#but he was fine until my grandpa took off his hat in front of him

[stutterfly]

Tricks of the Trade | MYG (M)

Shared as part of the Similarly Sequestered game with @kpopfanfictrash​, @underthejoon​, @fortunexkookie​, @gukslut​ and me!

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Word Count: 24.1K Prompt: “The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences.” {Body Swap AU, Soulmates AU}

Genre: Fluff, humor, smut, oneshot

Summary: The convenience store across the street from your apartment carries your favorite energy drink. That's why you frequent it. It's definitely not because you have a big fat crush on the owner you've been flirting with for the better part of a year. Of course your brand of flirting can also be misconstrued as bickering. When a strange man wanders into the store, he thinks you need a little nudge to embrace the strings connecting you. Next thing you know you're waking up in a body that definitely doesn't belong to you. You can't decide if it's the best or worst thing that's ever happened to you.

CW & Other Tags: Anxiety attacks, language, oral sex, unprotected sex, nipple play, fingering, Agent of Chaos Jin, shopkeeper Yoongi, idiots to lovers, frenemies to lovers, bodyswap shenanigans

Pairings: Yoongi x Reader

Posted on June 23, 2020 by stutterfly and cross-posted to Ao3. I do not allow reposting, translations, or edits, to this or any other platform, including YouTube.

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The bell at the top of the door jingles as another customer walks into the store, but you pay them no mind. You’re already scanning the refrigerated drinks section for the third time, scouring the rows of cans and bottles for your beverage of choice. There’s only one kind of energy drink you want but its usual location is barren. Desperate to find what you’re searching for, you squat down to look behind the other drinks in the fridge.

“You’re not going to find any.”

The familiar, disinterested drawl of the shopkeeper has you popping up from the floor to look over at him. He wears a green apron over a black tee and a pair of faded jeans. His back is to you so he doesn’t have to see your face when you complain. He reaches up to take off his baseball cap and runs his fingers through thick locks of ebony hair before returning the cap to his head. He spares a glance over his shoulder at you, knowing you’re watching him. He sighs loudly as he continues to stock nearby shelves with boxes of cereal.

When he opened this tiny shop across from your apartment about a year ago, you thought he was cute, but he’s always seemed cold to you. The gossips around town say he’s a bit scrawny, monotone and boorish, but you like his voice and you like his style. He must be intelligent if he started this business from nothing, especially at his age. Not many people in their late twenties can say they are as independent as Yoongi.

He has confidence and pride in his values. You’ve seen him tell rude people off without a second thought and kick people out for being racist towards other customers. He puts on a front to seem unapproachable but you’ve seen him give a carton of milk to a mother who didn’t have money to pay for it, and free candy to a group of kids on a rainy day. While he pretends to be an old grump who shuffles around his shop all day, you’ve seen him get the energy to sprint around the block after a shift and then collapse at the cafe tables next door. He’s weird. He’s honest. He’s kind-hearted. It’s easy to admire him.

He bends down to pick up more boxes, and you cock your head to the side to stare at the way his ass looks in those jeans. He’s also insanely attractive. It’s no wonder you still come in here every day.

The more you see of him, the more you feel you know him, and the more you’ve grown to like him. The problem is that your relationship with the shopkeeper has shifted into a weird territory you’re not sure how to escape from. It’s not that you hate each other, but it seems you can’t hold a conversation without getting on each other’s nerves. Either you’re always saying the wrong thing or he’s pressing all the wrong buttons when he teases you.

At first you read his teasing as awkward flirting but for someone so blunt, you’ve convinced yourself he would have been straightforward and said the words out loud. I like you. Let’s get a drink. It would be easy for him to say, wouldn’t it? Despite trying to convince yourself he’s not interested, you can’t help but flirt with him at any opportunity to do so. However, you seem to forget how the moment he looks at you. It’s like your flirting skills took an exit down a shitty highway and now you’ve lost the GPS signal to navigate back to civilization.

Talking with Yoongi has become an ache you can’t seem to give up so you’ll take whatever excuse you can to keep doing so. That usually takes the form of you poking fun at one another until you hurt your own feelings. Sometimes you spend the remainder of a day thinking about the ways you can fix tomorrow’s fictitious conversation. You forgot how being infatuated with someone can make you feel so stupid. He’s not your life, just a part that you wish could be more prominent. It’s fine.

All you have to do is get your morning beverage and pastry before working your shift. Then you can focus on how nice it will feel to do nothing all weekend and catch up on TV shows.

“So…. What did you do with it? Are you hiding them from me today?” You quickly snap your eyes to his face as he twists his body to look up at you.

He scoffs. “Not me. College kids came through last night and cleared them out.”

“But you know I always get one,” you pout, crossing your arms like it’s going to make a difference.

He turns his attention back to his task, slowly stacking the boxes in silence before he clicks his tongue. “So? I can’t just hide stuff for you, you know.”

“Don’t you have more in the back? You’ve never run out of Hot6 before.”

He laughs to himself. “This isn’t a warehouse. I have to wait for product to arrive before I can restock. Just get a Red Bull. It tastes the same.”

You crinkle your nose at him. “It does not.”

He crosses the store with a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh. Before long he’s back at the register and sipping on his iced americano. “Whatever. Why do you care? It’s easier if you develop a taste for espresso. Then you don’t have to worry about that kind of thing. Besides, energy drinks aren’t that great for you, you know.”

You make a sound of disgust as you sulk your way over to the pastry cabinet. “Jeez. Do you always have to have such a stick in your ass? You act like coffee is so much better for you.”

“More caffeine, less sugar. I guarantee you it’s better,” he says with a smack of his lips against his straw.

“Whatever, Grandpa. Hmm... Muffin, muffin, muffin…” you quietly chant to yourself as your eyes rake over the racks in search of your daily pastry fix. Today seems to be against you: no muffins.

“We’re out of those too,” he says. “You know you could stand to change up your routine. Don’t you get sick of getting the same things every day?”

You bite your lip and look over the case of pastries, grabbing a simple croissant. “I like my routine, but I guess I could always stop coming here.”

“If that’s what you want.” He sighs dramatically as he leans over the counter, resting on his elbows as he surveys the store. “Well, I could enjoy a quiet morning for once.”

You roll your eyes.“Pfft. You like to argue, so I know you’d miss me.”

There’s a squeaky laugh from behind one of the shelves and as your attention shifts to the sound, a young man with dusty pink hair pokes his head up. He must be rather tall if he’s able to look over the aisles. You quirk an eyebrow at his strange laughter and wonder what kind of stranger could be so entertained by the pair of you.

“Sorry. It’s just…” He holds up a card that neither of you can really make out at this distance. “On the front it says ‘It’s Your Birthday?’ and inside it says ‘Alpaca my party hat!’. Ha! And there’s this pop-up of the alpaca with a bandana and party hat.” He giggles again as he opens and closes the card a few times and waves his hand. “Sorry. Sorry. You can continue flirting now.”

“This is not—” Your breath catches in your throat and you have to take a moment to swallow down your embarrassment before turning back towards Yoongi. “Can you believe this guy?”

He’s in the middle of taking a bite from a half-eaten muffin when your eyes meet his guilty ones. Your jaw falls open as he slowly chews and rings you up, placing the remainder of the pastry back down on the counter.

“You took the last one?”

“I had a craving.” He shrugs.

“You knew I would want it and you took it so I couldn’t have it,” you guess in a playful tone. “Was your aim to make me suffer double today? You’re so cruel, Yoongi.”

He pauses to poke his tongue against his cheek as he handles your change. “It’s not like I planned it. Don’t make me out to be some bad guy.”

“Bad guy. Tch. No, I wouldn’t go that far.” You lean forward, planting your hands on the counter and ensuring a clear sightline into your shirt. “I think you just like getting under my skin.”

He bristles at your words, taking the bait and dropping his gaze to the lace exposed for his eyes. He licks his lips and lazily lets his eyes drift back to your face, his expression unreadable. “Maybe that’s true.”

You cock your head and smirk as you stand up straight, your ego slightly inflated. “Is it really so hard to be nice to me? I’m nice to you.”

“Hah!” He breaks into an amused grin. “When?”

You’re taken aback by his response. Surely you’ve been obvious with your infatuation up to this point. You scoff. “Wha- All the time!”

His brows furrow and he crosses his arms with the change still trapped in his palm. “So complaining is a form of politeness now? Then I should be grateful for how often you shower me with kindness.”

“You know I do more than complain! I complain because you complain to me!” you pout, pointing your finger at him. “Maybe we could talk about something meaningful if you ever cared enough to ask.”

His eyebrows raise with the pitch of your voice. It’s not a big deal. This is stupid. You’re overreacting because you like him. You know he’s fucking with you so why is your face still getting hot? Even if he’s joking, he’s planted the seed in your mind that he sees you as a grumpy customer. He’s clearly never thought of you as anything but a negative start to his day. You’ve seen him be sweet but right now he feels as bitter and cold as the coffee he drinks.

“What do you think of this?” the pink-haired stranger asks, donning a pair of thick black frames with orange-tinted lenses.

The man cuts the tension from the room for a brief moment. Yoongi stares at him, his lip curled up in disgust as he slowly shakes his head. When his eyes travel back to yours they seem full of apprehension. Your name rolls off his tongue as though it’s an apology.

“Don’t ‘Y/N’ me. Just give me my change,” you grumble, reaching up for his palm.

His grip is impossible to penetrate. He smiles as you struggle to work your fingers beneath his, shaking his head like you’ve revealed some embarrassing secret. Heat builds in your face the longer you stand there fidgeting with his hand. You feel like a fool.

“You’re obnoxious. Let me count it out first,” Yoongi sneers while trying to pull his hand back.

“It’s fine.” You roll your eyes and yank his hand towards you. “I don’t need you to count it.”

“You know what I think you need?”

The other customer leans beside the counter, a new pair of glasses on his face that are twice as hideous as the first pair. As you turn to look at the stranger you can see the pair of you reflected in hues of red and yellow in those disturbingly 90s opaque lenses. It almost looks like you’re holding hands. You stiffen at the sight but keep your fingers locked against Yoongi’s calloused ones as you focus on the pricetag dangling across the man’s nose.

The stranger slowly moves a closed fist above the place where your hand and Yoongi’s meet. He waits a few seconds until you’re both focused on his hand before a flash of silver falls from his palm. You almost mistake the shapes for identical necklaces until they untangle and rotate to reveal two halves that form a heart.

The fluorescent lights of the store highlight the engraved text on each. One says ‘BEST’ while the other half reads ‘FRIENDS’. The faux-metal irritates your neck the moment you think about it touching your skin. The chains appear fragile and cheap, like they might break at the slightest amount of tension. If this guy thinks you’re going to take these he must be delusional.

You exchange a quizzical look with Yoongi as the necklaces dangle between you. He’s distracted enough that you’re able to pry your change from his sweaty palm.

“Uh. No thanks,” you say, shoving the coins in your pocket before grabbing your croissant. You take a moment to regard Yoongi with a scowl, cocking your head to the side. “See you, Grandpa.”

The stone in his gut sinks as he watches you leave but he forces his attention to the pink haired stranger in the obscenely reflective glasses.

“You know, I think she likes you,” he whispers with a wink.

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It’s been a long day but at least you don’t have to go out tomorrow. You’ve already changed into your favorite pair of comfy shorts but as you move to unbutton your work shirt something smacks against your chest. Did something get trapped in your cleavage?

“What the fuck?”

As you look down your stomach does a somersault. There’s a necklace draped around your neck with a half-broken heart pendant, etched with the word ‘BEST’. How did that guy sneak this ugly thing onto you? How did you not feel it until now? Maybe he’s some sort of street magician. Your shock is accompanied by a chuckle as you reach behind your neck to fidget with the clasp. Spinning the chain between your fingertips, you soon realize there isn’t one. This thing feels like a dollar store trinket, so you curl your fingers around the charm and pull down with all of your might. It remains secure around your neck no matter how hard you tug.

Your mind begins to break into a panic. What the fuck? What the fuck. What. The actual. Fuck.

You quickly throw on a pair of sneakers and nab the keys hanging near the door on your way out of the apartment. It's hard to believe the speed at which your feet carry you down the several flights of stairs. A couple scrambles out of the way as they watch your frenzied descent. Before long you're pressing the entirety of your body against the familiar door of the convenience store across the street.

The clerk looks up from his phone, his dark eyebrows raised in surprise as you stumble past the threshold. Your body nearly folds in half as you plant your hands on your knees and struggle to catch your breath.

"Are you alright?"

You force yourself to stand up straight to address the man standing behind the counter. The word is devoid of conviction as it leaves your mouth. "Yeah."

You know him as Tae, one of Yoongi's part-time employees. Yoongi offered him a job when he heard him say he was looking for work to supplement his endeavors to put himself through art school. You’ve seen him a lot, spoken a little here and there, and he even knows you by name now. If he's here, it's probable that his boss is not. You sigh loudly in an attempt to relieve some of the panic and frustration built up in your brain. It's not like you can just ask Tae to give you Yoongi’s number.

Tae’s wide-eyed stare indicates his concern for your well being but it’s not until he drags his gaze across your body and purses his lips that you feel something is amiss. It's at this point that you realize how much the air conditioner billows the fabric of your work shirt. Goosebumps form along your calves as all of the blood in your body rushes to your face. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to conceal the half-unbuttoned shirt and the bra that pokes out from beneath it. There’s little you can do to cover the expanse of your legs while wearing such form-fitting shorts.

“I was just… checking to see if you have any Hot6,” you say with barely a glance in the direction of the refrigerator section. “But it’s clear you’re still out.”

Tae raises his eyebrows and grants you a subtle, uncertain nod as your eyes settle on the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’

“Is your boss here?” you blurt, reaching for the chain around your neck. “I’ve got a—”

Your stomach drops. It’s gone. Both of your hands instinctively smack at your collarbones, like frantically patting against your flesh will cause the necklace to reappear. You hold your shirt open wide enough to peer down at the skin of your chest with a concentrated gaze, eyes begging for any trace of the tacky piece of jewelry to resurface. Was it really just a figment of your imagination? You swear it was there. You felt it. You pulled on it. It had to be real.

You swallow hard and quickly bounce your eyes to the uncomfortable-looking cashier. All you can offer is a weak chuckle as you try to play it off by shaking out your shirt. “Sorry… I thought there was a bug."

There's an awkward, heavy silence between you as he nods with pursed lips. There's no way this poor guy believes your delusional ass. "Bossman's gone for tonight. Seemed kinda beat."

"Oh."

Your eyes settle on the countertop as your brain tries to rationalize what kind of unresolved issues at work are causing your mental breakdown. You stand there while spacing out, barely blinking. You can't believe you imagined that. Not knowing what to do, Tae walks his fingers towards the miniature cans of Red Bull stacked on the counter. He gracefully sweeps his hand around a can and offers it to you. That breaks you from your daze.

"It kinda tastes the same." He attempts to cut the tension with an endearingly awkward, close-mouthed smile. "My treat?"

If it were Yoongi saying such a thing you might scowl and tell him that he must be delusional if he thinks they're the same. Tae is a much kinder soul. You find yourself softening at his suggestion and shake your head.

"You know I should probably lay off the energy drinks now that I think about it," you say. "Have a good night, Tae."

"Goodnight, Y/N!" he calls after you as you wander back through the door. He leans over the counter. "Oh, hey wait! Do you want me to let bossman know you were looking for him?"

"It's fine!" you shout back on autopilot. You're already sinking into a pool of your own thoughts as the door closes behind you.

It was not fine.

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Sleep does not come easy despite your exhaustion. You find yourself tossing and turning all night. When the light begins to stream through your blinds it seems to strike at the perfect angle to blind your fluttering eyes. You pull the blankets up over your head even though you know it’s of no use; you’re already awake and there’s no going back to sleep now.

You stretch out with a yawn as you sleepily shuffle from the bed to the tiny bathroom around the corner of your room. It’s easy to apply toothpaste to your toothbrush on autopilot, taking a moment to rub your knuckles against an eye before glancing up towards the mirror. How bad is the bedhead today?

The sight that greets you causes you to drop your toothbrush in the sink and stumble back out of the doorway. Your fingers grip the frame to keep you on your feet, your attention quickly drawn to the thick digits situated there. As you force yourself forward, you support yourself with one hand on the counter and bring the other up for inspection. The foreign hand trembles as you turn it back and forth while trying to catch the breath that keeps running away from you. Anxiety sinks its teeth deeper into your lungs, causing a puncture that has you gasping for air.

Calluses adorn your fingertips, accompanied by scratches and scars from moments you've never experienced. Your nails are jagged and short, devoid of the pleasing pink color you applied to them two days ago. You dread the journey your eyes threaten to make towards the mirror once again but you find that you are unable to stop them. The face staring back at you with saucer-wide eyes is none other than Min Yoongi.

Your head feels light. This face is fake. You gasp for the air you can't seem to get enough of and stumble out of the bathroom. The walls seem to wobble in place as you race towards the living room where you can feel the breeze flowing through the window you left open last night. This world is fake. Nothing is real. Air will fix this. If you could just breathe like a normal person everything would be okay.

You fall to your knees within spitting distance of the window. For all the air your body greedily sucks inward, your mind feels bereft of any. Your vision goes dark.

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Yoongi does his best to make his way up the stairs with poise, but he's almost sure it looks like a waddle more than anything. His thighs --your thighs-- are chafing from the run here and each step is a painful reminder of the irritated flesh still rubbing together beneath these sweatpants. At least one of your neighbors was kind enough to let him into the main entrance. They must have recognized the face he mysteriously woke up with. Luckily your mailbox has your last name on it and as much as you might disagree he does pay attention when you talk.

He tries to wipe the sweat from his brow as he bends down to plant his hands on his knees. Even as his breath recovers, he grows increasingly frustrated with how heavy his chest feels. He repeatedly pushes the hair from his face with a groan, wishing he had taken the scissors to it when he had the opportunity earlier. He takes off the cap atop his head, runs his fingers through his hair, and places it back on his head. Everything is too much. You need to fix this. Take it back.

The faster he tries to ascend the stairs, the more he aches. He finally gives up on looking civil when he decides there's no one else in the stairwell to judge him. After all they'll only remember you anyway so what does it matter? He rolls the sweatpants up above his knees and cups the breasts hidden beneath the oversized sweater for support as he scrambles up the last few floors.

He grimaces at the dainty pink fingernails before curling his hand into a fist and rapping his knuckles against your door. He puffs his cheeks out and expels a long breath. What could you possibly be doing? You have to be in there. He tries the handle to no avail. Are you still asleep? He quickly abandons the need for subtlety and places both palms on the door and drums loudly against it. The sound of the deadbolt unlocking tells him he shouldn't hesitate. He's through the door before you can even properly get off your knees.

Somehow you knew what would be waiting for you on the other side. The sight before you has your mind reeling. That's your body, but it's not you. Could it really be Yoongi? You did not get Freaky-Friday'd with him. There's no fucking way this is reality. You can feel yourself panicking again as you back away from the figure, falling back on your ass. You watch yourself look down at you with a look of disgust.

"What are you doing?" That's definitely your voice.

Your body takes slow steps towards you as it crosses one arm over the other. You lean back on your elbows and groan. It's a deep sound, deeper than anything that's come from your throat even on your sickest day. This isn’t happening.

"Oh my god. I'm fucking dying," you murmur while tilting your head towards the ceiling. "Everything is fake. Nothing is real. I’m going crazy. Please let me rot."

The figure bends down and leans over into your field of vision. The image of your face frowns back at you and pokes you in the chest with a pointed fingernail.

“Stop that.”

“I can’t,” you whine between heavy breaths. “I feel like I’m gonna pass out again.

“Y/N. Look at me.”

Those perfectly manicured hands reach out for your shoulders in comfort but you fall flat on your back and your arm flies up to cover your eyes.Tears sting at them as reality warbles around you again. Seeing your own face hovering above you definitely isn’t helping you feel more sane.

"I don't know what's happening," you sob.

With each breath you suck between your quivering lips, your chest aches. Suddenly that pair of hands is cupping your jaw and pushing your arm aside. You look into the eyes you are already so familiar with, but they seem far more caring than you’ve ever managed to display.

"We need to undo whatever is happening right now," he says calmly. "You don't have to like it. You don't have to tell me you're okay. But I need you to sit up and pull yourself together long enough to help me figure this out. Can you do that?"

You swallow hard and nod slowly as you take the hand offered to you. A half-smirk appears on his lips; it's strange to see yourself reflected with such warmth, especially knowing it's coming from Yoongi.

"Good. Now please go change. I can't look at those shorts anymore.”

You look down at your attire for the first time and realize how absurd Yoongi’s body looks in the clothing you wore to bed. The skimpy tank top clings to the muscular, flat chest you now possess. Worse still, you can see bits of flesh poking out against that hairy inner thigh below. You squeeze your eyes shut and pretend like you can forget what you just saw sticking out of your shorts.

You take a deep breath as your face burns with embarrassment. “Okay. Give me your pants.”

He stiffens at your demand and scoffs. “What?”

“I don’t have anything that will fit you— er, I mean, me. Us?” You gesture at your body and stare at the floor, trying to will yourself to not dissociate. “This. You can’t be comfortable either.”

There’s a sigh before he plops down on your couch with legs spread wide open. “My back hurts and my thighs rubbed together so much I don’t want to move anymore.”

You can’t help but laugh at the admission. At least he feels your pain. He looks up at you while reclining his head on the cushion behind him. You’re not hyperventilating anymore so distraction seems to be the key to keeping you relatively calm.

“Why you, of all people?” he wonders.

You roll your eyes and stomp across the room and disappear into your bedroom. “Hmph. I was about to ask you the same thing. This is bullshit.”

You come back with a handful of carefully selected clothes and strappy undergarments that you know for a fact flatter your shape. If he has to walk around in your skin the least he can do is make it look good. You pause halfway down the hall and swallow hard as it dawns on you that he’s going to have to get naked in order to change, which means he’s unavoidably going to be looking at your body without any barriers. You decide you’re going to be strong and you simply won’t think about it or acknowledge it as a possibility.

He’s busy chewing one of your nails when you reach the living room again. You hug the clothes close to your chest and storm across the room.

“Do you bite your nails?! Ew! God, no wonder yours are so jagged and gross,” you complain, thrusting the clothes into his lap.

He offers an apologetic look before glancing down at the attire you’ve supplied with raised eyebrows. He picks up the bra with one finger and grimaces at the way it dangles off his digit. He’s looking up at you with pleading eyes shortly after it falls back in his lap. It’s hard to avoid his gaze. You feel those pupils boring into your skull as you dart your eyes away to focus on the floor.

You clear your throat and muster every last bit of courage you possess. “Um… Your clothes, please?”

He inhales loudly through his nose and you watch the grey sweatpants pool around the toenails you just painted last night. You swallow hard and scramble to pick them up when they slide across the wooden floor to you. You clutch them to your chest, quickly catching the scent of your sweat and arousal on them. Maybe he hasn’t noticed? Trying to suppress the mortification growing in your chest, you purse your lips and trail your gaze back up to his face--your face. Thankfully the hoodie covers your sex and you’re hoping he hasn’t bothered taking a peek before coming here.

“Don’t… Don’t look,” you plead. So much for not acknowledging it.

He’s feeding his arm through one of the sleeves when he freezes in place and locks eyes with you. “I should tell you I woke up shirtless,” he mumbles. As if to lessen the blow of his admission, he continues with a pout, “But you can’t blame me for looking. It’s hard not to look at a pair of perfect tits that mysteriously appear in the middle of the night. What was I supposed to do?”

Perfect tits? You’d almost be flattered if it wasn’t so fucking morifying to know he’s already seen you. Your eyes screw shut and you nod. “Right.”

This is fine. This is absolutely fine.

“Hey,” he calls softly, prodding you to open your eyes. “Here.”

He keeps eye contact with you while feeding his other arm through the sleeve. Watching yourself strip without performing the act is bizarre. He holds the sweater out for you to slowly take. It eases your mind to see his gaze never wavered. Yours drops to the nude form before you and suddenly you’re criticizing every curve and flaw you can find. It’s as though you’re simply standing before a mirror and feeding your insecurity with needless scrutiny. Despite this, Yoongi remains focused on your face and the discomfort you display so openly at seeing your own form stripped bare. Almost bare. That beat-up baseball cap he wears every day now adorns your head like a crown for your mediocrity.

You spin on your heels and speedwalk down the hall. “I’ll be right back.”

It’s hard to ignore the new appendage you’ve acquired but you make sure to shut your eyes while peeling the shorts from your thighs and sliding the sweatpants up in their stead. While you rushed through the bottom half of your attire, you stop for a minute to inspect Yoongi’s bare pectorals. It’s all too easy to get lost in the sight of his body in the mirror. You subconsciously lick your lips and run your fingers across your flat, hard chest.

Your thumb circles a brown nipple and you watch with satisfaction as it grows hard at your touch. Your palms press down over your stomach, feeling the muscles hidden just below the surface of soft flesh. You grab at your hips, fingers threatening to dart below the band of your pants. Instead you suck air in through your nose and scold yourself for such weakness. You’re about to tug the sweater over your head when Yoongi silently enters and flops down on the bed face-first.

“Yoongi? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?!” you shriek in your haste to cover up your own moment of weakness.

There’s a muffled response spoken into the mattress that you can’t quite understand.

"What?" Annoyance is a front for your embarrassment.

He turns his head to one side and sighs. "There are too many straps. Why did you pick such a difficult one?"

You definitely selected something with a lot of extra straps for a reason but you bite your lip and try to come up with an excuse that seems plausible. The truth is that you wanted to pick something sexy because you wanted him to see you as such. Does he care though? It's hard to tell. You decide the best excuse is to dismiss the question altogether.

"Stop being such a baby. I'll help you."

As he lifts his head to cringe in your direction, you're already out the door. He pounds his forehead against the mattress again and squeezes his eyes shut. There's clearly no logical explanation for this, so what is the next step to take? What should the pair of you do? Is this permanent? There has to be a way to undo whatever has happened. In order to figure that out he's trying to piece together the source of this predicament. No matter how hard he wracks his brain for answers to the puzzle, there still seems to be pieces missing.

"Get up. Come on," you huff, tugging at his arm.

The sound he makes is pitiful and whiny as he rises. It's easy enough to see where his arms are supposed to go when you've already bunched all of the material together. You step behind him and fiddle with the fit around the familiar mounds of flesh at his front. He instinctively looks down to watch how his own familiar fingers slide beneath the bra. He pries his eyes away just as quickly to find he has a much better view of the pair of you in the mirror.

There's a sight he'd never thought he'd see: both of you shirtless with his hands in your bra. It's not that he's never wanted it. It's just that he always seems to fuck it up when it comes to being social, with you in particular. Maybe it's because he likes you too much. There's never been a proper opportunity to make a move outside of work and he knows his flirting skills are abysmal. But looking at the reflection of the pair of you now fills him with equal amounts of desire and confidence.

Just as you’re about to clasp the first strap behind his neck you glance up and find yourself lost in the same reflection. An electric blush creeps up your spine and causes a tingle in your cheeks that makes you freeze like a deer caught in headlights. He hums a soft sound and makes the decision to reach back for your wrist. For a moment you’re not sure if you’re moving or if he is but you find yourself enjoying the sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers dipping below the fabric of your bra.

“Yoongi?” you ask, jaw hanging slack as the bra slips a bit further down.

“Do you feel that?” The voice is quiet as he lets you trace fingers along the soft skin. “It pinches there.”

That pinch is a familiar one but you always tell yourself that’s the price of beauty. The straps chafe. The underwire digs into your ribs. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s the sexiest-looking thing you own so comfort be damned. You watch it slide further down to reveal one of your nipples in the reflection of the mirror; it’s impossible to look away. So much for him not looking anymore. You can’t blame him because it’s impossible for you to take your eyes off it too. The sight of Yoongi’s thick fingers trailing along the side of your breast sends a surge of excitement through your veins.

Goosebumps form a path where your fingers have traced and Yoongi exhales a shaky breath. The sound makes you chew on your bottom lip in contemplation. Is he feeling just as turned on right now? You try to remind yourself that the mirror is a lie. He’s not touching you. You’re touching him, regardless of how it looks. You can’t let your feelings cloud your judgement. It’s so fucking hard to think straight now that you’re together like this, not just because he’s here in your room but because he’s experiencing the unique arousal of his body while trapped in yours.

“Being a girl sucks. What am I supposed to do about it?” Your fingers tremble as you force your eyes to meet his in the mirror.

The action does not go unnoticed. He smirks and quirks a brow but chooses to let it slide without commenting. “Give me something easy and comfy.”

“But—” You hesitate. Do you really need to argue about this? You can’t explain it without admitting your feelings towards him. It seems like an inopportune time, more so than usual. It’s better if you can just shut the fuck up for two seconds and work on the important task at hand: figuring out how to get back to normal.

He immediately fills the gap with an objection of his own. “Why does it matter?”

“It doesn’t,” you say in the flattest tone you can muster.

He turns around to get a better read on your body language but you’re already rummaging through your drawers. You toss a sports bra with a front-facing zipper at him while you don the sweater and slip into the bathroom to relieve yourself. It’s best to avoid situations like that again if you can.

Yoongi takes this moment to inspect the room, crinkling his nose at the several empty cans of Hot6 stacked on top of your dresser. He brings a long manicured nail to his teeth and begins working it back and forth as he slides the folding closet door open with a finger. Much to his surprise your wardrobe is filled with t-shirts that look much more comfortable than the piece you previously selected. He’s quick to trade shirts and carefully replaces the clothing on the hanger before sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his elbows. Comfy. Finally. His attention is drawn to the closed bathroom door. It’s been a while. Are you okay?

“You better not be passed out in there,” he whines, making sure to sound extra annoying for you.

The attempt to conceal the concern in his tone is successful but he’s happy you’re not able to see his worried expression. If you knew how badly he wants to freak out, you might actually start hyperventilating again. He’d like to avoid that. The door swings open and you exhale deeply. You’re not about to tell him you had to wait out the boner because then he’d probably make fun of you. He watches you take a few steps forward while wedging a nail between his teeth.

“Are you biting my fucking nails again?”

“Yup.”

You’re already scrambling across the bed and by the time he moves to shuffle backwards you have his wrists pinned against your soft comforter and you’re straddling his waist. Oh god. This is too fucking hot to be doing with him while he’s in your body. Abort. Abort!

It’s now that you note he’s wearing a soft cotton t-shirt you definitely did not pick out. “Yoongi, did you—”

“These clothes are better. Did you give me the most uncomfortable things you own just to make me suffer for stealing your muffin?”

Between the sports bra and the t-shirt he’s selected the curves of your body are lost to your eyes and your heart sinks. There goes any chance you had of him thinking your body is sexy. He’s expecting a tongue lashing but you sigh instead and release your hold on him, quickly climbing off his form before you can let your body get you into trouble. You search for the laptop that you know is hidden just beneath the covers near your pillows.

“Pfft. Look, maybe we can google what happened to us and not get Freaky Friday movie reviews. You wanna see if it works?”

He offers a half smirk in response and he’s quiet only for a second before he hums a sound of distaste. It’s an accusation and you know it. He quickly scoots back towards the pillows so he can sit beside you.

You scowl as you mistype your own password. “Ugh. What?”

“I’m just wondering why you’re so mad.”

“I’m not.”

You make sure to broadcast the fact that you’re definitely not mad by repeatedly tapping the delete key in a slow, deliberate motion.

“Why does your face look like that then?” he prods while folding his hands across his lap.

“Like what? You of all people should know that your face always looks this grumpy.”

As he rests his head against the fluffy material behind him, he lazily rolls his head towards you. “Y/N.”

You dramatically throw your head back against the pillows and mirror his stare. “Yoongi.”

“What is it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you mumble.

“It clearly does,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “We have to work together to figure this out, so some honesty might be nice.”

You open the laptop and stare at the password screen for a moment with a longing sigh. “Fine. I look gross in those,” you admit with a brief glance at his attire. “You’re making me look like an unsexy blob.”

He scoffs. “What? Is that all? You’re being ridiculous. These clothes don’t matter at all. We both know what you look like underneath them. Honestly, you could be wearing a trashbag and still be sexy.”

“To whom?” You want to laugh at how absurd his explanation sounds. “What kind of lunatic would think that?”

He blinks slowly and raises his eyebrows with a calculated clench of his jaw. “Me. For starters.”

He’s stiff as he purses his lips and crosses his arms. He stares at the login screen, waiting for you to type your password. “And any sane man or woman with a pair of eyes and a brain.”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief mid-stroke. Was that a confession? Your head might as well be full of helium with how high you’re feeling. This has to be a dream. If the insane concept of switching bodies with Yoongi isn’t enough to solidify it, those words sure are. You have to be dreaming.

Your eyes remain locked onto the fingers now resting against the keys. “Do you really think that?”

“Yes.” The response comes quicker than expected but instead of giving you time to ruminate on it, he nudges you with his elbow. “Password.”

Your shoulders lift with a deep inhale through your nose and drop back down with the subsequent forceful exhale through your lips. What are you supposed to do with that information? You feel your consciousness try to lift into the aether. If you could only make it float back into your own body, you might have the courage to say something, anything. With your mind drifting away, your fingers move of their own accord as they type in the password to your laptop.

"Whoa, what the fuck is that?"

The video you'd left open last night starts up with a preview that brings you back to reality, but not fast enough.

"D-Don't look! It's private!" you screech.

Heat pulses through the veins along the sides of your forehead. Precious seconds have already been wasted by the time you frantically scramble to close the tab. He's seen the keywords in the search bar and the nastiest bits of that particular video. You're fucking mortified.

“I mean that’s definitely a couple privates," he jokes with a laugh. "You seriously just leave your porn out like that?"

”Incognito mode, Yoongi," you sneer while pulling up a new tab. "I don’t need you or my FBI guy judging me.”

He snorts. “Oh come on, Y/N. The FBI doesn’t care about your porn preferences. And neither do I. Besides, you technically looked at it with my eyes already.”

He taps the side of your forehead gently as if you needed the reminder that you're not in your own skin and you swat him away. You quickly type the phrase “body swap” into the search bar and try to focus on the resulting web pages even though you’re distracted by the blood leaving your brain in favor of other body parts.

"Can you just… Shut up for one second?"

"Hey, I'm just saying..." He clicks his tongue thoughtfully as he scooches closer to you. "You’re into some good stuff. We might have more in common than I thought."

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at the physical contact and send a tingling electricity down your abdomen. You clear your throat and reposition the computer over your lap as you feel yourself growing harder. You stare down at the two fingers settled on the trackpad rather than the information on screen. Try as you might to remain inconspicuous, suddenly all you can think about are those thick fingers rubbing hard circles against your clit while the two of you watch porn together. Bad thought. Baaaaaad. You attempt to pass the laptop over to him as discreetly as possible while shifting your pelvis away towards the edge of the bed.

“I’m…” You flounder for an excuse to leave the room and get these racing hormones under control. “...pee.”

“What?” There's a quizzical expression branded upon his features that toes the line of disgust.

“I have to pee,” you quickly correct while tactically holding your forearm over your lap. If there is such a thing as fate, why is it torturing you like this?

“Again?”

You push the laptop towards him once more and pray that he’ll just let you go be embarrassed alone in the bathroom for five minutes. Instead he looks down at the way your forearms cross your pelvis and exudes a deep, throaty laugh that sounds foreign in the tenor of your voice. That laughter travels through your head like it’s made of hot coals.

“Wow. Got a boner, huh?”

Your cheeks are made of fire. Literal fire. They feel like they should melt straight through your skin and torch your brain yet here you are: still alive and wishing you would burn to death. God is dead. There is no mercy in this universe.

"Don't fucking laugh at me! I can't control it!"

When he laughs harder, the urge to silence him overtakes all rational thought. You reach for a lock of hair sticking out from beneath his cap and pull hard. He hisses through his teeth and you smirk, knowing what kind of response this would normally elicit from your body. Will it affect him the same, or is the sexual response guided by mental preference rather than physical? Maybe it’s both. It seems to have some effect because he’s stopped laughing.

Yoongi shivers as goosebumps riddle his arms and prickle along his chest until his nipples are threatening to poke holes through the thin fabric of the bra and t-shirt. His jaw tightens and on instinct his hand shoots up to grasp at the short black hair adorning your head in retaliation. He catches himself before he pursues the motion of yanking down. What is he doing? Can he really be so bold with you? He knows you, but not like this. Things are strange right now but if he keeps going they're bound to get stranger. If the butterflies in his stomach weren't enough to tip him off to his attraction to you, even like this, the wetness between these thighs solidifies the magnetism you hold over him.

A pitiful sound escapes your lips that hints at your disappointment. “Mmm?"

He pauses there to inspect your expression, tilting his head as though it will give him a better read. He should be able to interpret his own expression but looking at his face through your eyes doesn't seem to help at all. Because he's studied your features for so long it's hard to see what you're feeling now that he can't see them at work. His palm flattens against your scalp and he allows his fingers to wander through the thick black hair he's combed out a million times. Somehow it feels softer in your hands. Soon he finds his hand cupping the back of your neck. Labored breaths swim in the space between the pair of you, but it's hard to tell who they belong to.

"What are you doing?" you whisper as your fingers reach for the brim of his cap.

"What are you doing?" he echoes back.

Have your eyes always looked so fierce, or is it his persona breathing a dark fire into them now? You flick the cap off his head, which releases all the hair he had trapped underneath it. You push it back from his face and tangle your fingers within it.

"Pretending like this isn't just you wanting to make out with yourself to see what it's like," you answer, staring at the reflection in his eyes. "You?"

There's a smirk that grows into a full blown grin within seconds. "Trying to convince myself that it isn't insane to want to make out with myself just to see what it's like."

You scoff and drop your hands to his shoulders to give him a firm push back. "Dick."

