore him. You were waiting for his command. 

How did he want you? What vile things would he do to you that day?

“When’s the boys gettin’ home?” He asked.

“Soon,” you answered as you turned on the oven. 

“You got something sweet,” he reached in his pocket and pulled out an empty wrapped.

You slid the cookie jar towards you and plopped it before him on the table. “Made ‘em last night. Chocolate chip.”

“You’re always so good to me,” he smiled and you choked down your revulsion. “Too bad it took me so damn long to get here. I really wanted to have some fun.”

You turned back and opened the stove. You slid the roasting pan inside and snapped it shut.

“Them dresses you got, they really do nothin’ for ya,” he said through a mouthful of cookie, “‘cept when you’re bending over.”

“Why are you here then?” You crossed your arms as you turned back to him.

“I gotta talk to your brothers,” he said, “But let’s be clear on something, girl. You don’t ask me my business unless it’s to do with you.”

“I know about you,” you sneered, “Everyone does. Why don’t you get one of your whores and leave me alone?”

The chair nearly toppled as he stood and tossed down the cookie. He rounded the table and stomped over to you, cornering you against the counter.

“You’re my whore,” he snarled, “You got that?” He pinched your tit roughly. “Now, if I wanna, I can bend you over right now and let your brothers see what a whore you are.” He grabbed your chin and pushed his body against yours. “You should be flattered, you know? I ain’t touched another bitch since I been in you.”

You bit down and glared at him. Your lip curled but you said nothing.

“I ain’t gonna leave you alone,” he rocked his body against yours and exhaled. “What do ya think is gonna happen if I do? If I toss you out like the used bag you are? You got me or you got nothing. No man’s gonna marry a flower without her petals.”

He pushed harder against you until you could feel his bulge through his pants. His stomach crushed you against the counter. He leaned in and kissed you. You were shocked by the gesture, disgusted at how you could taste the chocolate on him.

“I really need to fuck you,” he growled as he drew away, “Fuckin’ hurts so bad.” He pushed himself from you and turned as he cleared his throat. The loud rumble of the Ford truck called from just outside as it pulled in. “Guess that means I’ll have to pay you back in kind.” 

You narrowed your eyes and went to the fridge. You poured him a glass and slammed it down as the front door opened and the boys’ voices mingled in the hallway. Bodecker drank deeply and cleared his throat as he watched you retreat.

Arn entered first, followed by the other two as they chattered noisily. “...in the shed, we-- Sheriff Bodecker,” Arn shook the sheriff’s hand as he stood. “Figured you were waitin’ for us. You know, we got everything sorted with the shine.”

“That’s good to hear but sadly I’m not here about that,” Bodecker said, “Other business. ‘Bout your daddy.”

“Ah, okay,” Arn glanced over at Cal as Will took a seat at the table and grabbed a cookie from the jar. Your youngest brother looked at you as he took a bite. “What’s, uh, what’s goin’ on?”

“Well, we think we got the prick who did it,” Bodecker began and you stiffened, “Found your daddy’s belt buckle and same caliber gun. Some rat down by the tracks. Been arrested before for robbin’.”

“You found him?” Cal asked, “Well, suppose that’s good.”

“We will be chargin' him to the full extent of the law. Shouldn’t see a free day ever again.” Bodecker said. “Out of courtesy, I figured I’d tell ya before the papers ran the story.”

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Arn said. “You know it’s been tough tryna get everything together since he been gone but… this’ll be good for all of us. Now that we have some peace about it.”

“Oh, you got big plans?” Bodecker asked.

“House is mine now. Figure I need a wife. And the boys… well, they gotta go find a place of their own, ain’t they?”

“Mmm,” Bodecker hummed, “And your sister, too.”

“We have an aunt. I’m sure she could use the company.” Arn said.

“What?” You sputtered, “You just gonna send me away to live with Darlene?”

“What else am I gonna do with ya?” Arn barked. “If I got Rose here to do my cookin’ and cleanin’, I don’t see the use in keepin’ you around. Don’t know why daddy didn’t find someone to take ya before.”

“I ain’t askin’ you to do nothin’ with me,” you huffed, “But I ain’t goin’ to Darlene’s. I’ll go out on my own. I’ll clean someone else’s floor and get paid for it in more than spit and stupid.”

Arn snarled and Will stood slowly from the table. Cal squinted as if lost.

“Now, now,” Bodecker clapped Arn’s shoulder, “Lots to be done, lots to be done. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. This is a lot. Big news. I say, take some time, have some of that shine your daddy left you, and calm down, huh?”

Arn looked at the sheriff and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I s’pose.”

Will lingered by the table, his eyes never left his older brother as his hands balled into fists. You neared him and touched his arm softly. He glanced over at you, his face tensed with anger.

“I won’t let him do it,” he whispered. “I told you, we can get out together.”

“So let’s give it a day,” Bodecker boomed, “I’ll be back tomorrow. We’ll talk business and… well, I think you’ll be happier after we have all that figured out.”

Arn nodded and shifted his weight.

“You got big shoes to fill,” Bodecker said, “Gotta make sure you get ‘em laced on right.”

🚔

As promised, Bodecker returned the next day, this time after your brothers. He joined them in the shed, a relief as you worked at stitching one of Will’s shirts. Cal appeared as you held up the shirt and eyed your work. You sensed his shadow and dropped the fabric to your lap.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” you assured him.

“You need to come out to the shed,” he ignored your promise of a hot meal and you frowned. 

You stood and slung the shirt over the chair. You grabbed your jacket and boots and followed him out the door. You hadn’t been to the shed since before your daddy died. Your teeth chattered as you slipped through the door and Cal slid it closed behind you. Arn sat in your pa’s old armchair, Lee on a stool, and Will on the crooked bench with a space free for his other brother.

“I don’t know why she needs to be here,” Arn said, “But she is, so let’s get on.”

“Well, the only way you’re gonna expand across the county is through me, Arn,” Bodecker talked as if he were addressing a child. “And I’m up for re-election. That means we need each other. Means we need to set this little partnership we have down in stone.”

“How’s it that you need us, sheriff?” Cal asked as you swayed by the door.

“Well, my reputation ain’t exactly pristine. I need to tidy up the edges,” Bodecker leaned forward and twined his fingers together. “I’ll see that you get your shine from one end of the county to the other and I’ll also take a little weight off your shoulders. I need a wife and your sister needs a new home.”

Your mouth fell open and even Arn seemed surprised by the proposal.

“No,” Will said, “You can’t… you can’t marry her.”

“I don’t see why not. She’s gettin’ up there in years, I don’t see anyone else lining up.” Bodecker chortled.

“Because she--” Will looked at you helplessly. “She deserves to be happy.”

“I don’t think any woman be unhappy being the sheriff’s wife,” Bodecker hissed, “Won’t be no different than her cleaning up after y’all. If anything, it’ll be easier.”

“Take her,” Arn said, “Two birds, one stone.”

“And Cal, I’ll get him on the force by the end of the year. Always good to have another set of hands.” Bodecker continued. “He’ll make good enough money to get outta your hair.”

“And Will?” You said. All the men turned to look at you. “He’s gotta stay in school.”

“School ain’t shit,” Arn scowled.

“I don’t see why he can’t finish,” Bodecker said. 

“I ain’t takin’ care of him,” Arn said. “He either gonna work for his lot or he can live outside.”

“Say what you want about daddy, but at least he had the decency to see to us,” you said. “You think you’re the big man now he’s gone.”

“You better shut your fuckin’ mouth if you know what’s good for you,” Arn stood and the sheriff did too. He stepped in front of the younger man.

“She’s grievin’. You know the ladies don’t handle all this so well,” Bodecker said, “I’ll see after the kid. I was gonna up my take to twenty percent but I’ll settle for fifteen if you keep him on.”

“Up your take?” Arn scoffed.

“We’re gonna be family and I’m gonna make sure none of my officers get in your way. Boy, that’s gonna mess with numbers, you get me? You can’t get without givin’.” 

Arn lowered his chin and looked between you and Will. He blinked slowly.

“He got a roof till he’s done school. No longer than that.” Arn sat back down heavily, “And you be best to get a leash on my sister and quick. The sooner she’s out of my house, the better. Rose is getting awfully antsy.”

“Y’all got a date yet?” Bodecker said.

“Wait? Just like that? You’re gonna marry me off--”

“Fuck’s sake. You ain’t never know when to shut up!” Arn hollered as he reached for a jar of shine.

“And you’re gonna drink away your years just like daddy,” you snapped.

“Hmm, maybe, but you’re gonna do what I tell you and get on your back for our sheriff.” He spat, “Or I’m gonna dump you on the corner and you can see who else will have you.”

“Arn, you can’t--” Will began.

“You two can go off and see how far you make it,” Arn bit back, “I’m done arguin’. The next person pipes up, I’m gonna tar ya.”

You looked at Will and shook your head. You knew what wasn’t being said. If you didn’t do what you were told, it wasn’t that you’d be out of your home. You wouldn’t have anything. The sheriff had a stranglehold on every citizen in the county. He’d make sure you were helpless until you were forced to grab his outreached hand. You’d take what he gave you, as you had to that point.

“Fine…” You uttered, “You know what mama would think, Arn. As much as you think daddy’d be proud, you know she wouldn’t.”

“Go back to your kitchen,” Arn took a gulp of moonshine, “You got a month, Sheriff. You get her out and you got your fifteen.”

🚔

You didn’t expect your wedding day to be so gloomy. A winter ceremony in the town church with a man you didn’t and couldn’t love. You’d always thought you would wear your mother’s old gown but he wasn’t worthy of that. So you wore the plan dress from the local shop with a short veil and a pair of white flats.

The sheriff had done his best to clean up for the ceremony. Freshly shaved, hair combed neatly, his stomach barely continued above his cumberbund. This man, your husband, your jailer. 

Your brothers sat in the first row as you listened to the priest. Your vows were nothing special, the same template handed out by the church. To love and obey. Only one of those would be true. You stared at the loose stitches of the veil, your surroundings blurred beyond the white lace.

You hated Arn for trading you away like livestock but you knew deep down your father would’ve done the same. He would’ve done worse. You recalled his last words; he would’ve had you on the street. Maybe this was the best you could hope for.

The room came back into focus as your veil was lifted. Your husband kissed you. He still sent a shiver up your spine every time he touched you. You turned back to the audience, his hand around yours as he led you between the rows of strangers. Your brothers were the only familiar faces though they were hardly welcome. 

Arn had quickly taken up your father’s part in mistreating you, Cal was his mindless followers, and Will, you only saw pity in his eyes. Bodecker guided you between the pews and the doors open to the frigid winter afternoon. He ushered you to the waiting car and was quick to climb in behind you. There would be a dinner awaiting you at town hall; a whole room rented out for the occasion.