He giggles at the way you pout and halfheartedly pushes the laptop towards the other side of the bed. The hand still on the back of your neck travels up to massage your scalp and suddenly you're putty in his palm. His other hand trails along your stubbly jaw until his fingers are nestled behind your ear. As he glances down at the tent in your pants he laughs.

"Still hard?"

"Like your nipples," you grumble.

You reach out and twist the peaks barely hidden beneath his shirt; it's an impulse you don't refuse. This time he moans.

"Oh, you liked that, hmm? I bet you're so fucking wet right now," you whisper, embracing your boldness.

You watch his eyes roll with the flutter of his lashes at your words. Both of his hands glide through your hair and he begins to flex his fingers around some strands. He alternates between releasing his gentle grip on your locks and twisting his fingers back into them. You’re making him crazy. Should he even bother trying to compose himself at this point?

“What?” you prod, pushing the limits of his endurance for such brattiness. “Aren’t you going to pull my hair, Yoongi?”

The way he glares at you causes your skin to break out in a series of goosebumps. How can you be shivering when your body was just doing its best impression of molten rock? Yoongi. That’s the answer. You whimper a pathetic sound as his knuckles curl towards your scalp. The motion brings your forehead down to meet his and your eyelids flutter closed. He focuses heavy breaths out through his nose and stares at the lips he knows are his own. They may be part of his usual physical appearance but right now they’re a part of yours.

“You’re so fucking obnoxious.”

He sucks his bottom lip through his teeth and moves towards you before he can second guess what he's about to do. His lips seem to meld with yours and your eyes pop open to be sure this is really happening. Is this really happening? You see your own nose and heavy lidded eyes peeking open just enough to roll back in pleasure.

The hands buried in your hair drop to cradle your jaw and you can feel the stubble scraping against the delicate skin of his fingers as he drags his hands slowly towards your chin. You melt into his touch and hold your breath like you'll never inhale another again. Suddenly you're kissing him back and no amount of lightheadedness can stop you.

Oh shit. This is happening. It’s not anything like your daydreams but it’s real and it feels so fucking good. It feels surreal. It feels too surreal. Maybe the lightheadedness can stop you. It's you, but it's not. Your eyes open again and you find a battle of anxiety raging in your brain. He pauses to peck the edge of your mouth when he realizes you're no longer kissing him back.

"What are you doing?" he murmurs, resting his forehead against yours. “Did I… read that wrong?”

“No! No, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It’s just…” A laugh bubbles from your throat and you shake your head before bursting into a fit of giggles. “This is weird.”

Relief washes over his features and he smiles as he leans back to look at you. “It’s definitely unique. But I can’t say I want to stop.”

His admission fills you with a fresh wave of tingles up your spine. “Me neither. I… still want you.”

You sheepishly turn your head to the side and find the mirror lining the closet wall, looking at the image of the pair of you as if it will save you from the embarrassment of your own words.

"What? Now you're getting shy?" he teases while following you gaze to the reflection. It dawns on him that he can enjoy the view. "Or do you just want to watch?"

He moves towards your lips slowly while keeping focused on the mirror, watching your eyes lazily roll back behind your lids and revelling in the whine this pulls from you.

“Look,” he pleads in low whisper, angling your body so you can get a better view. “Look how good you look with your tongue on my neck.”

Your head lolls around just in time to see exactly that before the sensation snaps across your nerve endings. He latches on, sucking light bruises into the tender flesh. He knows where to put his tongue to have you gripping the back of his neck and arching your back up towards him. He smirks as he glances at the mirror, licking a hot stripe up to your ear where he teasingly nibbles on the lobe.

"Does it look as hot when I--when you...?" You flounder on your words in between soft pants, your eyes trained on the reflection.

He counters with a whisper, “Do you want to find out?”

“I’m… curious,” you admit, leaning your head back to give him access to more of your neck.

“You want to know how it feels,” he lazily mumbles against your neck. “Hmm. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it.”

“It’s a unique opportunity,” you say, trying to convince yourself that proposing the idea isn’t weird at all. “Maybe we just… See?”

“Right. This is a unique opportunity,” he echoes in agreement, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he sighs a heated breath against your skin. “We should take advantage of it.”

“I mean, as long as you don’t tell anyone.”

He pops his head up to look at you, his brows knotted in confusion. “Who would believe me?”

You shake your head and smirk. “I guess you’re right.”

There’s a moment where the concept of time seems to evaporate. You both stare at each other like you’re seeing your own faces for the first time, like it’s the first time you both can actually love and accept yourselves as you are. It’s easier to be gentle with someone else, but now that someone else is technically also a part of you it brings a level of clemency to your feelings regarding your appearance. You like yourself better now that you can see a part of him there.

“Will you show me how you like it?” he asks with a tilt of his head.

“If you show me, too,” you say with a gentle rock of your hips towards him.

“You first.”

Your mouth is already covering the soft expanse of his neck, dragging your teeth with just enough pressure to tease the skin. He watches you work up and down through the mirror, feeling the arousal between his legs building. As you're kissing a path back towards his mouth he takes a chance and swings his leg over your midriff so he's kneeling just above the throbbing cock hidden beneath the thin layer of gray fabric. The jeans dig a hard line into his stomach and limit the range of his spread.

"These pants are horrible," he complains.

"Take them off if you hate them so much," you agree between hungry kisses. It's impossible to keep your eyes from the mirror. He hooks his fingers beneath your sweater and begins working it upwards, stopping only to rest a palm on your chest.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He trails his fingers down the flat expanse until he gets to your navel, passing over the dark hair leading down into your pants. He tugs at the place where the hair begins to grow thicker and laughs when you hiss an expletive.

He quickly pulls the oversized sweater upwards. Instead of helping you out of it, he clutches the fabric with both hands as you bring your arms above your head and presses you back into the mattress. You find your bent elbows trapped in the sleeves.

“How about this?” he whispers. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” You look down at the delicious pectorals he’s exposed, practically salivating at the sight of those pert nipples. “Yoongi, please.”

He smirks as he runs his fingers down your chest, ignoring the nipples you wish he would do something about. Lower. Lower. His hand travels behind him until suddenly your body spasms with pleasure from the practiced grip he’s placed on the cock standing at attention behind him.

“This? Does it feel good when I touch you like this?”

“Fuck! Yes. Please. Yes!”

Just as quickly as his hand pressed against your clothed erection, it’s gone, leaving you a whimpering mess. He plants a kiss beside one of your nipples, but denies it any direct contact.

"Stop teasing me," you whine. The pressure in your chest builds with every second that passes and you feel like your heart is going to burst.

He lets out a lofty sigh as he sits back on his thighs, promptly removing his t-shirt. "But you make it so easy..."

You wiggle out of the arms of the sweater and sit up to unsnap the button to his jeans. You kiss up his stomach until he’s unzipping the bra and letting you nip at the supple flesh for a moment. He discards the bra like it’s nothing before rolling over to unzip his pants. He peels them from his legs along with the soaked panties. It’s hard to not look at the mirror as he climbs over your waist. If he holds any shame for being nude in front of you, it’s not apparent in his current form. Your face, however, feels hot. Your body is exposed and he keeps looking at it, groping those breasts with his hands.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he says quietly, admiring the reflection as he plays with his nipples between his fingers.

You want to bury your face in something to hide your embarrassment so you plant your face between his tits and begin to suck bruises into the soft flesh beside his fingers.

“Oh fuck.” The sight of his own face diving between those squishy tits is enough to make his body involuntarily flex in ways he’s never experienced before.

“How does it feel?” you murmur, slowly licking a path to one of his nipples and lightly dragging your teeth along it.

The sound he makes when he moans has you shivering all over again. He lets his head fall back for a second and then he looks at you. “Like I want you to touch me.”

Now you’re the one who smirks with confidence. “Lay back.”

He snaps the band at your waist as he rolls off of you. “These. Off.”

Manicured fingers slip down to rub some of the tension from the swollen bud between his legs as he watches you awkwardly push the pants down past the cock begging to be touched. You try to avoid looking at it. It’s hard not to feel exposed even though it’s not your body. You scramble back into the bed as quickly as you can. His laughter catches you off guard.

“You’re so shy now. Look at it. Feel it,” he urges. “Grab my cock.”

You try to be casual about your downward glance but the way you lick your lips is anything but casual. You press your thumb into the base of the cock to admire its shape from a 90 degree angle. It’s average in terms of length but your mouth waters at the sight of the bulging veins and increased girth just below the swollen tip. You don’t bother to resist the urge to grip the shaft. You drag your hand up and trace your thumb around the fleshy mauve tip. The sensation causes you to shiver. It’s so sensitive.

As you’re admiring the way it tapers towards the base, soft, thinner fingers curl around yours and begin to guide them into a slow, controlled pumping motion that sets your nerves alight.

He quirks a brow at you. “What do you think?”

“Fuck, Yoongi,” you choke out with a held breath. Greedy gasps break the small silence that follows. Has it always been so hard to speak while masturbating? It’s not like you’re terrible at dirty talk so why are you hesitating?

“Do you need me to stop?”

You fervently shake your head and follow it with a needy groan. “No. Please… Keep going.” You hope he never stops.

“Then use your words” he urges, placing his hand over yours to slow your pace to a crawl.

You whimper. It’s a pathetic sound created with his voice in his throat, yet it still somehow sounds so deliciously like you. While he finds himself attracted to your usual body, it doesn’t bother him that you’re currently assuming a different form. Looks are fleeting anyway. It’s the person inside he’s grown attached to, the caring soul he feels connected to.

He’s seen you stare at the bulletin board near the restroom and tear off the tabs of creative community activities to benefit those in need. If he wasn’t so busy managing the store all the time he would have been able to sign up for those events too. He’s seen you volunteer at the homeless shelter just around the corner. He’s seen you cradling posters for your neighbor’s missing cat— he’d even let you keep one on the door to his store until you told him they found it.

The truth is that your soul is so beautiful and full that he’d want you no matter what you looked like. If only he had the courage to say that. But it's easier to hide behind snark.

“It feels so good,” you whine. “I wish I could put my mouth all over it. Bet you’d fill me so good.”

A growl escapes with his exhale and he guides your fist up and down the girth between your legs with increased vigor. He gently leads you by the dick, pulling you closer to the bed until your knees hit the side.

“Look in the mirror, Y/N. Watch,” he whispers in a low tone, almost begging you to keep your eyes on the reflection.

You do as he says and watch in awe as a set of manicured fingers tap against your chest and trail down to the cock still nestled in your fist. They work their way beneath your palm and shoo your hand away. Even knowing that Yoongi is behind the action, the sight of your hands stroking that perfect cock sets a fire of desire coursing through your veins.

You watch in the mirror as your lips plant kisses on the dark hair beneath Yoongi’s navel. You watch as your head sinks lower and lower until soft, plush lips are skimming the tip of his dick. You watch his length slide into your mouth and immediately your knees threaten to buckle.

His hands are already reaching up to stabilize your stance even as he glides his tongue against you. The pleasure is unlike anything you’ve felt before, but having your clit sucked and teased comes close. It’s heaven. You whimper a tortured sound sitting somewhere between the boundaries of pleasure and anguish. He plays your role so well, maybe even better than you could play it. You attempt to distract yourself from the nervous tremble of your thighs by gathering bits of his hair in your hands and balling it in your fists. He gargles out a muffled moan against you.

“I look so good sucking your pretty cock,” you whisper in awe.

He leans back to swipe his tongue over the slit and then sinks back down, nose hitting the tuft of dark hair at your pelvis as you bottom out in his throat. Your grip around his hair tightens with the slight rock of your hips. You press his face against your crotch like you never want him to leave. The pair of you look so fucking hot. You’re revelling in slow, shallow thrusts deep in his throat when he makes a gagging noise you know all too well. He grips your thighs and you immediately release your hold while pulling your hips back.

“Fuck I’m so sorry!” Heat rises in your face and you want to run and hide.

He rests his palm on your waist and catches his breath, a trail of sticky precum and thick spit connecting his mouth to your cock. It involuntarily flexes and bobs up towards your stomach and then back down, which severs the path of saliva.

“Don’t be. That was hot.” He wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

“Yoongi, you didn’t have to! I mean I was curious but I—”

You’re cut off by his harsh tug on your hands. You stumble forward and meet his dark gaze. How can he make your eyes look so hungry?

“I’m a firm believer in never asking someone to do what I wouldn’t. I like to know what I’m giving, don’t you?”

“God, I wish that were me. I want to taste you so bad,” you whine, licking your lips as you spare a glance down at the glistening appendage standing at attention between your legs. “Wanna taste you dripping off my tongue.”

“You can,” he assures you in a soft voice, cupping your face with his hands.

His lips are on yours in an instant and you’re moaning against them like you’ll never get enough. The salty tang on his tongue transfers to yours as it dips into your mouth. You wish you could take him into your mouth yourself, but this is a good substitute for now.

"You taste good," you pant between kisses. "Why haven't we done this sooner?"

He pulls away to shrug, cocking his head to the side and focusing on your neck. "If you want something you have to speak up. No one can read minds and even if they could, often times people are so wrapped up in their own heads they'd never see what you think.”

"Wow, getting philosophical on me, huh? So… What? I'm just supposed to say, ‘Hey yoongi you're hot. Wanna fuck’?"

"That's a little blunt don't you think?" He laughs, allowing you to push him back onto the mattress. "Been holding that back long?"

Your heart skips a beat, heat flushing your ears. "Maybe. Would it have made a difference?”

He ponders this for a moment as he squints at the ceiling in concentration. "Mmm. I'd say you should at least buy me dinner first… "

You scoff. It’s not a no but it’s not an enthusiastic yes either. You climb onto the mattress, trying to ignore how casually he lays in your bed, completely barren before you.

He rolls onto his side and props his head up to survey your approach. You seem a little nervous so it’s easier for him to fake confidence for both your sakes. "I guess we're both guilty of not saying what we mean."

"What is it you really mean to say then?" If he’s got a juicy secret he’s been holding in, then you want to know to salvage what’s left of your pride.

"I give you shit but I like that you come into the store every day to get your muffin and your gross energy drink. I like when you come back in after just to bitch about your day and pretend like you need a snack that I never see you eat. I like when you ask me about my day, even though you know I’m shit at conversation. It makes me happy because I care about…" he hesitates when he sees your smug grin. "...”

“Yes?” you prod.

He draws a deep breath from his belly. “You. I care about you. I’ve never found an opportunity to tell you that I like you. I’m always working, keeping my store afloat, focused on the numbers and the success of my business. But I see you coming out of that building every day. I watch for you to make sure even after a year of this that you’re still coming here first. It’s crazy but you put me at ease and make me anxious at the same time. I feel like I know you, like I’ve known you all my life.”

He pauses to allow you to interject. When you don’t, he continues, “I feel it in my bones when you smile at me, when you roll your eyes at me, when you try to make me laugh... You’re so easy to fall for. I know that I’m not, but sometimes you look at me and I feel like you want to. I want you to. I wish you would come back when I’m locking up for the night so that I could see you outside of work, so I could take you out, so I could take you home. A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say.”

“Yoongi…” you finally whisper.

Your face scrunches up like you’re about to cry and he grimaces at you, knowing you’re definitely about to do just that.

“Don’t do that. My cheeks look so fat when you do that. Hey, are you listening? Don’t make my face look so ugly!”

His attempts to make you smile simply causes the tears to fall from your eyes. You melt into his embrace, burying your face against his neck as you sob. He places a tentative palm on the back of your head.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, planting a kiss against your hair, “if it’s just me.”

“No, I feel the same way,” you admit, turning your head to kiss his cheek. “You say you’re hard to love but how can that be true when I feel what I feel so easily? I will wait for you to close your shop and walk you home every day if you let me. I will be yours, if you let me.”

He turns your head so that he can bring his lips to yours. They taste salty again for entirely different reasons. Can you feel the way he’s trembling right now? All the relief in the world can’t assuage the ache of carrying such a burden in his chest for so long. The adrenaline is coursing through him like a wildfire, spreading until his lungs are burning with a heat he can’t quell.

“Mine, then,” he whispers, allowing the tears to stream down his cheeks freely. “Mine.”

He tangles his fingers in your hair, pulling you into a passionate kiss that threatens to steal every last bit of oxygen from your lungs. He growls into your mouth, claiming every inch inside with his tongue. He grinds his hips upwards and it’s then you remember that you’re naked and you have a dick that’s still half-hard and growing harder by the second.

You groan loudly. “Fuuuuuck. I want to fuck you so bad right now.”

He pulls back to bite his lip, the intrigue in his features apparent. “You want to try it?”

“I mean… you sucked your own dick for me. You don’t owe me anything—”

“I don’t do anything I don’t want to do. I want to try it,” he says, wriggling his hips beneath you. “Fuck. Me.”

“This is still so weird,” you say with a giggle, your eyes rolling back into your skull when the tip of your cock glides against his clit. “Ah…”

The pair of you pause and slowly repeat the motion. You can feel how wet he is and instead of being embarrassed like you would be in his place, you find it incredibly hot.

“Do it again,” he pleads, spreading his legs further apart to allow you better access.

You look down, pressing your thumb into the base of your cock and carefully glide the tip across the folds between his legs. He hisses an expletive between his teeth when you drag it past his clit and begin rocking your hips back and forth.

“Yeah, just like that,” he whispers through frantic panting and sloppy kisses.

You feel a cramp in your thigh and pull back to nurse the ache. He whines when you slink away from his body, missing the friction on his clit already, although he’s satisfied enough when you circle one of his breasts with your tongue and take a nipple into your mouth. You press light circles into his clit with the pad of your middle finger until you can feel his legs flexing around your body like you’re not giving him enough. His fingers dive beneath yours to tease the swollen bud.

“Let me feel,” he pants. “Let me learn where to touch.”

You carefully guide his movements for a minute while treating his other nipple to the pleasures of your tongue. He seems to get the hang of stimulating himself pretty quickly so you turn your attention towards his thighs. You sink between them and begin kissing the sensitive skin beside his folds. His thighs twitch when you trace circles around his entrance with your tongue. You briefly pause to inspect your fingernails, making sure none of them are a jagged mess from the way he’s bitten them. When you’re satisfied with your inspection you peek up at him.

“You want to try my fingers first?” you ask, feeling envious that you can’t be riding three of them to the knuckle right now. “I can show you how my mouth feels too, though I doubt I’m an expert on that.”

“I don’t care about that.” He lifts his hand so he can peer down at you from between his tits. “I’ll take your mouth anywhere you want to give it.”

He watches as you flick your tongue across the sensitive, slick bundle of nerves. He bucks his hips as you clamp down and roll your tongue back and forth over it. His pretty painted nails look so good digging into your ebony hair. It’s not long until you dip a finger inside his cunt, teasing until you’re bobbing it in and out at a decent pace.

“Oh…” he says, as if he’s surprised that the experience is so pleasurable. “Shit, that’s good. Fuck. I’m gonna....”

You push another finger into him, curling the longest digit as far as you can to try and reach the g-spot you know is hiding nearby. When you finally get it he grips your shoulders and arches his pelvis off the ground like he’s committing to a new yoga routine. You recognize the stiffness in his limbs, the involuntary tremble of his thighs beside your head, the heaving of his chest and the frantic nonsense spilling out from his lips. You focus your energy on his clit, replacing your mouth with your hand since you have more confidence bringing about his climax this way.

His hips stutter and you know he’s riding the line. It’s a little bit more difficult to find that perfect rhythm when your hand isn’t in it’s normal position. The way he sucks in a breath to release his needy whines almost makes you feel guilty. It’s not like you’re trying to edge him but you’re not able to keep that pressure as consistent as you’d like.

“I’m so close,” he pants. “But I keep losing it. I’m sorry.”

You’ve been there plenty of times but you’re desperate to make him cum.

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry. Rub it, baby. You know what feels good,” you whisper, shifting your attention to fingering his cunt. You don’t call attention to the pet name, but it feels so natural falling from your lips in this moment. You hope he doesn’t mind.

In an instant his fingers replace yours on his clit and he’s building back up. His thighs quake and his back arches off the mattress one more time and you know it’s coming. He’s about to reach his peak.

He takes a sharp inhale and where you expect the loud wails you would normally make while riding out your high, there’s quiet shuddering and softy breathy moans that linger in the air around you. He grabs your wrist with an ironclad grip as soon as he rides the last wave and his sweaty thighs fall limp around your face. You’re grinning like an idiot as he pulls you by the hair towards his lips, desperate to feel you, to taste you. His tongue is exploring every bit it can, trying to steal the essence from your mouth.

“Mmm. I want to taste that sweet pussy every day.“

“Do you… Still want me to fuck you?” You’re really trying not to sound hopeful but you can’t stop thinking about it.

He smirks and wipes the sweat from his brow. “Let me feel how well my cock fills you.”

“Do I need a condom?” you ask. “Are you clean?”

He laughs like it’s an absurd question. “That’s up to you. I haven’t had sex in four years. I’m clean. If you’re not worried, I’m not worried.”

“Four years is a long time,” you mumble, suddenly feeling pressure perform well. “I have an IUD so if you’re okay with it…”

“I wanna know how it feels.”

As soon as you line yourself up with his entrance you’re sweating like you’ve never sweated in your entire life. You don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re hoping it doesn’t suck. It doesn’t take a genius to sense your nerves. He reaches out to cup your stubbly jaw.

“We don’t have to.”

“I want to. Just… tell me if I’m hurting you,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his.

You let the tip dip inside and descend into his cunt slowly, knowing the thickest part of your dick follows the tip immediately. The stretch must be delicious. You’re distracted by how tightly his walls are clamping down on you. It’s tempting to bury yourself in his warmth as quickly as possible but you show restraint. His breath hitches as he adjusts to your girth and you freeze. Has your body ever taken someone as thick as him? You can’t recall. Probably not.

“Keep going,” he coaches, grabbing at your ass to press you further inside until you’ve bottomed out.

Your head hangs down as you try not to let the sensation overwhelm you. His lips find yours, helping you climb back down from the high. You slowly move your hips back, already missing the tight warmth hugging you. It takes a few more slow thrusts until you’re pumping into him at a relatively steady pace.

“Sorry if my rhythm isn’t good. I’ve never done this,” you manage to say between heavy breaths.

“You’re doing fine. This feels amazing. What are you talking about?”

He could be lying to make you feel better but it’s working. He puts his hands by his head to indicate he wants you to hold them. You immediately twine your fingers in his and press the back of his hands into the mattress.

“Yeah? It feels so fucking good, Yoongi.”

“It does... But I know you can fuck me harder than that, Y/N.”

You can already feel the tightness you’re holding back, a pleasurable pressure building in your pelvis that warns you of the imminent orgasm you can only stave off for so long. You can’t help but slam your hips in harder and faster at his request. The sound of balls slapping against skin fills the room and he moves his hips to meet yours. His breathing grows labored but you know he’s not about to cum again. You’ve never gotten off from penetration alone and there’s no way your sloppy performance will cause that miracle to happen now.

“There you go… Fuck. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna pull out,” you warn, feeling like you’re testing your own limits with every thrust.

“Already?” he teases, digging his pretty fingernails into your back.

“It feels… too fucking good, Yoon…” You wish you had more stamina. “Gonna cum on those pretty tits.”

“Yoon?” He chuckles, now distracted by the way his tits are bouncing with each slap of your hips.

“Just wait until I’m back in that body riding your cock. See how long you last then.”

“Is that a promise?” he questions, cupping your jaw to kiss you.

“...Yeah...”

He can feel the difference in your pace, in the shivers of your body. You’re about to cum. He turns your face towards the mirror so you can see how fucked out your reflection looks. It’s intoxicating seeing Yoongi’s body so needy and desperate.

“Look at you. You’re not gonna make it to these tits.”

“Fuck…” you bite your lip and try to slow your pace but it’s too late. The tension and pressure bursts from the head of your cock like a confetti popper on New Years. With a few, strong pumps you spill your seed into his warm cunt. “Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I’m cumming! I’m cummmph--”

Yoongi brings your lips back to meet his to muffle the unexpected sounds of your orgasm.

“Oh my goooood. You’re so loud,” he teases when you finally come down, but you’re too spent to refute him.

There’s another twitch in your dick and you lay there with your mouth open, trying to regain sense of your faculties. He intentionally clenches around your softening length and every muscle in your abdomen flexes.

“Too much!” you shriek, pulling out and rolling off of him in one swift motion.

You let your sweaty back hit the soft duvet, trying to recover from the sensation. He laughs, angling his legs towards the mirror. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when he spreads his legs and swipes at the cum dripping from his cunt, pushing it back inside with his fingers and releasing a soft sigh. It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen yourself do, and you’re not even doing it.

When he’s satisfied that he’s pushed it all in, he lays down next to you. The two of you stare at the ceiling in silence for at least a minute. Is it awkward or was it just that good? You can’t tell the difference right now and it’s making you anxious. He covers your hand with his and looks over at you with a warm smile.

The anxiety-driven words come out before you can stop them. “You should pee. You don’t want a UTI and neither do I.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

About an hour has passed in awkward silence as the two of you conduct research on what the fuck happened to you. You haven’t talked about what you both did in this bed, but the smell of sex still hangs in the air. As soon as you both put your clothes back on it was like a switch of modesty came back into play, and you feel too shy to point it out. You don’t know what to say, so you’ve just been clicking on every link you possibly can to fill the silence as he scrolls through articles on his phone nearby. It’s uncomfortable and you hate it.

“I think I have something, maybe,” you say, scrolling through the 90s looking website you’ve been exploring for the last few minutes.

Yoongi scoots closer to you and furrows his brow as he squints to read the sloppy banner at the top of the page. “The Unsolved?”

“I know what you’re thinking. Conspiracy theorists are insane, I know, but—”

You reach for the trackpad at the same time and your fingers brush, causing you to freeze mid-sentence. You stare at the keyboard for a second and chew on your lip, allowing your eyes to dart towards your periphery without moving your head. When he doesn’t say anything you clear your throat and scroll with the trackpad.

“But, look.” You point to the two embedded images triumphantly.

“Necklaces.” He cocks his head to the side and reads the text underneath aloud. “‘An Amulet of Discord is used by an Agent of Chaos to spread mischief and debauchery in the universe. It can be split into two halves to displace unsuspecting victims from their bodies. A glamour will protect the Amulet once the ritual is complete, making it impossible to see or touch. In order to reunite the victim with their body, the Agent responsible must be compelled to remove the glamour and mend the fragmented pieces into one.’”

“Last night I had one of those chincy friendship necklaces on and I definitely did not put it on. It looked a lot like the ones that weird guy tried to give us at your shop yesterday. I tried to get it off but it wouldn’t budge. Then it disappeared.”

“This sounds insane,” he muses, mulling over the information.

“Did it happen to you too?”

“I thought I saw one briefly, but… It was gone when I looked again. I thought I must be seeing things.”

“It’s gotta be it!”

Yoongi furrows his brows as you scroll back up to the navigation, not sure if he fully believes in this explanation. “What’s an Agent of Chaos anyway?”

“I guess they like… cause mayhem for fun? I don’t know, the description said something about pleasing a patron that they get their powers from.”

“Like a god?”

The thought makes him uneasy. If a god of chaos exists then surely there are more out there. If gods exist but they do nothing to balance out the cosmic injustices of the universe, are they really gods or more like demons? He feels like he’s about to have a full meltdown over something he can’t understand or control.

“Maybe. It doesn’t describe them at all. But���” You give him a reassuring smirk. “It does give instructions on how to trap an Agent. We just need a little more space and some chalk. We’ll draw him out, trap him, then make him undo his magic. What do we have to lose?”

His heart feels lighter when you look at him so softly. “Makes it sound simple when you say it like that. Also, slightly insane.”

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The website was very lax on defining the ‘discordant energy’ needed to summon the agent, so the pair of you have been improvising. Yoongi suggested moving into the store for the space you needed, but you have a feeling he’s just anxious about it being closed for the day. It’s fine. You don’t want to constantly be thinking about the sex neither of you are acknowledging right now. Yoongi is brushing his teeth after drinking a bottle of orange juice.

You grimace at him. “You really think that’s gonna do it?”

He stops mid-brush, his mouth full of foam and garbling his words. “It’s better than doing nothing. How are you helping?”

You give the sunglasses rack a slow spin. “I drew the sigil on the floor. If we’re gonna trap him we need to be ready. Were you able to find anything else?”

He clicks on your laptop a few times before hurrying into the back room. He reappears a moment later, wiping at his mouth. “That was gross.”

You watch him concentrate on the screen, trying to forget the way it felt to kiss him everywhere he would let you. It’s hard to focus on the task at hand when there’s this feeling lingering in your uneasy stomach. Are you doomed to never speak of the things that made your heart flutter?

“ A thousand possibilities are always running through my head when it comes to you and I freeze when I think about acting on any of them. That’s what I don’t say .”

You tell yourself you imagined those words, that you wished them into existence. You turn the rack of cheap sunglasses again. Even if you knew what you were looking for, you wouldn’t find it with the way your mind is wandering. You look back at Yoongi, debating whether or not you should speak up about the uncertainty in your gut.

“Keepsake!” he says excitedly, running out from behind the counter. “It says they often leave something behind so they can return to observe their work.”

His sudden movement makes you jump and loudly smack your hand against the stand in a panicked attempt to look inconspicuous. He pauses to look at you and raises an eyebrow but you’re already laser-focused on the rack again. Desperate to hide your growing embarrassment you pluck a pair of sunglasses that is strikingly similar to the ones you’d seen the man wearing that day.

As soon as you put them on you inhale sharply. “What the fuck?”

“Hmm?” Yoongi wonders. “What is it?”

“There’s something written… on the fridge.”

“What? Where?”

You lift the glasses up to be sure you can’t see the letters scrawled on the glass without them. The message disappears. Once you place them back on the bridge of your nose they practically glow, beckoning you towards them. You push past him on your way to the drinks section. “Here. It says… Now you have… specs appeal?”

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? It was a solid pun.”

The pair of you look towards the sound of the stranger’s voice. Instead of forming words you exclaim a sound of surprise. He looks confused.

“You’re going to need to speak clearly. I’m not sure I understand your language.”

“You! You did this!” you shriek, taking a step forward.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the man says with a puff of his cheeks. He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “It’s not nice to accuse people of things. Have I done anything? Are you sure you’re not dreaming?”

A haze of golden dust spreads across the room like twinkling stars. As you blink and rub at your eyes you yawn and feel a sudden urge to lay down.

“Mmm. I am sleepy…” you admit as you sink to your knees.

Yoongi looks down at you like you’ve grown two heads. “Y/N, what are you doing?”

You laugh and lazily grapple with his leg. “Come lay down. Please? It’s made out of feathers.”

Yoongi watches you close your eyes. Suddenly your body falls limp at his feet. He crouches down to cradle your face in his hands, your name an urgent plea on his lips. “Y/N. Y/N wake up.” He pinches your cheek but you don’t respond.

“She wants this to be a dream. Don’t you?” The man takes a few casual steps forward.

“No, I don’t,” Yoongi growls. The threat sounds odd coming from this body, tone too meek to pass for intimidating. He glares at the man after reluctantly tearing his eyes from your sleeping form. It may be his body on the floor there, but you’re trapped inside it. “Wake her up.”

“She’s tired!”

Yoongi rises to his feet and shields your unconscious form as the man creeps closer. “Don’t take another step. You’re going to regret it.”

“Threatening me? Hah… You’re pretty bold, considering you’re not really in a bargaining position. Spunky! I’ll give you that. Say, I’m curious. What do you think I am anyway? I’ve got a bet going and I know I’m gonna win because I’m right, but I need proof. So if you wouldn’t mind speaking into this...”

Out of his pocket comes a microphone. He holds it out like he’s giving the most intense interview of his life as he awaits Yoongi’s response.

“You’re… Some kind of trickster.”

The man sucks his teeth and shoves the microphone back in his pocket. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind. So much for my bet… Come on. Don’t you think I look more like a god?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you work for one,” Yoongi muses, “but you sure aren’t one.”

“Wooooow….” The man sighs in disbelief. “The disrespect! At least you’re honest. I can appreciate that. I— ”

The stranger’s body seizes up as he takes another step forward. ”Ow!” His body convulses for a second before he regains his faculties. He looks down to find the sigil scrawled in chalk around his feet. Try as he might to scrape the markings off with his heel, his shoes are unable to scuff the powder. He furrows his brows and throws his hands in the air.

“Really? Are you kidding me? An integrity prison? Where did you learn this?”

Holy fucking shit. It worked, Yoongi thinks. He’s never been more relieved in his life.

“Wake her up,” he repeats calmly.

“I was gonna,” the man pouts, slumping into a cross-legged sit. “But now I really don’t want to. Would it kill you to have manners? Look at this. You’ve put me in a difficult little pickle here.” He reaches behind his back and pulls out a jar full of dill pickles. He fishes one out and takes a loud, crunchy bite. “I was just having a little fun and now I’m stuck here, doomed to this ugly little space.”

Yoongi crosses his arms, quickly losing patience. “Stop being dramatic.”

The man glowers at him and crunches on the last bit of the pickle with slow, loud chewing.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh. “Please, stop being dramatic.”

With a surprised nod, the man gulps down the pickle and hops to his feet. “Well, you said please, at least. Was that really such a big... dill?”

Right as Yoongi groans, the man snaps his fingers and flexes his pointers into finger-guns. You immediately yawn and sit up.

“What happened?” you mumble.

Yoongi offers you a hand and you take it, rising to unsteady feet. He wraps a hand around your waist to support your weight. “You took a nap but you didn’t miss much. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you murmur, the haze lifting from your sleepy eyelids. You gasp as your eyes focus on the man trapped between the center aisles. “Huh! We got him!”

“Yeah, yeah. Time to celebrate. You trapped me. Good job.” The sarcasm in his tone is evident, accompanied by a roll of his eyes. Confetti falls from above your heads, showering the pair of you in glitter and shiny streamers with the flick of his wrist. “Now let me out.”

You’re blown away by the bizarre moment, springing forward and out of Yoongi’s grasp. “Magic? Then, are you really… a god?”

The man pats his pockets frantically. “Finally! Someone with a sense for my greatness! Ugh! I should have been recording. Damn! Where’s my microphone?”

“Gods don’t get trapped with chalk,” Yoongi says, folding his arms and tapping his toe impatiently. “This guy is an underling. Hey! Don’t get too close!”

Your mouth hangs agape in awe as you approach the man. Scrutiny must be new for him because he seems stunned. That wide-eyed expression is erased quickly enough when he strikes a heroic pose, planting his hands on his hips and puffing his chest out. His pecs and shoulders seem to inflate when he inhales, causing them to swell into well-defined muscles.

“Oh.” You blink a few times, entranced by the sudden transformation. You reach your hand out as if to touch the meaty bicep practically bulging from his sleeve. “Who… What... are you, really?”

“Y/N!” Yoongi’s hands enclose around your waist, pulling you back into him just as your hand is about to break the barrier.

The man’s muscles deflate with his held breath as he bursts into a fit of squeaky laughter. “Oh! I almost had you!” He wheezes a squeaky sound through his inhale that you can only guess is laughter. He clears his throat. “My name is Jin. Matchmaker…” He holds up two matches in his hands and sets them alight with a flick of his wrist.

“Lover...” He winks and the matches disappear. In their stead are two roses. He tosses them at the two of you but when you go to catch yours it disintegrates.

Yoongi catches the disappointment on your face and thrusts the flower towards you, hoping it will restore the shine to your eyes. You give him a big, cheesy smile as you dust glitter from his hair.

“Ah… And! Balancing agent…” He stands on one foot as a seesaw appears to lift him into the air. He jumps down triumphantly with a bow. “At your service.”

You clap enthusiastically until you look over at Yoongi, who looks less than amused. You then nudge him with your elbow until he gives a solitary clap.

“What’s a balancing agent?” Yoongi asks dryly.

“We restore balance to the world. Things that are too uniform need a little chaos. Things that are too chaotic need to be put back into line. In our down time we like to have fun in our own ways. Me? I like to set people up.”

“So you’re not an Agent of Chaos?” you ask, disappointed that the conspiracy theorist page that led you to this point isn’t exactly the fountain of knowledge you had hoped for. There’s so much you don’t know.

Jin looks at you, clearly confused. “I mean some people call me Cupid, but I guess you can call me that. Has a nice ring to it. My powers are more inclined for chaos.”

“Cupid?”

“What? I’m a romantic. I can see the strings of fate! Also I may have a penchant for mischief, but that’s neither here—” He points at his feet. “Nor there!” He points at the shelf beside you which causes a bag of chips to burst, sending its contents everywhere.

“Hey!” Yoongi yells. “Are you going to pay for those?”

“Yoongi…”

“What?”

You can tell he’s irritated but clearly this guy can do a lot more than pop a bag of chips from across the room. You don’t want to fall on the bad side of his magic but you don’t exactly trust Yoongi’s mouth to keep you in Jin’s good graces.

“Stop being rude,” you whisper through clenched teeth.

He scoffs and answers you in a hushed tone. “How am I rude? He’s making a mess!”

“Then we’ll ask him to unmake it.” Your irritation heightens the volume of your voice to the point where it’s barely a whisper anymore.

“He’s playing with us. I’m through asking.”

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

Jin laughs. “See, this is what I mean. Fate is practically screaming for me to help you. Chaos is just an added bonus for this boring town.”

You both look at him and ask in unison, “What?”

He points to the both of you. “Look.”

As you turn back to face Yoongi you’re shocked to see a pale blue orb glowing above his head. “Huh? What’s that?” You reach out to touch it but your hand passes through it without any change.

“You have one too,” he mumbles, squinting at the way a thin line seems to stem from it. Then he sees another. And another. It looks like a shiny, glittering web that splinters into a thousand different directions. His brows furrow as he inspects the tiny threads. “Do you see them?”