“So,” Bodecker’s hand settled on your thigh, “Are you wearing it?”

You nodded. He had brought you the lurid attire only nights before. A lacy brassiere and satin panties, stocks and frilly garners; all in as if you were still a virgin. He stretched his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close.

“It’s gonna just be you and me, honey,” he purred, “No more hiding.”

“Yes, Sheriff,” you spoke into your lap.

“Lee, or sir. No need to act strange anymore,” he dragged his nose up your cheek and his hot breath choked you. “I can’t wait until tonight. I’ve been holdin’ it in so long, god, I could blow now.”

“You know I hate you, don’t you?” You looked at him dead in the face.

A smile slowly spread across his face as he played with the hem of your veil. “Well, don’t really matter now, does it?”

🚔

Bodecker, Lee, your personal tormenter; whoever he was, ate as you avoided the same. You felt too sick to do anything but wait out the night. You accepted the congratulations of family and friends that weren’t yours and bided your time as he did all the talking. You expected your new life would be filled with these people eating out of the hand of their sheriff in hope that he didn’t swat their heads.

He drove you home in his cruiser. A strange end to a strange state of affairs. His house was large and closer to town. It was more modern than your father’s old farmhouse but not so tidy. A man living on his own didn’t have time to do his dishes before his wedding or put his used socks in the hamper

He closed the door behind you as you looked around. Cleaning was never a pleasure for you, an obligation, a ritual which kept you from dwelling on the bad. At that moment, you wanted to clean up the mess of this man’s life to keep from dealing with your own.

You jumped as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you stumble. You rubbed the stinging flesh beneath your dress and drew away from him. He caught your arm before you could go far.

“The bedroom’s through there,” he nodded to the doorway on the other side of the room, “A lot better than the car… and the coffee cups… hmmm?”

“It’s all the same,” you muttered.

“It gets better each time,” he pulled you against him and groaned. “You’ll see it soon. You’ll feel it.” He leaned in and his hot breath tickled your lips. “Go to the bedroom, get that dress off and wait for me.”

He tapped your ass and let you go as he turned away. He removed his jacket and hung it as you watched his back. You looked at the door. Where would you even go? Your mama once told you marriage wasn’t for love, it was practical. A roof over your head. What more could you ask for?

You walked down the hallway and stopped to look at the picture. The fresh-faced corporal didn’t look like the ruddy cheeked man with the wrinkle above his brow. Even in black and white, his eyes seemed brighter then. You tore yourself away and found the bedroom at the end.

You supposed you were different too. Different from yesterday, different from a month ago, a year ago, ten years ago. So much could change in so little time. 

You reached back and unhooked the top of your dress. You struggled to undo each button along your spine as the fabric drew taut across your stomach. A week ago, the dress had seemed looser, same with much of your wardrobe. 

You shimmied out of the dress and folded it over the walnut dresser. You looked down at yourself and the underwear better fit to the racy scenes in the theatre. You didn’t dress like this. You weren’t Marilyn or Elizabeth. You were just you and you were entirely out of place. 

You slipped out of your shoes and unpinned your veil. The ring on your finger chafed your skin. You sighed and turned to sit on the bed. It bounced beneath you as you toyed with the diamond. Say what you would of the man, it had all been adequate. More than.

“You look good,” Bodecker said and you raised your head as he entered. He began to undress as he strutted across the room. “Wife.”

He unbuttoned his shirt as he neared the bed. He looked down at you with a smirk as his bowtie hung loose from his neck.

“You know what would happen if I didn’t marry you?” He pulled his tails loose and wiggled out of the shirt. He tossed it away with his tie, his stomach poking out slightly from his undershirt. “I mean, you could have my bastard inside you right now. You think anyone else wants it?”

Your eyes widened and your lashes fluttered. You bunched up the blankets in your hand as you teetered on the edge of the bed. You shook your head.

“You see, unlike all those whores, you got more than what’s between your legs,” he unbuckled his belt and undid his fly. “You work, real hard. And despite yourself, you’ll always need someone to take care of.”

He reached into his underwear and rubbed himself before pulling out his cock. You closed your eyes as he groaned and reached out to caress your cheek.

“Open your mouth, honey,” he purred. “Let me show how a wife serves her husband.”

You hesitated and he gripped your chin. He squeezed, a warning, and you opened up. He pressed his tip against your lips and pushed so that you let him in. His skin was salty and warm as it slid over your tongue. He hit the back of your throat and your eyes welled.

“Mmm mm mm,” he hummed, “That is good. Come on… just a little--”

He grunted as he forced himself down your throat. You choked and he shuddered as his hands held your head firmly. He moved his hips carefully. He slid back and slammed back in. Your eyes rolled back and you tried not to gag as he repeated the motion, each thrust harder than the last.

“Fuck, girl, I love that mouth,” he cooed, “Now it’s all mine.”

He pulled you forward as he pushed himself as deep as he could. He jerked into you even harsher than before and you grabbed the top of his pants. He dragged you off the bed and you fell to your knees. He fucked your face and shoved your head back against the mattress. He planted a hand on the bed and hammered into you over and over. Slobber spilled down your chin and you slapped helplessly against his thigh.

“Fucking take it,” he growled.

Your vision began to spot as you went limp and he stopped suddenly, halfway down your throat. He snarled and slipped out of your mouth and let you drop to the floor. You leaned forward as you coughed and his belt jingled as he stripped off his pants.

He stepped past you and climbed onto the bed. He fell heavily on his back as you looked up and bent his hands behind his head. His cock stood, glistening, and he grinned.

“Better climb on, girl,” he said, “We ain’t done yet.”

You grabbed the edge of the bed and pulled yourself up. One knee, then the other, you crawled over to him. It was the first time you’d seen him entirely naked. You stood shakily and reached to the top of the satin panties.

“Ah,” he tutted, “Just pull ‘em to the side.”

Your brows drew together but you didn’t argue. Your only hope was to bide him until you were on your own. Make yourself numb to his company and you could reward yourself in your solace.

You got down on your knees and reached between your legs. You took him in one hand and pushed your panties aside with other. You paused as his tip prodded at your entrance then lowered yourself onto him. You withdrew your hands and the satin was taut around the side of his shaft. You stilled and tried to adjust to the fullness.

“Well, come on,” he grabbed your hips and tilted them, “Move.”

You carried the rhythm and rocked atop of him. Your crumpled panties rubbed against your clit and added to the storm brewing in your core. His hands swept up your sides and he cupped your tits through the lace bra. His thumbs rubbed your barely concealed nipples and he groaned.

“Shit, it’s so good, honey. So good.” He moved his hips beneath you, “Faster.”

You obeyed and he tugged down the cups the brassiere. He pushed his head into the pillow and gritted his teeth. He grabbed your sides and pulled you to bend over him. He nuzzled your titts and nipped at the tender flesh. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as you kept your hips moving.

His hands skimmed over your curves and he gripped your hips. He pulled your ass down harder and you flesh clapped against his loudly. He turned his head away as your breast hung over him and you sped up. You were close. So close.

“I’m gonna cum,” he rasped, “I’m gonna--”

You threw back your head and cried out as you orgasmed first. You dug your nails into his arm as you fucked him through your climax and felt him burst inside of you. That joy, that second of joy, was enough to forget, a spark of happiness before it all came back.

You slowed and stilled atop him, out of breath. You sat up, the straps of your bra sagging down your shoulders as he tickled your thighs.

“You know,” he poked his finger between your legs and flicked your overwrought clit. You twitched and he chuckled. “I can’t wait til you got my child inside of you. Seein’ you all big. I’m still gonna fuck you.” His other hand rubbed your stomach, “If you’re anything like your mama, we’ll have a whole herd of our own.” He licked his lips as he took your hands and placed them on his chest. “But you remember, your husband always comes first.”

[viking-raider]

Southern Generation - Part VI

Summary: Sy officially moves in with Lily and they go on a road trip to make amends.

Pairing: Austin Syverson/OFC (Lily)

Word Count: 11,965

Warning: PG-13 - Language, Fluff, Angst, Smut, Oral - F Receiving, Drama, Pregnancy Cravings

Inspiration: Syverson is OP

Author's Note: Thanks to the wonderful @wondersofdreaming

Author's Note 2: Make sure to follow and turn on the notifications for my Tag List blog @viking-raider-taglist to stay up to date on this and all my other stories!

“That's the last of them.” Sy smiled, setting the last box of his stuff down.

With Lily pregnant and them making their relationship official, Sy moved all of his stuff from his Austin apartment into the farmhouse with Lily.

“Well, officially.” Lily replied, resting her hands on her hips and looking up at him. “Welcome home.” She smiled, giddy and proud.

“Thanks, Darling.” He grinned back, cupping her face and kissed her.

Lily smiled, as she woke up from her nap, feeling the warm and heavy weight of Sy's body in bed with her, his head in its customary place, on her chest. She usually woke up from her naps with Sy, whether or not he was with her, when she fell asleep or not. Sighing and moaning softly, she lifted her hand to twist the short, curling ends of his hair between her fingertips.

“Hm.” Sy hummed softly, rubbing his scruffy face against her chest and hugging his arms tighter around her middle, thumb stroking her tummy.

“I'm surprised at you.” Lily whispered, still playing with his hair.

“Why?” Sy moaned back, turning his head to look up at her.

“When I first met you, I half wondered what your hair would look like if you let it grow out.” She explained, running her fingers through it.

“Oh?” He chuckled, smirking at her.

“Yeah.” She blushed at him. “But, I just didn't expect the Bear, Austin Syverson, would have curls.” She grinned at him, twisting the ends of his hair between her fingers, she loved his developing curls.

“My hair hasn't been this long in ten years.” Sy laughed, blushing and biting his lip. “I've been thinking about cutting it again.”

“I will end you, Wyatt.” Lily threatened, touching the tip of her finger to his nose.

“Oh, busting out the middle name and everything.” He smirked, taking a playful snap at the tip of her finger. “Lily?” He whispered, biting the inside of his lip as he stared into her eyes.

“What?” She replied, tilting her head at him.

“Have you thought about going back?” Sy murmured, brow creasing. “Back to Middleburg, to see your grandparents. Jak isn't a threat anymore. I'm sure they would love to see you and I'd bet my life, you want to see them again. Especially now, with the baby on the way.”

Lily pressed her lips together, resting her hands on Sy's shoulders. “It would be nice to see them again.” She answered, after a long pause.

“But?” He pressed, sensing it coming next.

“What if they don't want to see me?” She asked, searching his eyes for comfort, and found it. “What if they don't want me in their life anymore?”

Sy took a deep breath, sitting up as he did, and brought Lily up with him. “Then, that's their loss.” He told her, folding her up in his arms and pressing his lips to her forehead. “If they don't want you in their life, then they are missing out on knowing one of the most amazing gals, who can light up a room, simply by walking into it.”

“You're just buttering me up, Austin.” Lily mumbled into his neck.

“Woman, have I ever lied to you?” Sy grinned into her hair.

“No.” She chuckled, blushing shyly.

“I don't intend to now, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her temple. “But, you won't know their reaction, unless you go and see them.” He added, softer.

“I know.” She whispered back, leaning against his chest. “You're right. I owe it to them and myself.”

“Whatever choice you make, I'll support you, every step of the way.” Sy told her, gently tipping her head back and tenderly kissed her.

“I think I want to go see them.” Lily said, later that night, while she and Sy sat at the dinner table.

Sy looked up from his plate of spaghetti and garlic bread, slowly lowering his fork. “All right.” He nodded, straightening his back and giving her his full attention. “When do you wanna go?”

“The sooner, the better, I think.” She mumbled, shifting in her seat, her own dinner mostly untouched.

Sy nodded his head again, quietly regarding Lily from across the table. He could see the worried and fearful anxiety on her face, still mulling over every worst case scenario about seeing her grandparents again, he could almost see every one of them tick by her eyes. Afraid that her grandparents would disown her, the moment they laid eyes on her. Blaming her for what transpired with Jak. Afraid of what their reaction would be, when she showed up at their door, after five years of silence, pregnant with the baby of man they had never heard of or met before, especially since they were incredibly religious.

He reached across the table, just in time to catch the tear that escaped and started to slip down her cheek, then rested his hand over hers. “No matter what happens, Lily. You still have me.” He told her, lovingly.

“You still have us.”

Lily grasped Sy's hand and tried to smile at him and not cry at the same time, which was hard with the way her hormones were starting to really get out of control. “I know.” She choked back.

“Let me finish painting the rest of the house and go to your twelve week baby appointment on Friday, then we'll pack a bag and ourselves into the car and drive out there.” He told her, making a game plan, so her frazzled and tired mind could relax.

“It's only a twenty-ish hour drive.”

“I think, that's a good idea.” Lily nodded, chewing on her lip, taking deep breaths.

Sy smiled and squeezed her hand. “Good.” He chuckled and let her hand go, before picking his fork back up and dug into his spaghetti.

Sy double checked his large, Army issued duffel bag, making sure he and Lily had enough clothing, he had her zofran, nausea medicine, and prenatal vitamin, along with everything else he, Lily and Aika would need for the almost nineteen hour drive from Celina to Middleburg, Virginia, having already put her pregnancy pillow in the car, before tugging the bag closed, slung it over his shoulder and went downstairs.

“Billie promised to keep an eye on the place and pick up the mail for us.” Lily said, meeting him in the entryway hall.

“Great.” He smiled. “Well, I got all our stuff packed.” He said, jostling the duffel bag.

“I already packed some snacks in the truck too.”

“Then, we're all set!”

“No, I have to pee, one more time.” Lily giggled, and rushed into the half bath.

Sy laughed, shaking his head and took the duffel bag out to the truck, dropping it in the back seat with Aika. “All set?” He asked as Lily came out of the house.

“I am now!” She nodded, crossing the yard to the truck and got into the passenger seat.

“Did you lock up?” He asked, getting in with her.

“Yep.”

“You good, Aika?” Sy asked, looking to the German Shepherd, who let out a loud bark. “All right, let's get this road trip underway!” He pulled up Google Maps on his phone and entered the address to Lily's grandparents' place, then set the device on its dock and started the truck.

Sy and Lily laughed, as they sang along to a song that came on Sy's playlist that they both liked, Enemies by Shinedown. But, Sy turned the song down, when Lily suddenly stopped singing and quickly identified the look she got just before she threw up. Quickly popping open the center console, Sy reached inside of it and pulled out a circular, blue and white object and opened it, holding it out to her. Lily took it from him, without question and threw up in it, once or twice.

“Where did you get this?” She asked, looking at it, realizing it was a hospital-grade nausea bag. “Did you rob a hospital?” She chuckled, looking over at him.

“No.” He laughed back at her. “I bought them off Amazon. I wasn't sure if you got car sick on long rides or not. But, I was sure the baby would make you nauseous, at least, once on the drive. So, I wanted to be prepared and make you as comfortable as possible in the process.”

Lily tied the used bag closed, then opened the center console and found another twenty-plus of the blue emesis bags inside. She smiled up at him, shaking her head in disbelief of his utter and complete thoughtful and preparedness.

“You never cease to amaze me, Austin.” She said, sitting back up. “You see how amazing your Daddy is.” Lily grinned, looking at her belly, and making Sy blush.

“Well, I gotta take care of ya, don't I?” He smirked, resting his hand on her thigh.

“Yeah, I suppose.” She sighed, smirking back at him.

“There's some Listerine strips in the center console, by the way.” Sy added, after a few quiet moments.

“I'm sorry, am I offending you?” Lily giggled, opening the console again and fished around for them, before finding the small blue case.

“No, no.” He grinned, chuckling. “Just figured you'd want to get the taste out of your mouth.” He explained, finally getting them on the interstate highway.

“Did you pack my nausea meds?” Lily asked, feeling another wave wash over her.

“Yeah. It's in our bag.” Sy nodded, brow creasing, as he tried to figure out what stupid shenanigans the car in front of them was up too.

Lily twisted in her seat and pulled the worn green bag between the front seats, tugging it open and riffled through it, until she found the little prescription bottle of tiny, white oval tablets, then turned back around. She removed one of the pills and cracked open one of the two bottles of Voss water in the cup holders and downed the pill.

“Why don't you rest?” Sy suggested, reaching behind her seat for her pregnancy pillow. “It's just going to be annoying highway stuff for a while.” He said, giving her the pillow.

“I don't want you to get lonely.” Lily protested, maneuvering and situating the U-shaped pillow into a comfortable position.

Sy smiled over at her. “I'll be fine, Angel.” He assured her. “If I get lonely, I'll talk to Aika and we'll play the quiet game.” He chuckled, looking at the dog from the rear view mirror. “I'll wake you up around one, and we'll find some little place to have lunch.”

“If you're sure.” Lily yawned, she was usually already in the middle of a nap by now.

“Positive, Sweetness.” He nodded, turning the heat on a bit to make sure she was kept warm.

Lily contorted her body in her seat, drawing up her legs and propping her head and the curve of her pillow against the window, wrapping her arms around it and hugging it against her body, before dozing off to sleep. Sy reached out and rested his hand on her leg, gently massaging it as he kept his eyes on the road, just listening to the hum of the tires on the worn asphalt of Interstate Forty fill the silent cabin of the truck; Aika curled up on the backseat. The quiet boredom of the road allowed the devil to whisper into Sy's ear.

He wasn't sure what to do, if Lily's grandparents, the people that raised her, rejected her, and not only her, but their great grand-baby, his child. He knew he had to be strong for Lily, it would crush her, if they wanted nothing to do with her and the baby, but Sy wasn't so sure he would be able to keep himself under control. He had a feeling he would end up giving the couple a very big piece of his mind, before bringing Lily back home to Celina.

“It'll be fine.” He said aloud, glancing over at Lily. “It'll be all right.” He assured her sleeping form, leaning over just enough to lay his hand on her belly.

Sy found a turn off into Memphis just before one in the afternoon, parking at a small riverfront park in downtown Memphis, giving Lily a quiet place to wake up and all three of them a place to stretch their legs, and Aika a place to pee.

“Hey.” Sy called, softly, shutting off the car and leaning across the console. “Lily. Wake up, baby.” He cooed at her, brushing his knuckles against her cheek and tucking her hair behind her ear, kissing the corner of her mouth. “Hey, sweet pea.” He grinned, watching her eyes slowly flutter open, blinking at the bright sunlight glittering off the murky river water.

“Where are we?” She asked in a sleepy voice, rubbing her cheek against the microfiber cover of her pillow.

“The home of the King, Memphis Tennessee.” Sy chuckled, teasingly, and kissed her again. “So, love me tender.”

“I'm all shook up.” Lily chuckled, unfolding herself and sitting up in her seat.

“Well, it's now or never, baby doll.” Sy roared, his head going back.

“Oh, don't be cruel.”

“But, I can't help fallin' in love.” He chimed back.

“What now, my love?” Lily asked, smirking at him.

“I knew there was a reason I loved you.” Sy commented, finding more and more of them every day. “But, I thought we'd get some fresh air and stretch our legs, I'm sure Aika has to pee. Then, we'll find some lunch.”

“I like that idea.” Lily nodded, pushing her pillow into the back seat, then climbed out of the truck, taking the used nausea bag with her to throw away, while Sy put Aika on her leash.

Sy took Lily by the hand and strolled down the little sidewalk along the riverside, watching the various types of boats go by them on the water. The weather was nice and warm with pleasant enough humidity, a few clouds floating in the baby blue sky.

“Are you craving anything specific?” Sy asked as they patiently waited for Aika to do her business in the grass beside them.

“Hmm.” Lily hummed, pressing her lips together and considering if there was something specific she wanted for lunch; she hadn't had any definitive cravings yet, other than the three days she really needed to eat Mac and Cheese.

But, something specific did strike Lily.

“A pretzel.” She purred, already licking her lips at the thought of the salty baked good.

Sy chuckled at her, amused at the expression on her face, eyes closed and dreamy. “All right. I'll get you a pretzel then.”

It was like a ding went off in Lily's soul. “I want a lot of Pretzels.” She said, eyes popping open and looked up Sy, almost manic and desperate.

“Okay.” He replied, brows raised and blinking at her. “I'll get you a pretzel for lunch, then some to munch on.”

“Yeah.” Lily nodded, staring down at their feet, eyes wide. “Pretzels are good.”

“That they are.” Sy agreed, snickering, unable to keep back his amusement.

Lily's eyes snapped up at him, watching him laugh at her, his eyes practically teasing and making fun of her. “Shut up.” She snapped, but started to laugh back at him. “I can't help it.”

“I know you can't.” He nodded, trying to stop, but it only made him laugh harder. “That's what makes it even better.”

“I hate you.” Lily giggled, playful punching him in the arm. “Now, I want my pretzel, Captain.”

“Yes, Major!” Sy replied, saluting her, then quickly cleaned up after Aika and took them back to the truck. “I just need to find a place to get you one.” He sighed, taking his phone off its dock and googled where to get a pretzel in Memphis, Tennessee.

“Okay, there's an Auntie Anne's not that far from us that does pretzels.” He said, saving the directions and setting them in that direction.