Your gaze follows his pointer and suddenly you can see the branching strands too, not just yours, but his as well. It’s beautiful. It’s overwhelming. It’s terrifying. Seeing the trepidation written on your face he silently beckons your attention to his finger, which is pointing to a thread that is golden instead of a pale blue hue. It’s the only one of its kind in the intricate glittering lattice between the two of you. You follow his pointer as it traces the path that stems from your orb until it gets closer to his and then you take over, finishing the path with your finger to the point where his orb engulfs the line.

“What is it?” you wonder aloud.

“A string of fate,” Jin answers with a wistful sigh. “It’s always exciting to see one, isn’t it? It means you’re soulmates.”

“Hah. Bullshit,” Yoongi responds, waving the air with his hands as if to disrupt the strings. They remain intact. “You just like causing mischief.”

Jin puffs his cheeks and scowls. “I can lie about a lot of things, but the strings aren’t one of them,” he huffs. “Why would I need to do that? What’s more unpredictable than true love slapping you in the face?”

He makes a motion with his fingers and sweeps them towards Yoongi.The compulsion rises and you’re powerless to stop it. Your hand moves of its own accord and lightly slaps Yoongi across the face. He looks betrayed as he rubs his cheek.

“I’m sorry! It wasn’t me!”

The tingle in your arm causes it to move back towards him in a gentle swoop. Your wrist is limp as it smacks into his chin and rubs back and forth as if to comfort him. Jin bursts into a fit of laughter as he breaks the compulsion.

Yoongi lets out an exasperated sigh, stomping up towards the circle around the stranger. “Just change us back and you can go on causing problems elsewhere.”

“I can’t,” Jin answers simply, crossing his arms. “The charm will break only under specific conditions.”

“And those are?”

Jin shrugs with his bottom lip protruding as he frowns. “It’s different for everyone.”

“Of course it is.” Yoongi sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, pacing back towards you.

“There are some things you can try. Staples of the trade.” Jin notes some dirt beneath his fingernails and begins cleaning them. “Number one. Have you tried talking about your feelings?”

Yoongi’s gaze settles on yours and it’s like you can feel your heart stop. Say something. You open your mouth to speak but the words won’t come so you snap your jaw shut and stare at the glitter on the floor.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Yoongi says as he folds his arms across his chest, trying to not get distracted by the breasts he inadvertently touches. He decides to drop his hands to his hips instead.

Jin rolls his eyes. “Okaaaay... Number two is filling the chaos meter. Go crazy. Do the unexpected.”

“I don’t know what we’d do,” Yoongi admits, pacing around the circle.

“What if we kissed?” The voice is soft and sweet.

He turns to face you, a combination platter of surprise and confusion. “But we did.”

“Reeeeally?”

Jin’s laughter makes him feel like a fool. He was convinced you said it, despite knowing your voice is not your own right now. How stupid could he be, walking right into that? He squeezes his eyes shut a moment and then focuses his attention on the captive.

While Yoongi is distracted you’re working a pack of mentos out of their packaging. You kneel down and twist the cap off one of the liters of cola placed on the endcap you. The hiss of the carbonation makes Yoongi shift attention.

Your name on his lips is half a warning, half a question loaded with uncertainty. You open another bottle beside it before he can get close enough and drop mentos into each. The liquid erupts into two fizzy fountains that reach the ceiling and spill back down to the floor. Yoongi takes off his hat and grips his hair like he wants to tear it out.

“What are you doing?”

“Filling the meter?” you answer meekly with a shug, stepping back from the puddle on the floor.

Jin roars with laughter. “Oh man. There is no meter, but that was delightful.”

Yoongi grumbles and goes back to the counter, grabbing the laptop and sinking down behind it to hide from the pandemonium of this situation.

“You’re the worst,” you mutter as you pass Jin. You quickly sit next to Yoongi on the floor.

“It was a joke!” Jin calls. “Come on, don’t leave me alone here.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as his fingers rapidly tap the keys. “I’m trying to help.”

“I know.”

“What are you looking for?” you whisper.

Yoongi listens for a minute to the grumbling of the man trapped in the circle nearby. “How to trick a trickster. I have a feeling we need him to undo it but he won’t come out and say it.”

You sigh and press your chin against his shoulder. “I’m tired.”

He looks over and tips his head down to nuzzle his cheek against you. “I know.”

“Huh?” Your vision diverts to a shiny blue can beside him. “Are you serious?”

“Hmm? Oh yeah.” He picks it up and quickly downs the last sip, the Hot6 Logo shining back at you in mockery. “I found it earlier and needed a pick-me-up.”

“Did you find more?”

“Nope. Just the one.”

“But…” you pout. “I wanted it.”

He holds the empty can out to you. “It’s grown on me.”

“I’m about to die without the sweet taste,” you whine, shaking the can to make sure there’s nothing left.

“You’re so obnoxious.”

He rolls his eyes and cups your jaw, leaning in to press his lips against yours. You don’t protest when he dips his tongue past your lips to rub against yours. You can taste remnants of the drink on his tongue. If Hot6 wasn’t your favorite drink before this, it is now.

“Better?”

“Maybe. Still not sweet enough.” You giggle.

He takes the opportunity to kiss you again, crushing your mouth against his in a deeper kiss. You’re practically melting into him as his tongue glides against yours, moving in a rhythm that you now crave. It’s so easy to forget everything else, where you are, what’s happened to you. He moves to straddle your lap, grinding down intentionally as he grips the back of your neck. He knows you’re half-hard already and fuck if he doesn’t just want to have you again. You’re the only thing that feels real right now.

He pulls down the zipper of the hoodie you’ve given him to allow access to his neck. It’s not until he allows you to latch onto the sensitive flesh there, with his hands buried in your hair, that he notices the security mirror. You’re so hot. He wants to be in you so badly but he’ll settle for you being in him right now.

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Suddenly he notices the other person in the mirror. Jin is sitting cross-legged on the floor in his invisible prison, resting his chin on a hand as he stares back through the reflection with eyebrows raised. Yoongi quickly clears his throat and climbs off of you. You blink in confusion at the disruption until he points at the mirror and then you cast your gaze at the floor.

“We should take care of this.” He runs his fingers through his hair to compose himself before placing the cap back on his head and focusing his attention back on the computer.

“Wow, you almost went there with me watching. That would have done it for sure,” Jin says, breaking into a grin.

“Come on!” you shriek, popping up from behind the counter. “Please, just change us back.”

“I told you. I can’t,” he repeats firmly. “I actually don’t lie as often as you seem to think I do. Maybe you should try having sex. They say the soul leaves your body for an instant when you reach the finish line, you know. It can’t hurt. Ohhhh wait a minute...”

He jumps to his feet after watching the guilt flash across your face. Your eyes seem to dart around him, but never land close enough to his. Blood rushes through your ears, drowning out all the sounds that aren’t your heartbeat.

He smiles wickedly. “Oh my god, you already did. I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t be curious? It’s only human to wonder. Oh, to be human… Seriously, have you tried talking about your feelings?”

You turn towards Yoongi and crouch back on the floor, disappearing from Jin’s view. He steps on his tiptoes to try and see around the counter before settling back on the security mirror. You can’t help but focus on his nosiness.

“Yoongi. I... Look. Can we go in the back? I need to talk to you. Privately.”

Jin clicks his tongue and sighs as the pair of you cross the store and slip into the door that reads ‘EMPLOYEES ONLY.’ You breathe a sigh of relief when Yoongi locks the heavy door behind you. He bites at his nails--your nails as he waits for you to say whatever you need to. You take his hands into yours.

“Things are weird right now and not just because of this,” you hold up his hands in yours. “Are you regretting everything now?”

He smirks and gives you a small laugh. He slinks away to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t regret anything. I mean what I said. I care about you. I just… I get embarrassed, I guess.”

He’s embarrassed? You didn’t think he was capable with how blunt he normally is. “Sorry,” you mumble. “I’m insecure. Sexy, right?”

Time seems to slow as he draws near. There’s a lighthearted laugh on his lips before they meet yours. It feels like the first time all over again. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you throw your arms around his neck, desperate to get closer even though you’re already pressed up against each other. You lean into him as you gasp in his hot breaths between kisses. To counteract the weight you’ve pressed against him, he pushes you backwards. Your arms fly back to catch yourself as you stumble but you knock into a freestanding shelving unit. Cans of soup clatter to the floor and roll off in various directions as Yoongi steadies the rack to keep it from falling.

He sighs, dropping his forehead to your shoulder in defeat. “We should focus.”

You whimper and will yourself to move the pair of you away from the wire rack. You run your fingers through your hair and attempt to compose yourself. Everything feels like a dream. It’s hard to think with him consuming the majority of your thoughts. You clear your throat, hoping your mind will also clear with the action.

“Hey,” he says, fingers on the latch. He pauses to lock eyes with you. “It might have seemed like the heat of the moment, but I really mean what I said. So tell me you’ll stick around after this is done?”

You run up and lace your fingers in his free hand before giving it a firm squeeze. “Promise.”

As he opens the door Jin jumps like you’ve startled him with your presence. “Whoa, I thought maybe you’d murdered one another. I heard a loud bang.” His gaze drops to your entwined hands. “What? Did you finally embrace destiny?”

“Destiny. No destiny. It doesn’t matter,” Yoongi says calmly as he squeezes your hand. “This could all be a dream. But we’re here now. We care about each other in this moment. That’s real. That matters.”

Jin does a slow clap while grinning from ear-to-ear. “Wow! It usually takes people a few days, maybe a week!” He looks at his wrist as though he’s wearing an invisible watch. “It’s been, what, a day? You did good.”

“Does that mean you’re going to help us now?” You perk up immediately.

“I mean I think you’ve helped yourselves. You look happy. You’re comfortable, right? Can’t you just let me go and keep existing like this?”

When he’s met with silence he sighs. “Ahh, well there is one more thing you can do, I guess. Have you tried checking your pockets?”

His suggestion is met with eyerolls from the both of you. While nonsensical, the unexpected has become a staple of your current state of existence and you feel you owe it to yourself to at least entertain the possibility. Your fingers slip into your pocket and explore the ridges of the hard object nestled against the fabric. Excitement courses through you as you pull your half of the locket from the confines of your sweatpants. Dumbfounded, Yoongi sticks a finger into his tight jeans and fishes the other half of the necklace out of his pocket.

“Hah, I can’t believe you didn’t even look,” Jin says with a laugh. “Now put them on, place the pieces together and say ‘Me Hoy Nimoy.’”

You exchange a skeptical look with Yoongi but you both comply and blurt the phrase soon after linking the pieces of the necklace together. You hold your breath, waiting for something spectacular to happen but disappointment soon floods your lungs. Just as you’re about to speak up, Jin clicks his tongue.

“Ah, close your eyes. It won’t work if you’re watching.”

Yoongi grumbles. “You’re fucking with us.”

“Hey, some magic is shy. Follow the rules. Do you think I’m just making this all up?” he pouts.

Your answer comes in unison with Yoongi’s: “Yes.”

Jin looks hurt as he clutches a hand over his heart and staggers backwards. “Woooooow. Well, just do one more thing then. ”

A devilish grin soon replaces the expression and his squeaky laughter fills up the store. He points at the pair of you with both fingers and wags his fingers in circles. You feel compelled to turn in place. Yoongi matches the uneasiness in your gut with the panic in his eyes. You both spin in circles away from one another. Once. Twice. Three times. Just as you’re about to complain about the nausea churning fresh waves in your belly, Jin waves his hands inwards.

You’re lifted into the air. The toes of your sneakers leave behind squeaky skidmarks of rubber on the tile as the pair of you are dragged forward. Jin cocks his head to one side and examines you with an expression of stone. For a split second you’re terrified but then he breaks into a grin and snaps his fingers. His thumbs and index fingers form the shape of a heart as he holds them out and you drop to the floor.

Yoongi reaches out for your shoulder. There’s a soft tremble to his fingers as he pulls you close to him. When you look upon his visage you can already see his jaw transforming, a thin stubble growing in along its perimeter. Every time you close your eyes to blink more of his face has morphed back into his own. You look down at your own fingers and watch as the nails narrow and elongate. A glossy pink hue returns to them but the polish looks slightly less finished with the way Yoongi has gnawed on the edges all day.

Suddenly Yoongi is frantically scrambling to his feet, kicking off his shoes and working the zipper down on his jeans. Everything is quickly growing far too tight. The hoodie you’d given him just barely covers his crotch as he stands up straight. He looks over at you with a relieved sigh and cups your jaw.

“You good?” he asks, rubbing the pad of his thumb across your chin. It takes all of your self-control to keep from licking it as it grazes your lip.

You nod, eyes falling to the necklace dangling over his sweatshirt. As soon as you reach out to yank it off, the trinket disappears in a puff of purple smoke with a clap of Jin’s hands. He holds them in place like a silent prayer just below his chin, a strained smile staining his face just above his fingers.

“So, here’s the thing. I’m gonna need you to hold up your end of the deal.”

“Fix my store first. Clean up this mess you’ve caused,” Yoongi says while taking a step in front of you.

Jin’s bottom lip protrudes into a pout as he eyes the puddle of cola on the floor. “I didn’t do that,” he complains under his breath.

It’s incredible how close he came to freedom, incredible and frustrating. His magic may not be able to touch or alter the circle, but you almost freed him with your ignorance. If the liquid had run close enough to seep into the chalk, he would be somewhere far more sunny and beachy right now. He’s earned a vacation for this milestone of success.

“Fiiiine,” he concedes.

With a snap of his fingers the store is spotless once more. While Yoongi inspects the area of the tile floor previously coated in cola and glitter, you glide your foot over the circle of chalk and break the seal that binds Jin to his current location.

“Finally…” he sighs, side-stepping out from the invisible barrier. “You’re welcome, by the way. Invite me to the wedding, okay? Don’t forget the little people who helped you on the way. As for me... I’ve got a date with the pearly beaches of Accord.”

He swirls his wrist in the air and the pair of ugly red mirrored sunglasses appear on his nose just in time for him to adjust them. He lowers the specs to give you a wink before snapping his fingers. Before you can even call out for him to wait, he’s gone in a puff of purple smoke that quickly dissipates. You’re left in stunned silence to contemplate your existence.

What are you supposed to make of everything?

As you stand there on the cusp of a mental breakdown, soft, velvety petals brush against your cheek to steal your attention. The scent of the flower overtakes your senses as Yoongi uses it to tickle your nose. You find him smiling back at you, almost like he’s too shy to speak, but then he does.

“Weird day huh? Can I have my pants back?”

You hum thoughtfully, making sure the shutters of the shop are still shielding you both from the outside world. “Would you mind if I wanted to get back in them later?”

He snorts, holding back a laugh. “Been waiting to use that all day?”

“No, I just thought of it right now. Aren’t I impressive?” you say, wiggling your eyebrows at him. You shimmy out of the sweatpants and leave them pooled on the floor, doing your best to walk past him with grace and seduction.

“So impressive.”

He offers an amused laugh when you bend over to pick up the garments he was so quick to discard when his transformation reverted. You spare a glance behind you to see if he’s looking at the way you so blatantly flaunt your ass. He’s in the middle of dragging his bottom lip through his teeth when your eyes steal his attention.

“Something wrong?” A wicked grin belies your innocent tone.

He exhales a long breath and shakes his head, turning his attention to pulling his pants up. “Impressive isn’t the word. You’re obnoxious.”

“Isn’t that your way of saying you wanna make out?”

He’s quiet as he takes off the remainder of your clothes to reveal a muscular chest riddled with goosebumps. It’s hard to hide how your grin spreads wider as he approaches with them in hand. You’ve had dreams like this: he’s shirtless, asking you to take off your clothes so he can fuck you in his store. Right here with your tits against the cold glass of the fridge. It would be a dirty secret only the two of you would know and you’d think about it every time you’d come in for your energy drink.

You slowly lift the hoodie from your own body, trying to appear as alluring as possible. You make sure to arch your back as your breasts briefly catch in the fabric and then drop against your ribs, completely exposed to the chilly air. Much to your dismay he’s quick to spin away from you and mutters a “thanks” instead of naughtier offers.

He’s aware you might mistake it for rejection, but he’s hoping you don’t see the way his fingers tremble. It’s incredible how scared he feels being back in his own skin. The intimacy of your connection left a void behind that’s quickly filling with disquiet. He feels incomplete without a piece of you with him, lost in the vast emptiness of himself. How can he feel such need for you? His chest aches with the possibility that he won’t ever feel whole again. The bravery that possessed him while piloting your body has waned. Now that normalcy is somewhat restored, he has the chance to start processing the events of the day. A part of him begins to embrace the panic he’d previously pushed down and his confession replays in his mind as though he’s just spoken it.

It was a bold move, especially given the situation. It could have ended horribly. He puffs out his cheeks and holds his breath, trying to remind himself that it didn’t. It’s okay to let go of the anxiety over it, but he still feels so uncertain. Even turned away from you and fully clothed, he’s never felt more exposed and vulnerable. He tries to hide the burning of his ears by running his fingers through his hair and shielding them with his arms. He has to bring himself back or else you’ll be talking him down from a panic attack and he doesn’t want you to see him like that.

Stupid. Stop throwing yourself at him. You struggle to put on the tight clothing as quickly as possible. Tears threaten to fall as you awkwardly wiggle your jeans back and forth up your thighs and over the swell of your ass. You make sure to swipe at the corners of your eyes before clearing your throat to signify you’re fully changed. He spins to face you but everything he means to say gets lost on the way to his mouth. He freezes, overwhelmed by how beautiful you are even in this shitty lighting, and how thankful he is to be able to see you through his own eyes.

His heart pounds at the confines of his chest like it needs to burst from within. There’s a small burst of adrenaline that plumes from the explosion of butterflies in his stomach. It fills him with the courage he needs to close the distance between you with a kiss, the kind of kiss he’s been dreaming of giving you for months. Right here in this store.

He loves how eager you are to reciprocate when he tangles his fingers in your hair. He holds you there like you’re about to melt away in a puff of smoke. Your lips are so soft, so sweet, so warm pressing against his. His tongue rolls over yours, desperate to keep tasting and feeling more. You grasp behind his neck and dig your fingernails into his shoulder as he deepens the kiss. When you roll your hips towards him as a subtle test for determining his hardness, you can feel him smile against your lips.

“Not in the store.” He gives you one more chaste kiss and pulls back just enough to allow you both to breathe. He adjusts one of the boxes on the nearby shelves. “You already drive me crazy. If we do it here I’m going to be thinking about it every time I’m stocking shelves.”

“Yoongi…” you whine. “Please tell me you’re keeping it closed for the day.”

He sighs as he plucks his phone from the counter to check the time. “Might as well.”

“Can I walk you home?” You chew on your lip as you wait for his response. What you wouldn’t give to spend the night with him.

Unable to hide the smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, he nods his head towards the exit. “Why would we waste our time?”

Your heart sinks into your butt, thinking this must be it. He changed his mind after all. He hates you. There’s no doubt about it now. All you can manage is a squeaky, “Hmm?”

He rests his palm on the handle of the door and he presses his lips into a thin line, looking wide eyed. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so adorably hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. “You live closer.”

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The comforter at your back is soft and cool to the touch as you scramble to settle yourself against the pillows. Yoongi wastes no time wiggling off his sweatpants and climbing over you. The sound of your panting mingles with his as he hovers above you with his lips parted, trying to catch his breath. If the hurried ascent up the stairs wasn’t enough to have him gasping for air, the makeout session just inside your front door definitely has him devoid of oxygen. This still feels like a dream, but it’s one he doesn’t ever want to wake up from.

"How do you want it?" he whispers. He glides a finger up your thigh and lightly traces circles around your labia.

Your mind travels back to your earlier experience of coming undone and suddenly your stomach is doing flips.

"Just like this," you answer. "I want to feel you just like this. Do you remember where to touch?"

He nods, skimming his parted lips over yours while he places his finger over the hood of your clit. "Like this, right?"

"More pressure," you plead, working your hips in circles to coach his movements.

He does as you instruct and clamps his mouth over yours in a futile attempt to find relief for the aching need to be inside of you. He grinds himself against your side, his cock rubbing against your soft, heated skin as he tries to remember the exact motions needed to elicit enough pleasure to make you cum. He doesn't have to wait long until frenzied, weak moans are vibrating against his mouth so he turns his attention to your neck. He wants to hear how fucked out you are. He wants to hear how badly you want to cum. He wants to feel you pulse around his fingers.

As he plunges a thick finger deep into your cunt, a pathetic, desperate sound escapes you. "Oh, fuck."

"Feel good?" he mumbles into the hollow space between your neck and shoulder.

"Please. Please. Please. Please," you whimper incoherently, bucking your hips to meet each thrust of his finger. You can feel his cock rutting against your side and all you can do is imagine that he's pumping it into you instead of his fingers. "Oh fuck, Yoongi."

His lips twitch into a smile as he feels you tighten around his finger. He kisses your neck and sinks a second finger carefully inside you. You allow your head to fall against the pillow and bite your lip to try to contain the drawn out needy groan already helplessly spilling out of you. So close. Your back arches off the mattress and he wishes he wasn't so concentrated on the motions of his hands right now because he would absolutely love to be tonguing your perfect tits.

He pants against your skin and looks at them longingly. Maybe he can manage it? He's determined to use what he's learned about your body to help you cum, but not yet. You can't help but whine at the loss as he repositions himself, which breaks the sightline you had on your orgasm.

"Yoooongi... I was close..." You whimper when he abandons your cunt entirely to press your tits together. His mouth is hot as it clamps down on your nipple, giving the peak a hard suck before dragging it through his teeth.

"I know. Wanna make you cum with my tongue," he murmurs into the supple flesh.

He swipes his fingers along your cunt and swirls the wetness over your clit before bringing it to his mouth. You can already see how they glisten in the low light of your bedroom. The low moan that rumbles its way from his throat has you rocking your hips up against his pelvis as he settles between your legs. Your silent grinding isn't enough of a confirmation. He wants to hear you say it.

"Can I go down on you?" He blurts the shameless question while alternating between kissing both of your breasts and only pauses to meet your eyes.

You want to feel him everywhere but mostly you want his mouth on yours while he’s balls deep inside you. You don’t even care if you cum because being with him like this feels good. Being with him fills your heart with giddy hope and your stomach with butterflies. Being with him is enough. You want to tell him that but instead you nod and whimper out a pathetic “please.”

He wastes no time dipping his head down between your thighs to press the flat of his tongue against your clit. A low growl escapes with his exhale before he puckers his lips to kiss the soft skin and breathe in the heavy scent of your arousal. You’d be embarrassed if his tongue didn’t feel so magical. It glides against you so effortlessly, bringing pleasure with every quick flick against you.

Your hands dive into his hair and you start rolling your hips to grind his face harder against you. He doesn't seem to mind though. In fact he seems to embrace the motion, wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you in as closely as possible. If you weren't so preoccupied with the orgasm building just below the surface of the place where his tongue keeps hitting then you might worry that he's suffocating himself. Right now all you can focus on is the pleasure threatening to break you open and leave you spilling a million curses into the air around you.

"Yoongi. Fuck. I'm close," you warn, as if the frantic way you've twirled his hair around each of your fingers isn't enough to tip him off. Do you really think he can't feel the shaking of your thighs in this moment?

He hums a sound like he doesn't hear you, but he doesn't let up at all. He keeps his pace steady for you as you approach your end once again. Your nails scratch against his scalp but he doesn't mind. He actually really likes the way you're losing your mind over the simple things he's doing with his tongue right now. He can't even begin to imagine the pretty sounds that might spew from your lips with practiced effort but he knows he can't wait to hear them.

Suddenly your hand flies up to pound the wall behind you and you announce the wave of pleasure coursing through your clit through the use of a loud string of expletives. He can feel the way your flesh pulses beneath his tongue and he revels in it. You ride his face so well. You can ride it for as long as you want as often as you want. He wants to tell you that but he also wants you to ride out your high for as long as it lasts, so he lets you buck your hips and raise your cunt off the bed. He lets you thrash around through the sensitivity until you're finally pushing his face off with both hands.

"Good? Do you need more?" he verifies, rising from between your legs to deliver a messy, wet kiss to your lips. He smirks through it, knowing he really doesn't need to ask at all to know the answer.

"Cheeky fuck," you murmur, not bothering to even attempt to hide your matching grin against him. "I need it."

"What do you need?" His fingers trail a soft line down your side, reminding you that his teasing nature is simply a front for his caring heart.

"I need you inside me." Your breathing is spotty as you pepper kisses along his jaw. "Like this. I want you to feel me the way I felt you."

It doesn't take long until you're tasting yourself on his lips again. He shifts slightly and you know he's lining himself up with your entrance when you feel the swollen tip of his fat cock nudging at your hole. He's slow to thrust into you. In fact he stills, only giving you shallow, teasing thrusts. He favors letting you wiggle down just a little bit to coax him in. He smiles against your lips and pushes in further, giving you that stretch you were hoping for.

When you suck in a sharp breath he pulls out, but as soon as you whine in protest, he's already carefully moving to slide it back in. The slow stretch has your jaw dropping open and he takes the opportunity to bite on your lower lip. You take the bait and feed him hungry kisses until he’s completely buried inside of your tight cunt. He takes a moment to growl a low sound that has you clenching around him.

“So tight,” he whispers, pausing to curl an arm beneath your head.

He presses the back of your hand against the mattress as he twines his fingers with yours. He drives himself deeper into you with each slow thrust and it feels like he still can’t get close enough. So you raise your other arm above you and angle it until you’re linking your fingers with the ones beneath your head. You kiss his cheek and savor the intimate moment.

When he lazily sinks into your cunt again you crack a smile. “Can't you fuck me harder than that?"

"Mmm." He lifts his head and seems to accept your challenge. His hips pull out slowly and suddenly slam back into you. This sets a new fervent pace that has you squeezing both of his hands. "What do you think? Is this better?"

You do little to actually answer his question and instead offer a slew of swears and moans each time his balls slap against your ass. "Shit. Fuck, fuck fuck. Yoongi..."

"What kind of answer is that?" he asks innocently.

"God, your cock..."

"Mhm," he prods.

"Feels so good, Yoon."

He chuckles. "Yoon... Cute."

"I'll show you cute," you huff.

"Oh?"

You release his hands in favor of pressing your palms against his chest. He pulls out and before you can miss the way he fills you, you're flipping him down on the mattress. You swing a leg over his pelvis and straddle him. It takes you a moment to properly position yourself. You give his length a few pumps in your hand before lining it up with your entrance.

"Careful," he warns, planting his hands on your thighs. "Don't wear yourself out."

You sink down quicker than you probably should. You're eager to make him cum faster than he did for you. The wetness in your core seeps down in translucent trails down your inner thighs. Your own brand of lubricant seems to be enough to keep the stretch pleasurable. Yoongi bites his lip as he gazes down at the way you're bouncing on his cock. You know how good it feels for him, especially with how hard your pussy is squeezing him.

"Don't worry about me."

The sensory overload building in your gut coated with the memory of the unique experience. It mixes with the high threatening to burn its way from your core. You take a deep breath and exhale loudly before you continue. You revel in a slow descent, memorizing every kind of way the stroke makes you feel. Then you begin to quickly draw him in and out of your cunt. The obscene sounds of wet, rapid slapping fill the room.

After a few minutes you've finally got a good rhythm down. Despite the cramp throbbing down your obliques, he's hitting that sweet spot inside you at just the right angle. If you didn't know any better you'd think you're about to cum again. You steady yourself on his chest and trail your hand to his stomach to maintain your balance. Trying to keep the unrealistic pace you'd previously set for yourself is proving difficult, but you swear you're feeling like maybe you're about to crest into the biggest climax of your life. Then again, it could certainly be the biggest letdown now that you're aware of it. Your orgasms have left you for less.

Yoongi knots his eyebrows together in concentration and he reaches down to rub circles against your clit. His fingers are clumsy and new to this angle but they're feather light. He can see in your face that you're chasing some great new high and he just wants to help you achieve it without overdoing it. He knows how shy your cunt is about giving you orgasms so he really wants to do it right. Is this right? He figures you'll tell him if it isn't.

You moan weakly in response. Suddenly, you know it's coming. You can feel it building every time his hips slap up to meet yours. "Oh my fuck."

His abdominal muscles flex beneath your palm and he forces his breaths through his nose as he struggles to keep himself composed. Your cunt is squeezing him so tightly that he knows he's on the brink of his own release but he's determined to help you feel as good as you make him feel.

"That's it. Cum for me again." He tries to coax it with those strong pleas, but his voice is broken with an inhale sharp enough to cut his words.

Both of your thighs are coated in slick sweat. You don't think you've ever felt so fucking wet in your life. He glistens just as much in the dim light so you know between the two of you there's a puddle of sweat soaking your sheets. It's easy to forget how gross or embarrassing it is when the tip of his cock rubs against your g-spot so well. Right now the only thing that matters is getting relief for this pressure building behind your clit.

Despite the shakiness of his fingers, he's able to coax it out of you. Your trembling thighs feel like an earthquake that's finally reached its peak tremor and you find yourself crying out and bouncing to the rhythm of your spasming cunt. You chant your praises and curses in the same breath. His name is a drawn out breathy expression of gratitude and bliss. As soon as you slump forward to kiss him he takes your hands in his own and frantically pumps himself up into you. He can still feel the involuntary flex of your cunt even after you've clearly expended every ounce of your energy reaching and literally riding out your second orgasm.

"Can I cum inside?" he asks between frantic breaths.

"Well, you're not gonna make it to these tits," you tease with a smirk. You may be spent but you'll always have the energy to give him shit. "Do it."

"So fuckin hot," he mumbles against your lips.

The muffled grunts expelled against your mouth and the slow, deliberate snap of his hips leave you in a state of surreal euphoria. He squeezes your hands in his along with his release to let you know this is real. You're here with him. When he comes down from his high he kisses you gently one more time and pulls back to look at you. You take the break in physical connection to roll off of him and stretch out your aching calves and let the air from the fan cool your skin. The tingling in your legs tells you not to get up right now, as much as the fear of a UTI screams at you to do the contrary. Instead you turn your head towards Yoongi and he smiles at you. Sleep threatens to take you when he begins to stroke your hair.

"If you'd have told me last week I'd feel this close to someone, I'd have laughed at you," he starts in a quiet voice, "but I feel really close to you. I'm glad this insanity happened to us."

"Me too." You can't help but smile back. "I don't want to go to sleep because I'm afraid you'll be gone when I wake up. What if this is a dream?"

"Then I'll find you when I wake up. You'd better find me too."

"What if we forget?"

He grabs your hand and runs his thumb over your knuckles. "I won't forget."

"Promise?"

"Mhm." He closes his eyes, clearly every bit as exhausted as you are. He's quiet for a minute and you think maybe he's already fallen asleep until he peeks out from under his eyelids. "... I think you need glasses."

"What?"

"I was just thinking. I felt like I was squinting all the time when I was you. Maybe that's why it took you so long to see how I felt." He shows off a big, toothy grin.

"Wow that guy really rubbed off on you, huh?"

You smack him in the face with a pillow when you get up.

╭⋟────────────────────────╮

╰────────────────────────⋞╯

The muffin and can of Hot6 sit on the counter, guarded by Yoongi's forearm.

"Wow, you already have my stuff ready? Is this the kind of perk I get for dating the owner?" you wonder.

He rolls his eyes. "Not yours until you pay for it."

"You're so sweet, not eating my muffin this time."

He drags his lip through his teeth and tries to hold back a devilish smirk. "I've found better things to eat, don't you think?"

Your heart thumps against your chest and you do your best to remind yourself that offering to suck his dick behind the counter is not what you should be doing in this situation. But you want it so bad. He watches your internal struggle with raised eyebrows and a smug smile. He slides the energy drink towards you.

"Here. This is on me today. You look a little thirsty."

Your shoulders raise and then deflate with your sigh. "Do you even want me to come back later?"

"What? It's free for you. You should be happy."

"And the muffin? What do I owe for that?"

He mimics your dramatic sigh and places it before you. "It's crazy. Your boyfriend offered to pay for that too."

"He's so generous." You shake your head but it can't keep the grin from your face. "Lots of free stuff today."

"It's a... special for today only. So don't get used to it or anything. But there is one more thing we're having a sale on, if you're interested."

"Hmm?"

"Free of charge, for you only." He taps his lips with both pointers, looking impossibly cute. His charm is devastating, really.

He cracks a smile and you feel yours grow impossibly wider. You lean over the counter and give him a sweet kiss.

"How long does this offer last?"

"As long as you want."

"Forever."

"Forever, it is." He gives you one more quick peck. "I've gotta mop the floor and you're gonna be late for work."

"Ugh. Wanna trade?"

He purses his lips and gives your hand a little squeeze. "Not a chance."

#smutcentralnet #yoongi smut #bts smut #similarly sequestered #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader

[i-have-a-wonky-eye-too]

Devil in disguise... Part 4/?

Lee Bodecker x reader

<Part 3<

Warnings: swearing, mentions of masterbation (m)

Your grandpa wasn't a vilant man. He never laid a hand on your grandmother or your mother. Your grandpa vowed to protect you, his little grand baby, until the day he dies. So when Lee told him about what happened at the diner with Bobby-Ray, your grandpa wanted to beat the little punk black and blue. Thankfully Lee was able to convince him not to do anything that might land himself in jail.

"Just a second!" You called out to whoever was knocking on the front door and pulled the freshly baked cookies out of the oven. "Coming!" You called out as they knocked again.

You quickly walked to the front door, wiping your hands on your apron before pulling the door open.

"Oh, Sheriff, I wasn't expecting to see you this morning?" You smiled sweetly at him.

Lee smiled back, "Just wanted to check in, after yesterday."

You nodded. "Oh, okay... Would you like to come in? I just made some cookies."

Lee's smile grew. "That would be mighty kind of you, Sugar."

You stepped aside and let the Sheriff in. "Grandpa isn't here, I'm afraid. He's at church. So you're stuck with just me." You joked.

"You know that don't bother me, Sugar." He winked at you with a smile making you blush.

"Coffee?"

"Thank you," Lee nodded and popped his hat on the chair beside him as he sat at the kitchen table.

Lee watched in silence as you moved around the kitchen, smiling to himself as he caught the faint humming coming from your mouth. You were the perfect vision of what he thought his wife would look one day. And he was fool.

"How ya' feelin'?" Lee asked looking up after you placed his coffee in front of him.

You hummed, and turned back to face the counter. "Grateful for you." You smiled over your shoulder at him, catching the light blush as he looked down.

Lee cleared his throat, "How are you though, Y/N?"

"... A little shaken, I guess, hence why I ain't at church. Plus, I knew Bobby-Ray and his mother would be there so," You shook your head and focused on the cookies.

It was a new recipe that you tried so you were excited for someone to try them.

"Would you like to try a cookie? It's a new recipe." You smiled at the Sheriff as you placed the plate of cookies before him.

Lee licked his lips, "You know I can't say no to your cookies." He smirked as he picked one and looked up at you. "What's new about them?" He asked.

"Chocolate." You smiled and sat down beside him.

Lee frowned in confusion. "I've tried your chocolate chip cookies before, Sugar."

You shook your head with a grin, "Just try, and you'll see."

"You ain't poisoning me, are ya?" He joked making you roll your eyes playfully at him. He chuckled before he lifted the cookie to his mouth and took a decent bite out of it. "... Hmm-mm." Lee groaned from deep in his chest.

You squeezed your thighs together at the sound of pleasure the Sheriff made. That was unexpected.

"Damn, Sugar," Lee stared at the melted chocolate in the middle of his cookie. "These might be the best I've ever tasted."

You cleared your throat and stood up, turning back to the counter. "Oh, I'm glad." You gulped, trying to calm your nerves.

Lee licked his lips as he watched you, smiling to himself. "What ya' got planned for the rest of the day?"

"Nothin'. I got all my chores done this mornin', bein' up before the sun." You sighed. "Grandpa'll be out all day, drinkin' I reckon. So, might have an early night, maybe pamper myself with a long soak in the tub." You giggled and turned back to face Lee.

Lee stared into nothing, thinking about what you'd just said. "... Sounds, interesting." He cleared his throat and picked up another cookie.

"Are you working patrols all day? I could pack you some cookies up. Or maybe some lunch. A thank you for last night." You smiled and went over to the refrigerator. You bent over, almost directly in front of Lee as you looked inside.

"Dear... Lord," Lee said under his breath before he cleared his throat. "Uh, no, I'm in the station today." He sighed, "There's quite a bit of paperwork to catch up on that I ain't looking forward to." He looked up just as you turned to face him with things to make a sandwich. "Plus, the damn receptionist ain't in either so, I've got extra stress with that." He huffed.

"You know I'm always free to help out if you need it, Sheriff." You smiled at him before going over to the counter to make him a sandwich.

Lee thought to himself for a minute. The thought of spending all day with you was worrying. He wasn't sure he'd be able to focus, but it would be a big help to have you there. "If you don't mind, Sugar."

You turned around to face him with an excited look in your eyes. "Really? Wouldn't I get in the way?"

"Nah," Lee smiled, "You'll be doing me a favour and keeping me company."

You nodded. "Okay. Sure. That sounds fun."

"Okay." Lee quickly stood up, grabbing his hat from the chair beside him. "You make up two sandwiches, and I'll make sure the cruiser is clean for your pretty dress."

Your brow pinched together as you looked down to your dress in confusion.

"It was last night. What could have gotten it so dirty since then?" You joked.

Lee shook his head. "Nothing... I swear. I just... would, hate for you to get some, dirt or anything, on-" He didn't finish his sentence before running out of the house. He had to get rid of that damn Pepsi cup before you got in.