Leaving Aika in the car, Lily and Sy went into the shopping center the Auntie Anne's was in, navigating the crowd and line to the counter. Lily chewed on her lip for a moment, torn between getting a regular pretzel or the pretzel bites, before finally deciding on the bites with the nacho cheese dip. With her food, they navigated their way around again and Sy got himself something from the Wendy's the center had as well, before going back out to the truck to eat there; Lily stealing a couple of Sy's french fries and sharing a couple of her pretzel bites.

Once their lunch was finished and they tossed their empty containers away, Sy made a quick run into the Mega Wal-Mart across the street from the shopping center to buy a big bag of mini pretzels and a case of Voss water for Lily, knowing she was going to get very thirsting from devouring them.

“Thank you.” Lily said, when Sy gave her the bag as he got in the car, her eyes glued on the bag.

“Just don't turn into one.” He teased her, chuckling. “All right, let's get back on the road.”

“I don't want you driving all night, Austin.” Lily mumbled around a mouthful of pretzel.

“I know and I won't.” He replied, reaching a hand into the bag. “I'll go until sun down, then we'll find a place to sleep for the night.” He said, then crammed the four or five pretzels into his mouth.

“Good.” Lily smiled, passing back a pretzel to Aika, who quickly devoured it and came back for more.

Reaching Blacksburg, Virginia just after dark, Sy found a drive-thru to order them dinner and a motel for the night, parking out front of the motel's office. Sighing, he rested back in the driver's seat, scrubbing his palms over his tired face and lulled his head to the side to look over at Lily, who had fallen asleep again, twisted around her pillow and her half eaten bag of pretzels clutched to her chest. They were three hours away from her grandparents' orchard, three hours from finding out whether or not they would be in Lily and the baby's life.

“Watch her, girl.” Sy said to Aika, before slipping out of the truck, locking the doors for extra measure, and going inside the office to get a room.

Once he had the room, Sy got back into the truck and parked as close to the room as he could, before going around and opening Lily's door, careful not to let her slip out. Then, gently took the pretzel bag from her and set it aside, unbuckled her seat belt and tried to figure out for a moment how to untangle the mess of limbs and pregnancy pillow, but quickly gave up with an amused chuckle. He just picked up both her and the pillow to carry her into their room and laid her down on the bed, tugging the turned down blankets over her, then went out to get their bag, dinner and Aika.

“Hey, Angel.” Sy smiled, closing the room door with his foot as Lily sat up, rubbing at her face and pushing her hair out of her face. “I got us some food.” He said, holding up the bag.

“You hungry?”

Lily nodded, still sleepy. “Where are we now?” She asked, sitting cross legged on the bed, beside Sy as they ate their food.

“Blacksburg.” He replied, shoving fries in his mouth. “About three hours away from your grandparents' place.”

Lily bit her lip and nodded her head, staring at the half eaten, plain chicken sandwich in her hand, suddenly losing her appetite and set it down. “I'm gonna take a shower, I'm sore.” She mumbled, getting off the bed and headed into the tiny bathroom.

Turning on the light and closing the door, Lily let out a heavy breath and tugged her tank top off over her head, followed by her elephant patterned leggings and underwear, before turning towards the shower, the walls were dingy and discolored, but clean. Spinning the hot and cold taps, then stepping under the shoddy shower-head, she leaned her forehead against the cracked acrylic wall, letting the pleasantly warm water cascade down her back, like a waterfall, with a soft moan. She was starting to have second thoughts about going to see her grandparents. She wondered how upset or disappointed Sy would be, if she told him she wanted to go back home to Celina in the morning, instead of going the three hours to Middleburg to see them.

She wondered how disappointed in herself she would be later on, if she chickened out this close to their destination.

The bathroom door opened and closed, followed by the rustle of clothing, before Sy stepped into the shower behind Lily, resting one hand on her hip and brought the other one around to cup the gentle slope of Lily's belly, pressing his lips to the base of her neck. Gulping down a thicket of emotions in her throat, Lily turned in Sy's arms and pressed herself against his chest, nuzzling her face into his neck. He smiled against her wet hair, gently kneading her hips and lower back, knowing after so many hours in the car and the way she contorted her body to sleep, she must have been in pain.

“Let me take care of you.” He whispered, kissing her forehead.

Sy picked up the little bottle of travel sized, hotel shampoo, broke the seal on it and poured it into his broad palm, then gently massaged it into her hair, stealthily wiping away a line of soap that dripped down her forehead and almost in her eye. Lily closed her eyes, softly moaning at the gentle and pleasurable pressure of Sy's strong and blunt fingers working the scentless shampoo into her scalp, his thumbs moving out to methodically rub her temples, easing the edge off of the tension migraine she had all day. Sy tipped her head back into the spray of the shower, combing his fingers through her wet and soapy strands to rinse out the shampoo. With her hair washed, he found a small wash cloth and bar of soap, and started to wash her body, beginning with her shoulders and applying a little bit of pressure as he did to massage the cramped muscles there.

“God, that feels so good.” Lily sighed, melting under his tender affection, a smile twitching on her face as he rubbed the cloth over the ticklish spots of her sides.

Sy smiled, kissing the bridge of her nose. “Anything for you, Angel.” He cooed back, paying special attention to the beautifully growing bulge of her belly.

“Thank you.” She whispered, relaxed and sleepy, after they got out of the shower, letting Sy dry her off and secure the towel around her body.

“You're welcome, Sweetheart.” He replied, kissing her cheek.

Lily went back into the room and opened their duffel bag, just pulling out the first article of clothing that her hand came in contact with, which was Sy's worn, Jack Daniels, Tennessee Whiskey t-shirt and let the towel slip off her and pulled on his shirt. Sy stood in the bathroom doorway, still naked and dripping from the shower and smiled at her, loving how the black garment hung on her like a dress, her shoulder length hair dripping and making it wet as she brushed it.

He had never seen anyone so beautiful in his life.

Moving over to the full sized bed, Sy situated her pregnancy pillow, then turned towards Lily. “Lay down, Angel.” He cooed at her.

Frowning at him for a moment, but seeing the look in his blue eyes, Lily chuckled and laid down, situating herself with her head and neck propped up on the belly of the pillow and her body comfortably cradled in the middle of it. Sy picked up her discarded towel and used it to dry off some, before turning off the room lights, then crawled into bed with her. Moving between Lily's legs and gently bending up her knees and pushing them apart, Lily's startled gasp filled the dark room as Sy's warm breath wafted over her exposed folds, just before his wide tongue took one long and leisurely lick.

“Jesus H. Christ!” She cried out, gripping the arms of her pillow.

“Just me, Angel.” Sy chuckled, hooking his arms around her legs, so they rested on his shoulders, and pressed his palms down on top of her thighs, to keep her still, before dipping his head back down and pressing an open kiss to her clit, flicking the tip of his tongue against it, melting Lily into a sweet and needy whimper.

Sy licked and suckled at her delicate pussy, slipping his tongue between her folds to tease her entrance and get a deeper taste of her, lewd noises filled the room as neither of them hid the pleasure they were in and having. Lily rocked against his mouth, her hands pressed to the back of Sy's head to hold him in place, eyes rolled and fluttered, her anxiety of not wanting to go to her grandparents' in the morning completely forgotten in the heady peak of her orgasm.

“I love your mouth.” Lily sighed, out of breath, exhausted and pleasantly numb.

Sy roared with laughter, laying down beside her. “Good to know.” He grinned, pulling the blankets over them and draping his arm over her. “Good night, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her cheek.

“Night, Bear.” She mumbled back, starting to drift off.

Sy stayed awake for a little while, his hand slipping up inside the shirt she was wearing to gently caress her belly and stared at the back of her head. “God,” He whispered, careful not to wake or disturb her. “I don't ask much of you. But, for whatever my word is worth, please don't let these people hurt my girl. She needs and wants them in her life, so does our little one.” He said, lifting his hand to gently stroke her damp hair.

“Let this meeting tomorrow go well, for all of us.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging Lily back against him.

Lily took a deep breath and held it, as Sy turned the truck off the main road and onto the dirt road leading onto the Warren Orchard farm, seeing the tall apple tree shaped sign with Warren Apples carved elegantly in its trunk. It wasn't long before they came to the closed security gate, shutting them off from the rest of the farm. Sy rolled the truck to a stop and looked over to Lily, lifting a brow at her, waiting for her to tell him what they should do next, when a voice came to life next to him.

“Welcome to Warren Apple Orchards, what can I do for you?” A deep Southern drawl asked from a mounted intercom box outside the driver's side window.

Sy rolled down his window and leaned closer to the box, spotting the security camera mounted above the one side of the gate. “Yeah, we're here looking for the owners of the place.” He replied, glancing over at Lily again.

“Mr. and Mrs. Warren aren't taking visitors just now.”

Lily huffed through her nose and leaned over the center console and Sy. “Tell them, Liliana wants to see them, Judd.” She called out, biting and pressing her lips together.

There was a long pause with a bubble of tension, before an electric buzz filled the humid air around them and the metal gate rolled out of their way. Lily sat back in her seat and Sy gave her a concerned look, before driving though.

“You know him?”

“He's worked here as long as I can remember.” Lily replied, staring out her window to the immaculate lawn and row of trees beyond that. “Just keep following the road, you'll find the house at the end of it.” She added, picking at the hem of the shorts she was wearing.

True enough, a few minutes later, a massive colonial, plantation house appeared behind ancient weeping willows. Made mostly of white stone with two stories of wrap around porches and ornate black railings, tall marble columns, from the foundation to the roof; what looked like five chimneys, three turrets and an apple tree weathervane. The driveway looped around the front of the house, leading up the stairs onto the porch was double french, front doors.

Sy was in complete awe of it as he pulled around to the front of the driveway. “This place is amazing.”

“Yeah.” Lily gulped, biting her lip and stared up at the house. “Oh dear god.” She whimpered, shrinking her seat, trying to hide.

“What?” Sy frowned, then noticed a whited haired man step out of the house, wearing a pair of light brown khaki pants and a black pull over sweater with the Warren Orchard's logo on it, an apple with an arrow threw it, the front of the arrow's shaft bent in the shape of a W.

“I'm guess, that's--”

“My grandfather.” Lily nodded, peeking over the edge of the door to look up at him. “Yep.” She sighed, squeezing her eyes shut and pressed her forehead to the window.

“Well, you can't hide forever, Angel.” Sy told her, tilting his head at her. “He knows we're here and this is more than likely us, sitting here.”

“I know.” Lily huffed, chewing her lip. “I know.”

“You can do this, babe.” He encouraged her. “I'm right here, Angel.”

Lily looked over at him, looking at him like a lost puppy, before taking a deep breath and fortifying herself. “You're right.” She nodded, leaning over and kissed him.