It wasn't his fault, if anything it was yours. You looked so pretty last night, then you needed to be saved and looked after by him. Plus, you cried and tucked yourself close to him, under his arm as he drove you home. He was fucking hard after he dropped you off. He had to do something to get rid of it, and the cup was just sitting there as he thought about you. Your scent still lingering in the air.

"Fuck," Lee grunted feeling his dick twitching in his pants as he thought back.

Lee had to sit in the driver's seat with his hands on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white as he closed his eyes, trying to keep his breathing even and his dick soft.

"All clean, Sheriff?" You asked with a cheerful smile as you approached the cruiser.

Lee gulped, nodding his head as he got out of the cruiser. "All clean." He forced a smile as he walked around to the passengers side and opened the door for you. "You bring any cookies?" He asked in a playful tone, making you giggle.

"Of course I did, Sheriff."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee had every intention on setting you up at the desk in reception when the two of you arrived at the station, but then the dumb young deputies opened their mouths and made some sexual comment about you in front of him, so he steered you towards his office instead, sending the deputies a glare over his shoulder. His desk was big enough to share. It just meant he definitely wouldn't be able to focus on anything today.

"I've finished with these, Sheriff. Is there somewhere they need to go?" You asked as you held up the last envelope you'd just finished writing an address on.

Lee nodded, "There's a box out front, they'll get posted tonight."

"Okay," You smiled and pushed your chair back. "I'll got do that so they don't get lost."

"Thank you, Sugar." Lee smiled softly at you before you opened the door.

He let out a heavy sigh and sat back in his chair finally able to breath as you left his office. He'd been reading the same sentence for the last half hour after you had bent down to pick something up off the floor that he had dropped. He saw right down the top of your dress, instantly making him hard and pull himself further under his desk so you didn't see.

"So, you the Sheriff's new personal secretary, darlin'?" He heard one of his deputies ask through the open door.

Lee listened carefully with a frown. He heard you sigh before you answered. "I'm just lending a hand, that's all."

"I bet. Left or right?" Another asked, cracking up along with the other deputy.

Lee quickly stood up and pushed his chair back. He marched over to the door and opened it so it didn't make a noise, wanting to scare the deputies when he yelled at them for slacking off.

"Sometimes, I don't even use my hands." You answered back.

When Lee stepped out he saw the two deputies were speechless as you said goodbye and headed back to Lee's office.

He smirked down at you as you slipped passed him before he turned his attention back to his deputies. "Back to work!" He ordered before slamming his office door shut. "Everythin' okay, Sugar?"

You nodded, "Yes, Sheriff." You grinned. "Everythin' is good."

"Good." Lee nodded, looking away from you. "Hmm, if you could do these for me, Sugar, that would be great." He smiled, lifting up a stack of papers off his desk.

You nodded, quickly skipping over to him. "Of course, Sheriff." You smiled sweetly at him and took them from him, your fingers lightly grazing his, making you blush slightly.

It took everything in you not to look up and stare at him, to admire his handsome face as the room fell silent. Being so close to Lee for so long was nerve wrecking. He always smelt so good, and his smile always made your heart skip and when he smirked, your knees almost buckled. And when he spoke, it sent shivers down your spine. Sometimes it was smooth and soft, other times it was rough and deep. And when he yelled (not that it was often around you), but when he did, it made you dizzy with excitement.

The hours quickly ticked by and before you knew it, Lee had pulled up outside your home. The lights were on and your grandpa's old truck was parked in its usual spot indicating he had gotten home just fine.

"Thank you for today, Sheriff." You smiled at him.

Lee chuckled, "It should be me thankin' you, Sugar. You really helped me out." He spoke softly with a smile.

You blushed looking down to your lap. "It was nothin'." You shrugged it off.

Lee shook his head. "No, it was. You didn't need to help out like you did." He smiled, running his knuckles across your cheek. "But you did, because your sweet, and kind."

You blushed with a small smile.  "... Oh, well, thank you." You let out a nervous giggle. "I best get inside. Grandpa'll be getting' worried if I'm out any longer." You smiled bashfully.

Lee nodded. "Okay then, Sugar, you go on in."

"Good night, Sheriff." You pushed yourself closer to him and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Your eyes widened a little when you realised what you'd done. You pulled back and met his stunned gaze. "I, hmm-"

The radio crackling to life interrupted the moment and gave you chance to bid Lee goodbye again before quickly sliding out of the cruiser.

What had you done? Why would you go and do something stupid like that? He probably thought you were just some stupid kid with a silly little crush on him. You had no doubt he was probably used to young girls fawning over him, and falling in love with him. But that didn't mean you hadn't just made a fool of yourself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tags: @stucky-my-ship @acciosiriusblack

#lee bodecker x you #sheriff lee bodecker #lee bodecker x reader #Lee Bodecker x reader series #Lee Bodecker #lee bodecker x y/n #devil in disguise #devil all the time #Sheriff Lee Bodecker x reader #lee bodecker slow burn

[littlemessyjessi]

“Not My Bias”: Park Jimin Imagine: Plus Size Reader

Park Jimin Imagine Summary: Jimin is upset because he is not the chosen bias of his girlfriend but instead it's actually Namjoon.   A/N: Also, this is just an imagine, a oneshot if you will.  However, if you want to see more of the story, just let me know.   Extra: Plus Size.  Also, woman is older than the man by a few years. Pre-established relationship, Jimin is dating an Army, ft Platonic moments with Yoongi.   Warning: Fluff, Angst, mentions of suicide and issues with mental health, arguing, jealously... teeeeennnnnnsssssiiiooonn.   Anyway, yeah. ----

Flared nostrils and a deep breath.

'He's just having a day.  Let it go.  He's just in a mood.'

The thought swirled around in that head like smoke.

"Babe, you were all over him.  I don't know how you can think that's ok? If I had done that to someone you would've flipped out!" Jimin's voice sounded.

Regardless of the fact that Jimin was continuously all over people because he was very affectionate and naturally flirty.  

Also, regardless of the fact that he literally had millions of people ready to volunteer like Katniss for the Hunger Games at the drop of a hat.

Regardless of the fact that it was very much clear as to how much he was loved and adored by his partner.

Still.

'Don't snap.  Don't lash out.  Just let it go.'

The thought swirled less like smoke and more like the unstable circle of terror that was the beginnings of a hurricane.

"I mean, fuck, you might as well just be with him.  You were practically eye fucking him right in front of me."

Stone cold.

Every thought brewing in that mind was screaming to let it go, to talk to him calmly, to just fix it.

But that's not what happened.

Because even though Jimin was clearly feeling insecure and it had turned into jealously... you had feelings too.

You slowly turned to look at him.

Jimin's gaze was hard as he looked back.

He had that about him where one second he could be cute and adorable and the next he could be very intimidating.

However, his duality was no match for yours in that moment.

"Jimin, you've got about three seconds to apologize." you said evenly.

"Apologize?" He scoffed.  "For what? Apologize for calling the bullshit when I see my girlfriend trying to fuck one of my best friends right in front of me?"

That was it.

You had a long fuse on a big bomb and right now... you weren't just a stick of dynamite.

You were a nuclear bomb.

You ran your tongue over your teeth trying in vain to calm down.

"First of all, fuck you." you snapped and his brows lifted on his forehead.  "Yeah I said it.  Don't you ever insinuate that I am anything less to faithful to you.  God dammit, Jimin.  I didn't want to have a fucking fight with you but since you seem so hell bent on it, let's go.  It's time for war, mother fucker."

His gaze intensified at your response, "Don't you talk to me like -"

"Me?!" you snapped. "You want to talk about me? You're the one who stood right there, basically called me a whore and accused me of fucking your friend! Who by the way, you owe a god damn apology to! He didn't do anything to you and you've been a dick the whole day!"

It was the wrong thing to say and you knew it.

Bringing up Namjoon during a fight, especially considering the context was the worse thing you could've done.

It further ignited his anger and his jealously all but consumed him.

But you didn't care.

He may have started the fire but you brought the gasoline.

"That's just great, Y/N.  Wonderful.   Exactly the way to convince your boyfriend that you're not fucking someone else.  Defending them in the middle of an argument."

Your screaming had clearly drawn attention and the door opened to reveal Jin's concerned face.

He said something but the two of you were too far gone in trying to outscream each other to hear him.

"That you started!" you snapped at Jimin.

"I was trying to talk to you!"

"You were accusing me!"

"Because it was obvious!"

You were shaking when Yoongi's head popped in beside Jin's but you paid them no mind even when Hobi appeared in the doorway.

"Guys, come on." Hobi said trying to calm you both down.  "Don't do this."

"Come on. Let's go get some food and chill out." Jin offered, knowing very well how Jimin's temper could be and also how he could say some horrible things when he really didn't mean them.

He had a sinking feeling that they'd already been said though and there wasn't much that could be done.

"What was so obvious to you, Jimin? Hm? I am a fan.  You know this? I was an Army before I ever met you.  This was abundantly clear to you from the beginning.  Did you really think that there would never be moments when I wouldn't be starstruck occasionally?" you seethed. "Because I'm sorry I'm not perfect Park fucking Jimin! I'm human!"

His jaw tightened and he narrowed his eyes at you.

"That's not what this is about." he said.

"Yeah, the fuck, it is." you snapped.  "Listen, I'm about to make myself abundantly clear about something.  You don't fucking know me as well as you seem to think you do."

"Clearly." he responded and you had to fight the urge not to strangle him.

Yoongi almost rolled his eyes at Jimin and his fucking mouth.

The rest of the members had joined the chaos at this point and you... you just no longer cared.

You were ready to go to war.

Fuck it all.

You drew a deep breath in through your nose, staring at the carpet before lifting your eyes up to Jimin's again.

"You seem to think that you have me completely figured out and you know everything about me.  But you don't know shit, Jimin.  Just because we've been dating for three months does not mean that you suddenly know every thought in my head.  But you're about to find some shit out about me right now."

"You're right. I don't know wh-"

"Shut the fuck up." you said coldly.  "You want to know so god damn badly why Namjoon is my bias?  Fine, I'll tell you and you can either deal with it or you can continue to be a spoiled, selfish little brat.  I don't really care anymore."

He would've fought you for calling him that but internally something stopped him.

"I was never into this type of music.  It wasn't my thing.  I listened to metal and classic rock.  That was what I liked.   So BTS was never really in my statosphere.  But a few years ago, I was at my lowest. My husband had cheated on me leading me to file for an immediate divorce.  I had just lost our baby and I was wrecked.   I didn't want to do it anymore.  So let me paint you a picture here, Jimin.  I was standing in my childhood bedroom because I couldn't bare to be in that house where he fucked his secretary.   I'm standing there in front of my little vanity from when I was a kid and I had my grandpa's pistol loaded, the barrel in my mouth.  My finger was on the trigger and I started to press down."

Jimin, all with everyone else, had gone completely pale.

"And then suddenly my cousin's stereo starts thudding from the other side of the wall.  And it's "Voice" from Joon's first mixtape and I stopped.  Because for the first time in a long time, I felt like someone understood what I was going through.   I put the gun down and I saw there on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall listening to that song.  I cried until I couldn't breathe because no one had ever put my feelings into words like that before.  That song.  Those lyrics.  They saved me.   I put the gun away as if it had burned me,  I cried because I had been so close to ending it all over someone else who wasn't worth it.  I went home that night, researched the lyrics and figured out who wrote them and then I began listening to anything and everything that Namjoon had a hand in creating.  Because it was those words that kicked me back off the ledge."

Jimin was completely still at this point.

No movement.

No sound.

No nothing.

You were staring straight into his soul in that moment.

"So you'll have to excuse me if ever so often I get a little starstruck with the person who literally wrote the wrong that kept me from killing myself." you said lowly.

You finally looked around to see the rest of the members there, skin heating with embarassment that they'd just watched you and Jimin verbally rip each other's throats out and then hear your suicide attempt story.

You looked at Jimin once more before you shook your head and pushed your way through the members.

Several tried to comfort you but you didn't want to hear it.  

You just wanted out.

And that was exactly what you did, shoving through the door and disappearing from sight.

Immediately, upon the slam of the door, Jimin erupted into tears, crashing to the ground.

He hadn't known any of that.

Taehyung rushed to his side, pulling him into his arms and trying to calm him down enough to function.

Yoongi pursed his lips before going after you.

He knew what it was like to pick at old scars like that and how fresh those old wounds could still be.

He caught up to you rather easily, insisting that you let him take you out to eat.

You fought him on it but he did something that he rarely ever did.

He pulled out his super power on you and used his cuteness.

And you couldn't resist the lil meow meow so you caved... just like he knew you would.

You didn't mind it as much as you thought you would.

Yoongi didn't push you and instead the two of just enjoyed a meal together.

You fought him over the check but he already slipped the waitress his card before you could even get a word in edgewise.

Then he took you to a local dog park, watching puppies chase their own tails because he knew it was impossible to watch dogs smack into each other and not smile.

He didn't force you to talk or to address what had just happened.

But what he did do was stay with you, offer you kindness, made sure you ate and did something that made you smile.

He reached out to place his hand on yours and gave it a squeeze.

"I won't pretend that I know what you've been through.  I'm not that arrogant and I'm not you.  But I do understand what it's like to get to a point where you don't want to do it anymore." he said as the two of you focused on a pomeranian with an attitude problem who reminded you both of Yeontan.

"You can talk to me.  Anytime." he said.  "I know I don't usually say alot but I'll listen. I promise."

"Thanks, Yoongi.  I'm fine.  I promise.  I'm alot better now.  I'm not the person I used to be.   Things are different.  Jimin just really hit a nerve with what he was saying and I snapped." you explained.

He nodded with a sigh.

"Jimin is someone who is full of emotion.  He's passionate.  That sometimes means that he loses his temper when he's scared.  He loves you and he's more insecure about losing you than he lets on.   He didn't express that in the right way at all.  I won't defend him on that.  I'm just saying, don't give up just because you two had a fight.  A hell of one, mind you.  Do you realize that you're terrifying when you're angry?"

You finally broke into a laugh at his words.

"I thought Jimin was the scary one." you commented, knowing very well that every single one of them collectively thought Jimin was terrifying when he was really angry.

"Shit, he's a punk compared to you." Yoongi chuckled. "You looked like an absolute demon.  If I hadn't seen it for myself, I'd have never believed sweet Y/N looked like she was forged in the fires of hell."

You nearly snorted at his response before finally looking over at him.

"Thanks, Yoongi.  Really.  You made me feel a lot better." you admitted. "I'm glad you came after me.  This was much better than how I likely would've handled it."

"How would you have handled it?" he questioned.

"Probably something self sabotaging and toxic as hell." you shrugged. "Or maybe I just would've cried when I cooled off.  Or took off.  I've been known to jump in the car and just keep driving when I'm angry.  It's literally me running from my problems but for the lazy because fuck that.  I'm not running from anybody.  Zombies can just eat this ass."

He shook with laughter.

It was one of the reasons he liked you a lot and he thought you were perfect for Jimin.

You were naturally funny and had a great wit about you... and you were tough.  

You needed to be tough if you were going to date someone who worked in the business they did.

You don't fall in love with the idol, you fall for the person.... but that person still has a job and to be their partner is really hard.

It wasn't for the weak of heart.

The two of you sat there for a while.

You'd turned your phone off almost instantly as soon as you cleared the building, not even entertaining the thought of dealing with any questions.

You assumed that Yoongi had likely told someone he was with you since he'd been with you for hours and no one was calling him.

You took in his profile as he watched a squirrel run up a tree.

You could practically see him thinking.

"Just spit it out." you sighed and his lips quirked just a little before looking at you.

"What makes you think I have something to say?" he questioned.

"Because, unfortunately, we are too much alike in some ways." you said.  

He chuckled, "All I'm going to say is, cut Jimin some slack.   He's crazy about you.   Anyone can see that.   And also, give him a chance to digest everything you just told him today.  That was a lot.   You know that better than anyone."

"I didn't mean to tell him like that." you shrugged. "I didn't mean to tell him that at all."

"Why not?" Yoongi asked, very seriously.  "You love Jimin right?"

"Yeah, of course." you said.

"And you trust him?" he said.

"Yeaaahhh." you said.

"Then how come you haven't talked to him about that before?" he asked.

"Because we've only been together for three months, Yoongi and we haven't spent a ton of time with one another in those three months. You don't just blurt your past suicide attempts out to people like that." you all but snapped.

You were getting defensive and he knew it.

But Yoongi also knew that you were only being like that because he'd hit a nerve.

He knew because he was like that at times.

"You were friends before you got together." he pointed out. "I know you're an Army. I get it.  But you and Jimin clicked at that fan event that day.  Don't get me wrongs.  He's a hopeless flirt but Jimin has never willingly forked over his phone number like that.   He didn't even know your name and he was hooked."

You ground your teeth because you knew he was right.

"All I'm saying is, give him a chance.  He's jealous of Joon.  He can't help it.  A part of him wants to be your bias because he's your boyfriend.  I can get that." Yoongi shrugged.

"It's not like Joon is my bias is a romantic way, Yoongi." you sighed.  "I literally just -"

"I know." Yoongi cut you off.  "I know.  I get it.  Trust me.  We are all painfully aware of that situation now."

You chewed on your lip, vulnerable at having your business out there like that.

"Hey." he said reaching for your hand.  "I didn't meant that to come off the way it did.  I'm glad we know.  I wish you hadn't felt like you were so backed into the corner that you had to come out with it like that.  But still, it's good to know that about you.   I think it'll bring us closer as a group."

You just nodded.

He sighed, "Listen, I'm gonna tell you something that I think we'll help.   Men are rather simple in a lot of ways.  Some not so much but others- incredibly so."

You lifted a brow at him.

"Ok?"

"Explain that Joon's work inspires you and it helped you through a lot." he said.

"I literally just-"

"No, stop and listen to me." he cut you off.  "Explain that you admire Namjoon and his work. You love his writing.   This is also true for me or Hobi right?  You and I have talked for hours about some of my stuff and I know you and Hobi sat there and dissected Hope World for like three days.   You admire the work, the lyrics, the content, right?"

"Well, yeah, but-"

"I know that it's a little different with Joon because his song was the first one you'd heard and it was a rather traumatic time.  So there's somewhat of an emotional attachment there.  And honestly, I think that's what Jimin is so scared of." he said.

"Scared of what?  It's music and yeah, I love the way Joon writes and yeah it was a crazy time but I'm in love with Jimin." you argued.

"Jimin is scared that Namjoon could take you away from him." Yoongi said directly.  

"What?" you gasped. "But I love Jimin."

"I know that." Yoongi said.  "Everyone knows that. But he also knows how much you obsess over anything Joon writes."

"It's good music." you said.

Yoongi nodded, "Yeah, it is.  But Jimin has likely got it in his head that you could easily just run off with Joon and have this philosophical conversations about poetry and lyrics.  I'd be willing to be money on it that he's insecure because you didn't start out loving BTS, you started out loving RM.   And that scares him."

"It was never about loving RM or BTS." you countered. "I needed those lyrics.  I liked RM as a musician.  I liked BTS as a group.  But I fell in love with Jimin.  And I'll tell you another god damn thing, I never fucking meant to either! I didn't want to love anyone after that shit happened!"

Your temper was flaring, which truthfully was dangerous, as Yoongi could match you in it.

But he also realized you were just very sensitive right now and not actually angry so he just watched you calmly.

"I didn't want to fall in love with anyone.  Ever again, Yoongi.  I was terrified.  I'm still terrified.  But I met Jimin and he fucking smiled at me and I crumbled.  It wasn't really about me falling in love with him.  I jumped head first into the darkness because even though it scared me shitless, I didn't care.  He's worth it.  No matter what."

You didn't realize that you'd gotten to your feet until Yoongi was smiling at you and he gently nodded over your shoulder.

You turned around and there he was.  

Of course.

Jimin.

With his expressive dark eyes and his dreamy lips.

As cliche as it is, it was almost as if time stopped.

There was nothing else but Jimin and you.

It became a race to get to one another and as soon as you got within arms reach of each other, your kisses were feverent.

"I'm sorry's" and "No I'm sorry" and "You didn't do anything wrong"  "I was just jealous" "No, no, no"

They all clanged together in a jumbled mess of mutterings slurred with kisses.

"Joon is not my bias, Jimin." you breathed.

"Baby, it's fine.  It's not a big deal.  I just got a little -"

"No, listen." you breathed.  "He's not.  I admire him.  I admire his work.  But he's not my bias.  I don't have a bias."

Jimin pulled back to look at you, "What?"

"I don't have a bias." you clarified.  "I don't pick favorites."

"Uh..." he said.

"I don't have a bias." you repeated. "But I do have something else.  Something super special."

"What's that?" he asked, brows furrowed.

"A keeper." you said.

"A keeper?" he asked.

"Yep, the keeper of my heart.  Only one person can be that and that's you."

It was cheesy.

Ridiculously so.

But Jimin melted for you and he squeezed your soft body to his so tightly that you could barely breathe.

And all the while, Min Yoongi sat on that park bench, watching the scene from the corner of his eye, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Smug grin ever permanent on his impish features.

"Lil Meow Meow strikes again..." he whispered to himself.

------

—-

Hey loves!

I hope you enjoyed and I’d love to hear your thoughts!

If you’re interested in any of my other BTS works you can find the masterlist HERE

Love,

Mama Kennysaurus

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——- Also, just a reminder that I am open for commissions! Additionally, the only tag list I have is my permanent tag list but if you ever want to be added all you have to do is just go to the ask box and request to be added! It’s that simple and you’re in! I love you all!

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[btxtreads]

Hero

CHAPTER 6: STARSTRUCK (PART B)

↳ Pairing: Kang Taehyun x Reader

↳ word count: 1.3k words

↳ rating: G

↳ genre: y/n is the literal definition of hot n cold HAHA :D, part b was rushed this chapter sucks tbh, fluff?

“Oh my god, you aren’t dead.”

Taehyun sighed as Beomgyu gasped dramatically, hands frantically turning the girl’s head left and right to check for further injuries. Taehyun gripped the stirring wheel firmly, determined to race home in time.

“Gyu, I got hit by a door, not a train.” The girl sighed, batting away the boy’s hands and bringing back the ice pack to the back of her head. “Where are we going? I thought you were bringing me home?”

Taehyun’s eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised at the girl as Beomgyu doted on her.

“I am—just, uh, making a quick pitstop.”

“To?”

“My house, real quick.” Taehyun replied, pulling into a massive garage. “I just have something to do.”

“Oh!” Beomgyu gasped. “It’s the—thing.”

“Yeah.” Taehyun sighed, turning off the car and placing it back to the boys’ hands. “Here you go, hyung.”

“Just stay here, don’t do anything.” Taehyun commanded before walking off, hands in his pocket.

“Is he always like that?” Y/N mumbled under her breath, making Beomgyu chuckle as he led her into the younger’s house.

“He’s cute, right?” Beomgyu giggled, gently pushing her towards the snack bar. “Look, chocolate!”

Y/N grinned at the boy’s childlish nature, shaking her head slightly as she took a plate with a small slice of chocolate cake.

“Hi!” came a bubbly voice from nearby, making both teens turn to see Taehyun step up the big stage. “Welcome!”

“Didn’t know he could smile that big if it’s not bullying Yeonjun-hyung.” Beomgyu wondered out loud, making the girl giggle.

“I’m here to perform a song for you guys. It’s still a little rough,” Taehyun shrugged as he placed the microphone in his hands on the stand nearby. “but it’s a work in progress.”

Y/N’s eyes wandered around as the first notes of the music started, catching sight of big names in Seoul standing idly around her.

Producers, youtubers, actors and actresses, singers—all of them in one location watching Taehyun sing.

I’m no superman, I can’t take your hand

and fly you anywhere you want to go.

The rest of the TXT boys flocked in from the entrance, bright smiles towards everyone as they made their way over to the snack table.

I can’t read your mid like a billboard sign,

and tell you everything you want to hear but

I’ll be your hero.

Y/N sighed, watching all the girls in the audience swoon. She was already so over the K-Pop drama. Beomgyu swung an arm around her shoulders with a grin.

“He’s good, right?”

“He is,” Y/N shrugged. “But he still hit me with a metal door.”

Beomgyu chuckled.

Caus I, I can be everything you need.

If you’re the one for me, like gravity,

I’ll be unstoppable.

“Hi, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself back there. I’m Yeonjun.” The pink-haired member of TXT piped up as he appeared next to Y/N.

“Hey, I’m Y/N.” She introduced herself. “I watched some of your stuff. You’re really good.”

“Thanks!” Yeonjun grinned, doing a quick high-five with Beomgyu as a greeting. “You liking the party so far?”

“I guess I would if I had to choice to come here.” Y/N snorted. “I just want to come home.”

I, yeah, I believe in destiny.

I may be an ordinary guy with heart and soul.

“Ah, not a fan?” The other tall, black-haired member of TXT came with a smile. “I’m Soobin, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N, and I listen to him sometimes but I don’t follow you guys.”

“She didn’t even know I was in TXT until I told her.” Beomgyu snorted, wincing as Y/N placed a direct hit to his stomach. “Ow, Y/N. That still hurts.”

But if you’re the one for me,

I’ll be a hero.

“I’m Hueningkai!” the last member introduced himself as the last note of the song sounded out, appearing with a huge chunk of cake on his plate.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you.” The girl introduced softly, watching as Taehyun jumped off the stage and walked over to them. “I want to go home, Kang.”

“God,” Taehyun sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I will, in a bit.”

“No,” Y/N pursed her lips. “You’ve had way too much detours.”

Beomgyu chuckled, exchanging glances with the rest of the TXT members before ruffling Y/N’s hair.

“You guys go, we’ll cover for you, Taehyun.” Beomgyu said, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s temple. “Drive safe.”

“Tell that to your friend.” Y/N mumbled, shooting a glare at Taehyun’s direction.

“Hey,” Taehyun scoffed, pocketing Beomgyu’s car keys. “I’m a great driver.”

“No, you really aren’t.” Y/N shot back as Taehyun led her to the garage. “Now, take me home.”

Y/N sighed in relief as they pulled up to her driveway. Her eyes immediately latched onto the car parked in the front lawn.

“We’re here.” Y/N sighed in relief. “Thanks for finally driving me home.”

Taehyun rolled his eyes, sighing as the girl made her way out the car.

“Tell Beomgyu you came home safe or he’ll beat me up.” Taehyun called out, making the girl grin sarcastically.

“I’d pay to see that.”

Before Taehyun could open his mouth to retort, his eyes flickered up to his rearview mirror to see a familiar black van rolling up.

“What?”

“I-I need to hide.” Taehyun whispered urgently. “The paps found me.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously, dude.” Taehyun’s frantic eyes flew over to her. “Please, I can’t risk my career, I’m not supposed to be out right now.”

Y/N pursed her lips, glaring at the boy. The gears in her brain moved, making her sigh in exasperation and guilt. She can’t exactly abandon Beomgyu’s best friend.

“Fine.” Y/N rolled her eyes, and entered the car once more. “We have a garage.”

Taehyun sighed in relief, following the girl’s directions. Once they rolled into the garage and successfully closed the garage’s gates, Y/N turned abruptly to the confused popstar in her garage.

“You look like a lost puppy,” Y/N teased, pulling out a box with camping gear. “Here’s a blanket and a pillow for tonight. Please be out of here before morning.”

“I will,” Taehyun nodded. “Thanks for this.”

“No problem.”

“Do you have anything for me to hide myself in before I leave tomorrow?” Taehyun asked. “All I have in the car is Beomgyu-hyung’s hoodie.”

“Um,” Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as she scanned the boxes in the shelves. “Check the second box to the right, I think those have hats.”

Taehyun nodded firmly, pulling out the box and rummaging.

“Why are you so desperate to hide?” Y/N tilted her head. “I thought you guys liked paps?”

“No, not really.” Taehyun explained, pulling out a bucket hat. “They see something and twist it to their own narratives for a story. Paps can break you with one rumor. I don’t want that to happen.”

“That sucks, what freedom do you have left?”

“Comes with the work.” Taehyun shrugged, placing the bucket hat on his head. “Everything I’m doing, I’m doing for Solomon and MOA. If it means I have to be a little bit careful in public, then fine.”

Y/N smiled in understanding, nodding softly as she looked up at the hat.

“That’s my grandpa’s bucket hat that he used a lot when we were kids.” Y/N said.

“Oh, do you want me to take it off?”

“No, no. Keep it.” Y/N waved him off. “You look good.”

“Oh.” Taehyun blinked in surprise. “Thank you.”

“Well, good night.” Y/N sighed, opening the door to the house. “See you around.”

“I’ll see you the next time you meet Beomgyu.”

“Sure,” Y/N smiled. “I’ll be waiting, then.”

#txtarcadianet #txt #txt au #txt x reader #txt imagine #txt fic #txt fanfic #txt scenario #txt social media #txt social media au #txt social media imagine #txt fake text #txt fake text au #txt fake text imagine #txt taehyun #txt idol au #taehyun #taehyun au #taehyun imagine #taehyun fic #taehyun fanfic #taehyun scenario #taehyun social media #taehyun social media au #taehyun social media imagine #taehyun fake text #taehyun fake text au #taehyun fake text imagine #taehyun idol au #taehyun txt

[everything-person]

Last Voyage

Summary: Emma surprises Killian with an old fashioned voyage with his old crew then Killian has a surprise for Emma

*cough cough*

“You alright?”

“Fine love. Just needed to clear my throat.”

Killian and Emma were walking along the beach in the early morning slowly making their way to the docks.

“We’re almost there.”

“What’s with all the secrecy love?”

Emma smiles up at him there was a shine in her eyes, “You’ll see.”

They made their way down the pier where the Jolly Roger was docked.

“Do you wish to have another one of our private adventures aboard the Jolly Roger? If that’s all you could have just said Swan.”

“Not this time.”

They made their way into the deck where they were greeted by some familiar faces.

“Welcome aboard Captain.”

Before them stood Henry, Hope, Smee and some of his old crew.

Killian smiled while also furrowing his brow. Turning to his wife for answers.

“I thought you might wish to have a day at sea. Re-live your glory days.”

“My glory days started the day I met you Swan.” Picking up her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. “Will you be joining me, love?”

“No,” she whispered, “not this time. I have somethings to take care of.”

He turned to Henry and Hope. He approached them with open arms.

“Then it’s looks like we’ll be having all the fun. Don’t worry love I’ll have them back before Sundown and we will eagerly enrapture you with our tales of our adventurous day.”

Henry looked down before meeting his eyes, “Actually we promised mom we’d help her with her stuff today. Maybe tonight we can play dice. I might just beat you this time.”

“Oh then perhaps I should give Dave a call. Show him what a pirates life was like.”

Henry shifted clearing his throat before saying, “Uh Grandpa is taking care of the sheriff office while we are helping mom today. Sorry but you stuck with your old crew for today.”

Killian nodded at Henry before turning his attention to his daughter. She had the same shine in her eyes as her mother, biting her lip, looking anywhere but at him.

“What’s wrong lass?”

She inhaled a deep breath before speaking, “Nothing Papa. I’ll just miss you.”

He cupped his daughters face, “Don’t worry, my little cygnet. I’ll be home tonight.”

She nodded embracing him. She burrows her face in his chest breathing him in. “I love you Papa.”

Killian squeezes his daughter not sure what has her so distraught, “I love you to my little cygnet. From your first breath far beyond my last.”

Hope let go heading to the gang plank quickly, without another glance to her father.

Henry approached the man that’s been a mentor, a father figure to him. Wrapping him in his arms, “Good bye Killian.”

Letting go he followed his sister down the gang plank waiting for his mother at the bottom.

Killian turned to see the love of his life standing there. She took slow step towards him her eyes never leaving his. Reaching up held his face, her eyes scanned every inch.

“What’s wrong Emma?”

She’s hooked her head offering him a smile, “Nothing. It just. . . sometimes I can’t believe that blacksmith I tied to a tree that said I need him alive would be so right.”

Killian chuckled, “Aye. Sometimes I can’t believe I forgot about that damned bar wench that kissed the hell out of me.”

She smiled, leaning up catch his lips in a soft kiss. Pulling away she rested her forehead against his, “I love you Killian. Thank you for everything.”

“I love you too Emma. Forever and always.”

Her hands slid down his cheeks to his neck over his shoulders down his arm grasping his hook and hand. Her eyes never leaving his, she started backing away holding onto his hand until she was to far away to hold on any more. Letting her hand fall she turned making her way off the ship. Henry reaches out his hand to help her off the last step intertwining her arm with him.

“When did you become such a gentleman?”

“I’m always a gentleman mom. I learned from the best.”

They made their way up the pier. They say and watched as the ship set sail. Her Captain on the quarter deck waving to his family before turning to wheel where he belonged.

As they stood watching Hope couldn’t hold in her emotions anymore. A sob escaped her lips, as tears started pouring out her eyes. “He should be home. We should be with him.”

Emma embraces her daughter, “That’s never how he wanted to go.”

“But he was fine. He was walking and knew who we were.”

“He also thought Grandpa was alive. He didn’t see us. He probably saw you as the little girl who would ask him to close the window so Peter Pan couldn’t get her. He probably saw me as the ten year old boy he helped rescue from Neverland.”

Emma pulled away looking at her children who have grown into adults that stood before her now.

“Yes but he is so proud of the people you have become. He was so happy to be a father and be apart of this family. He loves you both so much.”

Hope let out another sob as Henry wrapped an arm around her, letting one lone tear slide down his cheek.

“Besides it’s for the best he didn’t see me as I am now. A wrinkly old crown with gray straw for hair,” Emma let out a breathy laugh.

Henry shook his head, “He saw you as you actually are. He always has. The beautiful Savior.”

Emma smiled at her son, “Come on let’s go home.”

Later Emma was going through some things in their room. Remembering all the good times they’ve shared in this house. The wonderful life he shared with her.

She opened his night stand finding the copy of Treasure Island she gave him.

“This is ridiculous. This person obviously had no idea what they were bloody talking about,” Killian muttered.

Emma rolled over, “Babe Go to bed.”

“This book is an atrocity love.”

“Then stop reading it.”

“Why would I do that when they just started the mutiny?”

She laughed to herself. She would always try showing him how this realm reviews pirates with movies and books. Every time he would get riled up but any time she suggested to turn it off or throw the book out he would refuse having to see how it ends.

The next thing she pulled out was a familiar black scarf.

“So now you’re a gentleman?”

“Giants can smell blood. And I’m always a gentleman.” Hook said before putting liquid on her hand.

“Ah! Ow! What is that?”

“Rum and a bloody waste of it.”

He gently wrapped her hand with the soft material tying it off with his mouth. Her fingers lightly brushing against his cheek.

Emma sighed remembering the spark she felt. Wondering not for the first time how much more time they would’ve had if she trusted him. If they came back together. How different their adventures would’ve been.

Something shiny caught her eye and she reached in and pulled out the last item in the drawer.

It was one of his hooks.

Killian kicked open their bedroom door while his lips fused to her. Her legs wrapped around his hips her latched around his neck.

Coming up for air Emma whispers, “Never do that again.”

“I’ll never leave your side even if the gods try to rip us a apart,” he promised before capturing her lips again.

Falling onto the bed they began divesting each other of their clothing. Killian reaches to take off his hook. Emma reaches her hand up, only in her bra and underwear, looking at him through her eyelashes.

“Leave it on.”

Killian groans, “You little minx.”

Emma sighed. As the memory fades away. So many nights, and some days, filled with passion. Both of them always willing to show the other how much they love them. Always up to meet a challenge.

Moving to put the items back in their respective places the book falls from her lap and clatters to the floor. Emma places the scarf and hook back before reaching down picking up the book. When she lifts it a note falls from its pages. Placing the book on the bed she once again reaches down and grabs the fallen piece of paper.

Unfolding it she is greeted with Killian hand writing.

‘Dearest Swan,

I’m sorry. I never wished to leave and now I have no choice in the matter. It seems to be a cruel joke. To be sent back to you by the gods themselves only to have my mind unravel while I’m still with you. I know I don’t have much time left. And I plan to cherish every moment with you I can.

When I do go, all I wish is to be at your side. For the last thing I hold is our family in my arms. The last thing I touch be your face. The last thing I taste be you lips. The last thing I see is the love in your eyes for me. If I am to drawn my last breath I wish it is your kiss that steals it.

And when I am gone. I will keep my promise I made all those years ago. I will move on but I promise you no heaven the gods can provide will compare to the life I have lived with you.

You are the love on my life. The mother of my children. My wife. My savior. My true love.

However long we are apart that will never change. My love will stay with you and I hope give you comfort in your time of need. And when it is your time I can only hope that the gods will once again reunite us.

Until then I ask that every day you live. Hug our children and give them an extra squeeze for me.

With all my love. Yours from the end of the realms and time.

Killian’

Tears fell freely from her eyes. They were never sure if Killian knew what was happening to him. Now she had proof that he did.

A noise pulled her from her thoughts. Still clutching the note to her chest she made her way downstairs. Sharp knocking was coming from her front door.

She opened it to find a pair of blue eye that she engraved into her memory.

“Killian.”

He bent down wrapping her in his arms, burying his face in her neck.

“Sorry ma’am I know you weren’t expecting us so soon but he insisted on turning around and coming home,” Smee explained his signature hat in his hands.

“That’s alright. Thank you for bringing him home.”

Smee nodded, closing the door as he left.

“Why did you send me away love?”

“I thought you’d like to be at sea when the time came.”

Killian finally lifted his head, his gaze burning into her, “Don’t you know Swan all I have ever wanted was to be with you.”

Emma gave him a sad smile, “I do now.”

They made their way up to their bed laying down curling up together one last time. They not sure how long they laid there just enjoying their time together.

Killian reaches up brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I think it’s time love.”

Emma nodded scooting closer.

“I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“You aren’t,” she said with a shaky breath her lip quivering, “You will always be with me. And I’ll follow you shortly.”

She leaned up capturing his lips once last time. She pulls away resting her forehead against his.

“I love you Emma Swan,” he whispered.

She watched as the deep blue eyes that looked last all her walls that have always saw her closed for the last time.

A tear fell from her eye landing on his cheek sliding down his face.

“I love you Killian Jones.”

#ouat #once upon a time #emma swan #captain hook #killian jones #cs fanfic #cs ff #cs one shot #cs angst

[lu-undy]

Happy birthday, Solitude But Two!

Here is a bonus Chapter!

"You guys will be alright, yeah?" 

"Of course, Micky, it's not the first time you leave the kitties with us." 

"But it's gonna be more than an evenin' this time. Also, before I forget, I put one of Lu's shirts in the bag, they need it to sleep, don't forget it or they'll harass you until you give it to them."

Perle was gladly following Caroline around while Soot lay on Mike's lap, purring as the old man gently massaged the black cat. 

"Bah, we raised you and we used to have cats as well as dogs."

"Your Mum's right." Mike answered from the sofa. "We'll be fine. You go and have fun with Lucien. Did you tell him by the way?" 

"Nah, not yet. I'm keepin' it a surprise for him. Speaking of, I really gotta go or we’ll be late. He’s waitin’ to have lunch with me before I take him." 

"You arranged everythin'?" Caroline asked.

"Yeah, almost. Right, you guys take care, alright?"

"We will, Micky, you go and have your fun with your Lu'." Caroline answered as Mundy opened the front door.

"Meow!" Perle came trotting to her father and Soot jumped out of Mike's lap to join her. 

"Oh, sure, baby, c'mere you guys…" Mundy squatted down and dealt headbutts and scratches left and right to both the felines. "You behave with Grandma and Grandpa, yeah?" 

"Meow." 

"Good babies." He left a kiss on their heads and pushed himself back to stand up. "See ya!"

"See you in a few weeks, Micky!" 

A few moments later, the Aussie was on his motorcycle, racing through the streets and in his own mind. He had been preparing this for a while now. 

It had been one year. 

One year since he had put a ring on Lucien's finger and vice versa. Well, it would be one year exactly in a few days and this was what it was all about, celebrating the first anniversary of Lucien and him being… well… husbands? 

Of course, their legal status remained single but in their hearts and their heads, they were very much taken and faithful to each other. Mundy never did attract a lot of attention from ladies and gents, but Lucien… 

Every time the couple was having dinner outside, or enjoying a party with the few friends they had made, one person would walk to Lucien and hit on him. The first time it happened, it was a woman but Mundy nonetheless felt the itch to show her the rings, Lucien's and his. As he came close to his lover, he heard Lucien chuckle at the poor woman's attempt to pull her into her bed. He remembered it with a smile now…

“Oh, here you are, Mundy.”

“Hey, Lu.”

The woman had raised her eyes to the Aussie. 

“This your friend?” She asked. 

“More than that…” Lucien put a hand on Mundy’s chest and leaned on him. “Please meet my everything, Mundy. Mundy, this is the charming Amanda.”

“Hey there.” Mundy had stuck to being cold but polite, a defensive hand went to grab his Lucien and pull him to himself, almost defensively. 

“What d’you mean, ‘your everything’?” She chuckled with a raised eyebrow, confused and slightly mocking. 

“I mean this.” Lucien answered and pulled Mudy’s neck down for the Aussie to be at his lips height. He pushed a loving kiss on his lips and released him. Mund opened his eyes again, his mind still on the kiss even though Lucien’s lips had parted from his. 

Amanda’s jaw hung low and wide. 

“He is my husband, look!” Lucien went on, uphased. “This is the ring. It has only been a few months, mind you, time flies, but we love each other as if we were half our ages… Oh? Amanda?”

The woman had spun on her heels and left, leaving Lucien to chuckle and turn back to Mundy. 

“So, mon loup, are you enjoying your evening?” 

[My wolf]

“Uh… Y-yeah… Wasn’t she hittin’ on you?” Mundy nodded in the direction of the woman. 

“She was, very much.” Lucien answered. “But for some reason she left now. I cannot think why… Women shall remain a mystery!”

“Maybe that’s cause you snogged me like there’s no tomorrow in front of her?” Mundy answered.

“Oh, that? Maybe.” Lucien answered and leaned against Mundy’s shoulder again. He stared at the woman refilling her glass with whatever strong alcohol she could find before he raised his light blue eyes to his lover. 

They exchanged a smile. 

“You’re a devil, you know that?” Mundy said. 

“Maybe, but I am having great fun.”

“Why did you do that to her? You could have just said that you were already with someone.”

“And miss this laughter we shared? For nothing in the world. This ring that she chose to ignore,” Lucien raised his hand to Mundy. “It means that I vowed to make you happy. You did laugh, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, I did. “

“Then I am upholding my vows. Très bien.”

[Very well] 

 “You’re mean, Lu’. Look at her now…”

“I am not mean. If anything, she was.”

“What?!” Mundys eyebrows jumped in surprise.

“I am wearing my engagement ring and she still chooses to approach me. She knew she was taking a risk and she liked the thrill of it. Well, let this be a lesson for her: not all the risks are worth taking, Madame Amanda.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Mundy agreed. 

And Mundy reached his destination, which pulled him out of his daydream. He parked the motorcycle safely and entered his house. 

“Mon loup, c’est toi?”

[My wolf, is that you?]

“Oui, mon amour.”

[Yes, my love.]

Lucien rose from his armchair and met his love at the front door. 

"Your accent when you speak French is delicious…" He said before pushing himself to the tip of his toes and kissing Mundy. 

"I'm makin' progress, aren't I?" Mundy laced his arms around Lucien's waist.

"Oui, but please, never lose your accent." 

"If it goes like it does with you, I'll still have my accent in a hundred years."

"Are you saying I am old?" Lucien frowned in an exaggeratedly sad way. 

"I'm not the one spendin' my time sayin' 'You'll see when you get to my age', eh!"

"Pfff…" 

They chuckled together.

"You ready?" Mundy asked. 

"Where are you taking me for lunch?"

"Where d'you think?"

"Hm…" The couple exited the house and Mundy locked the door as Lucien thought out loud. "Maybe the new Lebanese place that opened in town? I am told it is exquisite and very reasonable in price." 

"Since when d'you care about the price of things?" Mundy smiled. "Oh, no, no, Lu', we're not goin' with the bike. I called a taxi." 

"Oh? This means that you intend to get drunk, so maybe the Irish pub? But isn't it early to get drunk?"

"Never too early to be with you, baby." Mundy raised his arm for the taxi to stop while Lucien's blush took a moment to fade. 

They both embarked in the taxi. 

"Where to, Sir?" The driver asked. 

"Where I told you on the phone, please." Mundy answered. 

"Alright." The driver let his foot press on the gas pedal and off they all went. 

"Tu me caches des secrets?"

[You are holding secrets from me?]

"Oui." Mundy answered. 

"Dis-moi où tu m'emmènes." Lucien asked.

[Tell me where you are taking me.]

Mundy shook his head and took a glance in the inside rear view mirror. The driver was busy. Good. The Aussie slid his hand to take his lover’s. 

“C’est une surprise, doll.” He answered with his accent. 

[It’s a surprise.]

“D’accord.” Lucien smiled and nodded.

[Very well.]

And the ride took them away from where the usual restaurants the couple frequented used to go. Lucien straightened his back and looked through the window. He started frowning when he saw the control tower of the airport, the same one he had landed in, a few years ago now. And it got him thinking. What if he could go back and see the Lucien that disembarked on the plane that day. Would the slightly younger Lucien believe him if he had told him what he would become? What would he even tell him? 

Tu rencontreras l’homme de ta vie et ta vie basculera. Tu ne demanderas plus comment ni pourquoi. Tu vivras l’instant, tout simplement, comme quand tu avais vingt ans. Tu vivras et aimeras, comme quand tu avais vingt ans. Tu seras heureux comme jamais tu ne l’as été. 

[You will meet the man of your life and your life will flip upside down. You will not wonder how or why anymore. You will live the instant, simply, as you did when you were twenty. You will live and you will love, as you did when you were twenty. You will be happy as you never were before.]

Would the younger Lucien believe him or would he laugh at him, scornful and disdainful, before he would realise that perhaps, the older him was senile, old, and out of his mind? 

Pff, in the end, Lucien did not even care. He smiled at that version of himself. The bitter, cynical and lonely old man. He was now even older, but so much happier…! 

"Lu'?" 

Mundy's voice broke the Frenchman's train of thought. 

"Oui?" 

"Je t'aime." 

[I love you.] 

Mundy said those words with such honesty in his eyes that Lucien's cheeks turned pink on their own. 

"Moi aussi."

[Me too.]

He smiled back at him and clenched his fingers a bit harder between Mundy's. 

"Alright, we're gettin' there, Sir. Which door should I drop you at?" The driver asked. 

"Departures, please." Mundy answered, his eyes sealed on Lucien's and the Frenchman's eyebrows jumped. 

"Departures?" He repeated.

"Yeah."

"Are we… travelling?"

"Yeah." 

"But Mundy, we haven't taken any luggage with us?" 

"Don't be silly." Mundy gently chuckled as the driver parked. 

Both men exited the car and Mundy winked at Lucien. 

"C'mon, Lu', keep up! We don't wanna miss the flight…!"

"W-wait!" Lucien caught up with his lover. 

The airport was as busy as an anthill. People coming, going, running, pushing carts, holding their hats on their heads as they ran. 

"Mundy, were you serious?" 

"Course I am! We're goin', c'mon!" Mundy glanced up at a screen and quickly spun on his heels to change direction. Lucien followed, sometimes even trotting after his lover. 

"But where are we going?" 

"Told you, and in French at that, it's a surprise." 

"You cannot keep the surprise going forever, I will soon know." Lucien answered. 

"Yeah, but meanwhile, I'm likin' this whole 'Lu' doesn't know what's happenin'' business." Mundy smirked and looked down at Lucien, which he knew the Frenchman had a weakness for. 

"I shall find out myself!"

"Alright, good luck, Sherlock." Mundy winked and Lucien smiled. 

They walked through halls and corridors. 

"Uh, uh, uh! Gimme what you took from my pocket back!" Mundy stopped walking and turned to Lucien

"How could you possibly know?!" Lucien stopped. "I made every effort for you not to feel it!"

"You stole somethin' from my back pocket." Mundy said and opened his palm flat. "Give it back…" 

"How did you know?" Lucien frowned. 

Mundy sighed with a smile. He took the step that separated him from his lover and bent slightly such that his lips were next to the Frenchman's ear.

"I felt you touched my butt, and I liked it."

"Ah…" Lucien lowered his head and raised the plane tickets that he had taken from Mundy's back pocket. 

"Thank you, now stop bein' a spook and follow me."

They went on following sign after sign and looking at all the screens they met. 

"Here, that's the search thingy. I hope you don't have your blade with you." Mundy said as they queued. 

"What do you take me for?"

Both men started undoing their belts. Mundy removed his glasses and his hat. When the Aussie finished, he walked through the metal detector and soon after, his lover followed him. 

BEEP! 

"Ah, oui, I must explain myself." Lucien calmly said and Mundy observed the scene. "This is my passport. If you run a check on me, you will understand." 

The security employee took the passport and disappeared for a while. He came back and his colleague stopped him. 

"Hey, don't let him go, he had a knife in his belongings!"

"No, we have to let him go." The man handed Lucien his passport back. "With the knife and all. Have a good day, Sir, and sorry for the inconvenience." 

"No problem, you are but doing your job, Monsieur." Lucien took his belongings back and left the area. "Mundy? Are you coming? I do not know which gate we should head to."

Mundy had been standing there, his belt half put on, half still dangling down. His jaw had dropped as he watched. 

"Uh, y-yeah."

"Mundy." Lucien stopped him. 

"Yeah?" 

"Maybe you should finish putting your belt first?" Lucien tilted his head on the side and Mundy looked down at his waist. 

"Ah, uh, yeah…" 

A few moments later, both of them were standing in front of a screen. 

"Well, this is the moment where you'll see where I'm takin' you, doll." 

"Oui, it is. So? Which gate shall we go to?" 

"Forty-five." 

Lucien's eyes scanned the screen. 

"Oh… Mundy, but… Why Paris?" 

"Because I love you, and I wanna see what it's like over there."

"I…"

"C'mon, let's go." 

When they sat on the metallic, back-breaking bench at the gate, they chose a corner where they could be alone and in peace.

"Mundy, why go to Paris, honestly?" Lucien looked up at his lover. 

"Told you. I wanna see what your life was like when you were there. I mean… I know you told me you're not from there. But still… Besides, you've been livin' with me in Oz for a while, you've seen me and my life, I wanna see yours."

"I have indeed seen the Bushman in his natural habitat." Both exchanged a chuckle. 

"Look, if you don't want it, we can go back home. I don't wanna force you, baby." Mundy cast his eye around and dropped his hat on his thigh. He then slid his hand and pulled Lucien's underneath it. The Frenchman felt Mundy's thumb brush against the back of his hand.

"So, what d'you say?" Mundy asked.

"I say we go and I will show you the city where I grew up." Lucien answered. 

"You sure?" 

"We are about to board, Mundy, it is rather late to turn and go back home, non?" 

"No, not at all. If you feel awkward or anythin', we can go back home. I wanted to make it a surprise for you but the point's not for you to feel weird about it." 

"Non, Mundy, you are right. I should show you." Lucien clenched his grip on Mundy's hand. 

"You sure? I mean, are you happy to do it?"

"Delighted."

And Mundy took a second to stare in his lover’s eyes. Was he lying just to please him? To not make him feel awkward? The Aussie slightly squinted. He looked through the crystal clear irises to see the soul beyond them. Were Lucien’s lips deceiving the Aussie? Bah, it wouldn’t be the first time but… When was the last time that Lucien had lied?

Hm. 

Oh! Yeah, Mundy remembered it, it was… 

At the lake, almost exactly one year before, the wig. Lucien had worn a wig because he thought his lover could only look at him with the eyes of love when he made himself more feminine. It was obviously wrong and Mundy had tossed the long-haired lie away. That was Lucie’s last one.

Mundy blinked and his eyebrow relaxed. Lucien was not lying. He was looking up at the Aussie with eyes that screamed his limitless love for him. 

“Alright then, doll. Glad you’re happy to show me around.”

“Of course.” Lucien answered. “I am surprised by this trip but welcome it warmly. I think we should probably have done that before but I suppose we did not stop to think about it.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Got any ideas on what we should see?”

“Apart from the classics like the Tour Eiffel, the Arc de triomphe, and other tourist attractions? Hm, I shall think about it.”

“Can I ask you to show me some stuff in particular?”

“But of course. What do you have in mind?”

“Where you lived, where you worked, places you liked to eat at, that kind of thing.” 

"I will."

They exchanged a conniving smile and the call to board the plane interrupted them. 

"Ready, baby?" 

"Oui." 

"Right, let's go and queue." 

A few minutes later, both found their seats in the plane and Mundy looked through the window. The sky was blue despite the relative cold of winter. Well, once in Paris, it will be summer… The plane took off and when the couple was higher in the sky than the clouds themselves, Lucien looked up at Mundy on his left. 

“I am surprised.”

“You’d better. Been hidin’ evidence of everything.”

“How did you do it?”

“Gave the tickets and everything to my Mum.” Mundy smiled. “I even tried to not think about it. I never know with you; could turn out that you can read my thoughts or somethin’.”

Lucien chuckled. 

“I could indeed.” He confirmed with a lingering smirk on his lips. “However, I choose not to.”

“Why?”

“The Lucien of the previous life used to read minds because he needed it.”

“And now it’s just a hobby?” Mundy chuckled. 

“Almost.” Lucien answered. “Non, I value my relationship too much with you to not give you the same privacy that you give me. It is a question of respect. However, it is cute to see you try to read me to see if I lie sometimes.”

“Ah, uh, well…” Mundy scratched the back of his head. “Sorry...  I don’t want you to think that I don’t trust you…”

“Not at all. It gives me the impression that you really want to know what is going on in my head, which I appreciate.”

“Really?”

“Oui, I like this side of you, the side that wants to read all my fears in my eyes before I am fully aware of them.”

Mundy blushed. 

“Yeah, well… Sorry, can’t help it.”

“It is a gift and a blessing, thank you for being so.”

“You’re welcome, baby. But uh, Lu’?”

“Oui?”

“Why did you say you were surprised?”

“Ah…” Lucien chuckled before he even gave the answer. “I did not take you for the business class ticket kind of a man.”

“I was gonna go for the economy thing, but then Mum said that in business we’d get a booth and we wouldn’t be bothered by people givin’ us looks. So I can do this…” Mundy reached for Lucien’s hand and took it. “And no one’ll look weird at us.”

“Cutely thoughtful of you, mon loup.”

“You can thank my Mum for that.”

Both chuckled and Lucien leaned his head on Mundy's shoulder. 

“I will, but in the meantime, thank you, mon amour.”

Minutes passed that turned into hours and the sky naturally darkened. After the dinner they were handed in, the couple closed their eyes. 

“Mornin’, luv’.”

“Bonjour, mon amour.”

[Good morning, my love.]

Both yawned, woken up by the bright morning sun above the clouds. 

“Slept well?”

“I think my neck will hate me for a few hours only. What about you?”

“My legs…”

“How long do we have left until we land?”

“Uh…” Mundy checked his watch. “A few hours…?”

“Mundy.”

“Some number of hours…?”

“Mon loup.”

“Alright, ok, we got three hours left.”

“That isn’t that bad, actually.” Lucien answered, surprised.

“Yup. Oh, Lu’, I just thought about something.”

“Oui?”

“Uhm… Y’know how I told you I wanted to visit your workplace?”

“Oui, I remember.”

“How’re you gonna do it? I mean you're supposed to be dead for the Ministry back there, aren’t you?”

“Indeed, I am. You will have to call me by my second name when we get there so as not to raise suspicions.”

“But you still look like yourself. People will recognise you, won’t they?”

“Non, they will not. I was once a spy: entering places I shouldn't be while being someone I am not was my occupation for decades and not a trade easily forgotten.” Lucien raised his eyes to Mundy. “Do not worry, I will show you the Ministry.” He smiled tenderly.

“Alright, I trust you. But if you think we can’t make it or somethin’, there’s no shame in sayin’ it.”

“Non, absolutely not, you are right. But this will be easy.”

A few hours and a nap later, the pilot announced the imminent landing. Mundy looked at the city below the plane. He could see a river flowing, zigzagging through the capital. 

“C’est la Seine.”

[It is the Seine.]

“Oh…”

“Ca, c’est l’île Saint-Louis… Et ça ? tu peux me dire ce que c’est ?”

[This is the Saint-Louis Island… And this? Can you tell me what it is?]

Lucien pointed and Mundy squinted to see better. 

“It’s… Oh! C’est la Tour Eiffel, non?”

[It’s the Eiffel Tower, isn’t it?]

Mundy answered in French and Lucien looked at him as he always did, yet each time, the Aussie couldn’t help but fall slightly deeper for his lover. 

“Oui, c’est la tour Eiffel.”

[Yes, it is the Eiffel Tower.]

Lucien confirmed. 

“It’s the real thing? It’s tiny…”

Lucien’s smile vanished. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s tiny! I thought it was supposed to be very tall!”

“Well, you will climb it using the stairs and I swear to God your thighs will make you regret these words!” Lucien answered and Lundy burst into laughter. 

“I’m jokin’, you sensitive, patriotic old baby…”

“Hm, joking now, aren’t you…? I will still make you climb to the top of it on the stairs.”

“How many steps is it to the top, d’you know?”

“One thousand six hundred and sixty-five. It takes between half an hour and forty-five minutes to climb it to the second floor which is not even the top.”

“You're pulling that out of your arse, aren’t you?”

“You shall see….!” Lucien leaned back on his seat with a smug smile on his lips. 

“Hm… Hold on, we aren’t gettin’ closer to the ground, the Eiffel Tower’s still tiny…”

“It is because it is forbidden to fly over Paris.”

“Are you serious?”

“Oui, I am, it has been so since the Second World War, if I remember correctly.”

“Woah… You guys know no Germans are gonna come and bully you again, don’t you?”

“We know. But we would rather keep our sky blue and free of planes.” Lucien answered. 

“Fair enough. Makes it more calm I guess."

When the plane landed and both made it through, Mundy held Lucien back in front of the airport's closed doors. 

"Hold on, before we step into actual Paris…"

"Oui?"

"I love you, Lu'." 

Lucien smiled. 

"I love you too."

"Alright, now, we can go." 

They took a step more and the doors slid open. The first rays on the Parisian summer sun hit their skin warmly and the lightest of breezes grazed their cheeks before rolling up to the sky. 

“Here we are then, eh? Paris.” Mundy said looking around him.

“We are outside of the city itself but I guess you booked a hotel inside?” Lucien asked.

“Actually, I didn’t.”

“Oh?” Lucien raised surprised eyebrows. 

“I was kind of counting on you to know where to go…?” Mundy admitted with a half ashamed smile.

“Oh, of course. I have recommendations.”

“You choose then, Lu’. I looked up the hotels and stuff but there were too many of them and I didn’t know which one to pick.”

“It is fine, let us call a taxi, I know where we should go.” Lucien smiled.

“Thanks, Lu’.”

“My pleasure.”

After half an hour inside a taxi, both stepped out in front of a hotel and Lucien waited for the car to disappear behind him. 

“Welcome to the Ritz.” Lucien said and Mundy looked up to take the large three-floor building in. The architecture was nothing like he had seen so far. At the end of a flight of stairs hidden by a red carpet, the doors stood wide and tall between spiral-trimmed slim plants and equally fancy dressed porters. A French flag was flying above the double door that put a slight proud smile on Lucien’s lips. The walls were all made out of light beige stone and on each floor, rectangular windows were neatly and equally spaced. On the first floor were slim balconies adorned with a golden plated logo of the hotel. As Mundy’s eyes followed the column of clean stones, jumping from one window to the one above, he noticed that high up, the roof was covered in dark slate with windows surrounded by smoothly moulded, light beige stone.

“Gosh…”

“Come on, we both need a shower at least.” Lucien smiled at how absorbed Mundy was by the looks of the building. 

The couple decided to take a few days of rest and let the jet-lag fade away slowly. They had their clothes bought and delivered to them at the hotel and enjoyed their meals either in their suite or in the restaurant downstairs. 

“What did you say the room we’re in was called?”

Lucien chuckled. 

“It is not a room, but a suite, mon amour, and it is called the Coco Chanel suite.”

“Funny name…”

“It is the name of a prestigious designer. She designed the room herself.”

“She was French?”

“Oui, she was.”

“Ah, guess it makes sense… How much is it per night?”

“A price that pales next to that of your company.” Lucien poetically answered. 

“Thanks, Lu, but I meant in Francs?”

“About a hundred…”

“Oh that’s quite cheap for a suite.”

“... Thousand Francs per night.”

“WHAT?!” Mundy almost spat his coffee out.

Lucien burst out laughing, catching his breath in the short little snorts that Mundy fell in love with. 

The next couple of days were spent visiting all the tourist-heavy places: the Eiffel Tower, the cathedral of Notre-Dame, the Palace of Versailles… Mundy saw more paintings and sculptures in those few days than he did in his entire life.

“Stop.” 

Lucien’s voice was firm, too firm and cold to be addressing Mundy. The Aussie turned and saw Lucien with his hand on a young man's wrist. 

“Hold on, that’s my wallet in your hand…!” Mundy snatched it back from the stranger's hand. 

“La prochaine fois que tu pick-pocket quelqu’un, choisis mieux ta cible et ne regarde pas autant que ça à droite et à gauche, on te voit venir à des kilomètres.”

[Next time you pickpocket someone, choose your target more carefully and don’t look so much left and right, you are telegraphing all your moves.] 

The young man opened wide eyes and as soon as Lucien released his wrist, he darted off. 

“Attends.”

He stopped and turned to Lucien, a few metres away from him. 

“Tiens. Et tu n’es pas mauvais, tu devrais en faire quelque chose.”

[Here. And you are not bad, you should do something out of it.]

Lucien handed him a note. The young man took it and left. 

“You gave him money?” Mundy asked. 

“Oui.” Lucien resumed his walk and Mundy followed him. 

“Why?”

“Because stealing is rarely a hobby. If one does it, it is out of necessity. Throwing  this young man in a cell will not help him at all. On the other hand, helping him such should.”

Mundy fell silent for a moment. 

“Besides,” Lucien started speaking again. “I was once this young man, only I never got caught.”

The next day, the couple woke up normally. Good, the jet-lag had finally passed. 

“Mundy?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to visit the ministry today?”

The half woken up Australian opened wide eyes in a flash. 

“Sure. Uhm, how are we gonna do this?”

“I have an idea. But I need to call Maurice first. You go and take a shower, I will telephone him and will let you know.”

“Alright.”

A couple of hours later, both men stood in front of an elegant building in the heart of the fifth district of Paris, or as Mundy liked to call it ‘the fancy one”. 

“Shall we?” Lucien asked. 

“I’d follow you but ho ‘re we gonna go through these soldiers?”

Two military looking people were guarding the entry and checking everyones credentials. 

“As easy as just follow me.” Lucien answered with a smile before he took the flight of stairs up and met with the soldiers. 

“Bonjour, Messieurs. Nous venons de la part de Maurice de Ronzières, en Australie.”

[Good morning gentlemen. We come on behalf of Maurice de Ronzières, in Australia.]

“Je dois vérifier.”

[I must check.]

“Faites donc.”

[Pray do.]

Both men waited at the door and when the guard came back to them, he let them in. 

“Gosh, Lu’ - I mean, Louis… We’re in…”

“Oui, welcome to a place that they redecorated and I barely recognise…” Lucien shook his head disappointedly as he held his hips.

“That means we can’t visit it cause you don’t know where stuff is anymore?”

“Non, non.”

“Then why d’you look uh… not happy with it?”

“Because they redecorated and made it is ugly!” Lucien raised his arms in the air before letting them drop again. “Had I been still alive, I would have given the Minister of Defense a piece of my mind…!”

“Hold on…!” Mundy caught up with his lover and walked through the corridors. 

They abruptly stopped walking in front of a small door hidden under the stairs, on which Lucien gave a few knocks. 

“Qui est-ce?”  A muffled, old man’s voice asked.

[Who is it?]

“C’est moi.” Lucien answered and the door opened.

[It’s me.]

“Grand Dieu, Maurice a dit vrai…!”

[Good Lord, Maurice spoke the truth…!]

A short, skinny, old man emerged from what Mundy understood was the broom closet. He had lost most of his hair on his head and wore round, thick glasses.

“Comment allez vous, Georges?” Lucien opened his arms and the old man took a step forward and hugged him.

[How are you, Georges?]

"Ça doit faire une éternité! Les cheveux gris vous changent, Louis, mais je vous reconnais bien.”

[It must have been an eternity since last time. Grey hair makes you look so different, Louis, but I still recognise you.]

“Parlez-vous un peu d’anglais?”

[Do you happen to speak a bit of English?]

“Oh, j’ai les rudiments, à force d’entendre tout ce qui se passe…!”

[Oh, I learnt the basics on the fly here, as I’m forced to hear bits here and there…!]

“Then,” Lucien naturally switched to English. “Please meet my husband, Mundy.”

Mundy blushed beyond his ears. It was so uncommon for Lucien to introduce him as his husband straight away. 

“And Mundy, please meet Georges, the ultimate spy.”

“Nice to meet you.” Mundy extended his hand and the old man shook it with a smile. 

“Does he understand French?” Georges asked, his accent so thick that next to him, Lucien sounded like a native…!

“Bits, oui, I have been teaching him.” Lucien answered. 

“Then, mes félicitations, mon garçon!”

[Congratulations, my boy!]

“Oh, uh, thanks… But how are you the ultimate spy?” Mundy asked. 

“We can chat as we walk, boys, come on, follow me!” The old man pulled a trolley of rags, dusters and all kinds of cleaning products out of the closet before he started pushing it. Lucien and Mundy followed him. 

“Georges here is responsible for the cleanliness of everything you see. He also happens to have the keys to every room in this building apart from a very select few of them. And all of that makes Georges the best guide to this place." Lucien explained as the trio walked through the corridor. 

The old man pushed his trolley through the corridors, making sure to take all the stair cases that nobody usually takes. 

"And I forgot to say," Lucien added through Georges' explanation of the rooms and corridors. "This man here is invisible to everyone meaning that if we stick to him, we become invisible too." 

"And so you don't break your cover… Ah, I get it…" Mundy nodded to himself. 

"Georges, could you take us to the portrait room, please?" 

"Yes, I can. They didn't move it cause they say history can't be changed." The old man answered, the keys jiggling from his belt loop.

"Ah, perfect." 

Georges took a second to unlock the door and push it open. 

"You have ten minutes, fifteen tops, before my colleague comes here to dust everything off. I'll try and buy you some time but he's young and finds I talk too much so he usually just leaves me alone to do his job. Counting on you, boys, be careful with the time!"

"We will be. Merci infiniment, Georges." 

[Thank you infinitely, Georges.]

"Avec plaisir." 

[My pleasure.]

Both men entered and Lucien shut the large, wooden double doors after them.

“Wow, what’s this place? Who’re these people?” Mundy said as he found himself in a room surrounded by painted or printed portraits. The oldest were black and white engravings while the most recent ones were coloured.

“This is the portrait room. It contains the photograph, painting or engraving of every man who made a decisive contribution to the establishment or security of this country.” Lucien explained. “Please, do have a look.”

Mundy started walking in what felt more like an art gallery than a room. He admired the faces, sometimes commenting on the military attire or the old style moustaches and beards. Lucien tried his best to recall the bits of history he knew about those important figures of the country, mentioning a few anecdotes when his memory allowed him to. 

“Golden frames for everyone, eh? That’s fancy as all hell…” Mundy said. 

“Indeed it is.” Lucien answered. “I am told that nowadays, when young spies finish their training, they are brought here and come out of this room with the hope that one day, their face will be on thiese walls.”

“Yeah, I can get the enthusiasm.” Mundy said. “Oh, Lu’... Hold on… Is that…?” Munddy squinted in front of a photograph and took a step forward. His eyes zigzagged on that of the man with light eyes and coal black hair. “Bloody hell, isn’t that you?!”

Lucien chuckled. 

“Guilty as charged.” The Frenchman said. 

“How old were you on this? You look half the age of the others!”

“I started my career early and abruptly. Some would say I even started without knowing it myself. But to answer your question, I was in my early twenties in this picture.”

“Bloody hell… You look like an angel back then already.”

Lucien smiled. 

“Merci.”

“What did you do to get your face up there?”

“I helped in the Résistance to free France from the Germans. I started as a courier boy, delivering messages until I grew up and understood that my, ahem, ease to approach women could be an asset for the country. Countless Nazi were caught through their wives and their mysterious lover.”

“You…?”

“Mh-hm, me. I broke a lot of German hearts back then, even before France’s liberation.” Lucien chuckled.

“Wow… Id love to take a picture of it.”

“We could take it back, if you want.”

“What?! You wanna steal it?!”

“It is my face and I am dead. I can claim it back.” Lucien shrugged.

“Hm.” Mundy fell deep in thought. “You know what?”

“Mh?”

“Leave it there.”

“You have changed your mind?”

“Yeah, leave it there for folks to look up at you and remember you. You changed my life, yeah, but you also changed an entire country before that. Let them have a souvenir.”

Lucien smiled. 

“Very well, mon loup.”

The next day, the couple woke up with the first rays of light, wrapped in the satin sheet of the Coco Chanel suite at the Ritz.

“Lu’?”

“Oui?”

“Uhm, there’s somewhere I wanna take you today.”

“Oh?” Lucien’s surprise was obvious. Mundy wanted to take him somewhere? Where? Why? And above all, how? The Aussie had spent the past week or so following his lover blindly and complaining that he did not know how Lucien could know where he was going. “Sure, when do you want to go?”

“This evenin’, if that’s fine with you too. We can go have dinner somewhere and then we’ll go?”

“Perfect for me, Mundy.”

And for the entire day, Lucien kept on thinking about it. Where would Mundy take him…? Until of course it was time to go. He followed his tall lover through the streets. The Aussie stopped only a few times to check his map and make sure they were heading in the right direction. 

“Alright, should be after this street.”

They stopped when they reached beautiful dark blue, wrought-iron gates. 

“A park? You wanted to take me to a park?”

“I uh… I don't think it’s any odd park.” Mundy answered and Lucien frowned. They both entered and wandered inside, following the yellow narrow roads. 

“Why did you want to bring me here, Mundy?”

“I think you guessed why.” Mundy answered. “You know we’re not in any park.”

“Indeed, I do, so why here?”

“Because it’s part of you and it’s important.” Mundy answered before he stopped walking. “Now, you gotta guide me.”

Lucien took a deep breath and let it all out in a long sigh. 

“Très bien.” He started walking and it took a few minutes of silence before they reached their destination, under a tree. 

“Is it here?” Mundy asked. 

“Oui, it should be.”

“Gimme your blade.”

Lucien took it from his inner pocket and passed it to Mundy who went down to sit on his knees and started digging. The Frenchman waited, his arms wrapped around himself. He felt slightly cold even though the day had been scorching hot and he evening was still warm. 

“Here we go...!” Mundy unearthed a small tin box. “Let’s go back to the hotel.” He stood up and dusted his knees off before both him and Lucien headed back. 

When they were in their suite and alone, Mundy headed for the bathroom. He cleaned the box of all the soil on it and brought it back to the living-room on a towel. Lucien had been sitting on the sofa, his stare blank. 

“You alright?”

“Oui,” He shook his head as if to land back into reality. “I was just lost in thought.”

“C’mon, ask me.” Mundy said and Lucien sighed. 

“Why did you do this?”

“Because you told me that everythin’ that was you before was in a box, that you had buried it in a park in Paris as the rain was pouring down in the middle of the night. You told me that it has all sorts of things like pictures of you, maybe even of your family and everythin’.” 

Mundy took a deep breath and took Lucien’s hand in his. 

“It’s been one year of you and me bein’ a solid thing and it’s been even longer of us just spendin’ all our time together, and even longer of me lovin’ you to bits.” Lucien blushed at the last part and smiled shyly. “And today, it’s been exactly one year of us being a thing. I put a ring on your finger and you put one on mine one year ago exactly. I just… I don’t wanna make you feel bad at all, I love you, I just wanna see your life from before and beyond that, I want you to be at peace with what you were before.”

“Hm.”

“I don’t care what you were, I just want you to accept whatever's in that box as a part of you. It doesn’t need to be buried down in the ground, it shouldn’t be there. It should be with us, with our pictures and memories.”

Lucien had sat silently through his lover’s speech. 

“You understand, baby doll?”

Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. 

“You are right, Mundy.” He took the box and put it on his lap before gently opening it. “This is the only photo album I have ever bought in my life, before we got ours. The oldest pictures are of my parents, then me as a baby and a young boy. The next picture is when I was officially made a spy, after the end of the Second World War, during which I served in the Résistance.”

He flipped the pages and pointed for Mundy to follow.

“Wow, you were already gorgeous back then.”

“Thank you.” 

The Aussie wrapped an arm around his lover to pull him close and Lucien leaned on him.

“Mundy?”

“Yeah?”

“How did you know which hpark it was?” Lucien asked. “I don’t think I mentioned the name of it.”

“I asked Maurice for the park where we could spend some quality time that would mean something for you.”

“Ah, I see.” Lucien turned the page. “This is the few pictures of Marie and Jérémy that I have.”

“She was real pretty.”

“Oui, she was.” Lucien smiled at the pictures. 

“And Jeremy kind of looked like you a bit, I mean, his hair’s lighter than yours but…”

“He was born blond like the sun.” Lucien said. “His hair darkened as he grew up and was dirty blond before he passed.”

“Oh, I see.”

“This is us, all together.”

“Look at you bein’ a dad… You look so comfy handlin’ the baby. I’m always scared when I’m handed a kid. Always scared to drop them or hurt them or somethin.”

Lucien smiled with nostalgia.

“You should not. They are indeed very fragile but you are very strong.” He turned his head and pushed his lips on Mundy’s. 

“Thanks, luv’.”

“Thank you.” Lucien put the photo album aside. 

“There’s more stuff in the box?”

“Oui. Here, this was my first ever blade.”

“Oh, you kept it?”

“Oui, as a souvenir. When I was in the Résistance, I never thought that doing what I was doing would turn me into a spy, get me a job and a life that is reasonably put together. I just did it because I could and I was told I had a gift for it.”

“And you went on to become the best spook ever.” Mundy said, recalling the portrait at the Ministry.

“Something like that.” Lucien smiled. “Here, this is all black and old, but it used to be silver and shining bright.” He handed a thin, yet very old string of metal to Mundy. 

“It’s a bracelet?”

“It bears my name on it. It is a common gift that young children are offered here. I kept mine because it reminded me of my mother, whom I loved beyond everything else. Oh and this is a very old and worn out thing now, but I used to wear it to cover my mouth and nose, for people to not recognise me when I worked to liberate France.”

“It’s a black bandana?”

“It used to be Burgundy red.”

“We could give a polish to your bracelet and a good wash to your bandana. I’m not good with clothes but I’m sure there’s ways to bring it back to life.”

“I think so, oui. Ah, there it is… Although it is broken, this used to be the bracelet that I offered to Marie, when we first started to meet each other regularly.”

“It’s a pearl bracelet?”

“Oui, I have always liked pearls on women, I think it might be because my mother used to have a pearl necklace that she treasured more than anything else. It was a gift from my father. I remember as a child, I one day found it as I was prying into whatever I could lay my hands on in the house and she told me off for touching it.”

“Oh, wow…”

“Wow indeed.” 