Taking another deep breath, Lily opened her door and stepped out of the truck, gulping as she looked up the steps to her grandfather. Her heart felt like a war drum in her chest, she was excited to see him again, he didn't seem any different from the last time he had seen him, at least, not from the distance they were at.

But, she was also afraid of what was about to happen next.

“Paw-Paw.” She called out to him, softly, her voice shaky.

“Liliana.” He replied, lifting a snowy brow at her, his honey-brown eyes scrutinizing her.

“I've missed you.” Lily blurted out, sniffling, tears burning her eyes. “I'm sorry I disappeared. I'm sorry I just ran away and I didn't tell either of you where I was going or why. That I stayed away for so long without a word.”

“But, I thought about you all the time.”

He stared hard at her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You scared the daylights out of your grandmother and I, Liliana. We tried looking for you everywhere, but you just vanished into thin air, like you never existed.” He told her, his anger slowly showing on his face.

“We thought you were dead.”

Lily bowed her head, ashamed for what she had put her grandparents through. “I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention, Paw-Paw.” She choked, looking back up at him, breathing hard.

“Then, what was your intention, Liliana?” He barked at her, his eyes glowing with rage. “Who are you?” He hissed, as Sy came around the front of the truck to wrap an arm around Lily's waist, to comfort her.

Sy looked up at him for a moment, his eyes hard at the man. “Austin Syverson.” He replied, hugging Lily against his side and rubbing her back.

“Your relation to my granddaughter is what?”

“I'm her boyfriend.” He replied, narrowing his eyes at the other man. “Look, she's come here, because she misses you both, very much, and has regretted the way she left. But, she had to leave, she had a very valid reason in doing so. In reality, she's an adult, more than capable of making her own choices and doesn't have to answer to anyone as to why she's made them.” He told Lily's grandfather.

“That includes you.”

“But, she's gained the strength to come here to try and make amends with you both, for more than one reason. You can either accept that or you can not. What happens now, is up to you.”

“Davy, who is it?”

A voice called from the double doors behind Lily's grandfather, before it opened to a thin, elderly woman with a short, curly pixie cut, who struggled to wheel herself out of the house and onto the porch. Her dim and pale blue eyes almost instantly found Lily at the bottom of the porch stairs, her hands flew to the front of her flower pattern dress, mouth dropping open.

“Liliana!” She exclaimed, reaching out a hand to her husband.

“Mee-maw.” Lily sniffled back, smiling at her grandmother through her tears.

“Thank the Lord, you're all right, my sweet child.” She cried, pressing a hand to her mouth.

“I am.” Lily nodded, wiping at her eyes. “And, I wanna be part of your lives again. I want to make amends for what I did by running away and disappearing. I'm sorry, I hurt you and Paw-Paw.”

Lily's grandmother looked up at her husband, who was still glaring at Lily and Sy, pressed her lips together, then looked back at them. “Come inside.” She said, letting his hand go and turned her wheelchair around and headed back towards the door.

“Davy.” She called over her shoulder.

Sighing, he turned and pulled the door open for her, eyeing Lily and Sy as they mounted the porch stairs, then followed his wife inside the house, before doing the same. She rolled down the hallway and turned into the private study, motioning to the long leather couch and parked herself in front of it.

“Hello.” She said, looking at Sy as he sat down beside Lily on the couch.

“Ma'am.” He replied, politely nodding his head to her.

“Who might you be?”

“Austin Syverson, Ma'am.” Sy answered with a sweet smile. “I'm your granddaughter's boyfriend.”

“Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Syverson.” She replied, regarding him. “I'm Violet Warren, and this is my husband, Davis.” She said, motioning to him as he took a seat in a chair to Lily and Sy's left.

“Sir.” Sy said, nodding his head stiffly to him.

“You're looking well, Liliana.” Violet commented, turning her attention to her granddaughter.

“Thank you.” Lily whispered, licking her lips. “I just go by Lily now.”

Violet nodded her head. “Very well.” She acknowledged. “Where've you been, Lily?”

Lily drew a deep breath through her nose and slowly let it back out. “It's a long story.” She whimpered, gripping Sy's hand for support, chewing the inside of her cheek to bits.

Davis and Violet glanced at each other, before she leaned forward and took a small hand bell off the coffee table between them and rang it. A moment later, a young lady appeared in the doorway of the room and Violet asked her to serve them some tea. The tension was tight and thick in the room while the tea was being made for them, no one saying a word to each other. The servant returned, carrying in a highly polished tea tray and set it down on the coffee table, setting out teacups for the four of them and filled the cups, before leaving the room again.

“What is your story, Lily?”

Carefully drizzling a bit of honey into her tea with a honey dipper and taking a fortifying sip of it, Lily started her story. “You know that I had been seeing Jak.” She said, looking between her grandparents.

“We did.” Violet nodded, taking a sip of her own tea.

“Well, what you didn't know was Jak had been abusive to me.” She continued, staring into the rich and steamy liquid in the expensive china teacup. “He had been the entire time we were together. But, I was too naive and silly to break it off with him for the longest time. But, after a particularly bad incident, I decided I couldn't take it any longer. So, I packed a bag and went to live with Maggie. I didn't tell you-” She paused, brow creased, she had often thought about why she hadn't told them, but had never really pinned down a specific reason to why she hadn't.

But, she shook that thought off.

“I honestly don't know why I hadn't. All I knew was I was terrified of Jak finding me again and dragging me back into the life and situation I had been living in for so long with him. While I was with Maggie, I changed my name from Liliana Jade Warren to Lily Ana Moore, to make it harder for him to find me, which made it hard for the both of you to find me, and finished university.” She continued on. “After I did that, I moved to a very small town in Texas and started my own company for my Graphic Design and Photography.”

“It's how I've been supporting myself.”

“I was so consumed by my paranoia and fear of Jak finding me, that I never left the house I bought in Texas, five years ago, this is the farthest I've been from it, since I've moved there.” She confessed, looking to Sy, who smiled at her, supportive and proud.

“What's changed?” Her grandfather asked, his own teacup still where the servant set it, ignored and cold. “Why are you here now?”

Lily cleared her throat and set her tea aside. “I left and became reclusive, agoraphobic, because I felt unsafe and afraid. That Jak would end up finding me and hurting me. He did end up finding me, but Austin...” She looked to Sy, her eyes filled with appreciative love and pride. “Austin makes me feel safe again. He's protected me, in more than one way, and he's shown me what real love is. I owe him so much.”

Sy grinned brightly at her, gripping her hand, a bit choked up at her words.

“He's helped me get back to this place, a place I've held onto, wanting to be a productive member of society, to be back in your life and be your granddaughter again. I miss you and I love you both. That never changed and it will never change.”

“That never changed for us either, Lily.” Violet replied, resting her teacup back on its saucer. “You will always be our precious granddaughter and we have always loved you; from the moment you were born to this moment right now.”

“I hope you could find it in your heart, to have a little more love.” Lily whispered, biting the inside of her lip, gulping.

“For what?” Violet frowned, brows drawing together and head tilting at her.

Lily looked to Sy, who nodded his head at her. “Sy and I are expecting.” She mumbled, not meeting either of her grandparents' eyes.

“You're with child?” Violet asked, shocked disbelief in her voice.

“I am.” Lily nodded, whimpering.

“I hope you're not here, thinking this little reunion will get you money.” Her grandfather snapped, coldly.

Lily's eyes snapped over to him, a cold knot of shock, hurt and anger in her stomach, she could feel the tension stiffen Sy's body. “We don't need any of the family money.” She hissed, eyes hardening. “My business alone is quite well off, thank you; and I'm more than offended at the accusation.”

“That's putting it politely.” Sy chimed in, staring daggers into the old man.

“Davis.” Violet barked, offended at her husband's insult as well, she had no feeling that Lily and Sy were there looking for money or assistance with their lives or the baby.

“Excuse me, for the last time I recalled a couple sitting on that very same couch to tell us they were expecting a child, it was our sweet Daisy and that good for nothing, Palmer, and we all saw how that ended.” Davis replied, his voice cold and sharp.

“Austin isn't my father.” Lily barked, her voice mirroring her grandfather's.

Lily and her grandfather glared darkly at each other, before Violet grew annoyed with their childish behavior and clapped her bony hands together, catching the room's attention.

“That is quite enough.” She scolded them.

Sy hid his smirk around the rim of his teacup, already liking Lily's grandmother.

“How far along are you?” Violet asked, looking at Lily.

“Almost thirteen weeks.” She replied, unconsciously touching her belly.

“Do you know what you're having?”

“Not yet.” Lily grinned at Sy, giddy at the thought of finding out the gender of the baby, she didn't care if it was a boy or a girl, she was just excited in general. “We won't know for another five weeks.” She added, glancing over at her grandmother.

“Well,” Violet grinned, her eyes lighting up. “I can't wait to meet my great-grandbaby.” She said, sounding overjoyed at the prospect. “Davy?” She looked to her husband, her eyes still filled with excitement, but outlined with warning.

Davis looked at her for a moment, then over at Lily, before looking down at the watch on his right wrist, then stood. “I have to meet Mac in the south orchard.” He said, tonelessly, and left the room.

Lily let out an uneven breath and painful tears punched her in the chest, turning her face into Sy's collarbone as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her against his side, pressing his lips to her hair. Violet's mouth was pressed into a thin, angry, lipstick red line as she continued to stare out the study doorway after Davis, the rapturous event of finding out about their great-grandbaby being overshadowed by his stubborn pigheadedness.

“I think we should go.” Sy said to Lily, gently wiping away her tears.

“Please, do stay.” Violet chimed in, turning her attention back to them. “There's more than enough room right here.” She said, looking back and forth between Lily and Sy. “Please, it's been so long, Lily. You've been gone and so far away. Town is twenty minutes away and with you here now, two minutes is too far away.”

Lily looked up at Sy.

“It's up to you, Angel.” He whispered, brushing his thumb against her flushed cheek.

She looked over at her grandmother. “Of course, I would love that.” She whispered, wiping her nose on the back of her hand.

Violet smiled at her, relieved to have her granddaughter under the same roof again. “I'll have Clara set two extra places at the table.” She grinned, overjoyed. “I'll even have her make your favorites for lunch and dinner.”

Lily smiled at her, touched at her grandmother's sentiment. “Thank you.”

“You remember where your room is?” She replied, lifting a brow at her.

“I do.” Lily nodded her head.

“Then, I won't keep you any longer. I'm sure you must be tired with the baby and the long journey from Texas.”

“I am.” She agreed, sighing softly.

“Off you both go then, the bell will ring, when lunch is ready.”

“Thank you, Mee-Maw.” Lily said, nodding her head and stood up, Sy standing with her.