Mundy took a second to look at the way Lucien was looking at his belongings from another life. His eyes were almost dreamy and his gaze, very soft, filled with nostalgia and bittersweetness. And soon, the smile widened and it was not an awkward listing of antics but objects that threw the Frenchman’s mind back when pictures were only black and white, when uniforms were compulsory at school, when with a Franc, you could buy a mountain…

“Oh, I am enjoying this actually, Mundy.” Lucien raised his eyes to his lover. “Thank you so much, mon chéri.”

[My darling.]

“You're welcome. See? It’s better to acknowledge everythin’ and even if it's bad things or mistakes that you can only blame yourself for, so be it. The only way to repent I guess, is to not make those mistakes again.”

“You speak truth and wisdom. May God keep you by my side for as long as we want.”

“Amen, baby.”

“Thank you for… Well… Half-forcing me to do this. I realise that I should have done it long ago.”

“How d’you feel?” Mundy asked. 

“Better, lighter in a way.” Lucien wiped a silent tear. 

“Hey, you sure you good?”

“Oui, it is not tears of sadness. It is… The intensity of all this. Finding myself in the Ritz again, but this time, not on duty, not for business, just for our enjoyment, the breakfasts, lunches and dinners here now taste so much more flavourful, I never realised that their food was exquisite. I knew it but I never felt it as much as I have in these past few days. And the outings with you, seeing the sights, guiding you through Paris, telling you her story. It is better than a dream come true.”

Mundy smiled compassionately.

“Lu’?”

“Oui.”

“Happy first anniversary.”

“Oh…” The Frenchman dived head first into his lover’s chest and let the tears run down his face. 

“It’s ok, Lu’, I’m here.”

“This is why you wanted to take me to Paris?” Lucien pulled himself out of his lover's embrace.

“Yeah, for our anniversary.”

“Je t’aime, Mundy.”

[I love you, Mundy.]

Lucien took his handkerchief out and wiped his face. 

“Je t’aime aussi, mon Lucien.”

[I love you too, my Lucien.]

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

[heavcnslyre]

ricky bowen x reader series! part three

— starstruck au!

series masterlist, part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight, part nine, part ten

IN WHICH you return to your house but are not yet rid of ricky bowen, and you learn that sources saw you and ricky together last night.

WARNINGS swearing

NOTES look how sweet he looks in this gif omg my heart anyways this chapter is a little bit shorter but i like it!! hope u enjoy!! also i’d love it if someone left a comment w how they’re enjoying it currently? that would make my day!

(y/n) - your name

(y/f/c) - your favorite color

text dividers from @writeyourmindaway !!

lowercase intended.

you closed the door to your grandmas house slowly and flipped on the light. you assumed everyone else was asleep (since it was close to two in the morning), but were quickly proven wrong as ashlyn crept into the kitchen, looking to see if it was you she heard. when she saw it was, a look of relief washed over her face and she walked over to hug you.

“took you long enough,” she pulled back and examined the stitches on your head. “you okay?”

you nodded and moved away to grab a glass out of the cabinet. “i’m fine. it was weird, though. ricky bowen hits me with a door, takes me to the hospital then takes me to his house. casually.”

“hm. yeah. i guess it’s not exactly... normal. although i’ve spent time with him now since i’m dating red—”

you cut her off. “you’re dating?!”

she blushed and nodded. “he asked me earlier. i was going to wait to tell you, make sure you were okay first.”

before you got a chance to respond, there was a light knocking on the window. ashlyn gave you a confused look and you shrugged. she moved to the window and pulled the curtain open to peek through, then opened it all the way. she opened the window.

“ricky? what the hell?”

your head shot up when she said that and you walked over to the window quickly. sure enough, ricky was standing outside in the cold, looking around nervously.

“hey, ashlyn, (y/n),” he paused. “i need your help.”

“ricky, what’s going on? i thought you left a while ago,” you said.

“i tried. there’s big vans right outside your house, big cameras. they’re waiting for me to leave. i can’t go home right now.”

“um... okay. you can stay here, we just have to figure out a way where our family won’t see,” ashlyn said, looking up in thought.

“he could stay in the garage. sleep in his car, be gone in the morning?” you suggested. ricky nodded eagerly.

“yes, that’s fine! that’s perfect! i’ll be gone as soon as possible and i won’t make a sound. promise!”

“okay, ricky chill,” ashlyn laughed. “we don’t mind, seriously.”

“i mind a little bit,” you joked. “c’mon. i’ll help you get situated. ashlyn, i’ll be right back.”

you went out of the front door and met ricky outside. he smiled sheepishly at you.

“fancy meeting you again.”

“oh yeah. this is every girls dream, right?” you said, raising your eyebrows. he laughed and rolled his eyes.

“i’ll open the garage door, go ahead and pull your car in. just be careful,” you said. you walked over to the keypad in the side of the garage. he started his car and pulled in as soon as you opened the door. you followed his car into the garage and grabbed a box from the back wall. he got out of his car.

“here’s a sleeping bag,” you said, tossing one down to him. he caught it, barely. you laughed and he scoffed.

“do you have anything i could leave in this morning to help disguise me? so they can’t see it’s me?” he asked. you shrugged and pointed to a box labeled ‘hats and scarves.’

“check that one.”

he dug through the box and pulled out an old fishing hat. he studied it for a moment before putting it on his head. “how’s this one?”

you glanced over and smiled. “perfect. that was my grandpas hat, actually. wore it when we would go fishing. cool to give it use again.”

he watched you as you spoke, a gentle expression on his face. “i’ll take care of it.”

“you better,” you laughed and dug out another blanket for him to use. “do you need anything else? i can grab you anything from inside, if you need it.”

“i should be okay,” ricky smiled. “thank you, though. i seriously appreciate it. i’ll be gone before you know it.”

“no problem. thanks for driving me around today. sleep well,” you smiled at him and paused, before nodding and leaving the garage.

“got him settled in okay?” ashlyn asked as you came back into the house.

“mhm. he’ll be fine,” you resumed filling up the glass you had pulled out earlier. ashlyn watched, her eyebrows raised.

“you guys friends?”

“i just met him today. we get along fine but i don’t think you’d call us ‘friends’.”

“hm. alright,” she glanced at her phone. “i’m gonna head to bed. you should too, it’s late. and we’re going to the beach tomorrow!”

you hummed. “yup, i’m excited to meet big red for real this time!”

“he’s excited to meet you! although he will probably ask you a bunch of questions about tonight. be warned.”

“oh, i can’t wait,” you laughed sarcastically.

the next morning, you woke up with no one else in the bedroom. you stretched, got out of bed, threw on a sweater and left your bedroom. you found everyone except your grandma sitting at the kitchen table.

“morning (y/n),” your aunt debbie greeted you. “sleep okay?”

“yeah, thank you,” you said, sitting down in between ashlyn and your grandma’s boyfriend kevin.

“how’s your head?” your mom asked.

“my head?”

your mom knit her eyebrows at you. “your stitches?”

your hand moved to the stitches on your forehead. “oh! yeah, i’m okay.”

“what even happened? you were waiting in the car and next thing i know ashlyn’s telling me you’re on your way to the hospital,” camilla complained. you sighed.

“i was looking for you and someone hit me with a door. we realized he was friends with ashlyn and he took me to the hospital. nothing else.”

“what do you mean she was waiting in the car? you were supposed to be doing stuff together,” your dad said. camilla turned red.

“i had to... stop for the bathroom,” camilla lied. your dad gave her a stern look, but she got out easy because your grandma came into the room, carrying a stack of pancakes.

“breakfast is served!” she exclaimed and you all gushed about how good it smelt as everyone served themselves.

“kim, do you have any more syrup?” your uncle asked your grandma. she nodded.

“should be some in the garage.”

“i’ll grab it,” camilla volunteered, standing up from her seat. you didn’t think much of it, until you remembered the encounter from last night and realized that ricky was sleeping in the garage, and his biggest fan was about to go find him. you shot up from your seat.

“no, i’ll go!” you ran out behind camilla and tried to grab the garage remote from her.

“(y/n), what the hell are you doing?” she asked, annoyed.

“i’ll get the syrup. it’s fine. you go back inside,” you said, reaching for the remote as she moved it away from you.

“i’m already out here. it’s fine. just leave me alone, i’m pissed at you,” she said, pressing the button to open the garage. you yank the remote and press it again to close it.

“why are you pissed at me?” you asked. she rolled her eyes, clicking the button again. you clicked it again.

“i was so close to meeting ricky last night, and you just had to ruin it for me,” camilla complained.

you paused. “cam, i didn’t mean to, you know that. i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“whatever.”

camilla opened the garage door and before you could try to close it again, she rushed forward and into the garage. you tried to yell for her to stop, but it was too late. you looked in the garage and it was empty, no sign of ricky ever being there. you sighed in relief and followed camilla back inside.

“girls, they’re talking about that ricky boy on the tv,” your grandma said as you and camilla came back inside. camilla ran to the living room to see ashlyn standing there, watching. you followed her nervously.

“last night, nini salazar-roberts showed up to her birthday party accompanied by two people, but neither of them her man, ricky bowen. although, sources do confirm that ricky showed up to her party and performed, but other sources have said that they saw ricky leaving the party with a different girl. almost an hour later, he showed up to his house, with the same girl he left his girlfriends party with. has ricky found himself a new girl? is this girl stealing the heart of the boy we all know and love?”

you watched the tv with wide eyes. you and ashlyn made eye contact, both of you with the same worried expression. camilla, however, stared at the tv in disgust.

“i hope that girl knows how lucky she is,” she complained. “what’s a girl gotta do to get the attention of a guy she’s been a fan of for five years?”

neither you or ashlyn replied. camilla sighed and trudged her way back to the kitchen table. ashlyn checked her phone.

“oh, i should go get ready. red’s picking me up in half hour so we can go to the beach,” she looked at you. “are you riding with us?”

“i want to go to the beach!” camilla exclaimed, suddenly upbeat.

“camilla, you can take my car if you drive your sister,” your grandma said. camilla groaned.

“fine. be ready in half hour,” she said to you, then walked to your shared bedroom and slammed the door. you turned to ashlyn.

“looks like we’ll meet you there.”

camilla stuck her head out of the bedroom door. “(y/n), can i borrow your blue bikini?”

“only if i can borrow your (y/f/c) one,” you grinned. she thought for a minute.

“deal.”

#ricky bowen starstruck au #ricky bowen headcanons #ricky bowen one shots #ricky bowen x reader #ricky bowen #olivia rodrigo #ashlyn caswell #bowen #high school musical the musical the series #hsmtmts #joshua bassett #ricky #hsm the series #nini salazar roberts

[ptersparkers]

boston

summary: as a recurring visitor from boston to the outer banks and one of kiara’s childhood friends, you get to know the pogue gang for the summer. oh, and it seems like jj has a thing for you.

warnings: mentions of alcohol and typos, probably.

a/n: i hope boston doesn’t throw people off because i used it as nickname (i think it’s cute). and im not even from boston. ALSO WTF THIS IS 4K WORDS.

add yourself to my taglist!

this is my gif, please credit if using!

You’re starting to think that coming to North Carolina for the summer wasn’t as fun as you remembered. 

The water touched your fingertips as you leaned away from the boat, sticking your hand out to dip it into the cold water. It was too humid for you, for starters. You were used to the colder weather of Boston and often found yourself in long sleeves and jeans with boots with an extra sweater in your car. When it got warm, a pair of leggings and a t-shirt sufficed. North Carolina’s outer banks required swimming suits, shorts, and see-through shirts in order to avoid overheating. That wasn’t exactly your style. 

Your parents insisted on having you do something with your summer instead of lounging around and hanging out with people you’d see on a daily basis during the school year. There wasn’t much to do here other than drink and help your relatives on the boat with their fishing company, and the idea of working for free didn’t seem so amazing as it did when you were a child. This was the first summer you’d be spending in the outer banks for the entirety. While you and your parents travelled here for a few weeks, you were the only one staying behind until it was time to go back for school.

In all honesty, you hadn’t recalled much about the place nor the people who lived here. You were aware of the “Kooks” and “Pogues,” and the unofficial war raging between the two groups. What you gathered was that your family lived civilly between the two, not quite in either territory. If you weren’t mistaken, you were welcomed on either side of the island without drawing too much attention to yourself. 

Kiara, or Kie, who was your childhood best friend, was the only person you were even remotely close to, and that was overstating it. She resembled the summer camp friend who you barely spoke to until it was time to go away for summer camp. She lived in Figure Eight but hung with the Pogue crowd, from what you understood. 

You recalled meeting her for the first time at age eleven, the first time your family had made it a tradition to travel to North Carolina. Your family had wandered to The Wreck, the restaurant her family owned, and became friends because you were the only child in the building and her father had forced her to escape from her shell of a bedroom and spend some time outside. Eleven-year-old you was ecstatic to find another person to spend your summers with, and thus a friendship was born.

“Y/N, you okay there?” your uncle had asked. Pulling yourself out of your daydreams, you whipped your head back and wiped your hand on your shorts. 

“I’m fine, Uncle Jim. Just thinking, is all,” you replied. Uncle Jim laughed and pulled the rope from out of the water and asked you to open the ice bin for him to put the fresh fish he had caught. 

“Special order for the Camerons,” he explained. “Ward offered to pay me double if we could have this in by this afternoon.” 

“So that’s why you pulled me out of bed so early,” you teased. “Mom and dad just left and you’re already putting me to work.” 

You closed the ice chest and watched as Uncle Jim put away the cage neatly in the back before wiping his hands on a white cloth towel. 

“You know this job like the back of your hand. Might as well put you to good use.” 

“Yeah,” you said, sighing. “It’s weird being here without them.” 

“Good weird or bad weird?” 

You shrugged. “It’s just different.” 

“I know you wanted to spend your summer in Boston, but your Aunt Camille and I are happy you’re staying until September.” You smiled and gave him a side hug. 

“Yeah, I’m happy to see you two. It’s just that I’m growing up and want to spend time with my friends before we all leave to college, you know?” Uncle Jim started to steer the boat top the main land and nodded. 

“I hear ya. Mind dropping the fish off at the Cameron residence after I clean it up?” 

You shook your head and watched as the island grew bigger as the boat approached the dock. When Uncle Jim docked the boat, you jumped out and told him you’d be getting a bite at The Wreck, hoping to see if Kiara happened to be working. The door chimed and you could see a few people seated at tables with she was preparing smoothies behind the juice bar. 

“You always look like you’re thinking so deeply,” you said, taking a seat at the bar. 

Kiara looked up and dropped the banana she was holding and wiped her hand on a towel, the biggest smile painting her lips as she ran behind the bar to embrace you. You laughed and reciprocated, giving her a gentle squeeze as she held you in a near lockdown. 

“Two years, Y/N. It’s been two very long years,” she said. 

“I wish I could’ve stayed longer last summer,” you said. “My grandpa called us to say my grandma had broken her hip and we flew out the next morning.”

“Is she okay?” she asked. 

You nodded. “I think he was just scared but it was probably for the best that we went back home.”

“So I hear you’ll be here for the whole summer, right? I heard our dads talking last night.” 

“I can’t tell whether I’m excited about that or not. Happy to be here with you but not happy about working on a fishing boat. You know how sensitive my stomach is.” Kiara laughed and walked back behind the bar, resuming making the smoothie she had halted to welcome you. 

“Don’t I know it. Well, when you and I aren’t working we can hang out and I can introduce you to my friends,” she said. “I think you’d really like them.”

“God, I hope so. I’m gonna need friends if I’m going to be here for three months.” 

“John B’s kind of like our ring leader,” she explained before turning the blender on. She poured the drink and continued. “He’s kind of like you. A little mischievous but he’s keen for leadership. Pope’s the smart aleck. He knows everything about anything and overthinks when we do something spontaneous.” Kiara gave you a look. 

“That’s because my parents were always here!” you said in mock defense, raising your hands. 

Kiara laughed. “Then there’s Sarah, who you met before. She’s cool though, not like her Kook friends. We weren’t friends before you left. Then there’s JJ. He’s kind of all over the place and there’s not really a way I can describe him. You just have to experience him for yourself.” 

“As long as I have a fun summer without getting in trouble, I think I’ll be fine,” you said. 

“Smoothie?” Kiara asked. You nodded and took out your wallet, but she shook her head. 

“I’m pretty sure my dad would bite my head off if you paid for anything here,” she said. “Your mom did help advertise for us.” 

“How about a tip,” you said, putting a five dollar bill into a glass jar. Kiara rolled her eyes but grinned. 

“The Pogues and I are gonna hang out on Pope’s boat, if you wanna come. We’re just gonna hang out and eat, probably.”

“I’ll have to ask my uncle but I’m sure he’ll be fine with it,” you said, taking a sip of your smoothie. 

“It really was nice getting to see you again,” Kiara said. “I think you’re probably my only other girl friend, aside from Sarah. God knows a girl needs her time away from testosterone.” 

“I’m gonna be at Sarah’s later this afternoon to drop off some fish. I think her dad paid a lot of money for it, and I will never understand that.” 

She laughed. “Well with that kind of money, I guess you wouldn’t need to think twice about paying for fish.” 

You hopped off of the seat and waved goodbye before heading home. 

***

When the sky turned into a shade of deep orange, you double checked to see that your phone was fully charged before slipping on your shoes and grabbing a blanket plus the bag of snacks you had purchased earlier that day. You waved at Uncle Jim and Aunt Camille, promising them you’d be safe with Kiara before you locked the front door and slipped the keys into your bag. 

From your recollection, Pope’s boat was fairly large and Kiara told you it would have lights strung up so it wouldn’t be too hard to miss. The dock was quiet with the exception of fireflies buzzing in the air and the faint sound of laughter in the distance. 

You could see a group of boys and Kiara lounging around with beer in their hands and you were unsure of how to approach them. Luckily, Kiara saw you in the corner of her eye and rushed down to greet you. 

“Thank God you’re here,” she said. “Boys are annoying and I need some company. Here, let me get your bag.” 

You handed her the bag and climbed onto the boat, aware of three pairs of eyes following you. Suddenly feeling a little self conscious about yourself, you waved awkwardly at the three boys. 

“Don’t be weird, you guys,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. “That’s Pope. Brains of our operation. You two are more alike, I think.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, tipping his hat at you.

“That’s John B,” she said as you waved at him. “He’s kinda of like you when you start talking about something you’re passionate about.” You began to blush at how Kiara was introducing you to her friends. 

“Any friend of Kiaras is a friend to us,” he said, grinning. 

“And that’s JJ,” she said, pointing at the blonde who was too busy looking at you to speak. “He’s, well, JJ.”

He scoffed. “These two get great introductions and I get ‘that’s JJ’?” he asked, using his fingers as faux quotation marks. Kiara shrugged. 

“I happen to think I’m great, thank you very much,” he said sarcastically before winking at you. You gave him a soft grin and sat next to her, unfolding the blanket and placing yourself on it. 

“And this is Y/N Y/L/N, probably the smartest one out of the five of us. She’s from Boston and comes here every summer with her parents.” 

“It’s usually for a week or two to visit my aunt and uncle but this time I’m spending the entire summer here,” you explained. 

“Why’s that?” asked Pope. 

“My parents thought it would be good to not spend my time indoors and God knows my uncle will put me to work.”

“She’s Jim’s niece,” Kiara said. 

John B’s eyes lit up. “Jim’s niece! That’s right, I remember he said you were coming to work for him this summer. He’s such a legend. How he and Camille live between us and the Kooks is beyond me. Love that guy.”

You beamed, opening a bag of popcorn. “He’s pretty great, isn’t he?”

“So how’d you and Kiara meet?” JJ asked. 

“We were the only kids in The Wreck when it first opened,” she said. “Dad forced me to go outside and Y/N’s parents forced her to do the same and we just clicked.” 

“So what’s Boston like?” John B asked. 

“Jesus, one question at a time,” Kiara said, rolling her eyes. 

“Cold, for the most part. I live on the edge of the city so I’m between suburban area and the metropolitan. It’s kind of the best of both worlds.”

“Outer banks is a wake up call,” Pope joked. 

“It’s really different than what I’m used to, but this is my sixth summer out here,” you said. “And this time I came prepared with the right clothes.” 

Kiara bursted out laughing. “When we were twelve, she insisted on bringing sweaters and jeans because that’s all she owned. For two weeks straight she had to borrow my clothes.” The boys chuckled. 

“I’m not all that used to wearing shorts,” you said, gesturing to your clothes. “But I guess I like to lounge around in oversized shirts, so it’s a win-win.”

“Beer?” JJ asked, holding a bottle. You shook your head. 

“Nah, I’m good. But thank you for offering.” He quirked his eyebrow but put it back in the cooler. 

“Damn, I’ve never been off of this damn island,” said John B. “Let alone a big city.”

“It’s great, honestly,” you began, “I feel like I’m unimportant and that leaves me with so much room to grow. Nobody has any real expectations from me because I’m just another stranger. And I’m starting to sound like a cliche.” 

JJ chuckled and shook his head. “Not a cliche. It’s nice to get to know someone who’s not from here.”

“God knows the Kooks aren’t welcoming,” said Pope. “But never mind them.”

“Sarah’s not coming,” Kiara said, looking up from her phone. “Said she’s too tired to make the ‘treacherous’ walk.” 

“Bummer,” you said, pouting. “I haven’t seen her in so long. She wasn’t at the house when I went earlier.” 

“I’m sure you’ll see her soon,” said Kiara. 

“Oh goodness,” you said, shivering. “I didn’t think it would be cold tonight.” You rubbed your upper arms with your palms and tried to move to feel some friction. 

“Take my jacket,” JJ said, reaching behind him to grab his discarded windbreaker. 

“Thanks,” you said softly, a little confused that a stranger would let you wear his jacket. 

“Damn, JJ. You’ve got broad shoulders,” John B joked, looking at how big the jacket was compared to you. 

“It’s two sizes bigger than I am,” JJ said said, taking a swig of his beer. 

“It’s perfect,” you said, looking between JJ and John B. “Thanks, JJ.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said. You looked away to speak to Kiara and didn’t notice JJ checking you out with the jacket you had put on.

“So you think Y/N’s attractive,” Pope said, leaning in and whispering. 

“Pfft, what?” JJ asked, shaking his head. 

“C’mon, dude. It’s just a matter of time before you and her, you know,” he said, making a crude gesture before laughing. JJ shoved him and laughed along. 

“It’s not like that,” he said. Pope raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh?” 

“It’s not like that either! Jeez, Pope.” 

“Whatever you say, man,” said Pope, leaning back and opening another bottle of beer. 

An hour had flown by and you yawned, the entire group silently understanding that it was probably too late to stay up. Pope had left ten minutes earlier after his dad had called and promised to see the rest of you tomorrow. 

“This was fun,” you said to Kiara, John B, and JJ. “I really like you guys.” 

“But I’m the best,” said Kiara, striking a pose that made you laugh.

“And no one’s taking that title away from you,” you replied. You folded the blanket and began to walk off of the boat with JJ offering his hand for you to step down. You took it and noticed how unusually soft they were. You started to walk back to your house before abruptly turning around. 

“Oh, JJ! Wait, let me give you your jacket back,” you said, dropping the bag you were carrying. JJ laughed and shook his head. 

“Keep it for tonight, Boston. It’ll give me a reason to see you tomorrow,” JJ said. You grinned at the nickname. 

“Okay,” you said, picking up the bag you dropped. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” JJ smiled. You could grow to like seeing his smile. 

He winked. “See you tomorrow, Boston.” 

***

As the weeks went by, you starting to feel disappointed whenever you thought about going back to Boston, which meant leaving your new friends behind. All the adventures you had raked up were memorable ones and it would feel weird not seeing the four rambunctious teens nearly every day. 

It was a hot Thursday morning when you sat on the dock. Uncle Jim had given you the rest of the day off after helping him load his cargo, offering to make the rounds that afternoon if you were willing to go to the grocery store to pick up ingredients for that night’s dinner. 

You couldn’t help but think about JJ and all the times you two had been near one another. Kiara had made an innocuous comment the prior night before you left her house about how he was much gentler when he was around you and didn’t seem to be as loud as he was when you were there. JJ, she said, was always so outspoken but whenever you were near, it was like he was censoring himself. 

You were sure Kiara didn’t mean anything bad by it, but you weren’t really sure how to interpret what she said. You and JJ, aside from Kiara, had hung out the most since you met. You two spent the afternoon together at The Wreck the day after you met him, partially to give him his jacket back and partially waiting for Kiara’s shift to be over. You could feel yourself letting loose and confessed to feeling extremely nervous and self-conscious about meeting Kiara’s friends. JJ reassured you that he (and the others in the gang, of course) really liked you. 

He would accompany you home and save you a seat next to him. He’d hold your bag and wait for you if the gang was running ahead. JJ would volunteer to come get you if you weren’t answering your phone and he’d make trips to visit you while you were helping Uncle Jim at work. 

If you were being honest, you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t developed feelings for him. It was minor and fleeting, but it was there. The blonde made you blush without having to try too hard and you were sure Kiara knew, but she never said anything. JJ was attentive to you and let you speak when you felt your voice be drowned by someone else. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard running footsteps on the dock, only to turn around and see JJ running towards you. He peeled his shirt off and jumped past you and landed in the water, splashing you in the process. 

“JJ, what the hell!” you yelled as he came up for air. He shook his head and wiped his face, grinning at your surprised reaction. 

“What a morning, huh?” he said, swimming closer to you. Your legs dangled in the water and he came up, pushing his body upwards to let his arms rest on your lap. “You thinking too hard again, Boston?”

Boston. There was that nickname again. You think you hid your blush pretty well.

“You know I’m always thinking,” you replied. 

“Someday I’m gonna get inside your head and know everything you think about when you disappear,” he said. “I’m sure you have a lot of good stories to tell.”

“Maybe so,” you teased. “I was just thinking about how I have a month and a half left before going back home.” 

“Don’t think about that,” he said, pouting slightly. “I’ll - we’ll - miss you tons. It won’t be the same until you come back.” 

You laughed. “I wish I could bring you guys back with me. I don’t have that many friends I consider close.”

“And you consider us your close friends?”

“I might even say my best friends,” you said with a smile. 

“Well, well, well. I’m honored to hear that, Boston. Truly.” 

“Why’d you jump into the water, anyway?” you asked. 

He shrugged. “It’s a hot morning and the sun is shining. Plus, I got to scare you, which was pretty priceless.” You shoved him back into the water and laughed as he came up with a feigned surprised expression. 

“Oh, come on! It was hilarious.” 

“You’re so mean to me, JJ,” you said, sticking your tongue out. 

“Why don’t you join me? The water’s cool and it’s hot out.” 

“I think I’m good from where I’m sitting,” you said. JJ swam closer and caressed your legs before trailing his fingers to your lap, resting his chin on your knee. 

“Please?” 

It was times like this when you were grateful you developed a habit of putting a swimsuit underneath your clothing. You stood up from your spot and took off your shirt and shorts, slowly dipping in the water beside him.

“Okay, you’re right,” you confessed. “Very refreshing.” 

JJ swam closer to you and smiled, finding your hand and pulling it above the water to give it a kiss. 

“I’m never wrong, Boston.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, keep telling yourself that.” 

JJ was quiet for a moment. “You’re so innocent.”

You raised your eyebrow. “Oh? How so?”

“I don’t know. You have a purity to you. Maybe it’s Boston or maybe it’s just that you’re better than us and the Kooks combined.”

“Well, I’m definitely better than the Kooks,” you said. JJ chuckled. He pulled you closer to him to the point where your chests were almost touching. 

“I just mean that I don’t know how to act when I’m around you. Usually I’m reckless and an idiot, but I’m not that way when you’re around.” 

You frowned. “I don’t ever want you to be anyone but yourself around me, JJ.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think it’s that. I think you pull this calmness out of me. I don’t think I’m not being myself when you’re around. I just think that I’m much more of a person than ‘reckless’ JJ who gets into too much trouble.

“What I’m trying to say is,” he began with a deep breath, “I like you. As in, more than a friend. John B and Pope have been teasing me about it all summer but I never took it seriously until you talked that Kook’s ear off about not being a racist and sexist piece of shit.” You took a moment to recall and laugh at the memory. “There’s never a moment where I don’t want to be with you or tell you things. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before, honestly.” 

“JJ,” you said softly, your hand giving his bicep a squeeze in reassurance. “You know, I’ve been overthinking these past few weeks. Last night, Kie said something about how you were so aware when I’m around and how you’re less reckless and I didn’t know what to make of it.”

“I just,” said JJ, “I like you a lot. More than I thought I did.” 

You looked into his gaze and his arm wrapped itself around your waist, pulling you closer so your chests were touching. The sound of the waves was the only noise in the vicinity and the sun made JJ’s eyes look more impeccable than they already were. His lips were plump and you noticed he had stolen a glance down to yours, squeezing the small of your back as if to ask for silent permission. You inched your way closer and he followed suit until his lips had landed gracefully on yours as if it had belonged there all along. 

His skin was hot under the sun and the water around you felt like it moved to push you two closer together. JJ let this kiss be a simple one, unlike the other girls he had been with before. His eyes remained closed until he pulled away and looked to see you in your entirety. You did nothing but smile and bite your lip, reaching out to kiss him once more. 

“I like you too,” you said. “And I like kissing you.” JJ laughed and leaned in to kiss you a third time. 

“You’re real cute, Boston,” he replied. 

“Do you think we could go and get some sandwiches from The Wreck? All this swimming and all this kissing has me starved.” You shared a laugh before pushing yourselves out of the water and hoped the sun was hot enough dry you both before you reached the restaurant. 

You were already counting down the days you would be coming back to the outer banks. 

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank blurbs #jj maybank imagines #jj x reader #obx #obx x reader #outer banks #my writing #boston

[caretaker-au]

Kindness & Justice: Backstory

The two adolescent girls huddled around a small campfire in the twilight, trying to finish their dinner before nightfall. The tall cook poured the remains of pancake batter into the cast iron pan, mentally crossing her fingers that this one wouldn’t stick as bad as the previous one did. 

“This is the last one,” the cook said, “You want it?”

“No, that one is all yours,” her friend answered between mouthfuls. She didn’t have a fork, so she had rolled up the pancake like a burrito. At some point, her black cowboy hat had fallen off her head and hung against her back by the drawstring. It was her latest attempt at bringing Western wear back into vogue. “I shouldn’t have teased you for packing all that kitchen stuff. This turned out way better than I expected.”

“Worth it?” the cook asked with a grin.

“Worth it,” the shorter girl smiled. She finished off her food and stretched, moving her hat so she could lay down by the fire. The pink-streaked clouds floated overhead. It was warm enough that the fire was a little bit uncomfortable, but it didn’t seem right to lay anywhere else.

“So…” the cowgirl ventured, “You ready to talk about what happened with your folks?”

“Ugh, not really,” she answered, prodding at the batter with the spatula, “But, after working so hard to cheer me up, I suppose you’ve earned the right to know... Mom and Dad cornered me about their suspicions, and I told them the truth about us. Well, not about us, exactly, I left you out of it. I told them about me.”

“I’m guessing they didn’t take it too well.”

“I mean, they took it about as well as expected. Shouting, some crying, the whole works. Kept saying it was their fault, but that didn’t stop them from blaming me anyway.” The cook glanced at her friend, and saw her scowling. “It really wasn’t that bad though,” she added, “I mean, it could have been a lot worse, I’m pretty lucky, when you think about it.”

“Are you kidding me?” she sat up, her face incredulous, “Your parents are the lucky ones for having a daughter like you! They don’t deserve you, and you don’t deserve to be treated like a mistake. The unfairness of it all, it just--” she clenched the fabric of her skirt, stumbling over her words, “Once we get back to the city, I’m going to give them a piece of my mind.”

“I really wish you wouldn’t…” the tall girl said, her voice falling low, “I know it’s not your style, but I want you to try to be nice to them.” The cowgirl rolled her eyes, so she continued with a bit of forced smile, “Not for them but for me, okay?”

The short friend sighed, “Okay, for you. Is that thing done cooking yet?”

In response, the cook jerked the pan, masterfully flipping the pancake over. One side was a perfect golden brown. “Just a little bit longer now.”

The cowgirl sat up, surveying the campsite. The two of them had never been camping before, and the hike had been much harder than either of them had anticipated. It didn’t help that they had over-packed and had to cut their climb a bit short as a result. Nonetheless, the clear warm night and birds chirping in the trees made the escape feel almost as magical as the girls had hoped for. A quiet sanctuary where no people would be around: well, most likely no people, that is. 

“Hey, speaking of miserable family members,” the short girl ventured, “Did I ever tell you about the skeleton in my family’s closet?”

“This better not be one of your weird scary horror stories.”

“It sure is!” she answered. The cowgirl jumped to her feet, clearing her voice in preparation for the tale, “Listen to this: when my grandpa was a little kid, his brother tried to murder him.”

“How very ‘Cain and Abel’,” the cook smirked, “You can’t just start there. Start at the beginning of the story. What lead up to it?”

“That’s just it, no one really knows. Everyone says he just snapped and went crazy when the two of them were home alone. Grandpa was just happily playing video games at the time, so maybe his brother wanted a turn.”

“That… doesn’t seem like a very compelling motive,” the cook said, checking the underside of her pancake, “Are you sure your grandpa’s not exaggerating?”

“It’s the truth!” the cowgirl insisted, “His brother attacked him and cracked his head against the coffee table. They found gramps in a puddle of blood in the living room, and he had to be rushed to the hospital and got six stitches! But I still haven’t gotten to the best part.” The girl paused for dramatic effect.

“Best or worst?” the cook lifted the whole pancake with her spatula and tested a small bite on the edge. It was still too hot to eat.

“The best part is…” the cowgirl swept her arm towards the dimly lit forest around them, “His brother fled to this very mountain. And he was never found again.”

“What?” the girl dropped her pancake on the ground. She quickly snapped it up and set it back in the pan. Dirt and ash was stuck to it.

“Five second rule,” the cowgirl murmured. 

“Did you just say your grandpa--”

“Great uncle.”

“--your great uncle ran away to this mountain and died?”

“Disappeared. Maybe he still roams this mountain, searching for more innocent children to send to their graves…” The short girl’s voice was dramatic, but her eyes were dancing with mischief.

“Are you kidding me, that’s so creepy! And to think coming here was your idea! Was this all a set up to scare me?” The cook crossed her arms, but her friend just laughed.

“No, no! To be honest, I didn’t realize this particular trail was a part of The Mount Ebott until we were on our way.”

“A likely story,” the cook murmured as she nibbled the edge of her pancake.

“It’ll be fine, really. Oh, I know--I have something to protect you from any undead uncles. Check this out!” the cowgirl skipped towards their yellow tent and unzipped her backpack that was laying in front of it. She withdrew a long leather holster, with a revolver already tucked inside it.

The tall girl’s jaw dropped open, “You brought your dad’s gun?!”

“Maybe,” she giggled, strapping the holster around her waist, “It will be my gun in a few years, I’m just borrowing it a little early.”

“Do you even know how to use one of those things?”

“Yeah, yeah, I shoot it every year on my birthday. Family tradition.” the gunslinger drew her weapon, pointing it out towards the woods.

“Don’t--”

“It’s okay, it’s not loaded,” she said, popping open the cylinder, “The ammo’s in my bag.”

The cook shook her head, “And I thought my family was crazy.”

The cowgirl spun the gun around her finger and holstered the weapon with practiced flourish. She spoke with an exaggerated drawl, “Don’t worry, darlin’, this lone ranger will defend you from any murderin’ spectral horrors.”

“Stop it! You’re awful!” the cook laughed, before taking another bite of her food. It wasn’t as dirty as she thought, and she swallowed a few more bites before stuffing the rest in her mouth.

“You hear that?” the lone ranger put a hand to her ear, “It won’t be safe for long, we best be getting to bed before the devil finds us.”

“Oh please, that’s enough, Calamity Jane.”

“I prefer the name--”

She was cut off by the sharp crack of a snapped branch. The gunslinger stilled, turning in the direction of the noise, “What was that?”

The tall girl huffed in response, “I said cut it out--" but the cowgirl shushed her, scanning the dense foliage around them. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw a pair of eyes glinting from their firelight. A huge creature, larger than a man, was standing on two legs and peering into the camp from about two hundred feet away.

"There's--" the gunslinger's voice strained to form the words, "There's a bear."

The cook froze. She reached for her cast iron pan and held it with both hands. "What do we do?" she whispered.

The cowgirl shook her head. There weren't supposed to be bears in this area. According to her research, none had been seen for over a decade, which is why she hadn't bothered to look up how to defend against one. The bear dropped down to all fours, and they could hear it begin to huff and snarl.

"Get ready to run," she hissed. The cook stood, and the shorter girl eyed her backpack that held her ammunition. It was sitting at the foot of the tent, but she would have to go toward the monster to retrieve it. The bag was only fifteen feet away but it might as well have been fifteen miles. 

The two didn’t have a chance to decide when to act. With a roar, the bear lunged forward, crashing through the foliage as it charged. The cook shrieked, fleeing the camp, but the cowgirl did the opposite, sprinting towards her bag. She had almost reached it when the tent surged forward, collapsing on top of her in a wave of nylon and snapped metal supports. The gunslinger fell to her back and she pushed the tangle of tent away from her face, only to see the bear looming over her, separated only by the crushed tent. The girl shielded her face with her arms and braced herself for what was to come.

“Get away from her!” her friend screamed. She had returned, and had taken to bludgeoning the bear’s hindquarters with her pan. The bear twisted around and swiped a clawed paw towards her, but the cook jumped back, turning heel to run again. With a snarl, the bear released the cowgirl and chased its assailant. The gunslinger kicked the tangled tent off her legs and before she realized it she was chasing the bear, screaming obscenities and death threats. The cook was fast, but the bear was faster, and she lost sight of them both as they crested a small hill outside the camp. 

A blood curdling shriek filled the tree tops, followed by silence.

The gunslinger tore up the slope and hesitated when she reached the apex. Her friend was nowhere in sight, but the bear had already changed directions, loping back towards her. Her fingers reached for her gun, but she reminded herself it was still empty, and willed herself to retreat. The rapid thumping of the bear’s steps told her she wouldn’t make it to the camp before it caught up with her.

Overhead, the large branch of a cedar bowed over her. Leaping, the girl grabbed it and hoisted herself onto the branch before scrambling up the next. The bear was under the tree in an instant, stretching to full height to swipe at her. Its claw caught her foot, nearly yanking her out of the tree, but only managed to knock off her boot. The girl continued to climb, and the bear snapped off the lower branches, pushing against the trunk. The tree shuddered and flexed under the weight.

With one arm wrapped tight around a branch, the cowgirl pulled off her remaining boot and tossed it down. It bounced off the bear’s shoulder, who gave it a glance before turning its attention back to the girl. She whispered a prayer before unholstering her weapon, and threw the revolver at the monster. The gun crashed against the bear’s muzzle with an audible whack, and the bear pulled back from the tree, shaking its head. She held her breath as the bear paced around the tree before leaving in the direction of the camp. The dense canopy obstructed her view of it, but the tell tale sounds of the creature ripping through bags and crunching through supplies told her all she needed to know.

The girl settled onto the upper branches of the tree and wrapped her arms around the trunk. Against the odds, she was safe but trapped. Without a loaded gun, leaving the tree wasn’t a risk she could afford to take. To make matters worse, the last rays of twilight were fading away, cloaking the woods in frigid darkness. Her flashlight, phone, and ammunition were all at the camp, hidden under the destroyed tent. There was nothing she could do but wait it out.

***

Two hours elapsed before the bear left the camp. Another 30 minutes went by before the gunslinger felt safe enough to crawl down from the tree. Her fingers and toes were frozen and her legs ached as she collected her gun and put her boots back on. However, she didn’t have the luxury to pity herself. Through the dark, she crept back to where the campfire once was and strained her eyes in the dim moonlight for the remains of the tent. It had been dragged a good distance away, destroyed beyond use. She was relieved to find her backpack still twisted up inside, and rifled through the contents. She flicked on her flashlight and put it in the crook of her neck as she loaded her gun. Only six bullets, just enough to show it off to her friend.

If only she had loaded it earlier, then that monster would have got what it deserved.

The lone ranger returned to the camp and cast her flashlight across the ransacked carnage. Clothes and supplies were strewn throughout the foliage, and all that remained of the food were shredded cans and crushed boxes. Even the cooking utensils had been mutilated with gnaw marks. Rage boiled inside her.

The forest looked very dizzyingly similar at night, and she found herself walking in circles, ending up back at the camp again and again. Finally, she accurately identified the hill she had last seen her friend and was surprised to discover a steep drop of about twenty feet not far from it, jagged granite boulders resting at the base. There she found her first lead. A conspicuous dark splatter against the white rocks: blood.

The small girl shouted her friend’s name, but there was no response. She climbed down the steep surface of the cliff side at a much slower pace than her friend would have been afforded. The blood was no longer fresh, but she could see the direction it led before the ground cover became more soil than stone. She followed the trail.

The ferns and ivy lashed across her torn stockings, but she continued forward, right hand hovering over her weapon. She stopped at the entrance of a cave yawning out of the mountainside. It looked both parts refuge and trap. Didn’t bears live in caves?

She called out her friend’s name again, but was answered only with a faint echo. At least it was better than the growl of bears. She shined her light across the back of the cave and could see the tunnel curved, making it impossible to see how deep it was. As she traced the floor with the light, something sparkled. The gunslinger ventured forward and pinched it between her fingers: a hair pin, with a small crystal embedded at the end. The last time she had seen it was in her friend’s hair. She had been here.

The cowgirl huffed out a shuddering sigh, and she couldn’t tell if it was from relief or a renewed sense of dread. If her friend had been here, where was she now?

The child took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the cave.

kindness and justice: backstory // end

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#undertale #undertale au #bravery #the caretaker of the ruins #main comic #justice #apron kid #back story #story summary #unfortunately i had to read a lot of bear attack stories as research for this #these kids literally do everything wrong when it comes to facing a bear #amazing that they lived long enough for chara to finish them off

[mlovesstories]

His Guitar

Summary: YN has always been close to Jensen, but not her mom, Kayla.  Noticing this, Jensen tries to fix it, but it only stirs up more of a divide between YN and her mom, leading to a big discovery. 

AN: Shout out to @cherryblossomflowers for letting me bounce ideas off of her and editing it! Love you! 

Warnings: Cheating, sabotage, blackmail, cussing

Words: 3000

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Jensen walked onto the set of Ten Inch Hero with YN in tow.  

“You remember the rules, right?”

“Yes, Daddy.  I’ll be good, I promise.” She smiled at him as she was trying to keep up. She practically took three steps for each step he took.  

“Hey, Dee,” Jensen smiled. He hugged the lady in front of him and introduced her to YN. “This is YN. YN, this is Danneel.”

“Hi, Miss Danneel,” she smiled.  

“Hi, YN. How old are you? You look pretty big.” Danneel tickled the girl’s belly.  

“Seven!” YN grinned.  

Danneel gasped, “Wow! Such a big girl!”

“That she is.  I told her to stop growing, but she doesn’t listen.” Jensen playfully messed with YN’s hair.  

“DADDY! Mommy did my hair all nice, and you messed it up!” She pushed her father’s hand away.  

“Jensen, you know not to mess up a girl’s hair!  Would you like me to fix it, YN?”

“Please?” YN looked to her dad.  

“That’s fine with me,” Jensen laughed. “But I didn’t mess up your hair.”

“Yes, you did! Come on, Danneel.” The girl took her hand over to a chair, and YN plopped herself down. "It’s all messed up on the top," YN pouted, "Can you redo my braid?”

“Absolutely.  Let’s do it.”

Within two minutes, the girls were back, and YN was happy with her appearance.  

“That was fast! Looks nice!” Jensen stroked her braid.  

“I like her.  She's good at hair."

“Well, thanks, YN.  I’ll take it. Where’s Kayla?” asked Danneel.

YN was shocked, “You know my mommy?”

“I’ve met her before. I like her a lot. After all, you’re pretty cool!” Danneel gave the girl a high five.  

That night, YN raved to her mom about her new friend.  

“That’s very nice, honey. Eat your dinner, please.”

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

“Daddy?” A few years later, YN asked, “can I spend the night at Dee’s?” She skipped to stand in front of her father. The two ladies had become very close since they met on set the first time.

“I’m fine with it. Ask your mom though.”

“SWEET! She already said yes.” YN started to leave the room.

“Stop.” Jensen watched as she froze in her spot. “Did she, or are you fibbing to get your way?”

YN turned to face her dad.

“Mom said it was okay, promise,” she shrugged.

“Fine. Your mom will have to take you though. I’m meeting up with Uncle Jared tonight.”

“Okay.”

The next day, Kayla didn’t talk to YN. YN gave glances to her dad wondering why her mom was acting so funny.

“What was up with you today?” Jensen asked his wife as they climbed into bed.

“What do you mean?”

“You didn’t give YN the time of day. She asked to do things with you, but it seemed like you ignored her.”

“Don’t tell me I ignore my own daughter-“

“No, no, I’m just asking if you’re okay or if something happened today, that’s all,” Jensen wrapped his arm over his wife.

“It’s nothing, and it’s nothing I want to talk about tonight. Maybe we can talk about it tomorrow when the kiddo isn’t around.”  

“Sure, babe,” her husband agreed. “Anything you need.”

The next morning, Jensen and Kayla discussed what was bothering her before YN woke up.  

“I don’t like that she goes to Danneel for things.  She should be coming to us.” Kayla huffed.  

“Oh,” Jensen tightened his lips.  “I didn’t know that bothered you.”

“It does bother me, that’s why I’m telling you, shithead!” Kayla outraged.  

“Whoa, hey,” Jensen crossed the room and sat next to her. “YN doesn’t have any siblings, I just thought of their relationship as like sisters or something.”

“YN went to Danneel before she came to me about almost everything. And with her getting older-"

“Honey, you’re gone a lot and-”

“DO NOT BLAME ME!"

“Will you listen to me?” Jensen shot off the couch.  “You are gone a lot because of work, and maybe she feels ignored.  I don’t know, but maybe.  Danneel is probably just more available.”

“How dare you.” Kayla growled.  She stood and stomped out of the house.  

YN walked into the living room.  

“What happened?”

“I made her upset.” Jensen blamed himself, hiding his frustration.  

“She was probably being a bitch.” YN said offhandedly.

Jensen's eyes went wide, “EXCUSE ME?” He walked in front of her. “You do not EVER call her that.”

YN sucked in a breath.  

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” She whispered.  

He retracted and guided her to sit down.  

“Do you not like your mom?”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t really hang out with her.”

“It’s fine. Leave it alone.” YN practically ran out of the room.

Jensen knew there was a lack of relationship.  He didn’t really know why.

Jensen watched over the next few years how they interacted and didn’t seek out time together. He noticed they didn’t mind each other, but they didn’t joke or be silly.  Jensen tried to fix it as much as he could, but both were stubborn and very much the same.  He would not state that to either one of them though.  

YN hung up the phone with Jensen. With him being on Supernatural, they were apart a lot of the time.

She walked into the kitchen to get a water bottle from the refrigerator when she heard her mom talking.

YN came to a halt when  fed the corner and saw her mom kissing a man who was not Jensen.

She retreated so that her mom and the man couldn’t see her. In shock, YN stood still and took in the scene.

Coming back to reality, YN pulled out her phone and took a picture. Not realizing that her sound was on, the sound of the camera went off. Her eyes went wide.

The couple separated.

“YN!” Kayla looked alarmed, seeing her daughter and the phone in her hands. “Get over here!”

YN’s eyes went wide and she shuffled her feet to stand in front of her mom.

“Give me your phone.” Kayla snatched the phone out of YN’s hands. “This picture will never be seen by your dad’s eyes. Nice try though.” After deleting the picture, Kayla shoved the phone back into her daughter’s chest.

Shocked by the events in front of her, YN left the room to escape the situation.

Kayla stormed after her. Before YN was able to shut her door, the mom entered her room.

“You are not going to tell Jensen about this, you hear me? And if you do, I’ll tell him you broke his favorite guitar that grandpa gave him.” Kayla crosses her arms, eyes narrowing. “Do we have an understanding?”

Kayla got in YN’s face. The daughter gasped. She swallowed slowly.

“Yes,” YN looked away.

Kayla walked out of her room and slammed the door.

YN crawled onto her bed, wrapped her arms around her moose stuffed animal and cried as quietly as she could.

YN stayed away from her mom as much as possible until her dad came home for the weekend.

She hated that at the drop of a hat, she could be in big trouble with her dad. She loved him, and they were so close.

He was the perfect dad. He always took her calls no matter what he was doing.

She didn’t ever want to disappoint him, she loved him too much. She would stay silent as long as she had to. That was just the way it had to be.

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

“Homework,” Jensen pointed to the piece of paper in front of YN’s face.  His daughter refused to complete her math assignment.

She huffed, “Now?”

He smiled. “You can do it, booger.”

Just then, Kayla walked through the door.

YN immediately got to work.

"Hi, honey,” Jensen smiled, relief and pleasure covering his face.  

“Hi, babe,” Kayla smiled. "Hello, YN,” she looked past her husband.  

“Hi,” YN didn’t look away from her homework.  

“I gotta clean up, and then we can’t have some dinner, okay?” Kayla smiled.  

“Sounds good, I”m going to take the trash out.” Jensen hugged her as she passed him.  

“What’s going on with you, kid?” He walked over to his daughter as Kayla left the room.

“Nothing. I need to finish this.” She shrugged him off of her shoulder.  

“Alrighty then,” Jensen sighed. “Glad you’re able to focus.  Be right back.”

When Jensen came back, Kayla was starting dinner.

“What are you making for dinner?” Jensen wrapped his arms around Kayla.  

“Tacos.”

“Awesome, sounds delicious.  YN, you want a taco?” Jensen turned to face YN.

“Yes, please,” she tiredly looked up at him.  

Jensen narrowed his eyes at her.  

“Move your homework to the couch so we can eat, please,” he smiled at his daughter.  

“Yes, Daddy,” she ducked her head and moved quickly.  

The last few days, he’d noticed her withdrawing.

Jensen knew she was a teenager now, but even for her, she was acting funny.  YN did everything he asked and didn’t look at her mom.  She did everything without comment other than a ‘yes’ or ‘no’.  

“What is going on with her?” Jensen pulled his wife into bed with him that night.

“What do you mean?” Kayla looked over to him.

“She is keeping to herself.  Did something happen at school?”

“I don’t think so,” Kayla responded. “Maybe it’s that time of the month for her or something,” his wife shrugged.  

“No, that was two weeks ago.” Jensen shook his head.

“You keep track of her period?” Kayla raised a brow.

“Saw some blood in the trash can.  Not hard to figure out. Let’s get to bed, sweetheart.” Jensen kissed his wife and turned off the light.  

The next morning, Jensen saw the same behavior from his daughter as the night before.  He saw her quickly finish her breakfast with no conversation.  

“Honey,” he caught her attention.  “I want to talk to you when you get home, okay?  You’re not in trouble or anything, I just want to ask you something.”

“Okay, Dad.”

She stood and grabbed her backpack.  

“Can you take me to school now?”

Jensen looked to her confused, “Sure, but you’ll be early-”

“Gotta talk to my math teacher anyway. Let’s go.”

———-

“Honey, what I wanted to talk to you about was that you seem so quiet. When I call you or I ask you a question, you answer with yes or no, and that’s it. Where’s my baby girl gone?” He stroked her braid as he faced her sitting on the ottoman, her on the couch.

“I’m fine, Dad.” YN stiffened.

“Uh huh.” Jensen smiled. “You lie about as well as I do. You’ve been so quiet, and it’s scaring me. Did something happen? You can tell me.”

“No, Daddy. Nothing, I promise.” She eyed his prized guitar hanging on the wall with the note framed next to it.

Work hard, have fun, and don’t forget where you came from.

“What are you looking at?” Jensen turned, looking the same direction as his daughter. “Gramps’ guitar?”

“No, daydreaming. Sorry.” YN said,  “I’m fine.”

“The guitar?” Jensen walked over to it and took it off the wall.  Kayla walked back in.  YN’s eyes went wide.  

“You told him, didn’t you?” Kayla walked over to her daughter and raised her voice.  “You told him.  I told you what would happen if you did!”

“Dad, hang on to it!” YN screamed to her dad.  Kayla tried to take the guitar out of Jensen’s hands.  “She told me she would break it!”

“What?” Jensen moved it out of the way and tossed it lightly to the side.  He took his wife by the shoulders as she struggled to go after it. “What is going on?” Jensen looked over to his daughter who was in tears, standing there.

His wife continued to fight aimlessly and then stopped.  

Seeing the defeated look on her face, Jensen turned toward his daughter.

“She’s cheating on you.” YN gasped for air.  “She said she would break Grandpa’s guitar if I told you, but I didn't tell him, Mom.  We were just talking about the guitar, that’s all, Mom.” YN rambled all of her words out.  “I saw her kissing a guy in the kitchen, and I had to not tell you or she would destroy the guitar!”

Jensen let go of his wife. YN saw his face change from confusion to anger.

“Get. Out.” He seethed.  Jensen stared at her until his wife moved.

“Fine.  If I can’t break your heart with the guitar, I’ll let you in on a little secret, husband of mine. YN’s not yours."

A silence washed over the room.

Kayla continued, "I’ve cheated the whole time we’ve been married and you were too clueless to notice. “

Jensen and YN looked at each other.

“I never wanted kids.  But you got your wish.  Here ya go, there’s a kid for you, Jensen.” She emphasized the last word.

YN ran out of the room.

“GET THE HELL OUT.” Jensen ordered his wife. “Your things will be on the porch tonight. Goodbye.” He took her purse from a side table and threw it so that she could catch it.  “Leave.”

Jensen passed her and went up the stairs to catch up to his daughter. Hearing her wails and sobs, he opened her door.

Showing tears of his own, he engulfed her.  Not knowing if it was her mom or her dad, she fought back, flailing.  “It’s me. Calm down, it’s me.” Jensen calmed her. "I got you, baby. Daddy's got you.”

They both cried for a long time.

After a while, YN asked, “Do you still love me?” and looked up at him.

“What?” Jensen backed away to see her face.  “I love you always. Don’t you worry.” He stroked her back.

Hours later,  Jensen made sure YN was asleep in her room before he called his friend.  

“Jared, I-I need you to come over.”

Jared heard the uneasiness in his voice.  Without question, Jared agreed and came as soon as he could.

The two men stayed up all night talking, Jared supporting Jensen with whatever he needed.  

“You need to go to bed.  I’ll take care of her.  She and I will be fine.  Go rest.” Jared nodded toward the hallway.

“I can’t sleep in that bed, Jared.”

“So sleep in the guest room.  You need to sleep.  I’ll drag you there if I have to.” He nudged his friend.

“Okay, okay.”

“I’ll crash on the couch.  I’m sure as hell not as tired as you.  Go.”

“Fine, see you in a bit.”

A few minutes later, YN saw Jared from the steps.  

“Uncle Jared!” YN gasped.  She ran down the stairs and into his arms.  Jared turned the TV off.

“I know, I know.” He whispered.  “Your dad told me,” he tried to calm her.  

She was about to start crying again when he looked at her in the eyes.  

“No.  You can do this.  No crying.”

YN whined into his shirt.  

“I know, I know,” he affirmed her. “You’re still ours no matter what.”

Still being exhausted from the previous day’s events, YN fell asleep against her uncle’s chest.  

“Hey, YN.” Jared woke her up.  “Look who came over.”  YN turned toward the door to see Danneel taking off her shoes.  

“Dee!” YN smiled.  Having her friend there was a relief.

“Hi, sweetie. Jared called me, he thought having a few friends around might help a little bit.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.  With Jared on one side and Danneel on the other side, the three leaned into each other.

The two adults let YN snuggle with them until she was calm again.  

“Do you want to talk about it?” Danneel said after some time.

“Mom hated me.  I didn’t know she didn’t want to have kids.  I feel so bad.  And Dad isn’t my dad? What am I supposed to do with that?” YN looked to the woman.  

“You live your life. He is still your dad. He doesn’t love you any less.”

“I hate my mom.” YN sighed.  “She hurt my dad.”

“She hurt you too,” Jared joined in.  “Don’t worry about him, we’ll take care of your dad.” He smiled down at her.  

“It’s already the afternoon.  Let’s get something to eat" said Danneel, standing up, "YN, go wake up your dad, he needs to eat too.”

"Okay,” YN agreed.

“Come on, Jared.  Let’s go.” Danneel took the man’s arm and led him to the kitchen.

Looking back, Jensen could recognize the warning signs of what had happened between his wife and the rest of them.  YN had seen it too, but she couldn’t express it like Jensen could.  

Having spent so much time together and consoling YN, Danneel and Jensen became closer.  

Kayla deserted her daughter and husband with the occasional mean phone call to her husband when she felt extra angry.  

After their divorce was final, Danneel and Jensen sat down with YN to discuss their new relationship.

“We have something to tell you,” Jensen started.

“Are you guys dating?”

The two adults froze.

“Finally. I won the bet,” YN clapped with glee.

“What?” Danneel asked confused.  

“Jared and I had a bet about when you guys would get together.” YN beamed. “He owes me dinner now.”

“So you’re okay with it?” Jensen grinned.  

“Of course!” She ran into his arms.

“I know your birthday was a few weeks ago, and I hope you won’t be upset with me…” Jensen slowed.

“Umm. Okay?”

“It seems like your mom hasn’t been very nice lately, and I thought she may be pulling our legs about something," said a nervous Jensen.

YN gave him a questionable look.

He sighed and continued, "So, I got a paternity test, and it turns out that I am your biological dad.” He beamed.  

“Wait, what? But Mom said-”

“Your mom was upset, sweetie.  She used something against me to make me not like you, but it didn’t work. You’re mine, okay? You always were, are, and will be.”

YN grinned. “REALLY?”

“Promise.” 

_________

Forever Friends (Everything):

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#mlovesstories #mlovesstorieshisguitar #jensen x daughter!reader #danneel x daughter!reader #Supernatural RPF #supernatural

[5289belle]

Captain America’s Legacy

Summary: When Katerina Rogers watches as the flags smashers cause further mayhem, she knows she needs to come out of hiding and go help Sam and Bucky take them down, all while dealing with the fact that the United States government replaced her dad with some idiot as Captain America.

Meet Katerina (Katy) Rogers, the daughter of Natasha and Steve. Will take place during the falcon and the winter solider with some flashbacks to black widow and civil war. Also Tony is alive in this timeline, Steve did that snap instead, Natasha still died getting the soul stone.

Chapter One Captain Americas Legacy 

Sitting on the bed in her hotel room in Paris, Katy looked up to the tv and watched as Sam Wilson gave away her dad’s legacy to some museum. How could he when her father had chosen him to replace him while he lay there dying, anger and grief swelled up in her as she angerly switched off the tv.

It had been six months since she lost both of her parents within hours of each other and it hadn’t gotten any easier, she was all alone with her grief. Wanda was off somewhere trying to get through her own trauma and grief, Clint was taking time to be with his family again, thinking of him getting to be with them again made it easier to handle her mama’s sacrifice. It hurt too much to be around her mama’s family, they all reminded her too much of her mama. Tossing and turning in bed she found it difficult to sleep when she knew what awaited once she did manage to go unconscious for a few tortured hours.

Sometime around six and five am she managed to fall into a semiconscious slumber, until her alarm went of at noon. Rolling over to turn it off and turn back into her pillow to get a little bit more rest. Soon she would have to get up and leave. Never stay in one place too long, that was her motto, the constant moving helped to keep her mind distracted.

About two weeks later she was strolling through the streets of London when she spotted the news paper stand. On the front cover it read “Cap is Back” below it described how John Walker was the new Captain America. Unable to read anymore she back away and ran back to her hotel room. Flipping on the tv to try and forget what she had just seen, she looked up to see the man in question having a interview on Good Morning America. She felt sick to her stomach, scoffing she sat down to see just who this Walker guy was.

“It’s the greatest honor of my life um, but I I’m just a little shocked how’d a guy like me end up here?”

Ugg, his obvious self-depreciation was revolting, as if. She could tell he was trying to hard to emulate that humble hero, trying to emulate her dad. After watching a few more minutes to get a better understanding she decided she had enough and flipped the channel. In its stead a news report about the flag smashers was playing.

Apparently they were escalating and even caused a panic and injuries at a robbery. Watching the news footage, she noticed that one of the masked smashers had apparent super strength. That was news to her, to her knowledge the only ones with the super soldier serum that was still alive was, her dedushka(grandpa), all the former black widows had a form of the serum including Yelena and her babushka(grandma), Bucky, and herself. Though her was from her parents passing on their enhanced genetic codes.

Letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding in, she looked down to her hands. This whole situation was getting out of hand and obviously the GNC couldn’t handle. She knew she couldn’t hide out anymore, not when people were getting hurt. It was time to go back home and follow in her parents’ footsteps.

Two hours later she was on a plane, heading back to the states.

Hopping out of her uber she thanked the driver and closed the door. Now she only had to find Sam and get to the bottom of the situation. According to his phone he shouldn’t be too far off. Not too far up ahead she spotted him with Bucky, having one of their usual banters no doubt. Though the closer she got to them she noticed Bucky a bit more. He had cut his hair, and hot damn if it did not suit him. “Fuck me” she muttered to herself before noticing and blushing.

You have got to be kidding me when did she find herself thirsting after him. Okay be cool she thought to herself, but damn he really was hot.

“Well I don’t trust redwing” Bucky said to Sam and he followed after him.

“You don’t have to trust redwing, but I’m gonna go see if he’s right. Because I have a feeling they might be part of the big three.” Sam replied back slightly annoyed by the other man.

Hold up, the big three? What the hell is that? Apparently Bucky didn’t know either because he asked Sam “What big three?”

Looking at him incredulously he replied “ the big three, androids, aliens, and wizards”

Shaking his head Bucky said “that’s not a thing’

“Since when has that been a thing?” Katy interrupted with genuine interest.

Both men looked over in shock, they hadn’t expected to see her. Not after she took after and disappeared.

Bucky did a double glance real quick, she seemed different somehow.

“Where have you been all this time? We looked everywhere for you.” Sam said with a worried expression. Giving them a tight-lipped smile, she looked away towards the skyline and then turned back to them. “Oh, you know, touring Europe.” Grimacing she continued “ I just, couldn’t face it. It was easier to disappear, but when I noticed all the trouble the flag smashers were causing and the GNC inability to do anything, I decided it was time to come back.”

“Are you doing any better?” Sam asked. “Of course, others wise I wouldn’t be here. Any way what the hell is the big three? I’ve never heard of that..”

Rolling his eyes Sam, looked to Bucky and then back to Katy. “ You know the big three, anytime we fight anyone it one of those three.”

“So who are you fighting now? Gandalf?” Bucky replied back sarcastically.

Taking a moment to register what he said Sam responded back incredulously “ uhh, how do you know about Gandalf?”

“ I read the hobbit, in 1937 when it first came out”

“So you see my point”

“oh, I love the hobbit. I read it back in fifth grade” Katy said to aloud, glancing at the both of them she was surprised to see they looked shocked at her admission. “What, it’s a good book.”

Looking back to Sam Bucky replied “No I don’t, there are no wizards”

“Doctor Strange” Sam said to which Bucky quickly replied “Is a sorcerer”

“ahh, ha ha. A sorcerer is a wizard without the pointy hat.” Sam said smiling in triumph.

“No, a wizard does magic with a wand or stick, a sorcerer used their hands” Katy interview with her commentary.

“Same difference” Sam looked over to her.

“Any ways’ he went on “they use brute strength, just like you guys and are incredibly annoying like the guy in front of me with a staring problem” With that he walked away to the plane with Katy and Bucky hot on his heels.

“I’m coming with you” Bucky and Katy said in unison to Sam.

“No you’re not”

“Uh, yeah we are. I’m not just going to sit back while I could be doing something to help people. Okay so I am going with you rather you like it or not. She said with a snarky tone, looking for Bucky to back her up. He merely nodded to her and followed Sam into the plane.

“Fine you and Cyborg can come with, just don’t annoy me” Rolling his eyes Sam couldn’t help but think how much she reminded him of Steve, always sure of what they were doing.

A few hours later sitting on the plane Bucky and Sam were having some kind of stare off. Looking between the two of them she couldn’t believe it. Seriously they were to grown ass men behaving like teenagers, her partners on this mission. Joy. Standing Bucky asked, “So what’s our plan?” Sam merely looked over to him and went back to putting in his earpiece and handing one over to her.

“Great, so no plan” Bucky said while sitting back down.

Torres interrupted with “Thirty seconds”

“Enjoy your ride Buck and Kat”

“Nah you can’t call me that”

“Why not, that’s what Steve called you”, shooting back Bucky said “Steve knew me longer, and Steve had a plan”

“Fifteen seconds to drop”

“I have a plan”

“Really? What is it?” he said while spreading his arms out walking toward Sam and Torres. Following after them Katy, stepped closer to Bucky.

Sam just jumped out the window, rather than replying back and dealing with those two.

Looking over to Torres Bucky asked “Great, where is the chute?”

“Were 200 hundred feet. It’s too low for a chute”

Huffing, Katy looked to Torres and asked, “Do you have some rope?”

“I don’t need it anyway” Bucky said while walking over to the open doorway and ripping off his sleeve with the metal arm.

“Yes we have some rope, why exactly” Torres questioned, looking over at Katy.

“Perfect, I can use that to jump out. Thank you”

Looking back to Bucky he replied, “You sure about that?”

“Yeah”, with that he jumped straight out.

Walking back over with the rope he handed it to her and watched as she wrapped it around herself and then to the plane, “have a nice flight” Without she dove right out of the plane and did a flip while holding out to the rope and scaling down to the ground. After fifteen seconds she let go and free fell another fifty feet before lading and doing her iconic superhero pose.

Looking over a few dozen feet, she noticed Bucky laying on the ground trying to catch his breath. Letting out a chuckle and smiling she walked over to him to make sure he was okay.

Standing over him she put her hands on her hips and looked down while asking “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt”

Suddenly Sam interrupted with mirth “I have all of that on camera, you know that right”

Then redwing flew over to them, Bucky merely looked over to her and said “Yeah, im fine. How are you?” and then looking over to redwing hovering above them he grunted “ Get out of my face, Sam or I’ll break it.”

In the comms he just simply said “okay, head north”

Sticking her hand out to him she offered to help him up. Reaching to take her hand with her flesh one she pulled him up, and then quickly took a step back flustered at his proximity, “come on lets go” with that she went north.

Walking into the abandoned building Bucky and Katy looked around, while walking around redwing swooped right by Bucky prompting him to swat at it while she chuckled, and Sam said “don’t hurt him”

While they walked up to Sam he called out “You’re doing that staring thing again”, looking down to his wrist he continued “They’re in there.”’

“Where’s they guy?” Bucky asked, “I don’t know, I think they’re smuggling weapons, though.”

“Well, I think you could be right”

“hmm,” was all Sam said.

“Well, I think we should do something about it rather than just standing here and bantering about it” Katy called out with a smirk and then walked closer to get a better look to see what the two guys were doing.

Looking over to her Bucky had a light smile reach his eyes at her quip, while Sam just laughed. “There’s only one way to find out, I see a clear path. I say we take it.”

“We’re not assassins”

Grimacing as his reply Katy looked over her shoulder and then looked back.

“I’ll see you inside or not.” Bucky replied in his deep baritone voice staring out Sam, then walking over to Katy.

“Hey, come on man. I’m just messing with you. Come back” smiling Sam trailed after them.

With Bucky leading they way she trailed behind him.

“Look at you. All stealthy.” Chuckling Sam continues through the comms “all stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther”

“It’s actually White Wolf”

“Huh”

“All right, I’m inside therefore, way ahead of you.” Crouching down her looks over to Katy and then back to the scene in front of them. “It’s not great, but very doable with Katy and I”

Feeling a presence creeping up behind her she looks back to see Sam stealthy creeping up behind them.

“huh”, Bucky said in confusion”, then went on in a sarcastic tone “Hello. How are you?”

“Good. What did I miss?”

“Nothing”

Huffing out she replied between them “Boys, can we get back to the mission? Kind of important here..”

“Alright let’s go” Bucky replied

“No wait.” Sam said.

“I got a vibranium arm. I can take them”

Something felt off about this, it looked almost too easy, before she could say anything Sam quickly responded “And I can fly, Katy can take them down with hand-to-hand combat. Who gives a shit? Wait.” “I wanna see where they’re going”

“Now wait a minute, I can do more than that” she said offended.

“There’s two people”

“You only see two?, what about you Kat?”

“That’s what I saw. Bucky responded while looking over to her.

“I only see two, but I..” She stops to take a break and then looks at them unsteadily. “I can sense more, if that makes sense.”

Both men are surprised by this and look at her questioningly.

Sighing she looks to them and the says “About seven years ago I was taken by the red room, and they experimented on me, apparently they saw an opportunity with my already enhanced DNA. From that I’ve been able to sense things, kind of like a sixth sense. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but it’s all I got.” Unable to elaborate anymore she looks away and hopes they will be satisfied with that answer.

Noticing her apprehension, they let it go for now and focus back on the mission. Bucky has a straight face, yet there’s concern there and a bit of understanding.

“Let me see what redwing sees.” Looking down at his wrist Sam points of the multiple body heat signatures redwing is picking up.

Grateful they let it go, she looks over to see that there appears to be five people.

How many people you see now? One, two…. Oh, here it comes again. Four, five. Yeah five.” Sam continues while Bucky just snaps “fine”

“Yeah.”

“So they’re strong whatever. All right lets go.”

“No, no wait. Shit”

Watching as the people look up from the noise, the trio held still trying not to be noticed. Finally, they looked on and continued their tasks.

“Alright, lets move” A woman call out to the other people. Waiting for them to be out of sight the three follows after . Looking at his wrist Sam notices that one of the trucks has an eight person in it. “I think they have a hostage he remarks.”

With that Bucky and Katy run off towards the truck while Sam flies towards it.

Running up the truck Bucky jumps up onto the back and opens the door climbing in, with Katy hot on his wheels. Walking in further he begins to look around, trying to find the hostage. Looking around they notices the crate and the contents, “They’re stealing medicine. Vaccines”

Looking up she notices a young woman poke her head out from one the crates, she looks scared and slightly hopeful. Alarm bells are going off in Katy’s head, but before she can do anything Bucky is saying hi and getting himself jacked out of the truck.

“Oh shit” she remarks before kicking out the woman and then turning to Bucky to see him being pulled up onto the car truck by two guys. Jumping up onto the other truck she goes to help him out with the other woman right on her heels. Turing around she blocks a swing from the red head and take a step back raising her arms and falling into a defense position.

Thrusting her foot forward she kicks out at the woman and hit her gut before she can even react. Thanks to her mom she has the quicker reflexes and quickly continues on her attack, turning to check on Bucky.

In her distraction the other woman get a kicks in and sends her flying back before Bucky’s feet, redwing then comes soaring in taking shots. The woman jumps up and catches it and then uses her knee to break it in half.

While on her back Katy quickly jumps back up landing with her one foot tucked in a kneeling position and the other in front while her hands are touching the floor.

Bucky looks up and happily says “I always wanted to do that.”

Sam’s going to be pissed she thought with a smirk and then turned and lashed out at the guys holding onto Bucky, sending them stumbling away. Ordinary her kicks would have wiped them out, but with the serum the just took a few steps back. Annoyed by this she turned around to see Sam swooping down and kicking the woman.

Ha she thought, I knew it.

While Sam was engaging in combat with the woman Bucky yelled out “Good of you to join the fight Sam” Quickly Bucky and she took on the other two men. In the meantime, the fight was joined by the other truck rolling up and two other men joining.

Sam was kicked onto to other truck leaving Katy to run up to the other guys and quickly jump up towards them, using her body as leverage she wraps her thighs around one of the guys and uses the momentum to throw him down, quickly raising her wrist she shoots out one of her widow’s bites from her gauntlet. It was a gift from her mother for her eighteenth birthday.

To her dismay it didn’t take him down for long, “Damn super soldiers” She muttered to herself.

Suddenly one of the men fighting Sam was hit by her father’s shield, looking up she noticed a helicopter with that Walker idiot jumping out. Rolling her eyes, she went on fighting.

Before she knows it the shield is flying around nocking the flag smashers down, while another mans jumps down on a rope. Great another idiot to contend with, who the hell is he supposed to be?

“Sam. John Walker, Captain America.”

“Lemar Hoskins”

Walker continues “Looks like you guys can use some help”

The two men say, responding to the questioning looks.

Ugg she thinks he looks way to proud to be brandishing that shield around. Dark thoughts quickly take over her mind, the very sight of him enrages her. Using that anger she quickly takes out her opponent.

The woman quickly makes her way up the Walker and Hoskins, Walker goes to hit her with the shield and then throws it out the other guys, while it soars back Bucky catches it with ease, handing it over to Walker reluctantly.

Witnessing the whole thing, the only thing that comes to mind to Katy was “Damn, that was hot” While slightly panting, blushing and hoping no one notices she looks towards the other two.

The fighting continues for a few more minutes before Bucky is pushed off the truck, faltering at the sight she receives a swift hit to the gut, quickly focusing back on the task at hand she continues to fight. Worried over Bucky still she notices Sam swoop in and them him and Bucky tumble away onto the field. With her head turned away her opponent kicks her off the truck sending her over in the direction the other two went.

Tumbling onto the ground below her and then rolling onto the grass, she berates herself for allowing herself to get distracted enough to get her ass handed to her. She was better than this, trained by a former red room assassin and a freaking super soldier since she was her girl.

Standing up she notices Sam and Bucky walking towards her.

“Well, that went horrible. We got a asses handed to us back there. I mean we are professional’s right? Because after that it seems like were amateurs. It’s embarrassing”

“Yeah, we sure did. Although I might add they were all super soldiers” Sam tuned in while him and Bucky walked off onto the road following after her.

“Well, this should be a fun walk back” Bucky said aloud looking straight ahead. Are you okay doll?” He said looking towards her.

Stuttering in her steps at the name, she quickly collected herself and responded with a smile “Never better, always love it when I take a tumble off a moving semi-truck, in the middle of nowhere.”

“Only twenty more miles to go of this” Sam intoned.

#bucky x y/n #bucky x oc #bucky and reader

[luciehercndale]

Belong // Wessa

Hi! I’ve written this fic a while ago, but I don’t know why I haven’t posted yet. I had the idea when I read about Will’s parents passing in Chain of Gold, and this is a sort of a * missing moment * type of fic about that. It’s set during the TLH timeline. Hope you enjoy, although I’m really insecure about this because this fic is also very personal since I’ve tried to write the trauma from experience. Thanks to whoever is going to read it. 💜

Couple/Characters: Wessa, Will Herondale and Tessa Gray Rating: T Tw: Mentions of death Genre: Hurt/Comfort

You’re never prepared when your parents die. As much as you imagine that day in random moments of your life, and tell yourself that you shouldn’t let it drag into the depressing imagination until it happens, it isn’t as close as the real thing. No, you’re never prepared when reality hits you right in the chest, in the place you kept the people you loved the most.