“Ma'am.” Sy nodded his head to Violet, then followed Lily out of the room and down the hall to a flight of stairs. “Well, that didn't go as badly as the two of us thought it would.” He commented, mounting the stairs behind her.

“No, it did not.” Lily replied over her shoulder, going up the three sets of stairs. “I just hope my grandfather comes around.” She added, coming to the second floor and going down to a door at the very end of the hall. “This is...was—my room.” She said, turning the vintage, metal and ceramic door knob that had a hand-painted gold floral design on it, and pushed the door open.

The bedroom was spacious and bright with the mid-morning sun shining in through four windows, between one set of windows sat a squat, five compartment, vintage chest of drawers, across from that was a full sized, poster bed, with the doorway to a bathroom to the left and a walk-in closet to the right. There was a bookcase and table against the wall by the door, mostly filled with church and home school related things.

“It's a nice room.” Sy commented, picking up one of the books on the table, a bible.

“Thanks.” Lily smiled, shyly, seeing that her grandparents had left her room the exact way she'd left it, when she moved out.

“Do you wanna rest for a little while?” He suggested, stepping up behind her and resting his hands on her hips, gently pressing his thumbs into the small of her back and massaging them.

“Yeah.” She moaned, her head dropping back against his chest, turning to kiss the underside of his bearded jaw.

“How about a nice warm bath first, maybe a cup of tea?”

Lily chuckled into his neck, grinning. “So dotting, Captain.” She teased him.

“I love you.” He cooed, kissing her forehead, then moved away from her and went into the bathroom, plugging the drain on the ancient claw-foot tub and turned the X-shaped tap handles.

Lily padded into the bathroom, sitting down on the closed toilet seat and pushed down the stress of her grandfather's behavior towards her, to watch Sy fill the bath for her, a soft smile on her face. She stood up for a moment and reached underneath the sink and removed a small bottle and handed it to him. Sy smiled at her and took it from her, uncapping it and getting the strong snap of eucalyptus and sprinkled the Epsom salt into the delicately warm water, before turning off the tap. He grabbed a towel and folded it, then situated it at one end of the tub, to pillow her head, when she started to soak.

“Now, where is the kitchen?” He asked, looking at her.

“Down the stairs, first door to your right.” Lily replied, getting out of her clothing.

“Cool, I'll be right back.” Sy told her, kissing her temple and stepped out of the room to go downstairs to get her tea.

Lily finished undressing and carefully stepped into the pleasantly warm water, leaning back with a soft and satisfied moan, focusing on the warm water enveloping her body easing away her aches and pains, melting away the anxieties that had accumulated during the drive over from Texas and the visit. While Sy found the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door, finding the cook, Clara, inside, who looked up as she heard him come in and wiped her hands on her apron.

“Can I help you?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Um, just need a cup of tea.” He replied, licking his lips and glancing around the kitchen.

“Oh, of course, right away.”

“I'd hate to put you out.” Sy said, alarmed.

Clara chuckled at him, pulling down a cup from a high cabinet. “It's what the Warren's hired me for.” She assured him. “I'm guessing it's for Lily.” She added, moving about the kitchen as she put the things together to make the tea.

“Yeah.” He nodded, then patiently waited for her to finish and took the cup from her. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Clara smiled, and returned to what she had been doing.

Sy carefully took the cup back upstairs to Lily, smiling as he stepped into the bathroom and saw her lounging comfortably in the tub. He was glad she could relax and let the stress go, even if it was for a little while. Lily stirred as he sat down beside her, smiling at him and taking the cup of tea from his outstretched hands and let out a pleased moan.

“Feels like a spa day.” She chuckled, handing her teacup back to Sy for him to hold, so she could relax back again.

“You deserve to relax.” Sy replied, softly. “You've got an important job to do.”

“Yeah, I'm growing a Syverson.” Lily chuckled, teasingly.

“Exactly.” He laughed back. “That's no easy feat to bring one of us into the world.”

“Bringing a Syverson into the world is just the start of it, then we have to raise them.”

“Oh, trouble, trouble, trouble.” Sy grinned at her. “Nothing, but trouble.”

“Toil and bubble.” Lily giggled, fully amused and lighthearted.

“Come on, sleepy, out with you.” Sy said, setting her empty teacup on the vanity counter and pulled the towel off the bar and held it open for her.

“Okay.” Lily replied, stifling a yawn with her hand.

Stepping out of the tub and into Sy's arms, she rested her forehead against his chest and let him dry her off. Sy had taken a liking to drying her off after she showered or bathed, since she'd become pregnant, none of which Lily protested to, she was usually very sleepy by the time she got out of them, so having him there to finish up was always nice.

“Oh, fuck.” He barked, after helping back into her clothing. “Your pillow is still in the truck.”

“It won't kill me to have one nap without it.” Lily said, through yet another yawn.

“You were a very cranky mama bear the last time you didn't have that thing to sleep with.” He reminded her. “I'll go down and get it, just sit tight.”

“I'd rather lay tight.” She huffed, starting to get cranky as she shuffled over to her bed and laid down.

Sy rushed back downstairs and nearly collided with Violet. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.” He panted, making sure she was all right. “ Are you okay?”

“I'm fine, where's the fire, Mr. Syverson?”

“Lily's laying down for her nap and I just realized she doesn't have her pregnancy pillow and she always wakes up very cranky, when she doesn't have it to sleep with.” He explained, calming down.

Violet smiled up at Sy, touched and pleased at the plain devotion he had for her granddaughter. “Well, we can't have that, now can we?” She chuckled, rolling back out of his way.

“No, ma'am.” Sy shook his head at her.

“Violet, Mr. Syverson. Just call me Violet.” She informed him as Sy reached the front door.

He paused, hand on the door and smiled at her, remembering when Lily told him to call her by her given name. “Of course, Ms. Violet.” He nodded at her, politely.

Violet smiled back at him and Sy went out to his truck.

“Hey, girl.” Sy said, opening the passenger door of the truck and only to get attacked by Aika's tongue. “I know, I know. I haven't forgotten about ya. I promise.” He chuckled, petting her. “I'll come back down in a couple minutes and take care of you. But first, I have to take care of your mama.” He said, reaching in the back seat for Lily's U-Shaped pillow, pushed Aika back and closed the door again, before rushing back upstairs.

“Okay, pillow.” Sy said, bursting into the room, only to find Lily curled into a ball and sound asleep, making him chuckling. He situated her pillow and gently unrolled Lily from her ball and slipped her between her pillow, before covering her up.

“Sleep sweet, Angel.” He whispered, kissing her cheek softly, then went back downstairs. “Um, do you know where Ms. Violet is?” He asked the servant that had served him and Lily tea when they had first arrived.

“Yes, she's in the private study, right through there.” She replied, pointing the way.

“Thank you.” He nodded, then went down, gently knocking on the door.

“Enter.”

“Ms. Violet?”

“Ah, Mr. Syverson, I'm trusting the pillow crisis was averted?” She asked, an amused glitter in her eyes.

Sy chuckled. “It was, thank you.”

“Then, what can I help you with?”

“I, uh, brought Lily and I's dog with us...” He said, sheepishly, though Lily's grandmother seemed like a very sweet woman, Sy got the vibe she was the authority in this household and crossing her wasn't the way to go. “She's in my truck and I didn't want to take her out without asking first, so I didn't step on any toes and cause any issues with you and your husband.”

“What kind of dog is she?”

“She's a German Shepherd.” Sy replied, licking his lips. “I found her in the war-zone on my last deployment.” He half explained to her.

Violet blinked several times at Sy. “You were in the military?”

“Yes, ma'am.” He nodded, with a deep sense of pride. “I was a Captain in the U.S Army, Special Forces, for more than ten years.”

“What's the pup's name?”

“Aika.”

“Well, Aika is more than welcome here.” She told him. “As long as she behaves herself.” She added, a soft smile on her face.

“She's a very well behaved dog, you have my word.” Sy replied, smiling back at her.

“Good.” Violet nodded. “Just make sure you keep her out of the orchards or Davis will have a never-ending fit.”

“Will do.”

Excusing himself, Sy went back out to the truck and put Aika on her leash, walking her around the front of the property and away from the orchards, making sure to clean up after her, then brought her inside, taking her upstairs to Lily's room, where she curled up on the bed with Lily, before he decided to do a little exploring himself before lunch.

He wandered into the orchards, seeing the short trunks, but wide crowns, light green and shiny apples weighing down its branches and a couple littered the ground. There easily had to be a hundred trees of the same sort for as far as Sy could see in the area he was in, before he moved on. Sy came to a small dirt lane and crossed it into a totally different portion of the orchard, these trees were still squat and wide, but the apples on their branches were medium sized and mostly two toned, a dull red that faded into a yellow-y green color.

He crossed another dirt road and found another orchard of another kind of apple, this one a light yellow color, when he heard voices and then his name and turned, seeing Lily's grandfather, realizing he had wandered into the south orchard.

“What are you doing out here?” Davis asked, approaching him.

“Just looking around.” Sy replied, keeping his tone guarded. “Lily's told me a lot about the place.”

“And where is she?”

“Back at the house, sleeping.” Sy told him, his shoulders stiff. “She gets tired a lot with the baby.”

“Hm.” Davis huffed and turned on his heels.

“What's your problem?” Sy barked after him, unable to hold his temper any longer. “She just wants her grandfather, the man that raised her, back in her life, in her child's life. Not your money or your business, just your love and affection.”

Davis spun around on his heels to face Sy. “I might have raised her, because my Daisy died, and her father was an unreliable scum, but she's making the same mistake her mother did. I won't be part of that again.”

“I won't be there when it kills her too.” He hissed, then stormed off.

Lily woke up to Sy's angry pacing at the foot of the bed and cursing under his breath, and sat up, rubbing at her eyes. “What's wrong, Bear?” She asked, frowning at him.

“Your grandfather is a pigheaded, son of a bitch.”

Her mouth fell open for a moment, then her brows drew together and her eyes narrowed. “Did the two of you get into an argument?”

“Sorta.” He huffed back.

“For the love of Jesus, Austin.” Lily barked at him, pressing her hands to her face. “Why?”

“I didn't go lookin' for it, Lily.” He retorted, stopping his pacing. “I was just checking out the orchards and ran into him. One thing came to another, I asked him what his problem was, all you want is his love and affection back, not his damned money or his orchard, and his reply was you're making the same mistake your mother made and you'll end up dying because of it too.”

“Which you will fucking not!” He added, a panicked fright breaking through his burst of anger.

“Of course, I'm not going too, Bear.”

Lily sighed, shaking her head and running her hand through her hair, before getting up out of bed. “I'll be more than all right. We have a great doctor and an amazing hospital back home. Plus, I have you to take care of and look after me, the whole time. I'll be perfectly safe and sound.” She told him, hugging her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek to his chest.

“Don't listen to him, Sy. He's just a grumpy old man, set in his ways.”

“What's that make me?” He asked, half jokingly.

“My boyfriend and Papa Bear.” She giggled, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“Good to know, Mama Bear.” He teased back, dipping his head to kiss her. “The fuck was that?” He asked as two loud dinging sounds filled the house.

“That is the lunch bell.” Lily replied, pulling away from him. “One ding is breakfast, two is lunch and three is dinner.” She explained to him, finding her shoes and slipping them back on. “Old Virginian hospitality, Syverson. I know you Texans aren't used to it.”

“Oh, you posh and polished Southerners.” He teased back, following her downstairs. “Give me the ringing of a triangle any day and this cowboy will know the way to the dinner table.”

“Remind me to buy one for our house, then.” Lily giggled, showing him into the family dinning room.

“Buy what for your house?” Violet asked, already seated at one end of the table.

“Oh, Sy was making fun of us for being—what did you call it?” She asked, looking at him as he vigorously shook his head at her. “Ah yes, posh and polished Southerners, for having a meal bell.” You grinned at him, impishly. “While, pointing out the Texas Cowboy in him could only find his way home, if he heard the call of a triangle bell.”

“I said, I would be able to find my way to the table. I know my way home, thank you very much.” He spoke up, his cheeks pink underneath the hairs of his beard.

Both Lily and Violet's laughter filled the dining room, but Sy soon joined them. But, the laughter died down as Davis entered the room, taking his place at the other end of the table, practically sucking the air out of the room as he took his seat.

“How is the south orchard doing?” Violet asked, as lunch was being served.

“One of the original York apple trees is starting to fail for some reason.” Davis replied, picking up the salt shaker. “Mac and I were running through a list of things we can do to save it.” He explained, paying closer attention to his food than to the others at the table with him.

“This looks really good.” Sy commented, licking his lips at his plate.

“It's one of Lily's favorites.” Violet smiled at him. “Creamy Shrimp pasta.”

“I used to try and bribe Clara into making it for every meal once for a whole summer.” Lily chuckled, twirling the angel hair pasta around her fork. “Never worked out.”

“Didn't deter you from trying though.” Violet chuckled, smiling fondly at her granddaughter. “I'm more than sure you'll love what Clara is making you for dinner.”

“I have no doubt.” She smiled back.

“Oh, Mr. Syverson, if you'd like a place to park your truck, I'm sure Davis could show you where the garage is.” Violet said, her eyes on her husband.

“Thank you, Ms. Violet.” Sy replied, smiling at her. “And, please, call me Sy or Austin, whichever you might prefer.” He told her, a bit shyly.

“Austin, it is.” Violet answered, giving him a sweet smile. “But, you can do that for him, can't you?” She said, lifting a brow at her husband, with an expression that dared him to object to her request.

Davis stared at his wife, his hard brown eyes holding Violet's stern blues, before his shoulders dropped slightly. “I'll show you after lunch.”

“Thank you.” Sy replied, stiffly.

Lily rested her hand on Sy's thigh, gently squeezing it, trying to keep him calm and relaxed. “How have the orchards been?” Lily asked her grandfather, trying to open any sort of connection with him. “I know picking season is coming up soon in the next few months.” She pointed out, gathering up a forkful of her shrimp pasta.

There was a long silence at the table, each second made Lily's heart clench tighter, fearing her grandfather would just continue to ignore her and pretend she didn't exist. She didn't know how much more of his coldness she could take, before it became too much to bear and she would just want to leave again.

No matter how much it would hurt.

“Other than the York tree showing signs of white rot, the orchards are as productive and fruitful as ever.” He finally spoke.

“What happens if you don't cure the white rot?” Lily frowned, concerned for the tree.

“We lose the tree.” Davis sighed, resting back in his chair and tossing his napkin onto the table beside his plate. “It'll only be the third originally planted tree on the farm we've ever lost. Well, with any luck the rot won't spread and it won't hit us too hard.” He explained, looking at her.

“Just because you lost one, don't mean you'll lose more.” Lily replied, holding his gaze.

Davis dropped his eyes and nodded his head, sighing, then looked up at Sy, noticing his empty plate. “You done?”

“I am.” Sy nodded, wiping his mouth.

“Come on, and I'll show you where the garage is and you can park your truck.” He said, standing up, leaving his half eaten lunch on the table.

“I'll be right back.” Sy whispered to Lily, kissing her cheek and stood, following her grandfather out of the house.

The walk from the house was silent as they stepped off the paved driveway and onto a pea gravel lane that led a little ways away from the house, through a small grove of very ancient looking weeping willows to a large building with several vehicles parked outside of it.

“You can park it here.” Davis said, motioning to the area in front of them.

“Thanks.” Sy nodded to him, then turned back to get his truck.

Bringing his truck around and finding a place to park it, Sy got out and and grabbed their duffel bag out of the back and locked up, heading back up to the house; when Davis stopped in his tracks, noticing the duffel bag slung over his shoulder; the worn military green and the faded, black U.S letters.

“Something the matter?” Sy frowned, turning back to him.

“That's a military bag.” Davis replied.

“Yes, it is.” He nodded, shifting it on his shoulder and tilting his head at the other man.

“It's yours?”

Sy's shoulders slumped and he stared at the old man. “I served more than ten years in the U.S Army as a Captain in the Special Forces.” He explained to him. “I retired almost a year ago.”

“How did you and Lily meet?”

“As I said, I retired almost a year ago and I returned home to Austin, Texas.” Sy replied, sighing. “Even though I could live quite well on my retirement, I don't like not having a job or being idle. So, I went about applying for jobs, mostly jobs I could do with my hands, construction jobs and such. A construction company told me about a contract that they had gotten from a young lady, who needed help fixing her place up in Celina, which is about three hours south of Austin. I called about it and got the job. I'm sure you guessed, it was Lily.” He smirked, chuckling to himself.

“I started fixing the place up for her and we grew close, especially after we helped each other through a few traumatic things.”

“Like, what?”

“I have pretty severe PTSD from my time in deployment and Lily's gotten me through more than one episode.” Sy smirked, blushing slightly and toeing the ground with the tip of his boot. “She's the guiding light to holding them back.” He whispered softly. “As for her, she's been through a lot in the last five years, especially the fear and turmoil caused by Jak.” He said. “There's nothing on this planet, there hasn't been anything on this planet, I wouldn't do to ensure her happiness and safety.”

Sy looked Davis dead in the eyes, a deep seriousness coming over him, even though he had a knot in his stomach. “Listen, your granddaughter isn't a little girl anymore. She's a grown woman, and a beautiful, loving and intelligent one, at that. She's so incredibly caring for the people around her, even when she's been so hurt and her trust in people has been cut deeply. Her work ethic is admirable, she built a company from the reclusion of her own home, that she hadn't left in more than three years, and it is thriving. She's even currently in the process of interviewing people to fill two positions, because she has so many clients, that she's in need of the extra help.”

“You're projecting the fear of your daughter’s mistakes and death on Lily and it isn't fair to her, or to you and your wife.”

“My Daisy Mae's misfortunes aren't the only failures that have me disappointed in the situation.” Davis said, rolling his jaw at Sy.

Sy huffed at him, biting his lip and nodding his head at him. “You think I'd be some, what was it, unreliable scum, like her father?” He asked, lifting a brow at him.

Davis sighed back at him, scrubbing a palm over his wrinkled forehead and lifted a brow at him. “Come with me.” He said, motioning him back towards the house.

Pressing his lips together, Sy followed him back up to the house and into Davis's private study, setting the duffel bag down by the door as Davis closed it behind him. Davis motioned to a leather and mahogany upholstered chair in front of a cold fireplace, then moved over to a small table of bottles and glasses, pouring them both a drink. He handed Sy a glass and took the seat across from him, taking a long sip.

“Smooth stuff.” Sy commented, licking his lips and admiring the rich, amber liquid.

“Maker's Mark, Kentucky bourbon whiskey.” Davis replied, smirking at his glass, appreciatively.

“Anyhow.” He cleared his throat, balancing his glass on the arm of his chair. “Palmer Hughes. He came to work here in the summer of 1985, he was twenty years old and Daisy was eighteen. I knew the boy was trouble the moment I set eyes on him and knew I should have sent him picking.”

“But, for whatever reason, and against my better judgment, I didn't.”

“He took an instant liking to our Daisy, who was ordinarily a good mannered, well behaved and proper girl. But, as soon as he set his eyes on her, he started corrupting her. He would stop coming to work in the fields to sneak himself and her off the property and go into town or wherever it was they would go to. Daisy started to become more defiant and rebellious. One of our church elders even spotted her and Palmer with a group of their lowlife friends in a questionable area of town, getting high, smoking and drinking.”

“It was such an embarrassment.” He sighed, taking a deep gulp of his drink. “When Daisy was twenty-one, she came to her mother and I and told us she was pregnant. Palmer had split the moment he found out about it. But, I tracked his no good ass down and dragged him back. He and Daisy got married just before Lily was born.”

“What happened?” Sy asked, frowning at him, the burn of the alcohol melting through the knot in his stomach as he thought about it. “How did her mother die?”

“She developed a hemorrhage that the doctor's couldn't get under control, so she ended up bleeding to death.” Davis explained, growing pale at the memory of the doctor's telling him and his wife the news of their daughter’s death, their only child. “For his part, Palmer did seem distraught over her death. But, he blamed Lily for it. So, he spent the rest of her life coming in and out of it, before Violet and I finally just adopted her and permanently took care of her.”

“It was Violet and I that ended up naming Lily, as well. Daisy hadn't picked one, that we were aware of, and Palmer wasn't being cooperative with anyone, us or the hospital staff.”

“Where is her father now?”

Davis sighed and carefully regarded Sy for a long moment, before replying. “He died, some years ago.”

Sy blinked at him, shocked. “You never told Lily this.”

“No.” He shook his head, guilty. “Vi and I thought it would be best that we didn't.”

“That's not really for either of you to decide.” Sy frowned at him, annoyed. “Lily deserves the truth.”

“I know she does.” Davis agreed. “I'll tell her, one day. As for you, Austin.” He met Sy's eyes. “I've unjustly projected my prejudices of Palmer onto you. You are, not even an ounce, the man he was. You are a man I wish my own daughter would have met and fallen in love with. But, I am glad my granddaughter met, fallen in love with and is having my great-grandbaby with you.”

“Thank you.” Sy answered, taking his compliment and finished off his drink.

[thebeebi]

your little games pt. 2

pairing: Jungkook x reader

warnings: smut, fluff in later chapters, non-con, mention of r*pe attempt, implied murder and many more! Read only if you are okay with these topics!

genre: historical AU, 18th century?

word count: 2.5k+ [part 2]

a/n: I am not really sure if you wanted the part 2 but I for sure did!!! Enjooooy! ♥

You ran away from the man who tried to take an advantage of you. You stabbed him and escaped. Escaped to the arms of the handsome captain who was even worse than the man you just killed.

Part 1 

Jungkook did not understand what was the reason for you being like this. Your behaviour and manners were ones of an easy woman, but your hands that are pale and untouched showed that you were a lady who had never lifted a finger. He shook his head and wore a white shirt that he took off last just an hour ago. He walked towards the table and poured himself a glass of wine. When he was about to reach for it, he changed his mind and took into his hands bottle of brandy that was often his best companion. He gulped some of the leftover alcohol in the bottle while looking out of the window. He wasn’t from this little town. He was there just to ship some furniture that was ordered by a wealthy man. His parents used to love this town and often took him there considering it as a family vacation. But Jungkook never came back after their death. It was his first time back in 10 years. Jungkook’s father was an adventurer who raised his child strictly. On the other hand, Jungkook’s mother was his supporting pillar that mended Jungkook’s and his father’s relationship. Jungkook knew about the tough unfair world. Since he was a child, he preferred studying, but his father wanted him to be able to sail around so he sent him to an old captain – his friend, who taught Jungkook things that he knows now. Even though Jungkook loved sailing, he knew this was the last one of his adventures. His parents left him a huge mansion with a huge wine orchard. Jungkook knew he wanted to work with wine and that was the reason he did not sail that often. The winery was the centre of his attention. He was 25 years old man, who was already eligible for marrying. He wished he would be happy for the rest of his life. He smiled and shook his head, thinking that love for his mansion and the winery will make him do foolish things, that his heart did not approve. He wanted to get married to Elisabeth Buck who he did not love but had to marry in order to get back land that belonged to his family years ago.

Jungkook frowned at the thought of his possible future wife. His family was always known to be possessive of their loved ones. He knew how jealous his father would get if his mother shown even a tiny bit of interest in someone else than his father. He was weirded out by that because he was exactly the same copy of his father and the woman he wanted to marry had in the bed new man every night. But Jungkook somehow did not care. He wished there would be at least a tiny bit of jealousy, that would show him he had any feelings for the Elisabeth, but nothing. He knew her since childhood and was well aware that his feelings for her will not change. His friends called him crazy once they knew Jungkook asked her to marry him. Even if the jealousy was not inherited, Jungkook was sure he was stubborn just like his father. He was ready to get married just for the wealth and his family’s name.

Captain looked at his bed and walked closer to you. The sobs were getting quieter until they stopped completely. He knew you fell asleep, but it was no calm sleep. It reminded him of the sleep of an exhausted person. He bowed down and took blanket into his hands to cover you properly, uncovering your face, letting the fresh air getting to you. The last thing he was expecting in his cabin was a virgin. He knew they were problematic and that was the reason why he tried to avoid them all his life. He preferred spending time with skilled ones who were enjoying their life to the fullest without any worries. They could have been from a brothel or not, cheap or expensive. Jungkook did not care. This was his first night in the docks after a long time spent on the ocean. From the crew, only his servant Jimin and Taehyung stayed aboard that night. He felt horny after many nights without a companion, so he asked Jimin to find him someone for a quickie who was not filthy and very charming. Jungkook wasn’t expecting a virgin who was more beautiful than any other woman he had seen before. It was a miracle that they found you. A young innocent girl who was just turning into a woman. Normally women like that think about the marriage and with their innocence are trying to lure some a man into the trap with their beauty. How else would Jungkook be still single, if he did not try to avoid them as a devil avoids the holy water? But now, when he had to get married to the woman who slept with half of the male population of his town, he wanted to try something else. To refresh his tastes in women but he still could not understand what were your reasons for doing this job. He shook his head and took of the white shit again. He walked closer towards the table and blew out the candle. Jungkook once again looked at your body and then slowly laid down next to you. The last thing he thought about before he fell asleep was the gentle fragrance of your body and the warmth which was radiating from it.

When the first sun rays reached into the cabin, you felt them on your face and sat up straight away, waking up from the slumber. You looked around and then you got reminded of the events of the last night. Jungkook who was sleeping next to you had his arm over your bust, but as you sat up, his arm slid down on your thighs. You could feel the weight of something on your legs and when you looked down, you saw his left leg being crossed over your small body. You tried to squirm away without being noticed, but your movement woke Jungkook up. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, so you took it as a cue to lay down again, pretending to be asleep. When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he decided to look at was your face. To him, it was a beautiful sight. He loved the way you looked now, but even more when you were laying beneath him last night. Jungkook softly caressed your cheekbones with his thumbs and realised that his fiancé would be really jealous of your beauty. He laughed at the possibility of you two meeting. Elisabeth is proud of her beauty, and Jungkook knew she would despite standing next to even more beautiful woman than she was. His fiancé was proclaimed as the most beautiful woman in the town, even though there were many beauties. Jungkook never noticed it though, but people were probably right. Her face and hair were pretty, and her tall body was indeed attractive. Jungkook thought about the woman who he promised he would marry but then again looked at you sleeping next to him. If you were to come to his hometown, then they would for sure forget about Elisabeth’s beauty.

Jungkook bowed down a little to kiss your ear and nibbled it a little. You widened your eyes quicky before you could realise what was Jungkok doing. “Good morning, little one,” he whispered softly and tried to reach for your lips with his own. You were still, not trying to make any movement, being scared that if you would do anything, it would only provoke him. But Jungkook did not need it, the memories of last night were still raw and he was ready for another round. He was kissing your lips softly, but then moved to your eyes, the neck and headed towards the shoulder, where he stayed for a bitting you softly. The shiver ran down your spine as you saw Jungkook looking for the nipple and started licking it slowly, making small kitten but very passionate licks. “Don’t!“ you silently shouted, “Don’t do that!” Jungkook looked at you and the lust in his eyes was evident. “You will have to get used to this, little one.” You wanted to run away from his amused look, so the only thing you could do was turn your head to the side and beg. “No. Please, not. Don’t do that. Don’t hurt me again. Let me go.”

“I will not hurt you this time, little one.” He exhaled near your ear, which he was kissing softly. He covered you with his body as you were trying to push him away. You tried to press your legs together and to scratch him, just to make sure he would stop. Jungkook laughed as he loved the way you protested. “You have more strength now than you had last night,” he grabbed both of your arms pulling them up and then locking them in his grasp above your head. He managed to keep your arms above with one hand and slid the other down to your left breast to play with it. You kept on resisting, trying to push him away, but it was all in vain. With a swift move of his knee, he separated your pressed legs and you could feel him once again deep inside.

This time you did not cry, you had no tears left. Instead the hate and fear appeared within you. When he finished, he pulled away from you and you took that as a cue to clew up yourself by hugging your legs close to your chest. When Jungkook looked into your eyes, he frowned and sat next to you. He reached in to caress your cheek because he was feeling that he had to calm you down, but when you moved to the side, to avoid his touch, Jungkook was confused and stopped. His eyes widened as he realised that you were not pretending and were actually scared of him. He frowned even more and instead of your face, he reached for your hair, to entangle a fallen strand in his finger. “You are really something, little one.” He whispered softly. “You could have gotten a large sum of money for what you lost with me tonight. Anyone would be willing to pay you a lot for that but you still chose to be a prostitute and as I have heard, you came with my men willingly, not even trying to talk about the price or anything. You never told me that you were a virgin and did not try to ask for more.” He let go or your trembling body and continued: “The dress that you wore was expensive, some woman from the street would have to work for a year to get them. I am sure you are of high status, but I cannot explain why would you offer your virginity on the street. Someone could have raped you and you would lose it just like that.” You sit up a little and looked at him, not understanding what he was trying to say.“It looks like you are coming from a good family. You are beautiful, you have an expensive dress but still…” Jungkook grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. “ But you still chose to do this.” He softly caressed your palm and then lightly pressed kiss on the place he just touched. “When you came in yesterday, you were calm and willing, but now you were trying to push me away, not letting me be gentle to you.” It was only then when you realised, that he was not one of the men from yesterday.

Oh Gosh! You gasped as you thought about the price you paid for your fear. You then realised you should have waited for the judgement right at that place where you killed the man or just stayed in the poverty where you were trying to run away from. At least you would have not lost your virginity. “It is okay, Y/N. Don’t be afraid. I will take care of you and you will live in comfort. I arrived just yesterday and I will stay for a while. While I will be here, you will be my companion. I will take care of you and will make sure that you have your own house while I’ll-“

He was interrupted by your sudden burst of laughter. It was hysterical laughter that came out of nowhere when you realised what was the situation you were in. The huge smile on your face soon changed into sobs and tears started running down your cheeks. You looked down but suddenly shot your head up to look at the confused Jungkook.  “ I wasn’t selling myself on the streets. I just got lost.“ The captain frowned being silenced by the confession. “But you went with my men willingly,” he interrupted you and you just shook your head to sides. “I thought they were sent to look for me.” When Jungkook did not continue, you realised he does not know about your sin. He does not know about what you committed yesterday and why you were running away. “Aren’t your parents worried?“ You shook your head once again. “No, they died a long time ago. I am living with my aunt. But she does not care about me much.” You whispered the last sentence and whipped your tears away. “Then I do not see the reason, Y/N, why you could not stay with me and become my lover. I will find you a house where you could live happily and when I come here, I will spend time with you there. I will give you a large amount of money so you would not have to look for other men, than myself. Well, I would not let you do that anyways and once if I decide to come back here and will need woman companion, I will just go to you. It is a win-win for both of us.”

You silently stood up and got dressed in the clothes he met you in yesterday. For almost a second, you did not feel the hatred towards him but once he finished his monologue, it was back. You never thought you could hate someone so much as you hated Jungkook. His carefree nature drove you crazy and you were ready to jump at him and scratch his handsome face. Jungkook stood up and walked toward the window, you took it as your free pass to leave. Even though you were wearing the dress that brought back memories, you were willing to take all of them if it meant to flee from the man who wasn’t looking at you. You bit your lower lip and swiftly but silently reached for the backpack you brought yesterday and started backing away towards the door. Your plan disappeared once you heard him shout your name. “Y/N!” you looked up at the man and let go of the backpack surprised. His dark eyes were staring into yours and he noticed that you started breathing faster. With fast steps, Jungkook walked towards you and grabbed your arm. “Did you think, I would let you run away from me? You are beautiful and I haven’t found a replacement yet. And let me be honest, I have no desire to let you go.”

Part 3

a/n: do you want part 3? let me knowwww :) also, I might make a tag list for this series, so let me know if you want to be part of it. 💜