Tessa lost her parents when she was little, but she didn’t feel the weight of their loss for the majority of her life. She had a poor recollection of her memories with her parents. Sometimes it felt like they never existed in the first place, that she was, after all, an orphan. She started realizing that she missed her father and her mother on the day she got married. How nice it would have been if her mother had been there to help her with the dress or the hair, and how symbolic to have her father accompany her down the aisle. Yet, those were just dreams, fragments of her imagination, thoughts that she had had sometimes, but not often. Truth be told, she didn’t know how it felt to lose one’s parents, but she would soon witness it.

That morning, Tessa and Will received a letter. They had just returned from a walk around Idris, and they were tired. Her feet hurt and she wanted to spend a couple of hours sitting on the sofa of the drawing room to read, or just rest. She always said that words had the power to change us, and how much of that statement was true.

She and Will had just entered their bedroom at Herondale Manor when one of the servants brought them the fateful message. She didn’t inquire as who had sent it and went to remove her hat as her husband read its contents. When she turned to ask him something, she grew concerned. He was staring at the piece of paper with a blank expression, devoid of brightness, of color. If expressions could talk with actual words, his face spelt dead.

“What is it?” she asked, tense, hurrying to him. She noticed his hands trembled, and he was pale, ghostly. Her own heart started pounding in her chest because of worry.

He didn’t reply instantly, which didn’t diminish her distress, but when he did, his voice was low and broken. No, it was shattered, like the sound of glass when it breaks and you stomp on it.

“They’re dead. My parents are dead, Tessa.”

When he glanced at her, her own heart collapsed for him. She could already see the tears pooling in his eyes, his fight against himself not to break down. The fight to be strong. But he lost the battle, and soon, he couldn’t keep the tears at bay anymore.

Her husband started to weep in silence against her shoulder. It wasn’t the first time she had seen him cry. He had cried several times in the past, like when James and Lucie were born. She had moved to tears as well and they had sobbed together as they held their children. But that was another type of break down. It reminded Tessa of when they were looking for something to save Jem from his fate and they went to Magnus, but he didn’t know what to do either, and Will felt hopeless and had moved to tears.

Now death was again the cause of his despair.

She helped him on the small velvet chair in front of their bed and sat down. She didn’t know what to say, she knew that anything she would tell him would be useless. She adjusted his head on her shoulder and passed her hands though his dark hair. She wanted to soothe him, to make him feel safe and loved and comforted. He hugged her and buried his head on her chest, trying to be as soundless as possible, as Tessa cradled his body as if he was a child. He let himself be cherished by her, and she could feel the strong grip of his hands on her back as she told him it was okay as she cried with him. Everything would be okay.

She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she was able to move him to the drawing room. She had sent a message to Jem, hoping he could make it so Will could recuperate. In the meantime, her husband decided that he was fine sitting on the carpet in front of the fire, his gaze fixed on the vacant, dark hearth which was empty as much as his stare.

She told him she needed to go back to their room for a moment and then she would get back to him. He simply nodded, managed a forced smile before she left, and didn’t utter a word. She was about to go downstairs when Lucie and James came to look for her. They weren’t home when they returned, because they went to their cousin’s house. They would have to know about this as well. Tessa sighed. “Lucie, James. Did you have a good time?”

“Yes, I had a lot of fun! Our cousin Christopher likes to blow things up,” Lucie said cheerfully.

“I told him he should be careful,” James added.

“I’m glad,” she replied. At least their children were happy.

They went closer to her, their expression suddenly turning serious. “Mama, has something happened? Because we went to say hi to papa and he was sitting in front of the fire with his face in his hands… and he was… crying, I think.”

“He was definitely crying, James,” Lucie commented. “Why was he crying, mama? Did you argue?”

Tessa smiled at her children’s questions. They were smart and they knew that Will never cried – at least not in front of them. “No, Lucie. We didn’t argue. But something happened, and I think you should know.”

“What is it, mama?”

“We’ve just been told that your grandpa Edmund and your grandma Linette have passed away.”

“That’s why aunt Cecily was also crying,” James admitted. “It makes me sad. I loved them.”

“Me too,” Lucie chimed in. “I’m sad that we won’t see them anymore.”

“Yes, it’s depressing,” Tessa agreed, seeing James and Lucie on the point of tears. “But we shouldn’t forget that the people we love will always be with us, in our memories. It’s true we won’t be able to see them again, but they will live in our recollection of them. Don’t you agree?” she wondered, trying to say the best thing she could think of.

“It’s true, mama,” Lucie nodded. “But now… what should we do? Should we say something to papa?”

“If you want, do it. I’m sure he’ll feel better,” Tessa agreed. Sometimes these small gestures of her children made her feel proud and want to move to tears at the same time.

“But I don’t know what to say,” James argued, lost in his thoughts. “What do you say in these occasions?”

“You tell him you love him and you give him a hug, brother,” Lucie replied fiercely.

“Good idea,” their mother nodded. “Go.”

Right after they left the bedroom, Tessa broke down in tears again.

***

Lucie and James did what they planned to do. She caught the moment right on time, and it filled her heart with joy to know how close they all were, the four of them. How Lucie and James adored their father and how they covered him with affection, always smiling at his silly jokes, and how he protected them although they were already 12 and 13 and able to look out for themselves. What Tessa saw before her eyes in that moment were two children not yet teenagers who sat down on the carpet next to their father and circled him with their innocent arms and told them they loved him. They were sad but they were there for him.

The light in their bedroom was off when she got back, and at first Tessa thought Will was already asleep. Jem had left an hour before and now it was just them. She and Jem tried to comfort him earlier, but the wound was too fresh and she was aware that he would need a couple of days in order to be relieved a bit from the pain, although she knew he would never be completely healed. He treasured his parents, and he probably wished they would have had a longer life.

Tessa took off her clothes and wore her nightgown, then slipped under the covers next to him. He lied on his side, opposite her, facing the window which overlooked Brocelind forest. She saw his back. He looked tense. Then he turned towards her. She couldn't see his eyes in the darkness, but she knew that they were deep pools of blue darkened by his current mood, and red rimmed because of the tears.

She was wrong if she thought he had finally surrendered himself to sleep after he hadn’t eaten anything at dinner, and after the whole day spent in front of the unlit fireplace with unfocused eyes. He leaned closer to her and she opened her arms so that she could embrace him as he put his head on her chest. He took one of her hands in his, and held it tight like a life line.

“Tess,” he murmured.

“Yes, Will?”

“Do you believe is there a paradise or a hell out there?”

“I honestly never thought about that,” she replied softly. If she had to be honest, she had never thought about that because she was young and she was… immortal. “Why?”

“There may be a heaven, maybe,” he told her, ignoring her question. “We are angels after all.”

“You’re right, we are,” she conceded as she passed her hand through his hair, even if she could say she was also partially drawn to hell because of her heritage, but she didn’t say it.

“I could stay with them for a long time in spite of everything,” he murmured to her some moments later. “They could meet you and Lucie and James. I would have probably died if we weren’t able to see each other anymore. At least they knew… at least they knew how much I loved them. How much I love you and the kids. They were ecstatic to meet you. They were ecstatic to meet James and Lucie. At least they saw the man I’ve become, and that I turned out well despite I was forced to leave them when I was still I child. I was Lucie’s age when I left them. I still… think about how painful all of that was for me. One time my father told me that he was proud of me. Proud that I made it. That I was happy and content and had people around me who loved me deeply.”

“And he was right,” Tessa agreed and stroked his cheek, noticing it was wet with fresh tears. “They were proud and they had every reason to be. You are the proof that everyone can turn their life if they want to, that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that if we want, we can reach that light and embrace it.”

“My wife is always right,” he agreed, squeezing the side of her body with his hand.

“That’s why I married you,” she admitted, glancing at him. She could only see his forehead, but she knew he was probably trying to look at her as well.

“Because I always recognize your good sense?”

“No, silly,” she chastised him. “Even though you have to admit I’m often right and that I’m the only one who can calm you down when you’re dramatic, but this wasn’t the point. Anyway, I married you because you have a pure soul, Will. You are caring, you are sweet, you are protective. You are wise and loyal. You are transparent. And this, my dear, they also knew.”

He stayed silent for what looked like an eternity, the only sounds in the room were their breathing and the rise and fall of their chests. Will still gripped her hand and played with her fingers carelessly, as if it was an anxious habit and he couldn’t stop it. As long as he was distracted, he could play with her hand as long as he wanted.

It was going to be okay.

#tsc #wessa #will herondale #tessa gray #tsc fanfiction #lucie herondale #james herondale #tlh #chain of gold #the last hours #will and tessa #the shadowhunter chronicles #tweety.writes #Tweety.txt

[bre-meister]

Grandpa Barry

a not so short fluffy one-shot based off of an old offhanded comment by @onehelluvafirstdate that kinda just stuck with me

Holidays for the Butron’s had become more than just family affairs. For several years prior to the events at the Spencer Mansion, the Redfield siblings had begun to join them for these types of events after their parent’s deaths. However, after the mansion incident, the large scale outbreak that was Racoon City, and the countless other BOW incidents that had occurred since family holidays had extended well past just the family.

Thanksgivings and Christmases and Fourth of July’s had become celebrations of more than just that particular holiday. They were a celebration of another year lived, another attack survived, and sometimes, celebrations of another survivor added to their small but growing group of what they considered to be extended family.

This particular Thanksgiving was no different and so, the Burtons found themselves preparing to host their extended family for dinner, drinks, and overall good times. Not everyone was always able to attend - their common line of work never really took holidays into consideration - but this year they’re gearing up for an unusually good turnout.

Chris arrives first, as always. Early in order to help set up. The man can’t cook for shit so he brings drinks - both alcoholic and non-alcoholic - for his contribution to the large meal. Rebecca is next along with Sherry and Jake. Quite frankly, Barry was surprised they’ ed convinced the kid to come but, at the same time, the older man was fairly sure Jake would do anything for Sherry if she just asked. The three had brought different desserts that were most probably store-bought. Barry could already see Rebecca’s hand slowly drifting up to the pair of dog tags that hung around her neck - it would become more evident as the night wore on.

Next are Jill and Carlos, the latter of which has just been a recent addition to these types of celebrations despite having known Jill since Racoon. They arrive with a dish that smells heavenly and was most definitely prepared by Carlos. Jill, like Chris, was poorly adept in the kitchen. 

Last to arrive was Leon and Claire along with their ever-growing brood. Isabelle seemed to be barley restraining herself, a ball of excitement ready to burst at the seams.

“Hi, Grandpa Barry!” 

Barry smiled at the little girl.  She had been calling him ‘Grandpa” for as long as he could remember and, seeing as the kid had no real grandparents in her life, he and his wife had taken on the pseudo roll eagerly. 

“Hey kid,” Barry ruffled her hair, “how’s it going?”

“Great!” she giggled. Pleasantries out of the way, Isabelle moved on to her main prerogative,

“Are Sherry and Jake here yet?” 

For some reason, Izzy had taken quite the shining to her older sister’s new boy toy. Jake, for his part, seemed to have begrudgingly accepted his newfound role as ‘big brother’ to the Kennedy kid. Barry supposed that Izzy had never really given him a choice.

“They are. In fact, you guys are the last to get here.”

Isabelle pouted before turning to her mother who had been hanging up their coats by the door.

“I told you, Mamma, we’re always late.”

“We’re not late Izzy. Dinner isn’t anywhere near ready yet so you have plenty of time to play with Sherry and Jake.”

Izzy harrumphed before running off to the living room where she assumed everyone else would be. Claire sighed before turning to their host.

“Hey, Barry.” She smiled and accepted the hug that Barry was offering her. She registered Leon scolding Izzy for not taking her shoes off before running further into the house.

“Leon.” Barry moved on to the younger man, waving at little Olivia who was snuggled up in her Daddy’s arms.

“Barry.”

This was usually how things were. The two would act aloof until Claire has moved out of earshot and Barry could well and truly find out how Leon was doing.

“Kathy is in the kitchen, said to send you in once you got here.”

“Oh, of course.” Claire looked between the two men and pretended not to know what was going on. She pecked Leon on the lips and tickled Olivia’s belly before heading towards the kitchen to help Kathy with the dinner. 

“Sorry, we didn’t bring anything this year. Claire’s had her hands full with her job and the girls while I was gone and since I got back a few days ago things have been a little out of whack.” Leon chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” God, Barry thought, am I really so old that I’m calling everyone kid?

“Anyway,” Barry said, “how’s the family life treating ya?” 

Leon knew Barry wasn’t really asking about the ‘family life’. But it was just easier sometimes to talk in innuendos and code words what with little ears around. In this case, the family life really meant the sober life. The special agent looked down at a specific pair of little ears before answering. Liv was currently clinging to Leon like her life depended on it. Both girls were always a little clingy when he returned from long missions but Liv tended to take the term ‘Daddy’s girl’ to a new level.

The three-year-old had only let go of the man long enough for both of them to take their coats off.  What Barry noticed though, was that Leon seemed to be holding on to Olivia just as desperately.

“Family life is... It’s ah, a little hard sometimes. But I’d never go back.”

Barry smiled but nodded. Motioning for Leon to follow, he made his way into the living room to join everyone else.

“Hi, Livy!” Moira said, waving enthusiastically at the little girl.

“Hi,” Liv said in a small, quiet voice

“Come play with us!” Natalia called from where she and Moira were stationed in front of a dollhouse.

Barry’s adopted daughter loved playing with Olivia whenever she got the chance. She once told him that it was because she had fun playing with ‘babies’ which, Barry thought was a little funny considering that, at only eleven, Barry still very much saw Natalia as barely more than a baby himself. He supposed he should work on that, the girls as growing up every day - thriving, even, in a stable environment with what is probably the closest to a normal life she’d ever had.

Olivia shook her head at Natalia’s invitation to play. Instead, she buried her head even further in her father’s shoulder. 

“Common Liv, we have a special doll just for you.” This time it was Moira trying to do the convincing, even going as far as to use a sing-song voice.

All she garnered was another head shake. 

“I’m sure your sister is having a lot of fun with Sherry and Jake,” Barry motioned to where the three were making various buildings and figures out of Leggos, “I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

“Jake could use some help over here Liv, I think you should come show him how its done.” Sherry chimed in.

“What? No I -” Jake’s cry of indignation was cut off by Sherry’s elbow to his side. “ I’m real lost here, Oliva. Sherry’s right.”

“ I stay with Daddy.”

A round of soft laughter went through the room at that. Barry shared a knowing look with his wife before holding his arms out to the little girl who looked at him skeptically,

“Common sweetie. I’m sure you’ve been attached your Daddy since he’s been back. Why don’t you spend some time with Grandpa for a bit? I feel like I haven’t seen your cute little face in ages!”

Olivia didn’t say anything. Instead, she just looked at Barry in that way kids were so good at like he was spewing a load of fresh bullshit.

“It’s fine Barry.”  Leon’s response saw Olivia snuggles back into her father, content to be in his arms.

“Well, she can’t stay with you forever kid, gotta learn sometime - both of you. Why not now when you won’t be any further than a room away.”

“I’m with you Barry, I tell Leon all the time he coddles her too much,” Claire said. From her spot in the kitchen, she had a clear view of what was going on in the living room.

“Is it really coddling though? I was gone for almost two weeks.” Leon’s defense was weak sounding.

“And we both know you could be gone longer at the drop of a hat. That’s just the life we live and when she refuses to be put down and you refuse to put her down, you make my life harder when Daddy inevitably has to leave again. Barry’s still got my vote. She’s gotta learn.” 

“Common, Chris, Carlos, if you guys were in my situation you’re telling me you guys wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“ Sorry bro, as much as I love to disagree with my sister, she’s kinda right.” Chris’s reply was definitely not what Leon was looking for so the blonde man turned to Carlos for his support.

“Look man, I’d be the first to admit that if I ever had kids it would be hard for me to ever deny them anything.” Leon lit up at that and everyone else pretended to ignore the quick look Carlos shot Jill as he finished his statement.

“But,” Leon seemed to visibly deflate as Carlos continued, already knowing where this was going - not in his favor “ that doesn’t mean they aren’t right.”

“Thank you!” Claire interjected.

“Well, I think it’s cute.” Rebecca proudly stated.

At that Caire stepped fully out of the kitchen and pointed a pair of tongs at Rebecca who had been nursing a glass of something strong by the fireplace.

“You say that now. Wait until you find someone and have a few kids of your own. As cute as it is, your tune will change real quick.”

Rebecca let out a little laugh as Claire returned to the kitchen but it sounded a little forced, hand drifting back up to the dog tags around her neck.

“Hand her over, Leon. She’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Leon did as he was told. Olivia did not go quietly, the beginnings of a tantrum becoming evident as she was handed off to her ‘grandpa’.

“Oh stop acting up baby girl, you’re just fine!” Claire’s voice carried sweet but stern from the kitchen.

Olivia quieted at her mother’s words but still hadn’t silenced her whimpers. Leon looked about ready to cave.

“I have three kids Leon and more years of experience. Trust me, I’ve got this. Now, Livy and I are gonna go read a nice story and I’m sure Kathy and Claire could use some help.” Barry said with a smile. 

“ Leon, could be a dear and go bring the cooler in from the garage?” 

“Of course Kathy.”

“Oh, you might need some help. It’s not exactly small and Barry already put the ice and some drinks in.”

“I got you.” Carlos squeezed Leon’s shoulder as he passed, effectively turning the man away from Olivia and punching him in the direction of the garage.

“Thanks, boys!” Kathy called after them.

Olivia got a little angsty once Leon was out of her sights but soon Barry had her thoughts away from her missing Daddy and onto The Cat in the Hat. They got through three more books - Olivia entranced by the pictures in on each page - before eventually going off to color with Polly who had brought out some of her colored pencils, crayons, and old coloring books. 

Olivia even convinced her Uncle Chris to come color with her ( and he’d never admit it to Leon but, when those large blue eyes were turned on him Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to say no).

When Claire and Kathy called that dinner was ready to be served Leon took that as his cue that ‘separation’ time was over. He collected Izzy first, watching to make sure to washed-up properly before helping her to make a plate.

“ Do you want ham or turkey, Princess?”

“ Ham, please. Daddy, I don’t want green beans.” Isabelle made a face as Leon scooped some onto the plate, ignoring her protest.

“ I know, but remember what we talked about?”

Isabelle sighed, “No green beans, no desert.” The girl had a sweet tooth that could rival her mother’s and her parents tended to use that to their advantage.

Leon chuckled, bringing the plate over to the smaller table just to the side of the main one in the dining room. Their found family was getting too big for everyone to sit at the dining table, so they had resorted to setting up a table for the youngest of the group to sit.

Izzy seemed to accept her fate as she sat Jake at the table, giggling as he too joked about being forced to eat his vegetables in return for dessert. Sherry always volunteered to sit with the kiddos along with Moira and Polly and wherever Sherry went, Jake went. Leon shot the kid a look, it seemed that two of his girls had taken quite a shining to him and it was safe to say that he wasn’t too pleased with it. Rationally, he knew that Sherry was old enough to make her own decisions and Izzy most likely just had a silly schoolgirl crush that would go away with time. But Leon didn’t want to think rationally right now.

He was interrupted from his thoughts as he heard Claire playfully inspecting Olivia’s hands.

“Did you get ‘em all clean, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Chris help me!”

“Did he sing you your song?” Claire asked teasingly. Olivia just giggled while nodding her head yes.

“He did, did he?” Claire sent a shit-eating grin to her brother who quickly excused himself to the table.

“You do it better, Mommy.” Claire laughed before kissing her little girl’s bleach blonde hair. Leon was convinced it would darken over time, just like his had.

“Come here little bug, let’s get you something to eat.”

Leon helped Liv just as he had with Izzy. Once she’d had all she wanted on her plate, as well as some vegetables she didn’t, he made to set her up next to her sister at the other table.

“Daddy, no!”

Leon was prepared for this, it happened every time. Liv wouldn’t want to sit with the other kids, no, she always much rather stay with her Daddy. So, safe to say he was more than taken aback by Livy’s next words.

“ I sit with Grandpa.” 

It was as if the whole room went silent at Olivia’s request, even Izzy stopped her laughing and was looking at her little sister with a shocked expression.

“ I - um… you’d have to ask Grandpa.”

Olivia wasted no time running over to Barry where he sat at the head of the table.

“Grandpa, I sit with you?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Barry lifted the little girl onto her lap. She settled in with a little giggle and Leon felt his heart both swell and break at the sound. This was what they were trying to achieve the whole night, right? He voiced such out loud when Claire came over to ask if he was ok.

“Ya but, it doesn’t mean it would hurt any less. That was a hard reject, Kennedy.” Jill said. 

“Jill.” Carlos gently admonished.

“What? Are we all just supposed to sit here and pretend like that didn’t just happen? I mean, no offense to you Leon but that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all night.” Jill laughed again.

“You know Jill, I never took you as one to languish in someone else’s pain. Hats off to you.” 

Jill raised her wine glass to Jake in acknowledgment of his comment. Claire took Liv’s plate out of Leon’s hand and placed it in front of the little girl. She then began to make up another one with all of Leon’s favorites.

Putting down the plate in front of an empty chair she motioned for Leon to come and sit.

“Why don’t you come eat something, honey.” 

Leon could tell that even Claire felt a little bad for him - she only calls him ‘honey’ when she does. She even kissed his cheek as he pulled a chair out for her before sitting down like she’d suggested.

“It’s fine,” he lied, “I don’t get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this.”

“If he’s acting this way now imagine how he’ll act once they start dating.” Rebecca whisper yelled to Chris who was seated next to her.

Chris almost choked on his drink, laughing at the image of Leon’s suffering.

“Hey, he hasn’t said anything about Jake yet!” Sherry’s attempt at defending Leon was not appreciated by Jake who shot her a scathing look.

“Only because I haven’t had the chance yet. It’s coming, Shelly.” Leon turned to look at the two adults in question as he said it.

Sherry blushed - whether, from the use of his old nickname for her or from the thinly veiled threat, he wasn’t exactly sure. Jake let out a withered sigh before turning back to his food. Eventually, everyone else took pity on Leon’s poor soul and did the same. That, or they just got tired of making fun of him - with people like these for family one never could be too sure. 

Dinner continued with much merriment; teasing abounded but not all at the expense of Leon. Once the word was out that Rebeca had been curbing advances from several men she had met at her new job the table was divided - some teasing and encouraging her to go for it, others defending that she didn’t have to. By the end of it, the dog tags had ended back up in her hands. Rebecca then flipped it on the perpetually single Chris who, in turn, threw Jill and Carlos under the bus. The friendly banter then shifted to their undefined relationship status. All the while laughter continuously flowed from the table along with the occasional interjection from Moira, Polly, or Sherry. Jake mainly sticking to entertaining the kids.

By the end of the night, Leon found himself with an arm around Claire’s shoulders and Livy sitting in his lap - two out of three of his girls snuggled up against his chest, still seated at the table. Olivia had migrated back to her Daddy when she had started to get tired and Leon would be lying if he said it hadn’t made him feel miles better. Number three wasn’t far behind.

“Daddy, are we going home soon?”

Leon could see the tiredness almost radiating off of his daughter. Izzy had run off her sugar high from dessert and looked like she was ready to drop right there in front of him.

“Soon, Princess.” he shifted Livy in his lap to make room for Izzy.

It always took a little finagling to fit both Isabelle and Olivia on his lap but, somehow, they always seemed to make a way. Izzy climbed up and Leon felt content - belly full of good food, surrounded by family and good conversation, and most importantly, his little family wrapped safely in his arms.

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Chris, Carlos, and Jill began to clear the table. They made their way to the kitchen with the intent to clean up and give Kathy a break since she and Claire were the main ones who set everything up.

Leon could hear his wife sigh,

“It’s late. We should get the girls home.” except she made no move to do that, instead she buried her face in his neck and took in a deep breath letting out an even deeper sigh.

Eventually, Izzy began softly snoring. Leon and Claire knew they couldn’t put off heading home any longer - the drive wasn’t long but it wasn’t exactly short either and the girls should be sleeping in their own beds where it was more comfortable.

Between the two of them, they were able to get the girls into their shoes and jackets and then into their car seats with minimal trouble. They said their goodbyes outside by the car. Promises to do it again for Christmas were made but they were all taken with a grain of salt. One never knew when Leon would be called away on a mission or when Claire would be needed for some Terrasave function or clean-up job. 

“I hope you enjoy being ‘grandpa’ to those cute little girls ‘cause you sure aren’t getting any grandkids from me anytime soon.”

“Good.”

Barry turned away from watching Claire and Leon drive away to look down at his oldest daughter. She looked back up at him. All was silent for a moment until the two broke out into easy laughter. He guided her back into the house, closing the door and effectively blocking the cold out.

As Barry held his own daughter close he looked around at everyone left. Natalia sleeping on the couch, Sherry and Jake whispering in a not-so secluded corner. Rebecca had joined the cleanup crew in the kitchen after having seen off the Kennedy clan. His eyes met his wife’s who was still seated at the table enjoying a slice of pie with Polly.

Barry knew that in the world they lived in, one couldn’t be certain of many things. But, he also knew that he could be certain of this - family wasn’t just defined by blood. Barry didn’t know what the future held, no one did. What they did know, however, was that their family was always changing - in size and look. But, they would always be there, especially on holidays like this, to remind one another that they were alive, that they had all made it through another year. They would be there to remind each other that there was still love and kindness in this dark world worth fighting for, and they did it in what seemed like the easiest, most simple way - by loving each other.

#Cleon #Cleon fic #cleon babies #resident evil #brief appearance of Valenveira #My writing #i had to write some fluff so I could write the angst later #Thanks to everyone in the discord for the great headcannons

[mystical-flute]

Uncharted Waters (YGOxOne Piece Crossover)

Also on AO3 || Buy me a ko-fi?

The worlds "Earth" and "Eturn" used to be united, until a mysterious force ripped them apart eight-hundred years ago. Now, the Veil between worlds is starting to crack, just as the Shadow Games return to Earth. Reika Muto, an undercover operative in Eturn and owner of the Millennium Bracelet, is caught between two worlds.

“Did you really think that a rookie like you could really stop Baroque Works?” Mr. 3 asked with a sneer, staring down at Reika with contempt in his eyes. “You pirates should have just left well enough alone, don’t you understand that? Then your poor body wouldn’t be in the state it's in!”

As if to emphasize, he wiggled the dagger that had been stuck in her, causing her to cry out in pain again.

“But don’t worry, you’re going to be at peace soon enough,” he continued, the wax slowly climbing up her foot.

Reika shifted her outstretched arm, desperately grasping for one of the batons just outside her grip. “I’m not dying here,” she choked out.

“Aren’t you? You’re out of moves! Out of options, and out of time.”

Her pinky grasped the baton, sliding it into her palm as his back turned away, keeping an eye out for any of her allies.

“Hey Mr. 3, do you know what’s scarier than a little shock?” she questioned.

“Hm? What do you - ”

“Jupiter’s Storm!” she called out, a bolt of lightning shooting from the baton and straight onto the Baroque Works Officer.

He slumped to the ground, unmoving.

“It came from this way!”

“It sounded like Sakura!”

Sakura. Stupid undercover names. But it was to protect her from the Marines, so she dealt with it.

She slowly sat up, knocking some of the wax off her foot just as two familiar shadows appeared in the alley.

“Chopper! Usopp!”

Chopper rushed forward with his medical kit. “What did he do to you?!”

“He picked up a dagger from one of his minions and tried to distract me before turning me to wax,” she grunted, looking at Usopp, who was almost totally covered in bandages. “I’m in better shape than you though, Usopp.”

“Nothing can keep the great Captain Usopp down!” Usopp replied, puffing out his chest before going into a coughing fit.

“Uh-huh. Where are the others? Are they okay? What about our captain?”

Chopper tied the last of the bandages to her shoulder. “This is all I can do for now. Luffy went to go hunt down Crocodile, but the others are waiting at the end of the alley!”

“Reika?”

“I’m okay, Azila. I promise.”

She rose to her feet. “Let’s go.”

All they needed to do was stop a civil war and disarm a bomb.

Get Princess Vivi to the top of the clock tower… watch in horror as Pell, the captain of the Alabasta guards, flew the bomb up to the sky. Watch it explode, knocking everyone off their feet. Watch as the fighting resumed despite the horror that just took place.

Be… unable to stop them. Marine and pirate alike stood in utter disbelief as VIvi’s cries for peace went unheard until rain, precious, life-giving rain, that had been denied Alabasta for three long years thanks to Crocodile’s manipulations, finally began to fall.

“I don’t remember much of what happened after that,” she admitted, days later. “We passed out in an alley after telling Vivi to go be with her father and her people. When I woke up, we’d been out for almost a full day.”

“So to recap, you’re telling me a rookie pirate with a thirty million berry bounty defeated one of the Seven Warlords?” Commander Kenji Hashimoto questioned, squinting at her from his screen.

Reika rolled her eyes. “Do you really think I would lie about a report like this?”

“I know you’d never lie to me, Reika,” Kenji said with a heavy sigh. “Have you spoken with your family?”

Reika Muto nodded slowly. “I talked to them about a week ago. I warned them that I’d be unavailable for a while. Said I was going off the grid for a desert excavation for an internship.”

It wasn’t a complete lie, technically. Alabasta was a desert, she did see ancient sites, and she never would have been able to contact her family with how chaotic the fight against Crocodile was.

Alabasta just wasn’t anywhere in the United States… or on Earth.

“I spoke to your aunt the other day. They don’t seem suspicious about your whereabouts,” Kenji explained.

“Good,” Reika said, glancing at her watch. “I should head back to the palace. The others are going to start wondering what took me so long. Agent Sakura signing out.”

The name still felt weird in her ears, but she was a scout, and the best scouts had disguises, after all.

“Thank you for letting me use your equipment,” she said to the old woman in the next room. “My commander was pleased to hear from me.”

“Of course. It must be hard to get a chance to contact them while you’re at sea,” Megumi replied with a smile. “Now, I’ve added a few little trinkets to your bag as a thank you for helping me arrange my furniture.”

Reika grinned as she grabbed her things, tucking her cell phone out of sight after sending a quick text to her boyfriend. “Of course. Thank you. It was good to speak with you.”

The walk back to the palace was swift, nod and say hello to the citizens who were diligently working to rebuild their city, duck when it came to Marines, and keep gaze steady when passing the ones that had stationed themselves on the palace steps, blocked by the royal guard, who let her through without issue.

“There you are, Reika! What did that old lady want, anyway?” Usopp asked with a small frown when she entered the room they’d bunked down at.

“Oh - nothing major. She just said I reminded her of her granddaughter and asked for help arranging some furniture,” she said, waving her hand dismissively as she set her bags on her bed to look over what the woman had given her.

“So… did she give you any cash as a thanks?” Nami questioned. If it were possible, Reika was sure Nami’s eyes would be money signs all the time.

Reika rolled her eyes and tossed over a small sack of coins, hearing Nami’s delighted ‘hah!’.

“Luffy’s still out of it, huh?” she asked, glancing over at the bed where their captain lay fast asleep.

“His fever broke, which is good, but otherwise no, nothing,” Chopper replied with a sigh.

Reika smiled. “Hey, don’t be so glum. You’re going to be the world’s best doctor, remember? I’m sure he’ll wake up -”

Her head throbbed.

The Shadow Games are coming…

“Reika?”

She snapped her head back up, looking at the worried crew in front of her. “Sorry, I’m fine. My head just hurt for a second. I’m just going to go splash some water on my face.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely!”

Luffy chose that moment to wake up, creating the perfect distraction as she ducked out of the room and took her phone out of her pocket, seeing an incoming call and feeling her stomach sink.

“Okay okay okay!” she grumbled to it, moving into an empty bathroom before putting it to her ear. “Hello?”

“Oh thank goodness I got through! Reika, grandpa’s hurt!” came her cousin’s frantic voice from the other end. “I was dueling with Pegasus and when it ended all of a sudden grandpa was passed out! We can’t get him to wake up!”

Reika blinked several times, trying to process the information. “Okay - what? Slow down this time.”

She heard Yugi taking deep breaths before he spoke again. “You know how I won against Kaiba a few weeks ago?”

“Yes, of course I do. I had a very… interesting conversation with him that night,” she said, frowning.

“Pegasus somehow found out that I won against him and wanted to find out more about me. But the DVD he sent was a trap - he was on it using his Millennium Item on it. He - he said he took grandpa’s soul and now grandpa won’t wake up!”

She pinched her brows together. “Well, that explains the headache.”

“What do you mean?”

A sigh escaped her. “I got the worst headache a few minutes ago. Heard a voice say something about the Shadow Games? Listen, I can’t really talk right now. I’ll be home as soon as I can. I promise. Call me if anything changes with grandpa.”

“O - okay…”

Reika ended the call and swallowed back the lump in her throat. Why now? Of all the times for this to happen, it had to be while they were celebrating their victory. After she’d clawed her way into the Grand Line to find her parents.

“Dammit all…” she grumbled, switching to her agency communicator. “This is Agent Muto requesting extraction from the Kingdom of Alabasta.”

“Reika? What seems to be the issue?”

“My grandfather’s in a coma. I’m at the palace. Be advised there are Marine ships in the area. The group I’m with plans to cross the desert tonight, so I’ll make sure my tracker is on.”

“Aiko will find you. We’ll get you home safe.”

With her family believing she was studying in California, they needed to match up the amount of time it would take for a cross-continental flight. Thirteen hours ought to do it.

Reika slid to the ground, her head in her hands. She’d finally made it to the sea her parents had gone missing in. She finally had started being able to investigate and now… now she had to leave it all behind.

But her grandfather had raised her, and she knew deep down Domino was where she needed to be.

“Reika! Where’d you go?”

She rose to her feet, swallowed the lump in her throat, quickly splashed some cold water on her face to get rid of the redness that had started forming, and opened the door to find Vivi.

“Sorry Vivi, splashing water on my face did the trick. I feel much better now,” Reika lied with a wide smile. “Did I miss anything?”

“Well, Terracotta said dinner will be ready soon. I’d say she brought an appetizer, but Luffy ate it all, so…”

“I can wait until dinner,” she said with a laugh. She wasn’t very hungry anyway, knowing what was going to happen tonight.

At midnight, the Straw Hat crew packed up their belongings and descended from the palace.

Reika switched on her tracker as soon as they hit the desert. It was only moments before Aiko appeared in a bright flash of light, the pirates tensing immediately.

“Who the hell are you?” Zoro asked, hand already on his sword.

“Zoro, wait! Aiko’s a friend of mine!” she said, eyes wide. “But how did you find me all the way out here?”

“Sheer dumb luck I suppose. You know my powers are still a little scattered,” Aiko said, slipping into the lie with ease. “I’m not here with great news though. Your grandfather’s fallen ill, Reika. The doctors can’t seem to wake him up.”

She let the tears she’d hidden before flow. “What?!”

“What’s wrong? Was it some sort of disease?” Chopper asked with wide eyes.

“Grandpa’s had heart issues for years now.” Reika sniffled. “I knew he shouldn’t have stayed by himself.”

“We’ll help him. Chopper’s the best doctor here!” Nami insisted. “Er, right, Luffy?”

Monkey D. Luffy sat with a contemplative look on his face.

“Where is this island?” he finally asked.

“Oxram Island,” Reika explained. “It’s only a couple days journey from here, but it’s back the way we came, and with the Marine ships around, it’d be too dangerous for you guys to come with me.”

Luffy gave her an uncharacteristically serious look. “I see then. If you feel you need to leave the crew, that’s okay. I understand.”

“You’re sure?” Reika asked, looking at the crew with wide eyes.

“It’s your family and your grandfather’s in trouble. Of course I’m okay with it,” Luffy agreed with a wide grin. “Besides, you can come find us again!”

“Luffy, she has to go back the way we came,” Zoro grumbled. “I don’t know if - ”

“Aiko has the power of the portal-portal fruit. It can help guide me back to you, especially if you guys keep making waves!” Reika said. “Come on, Aiko. You can ride with me back to the ship. I’ll hurry up and pack the rest of my stuff.”

The journey across the desert was long, and they arrived at the Going Merry around three in the morning. She ignored most of the chaos on the deck with the escaped Baroque Works member who called himself a friend, and ducked into the women’s room, haphazardly tossing her things back into her suitcase.

“You sure you’re okay?” Aiko asked.

“I have to be, Aiko. You know what Uncle Takeo and Aunt Kumi will say if I don’t go home,” she replied, slipping a tracking device behind her nightstand so she could find the crew whenever her grandfather recovered. “Let's just get this over with.”

“I guess this is goodbye for now!” she called to the deck, unsure if any of the crew could hear her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.”

Aiko summoned a portal (using her technology, not a devil fruit power), and with a deep breath, Reika vanished through the Veil, back to Domino, Japan.

Earth.

“Welcome back, Agent Muto,” Kenji greeted. “I’m just going to need you to go through a health check and we’ll get you home to your family.”

Reika nodded, first making a stop in the changing room, where she rid herself of the Alabastan fashion she’d been wearing, removing the batons and their braces from her arms, revealing the golden bracelet she’d kept hidden during her time in Eturn. She slipped into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, then reached up to take the clip out of her hair, letting it hang free around her shoulders as the dark brown she’d had faded back into her normal color.

In the med bay, as the doctor took her vitals, she stared at herself in the mirror. It had been days since she’d truly been able to look at herself this way - her natural state. Multicolored hair like her father, warm brown eyes like her mother. The older she got, the more of them she could see herself in them.

It was why she’d been sent to Eturn. Why she’d been on a pirate crew, sailing around that mysterious world and getting into danger. She had a clawing, desperate need to find out why her parents had disappeared in that same world ten years ago.

She winced when Hiro’s fingers found the scar on her shoulder. “Easy there, would you?”

“When did you get this?”

“Four days ago. I jumped in the way of an enemy that had been going after my friend. The assailant ended up driving their dagger into my shoulder before I managed to get them off me,” she explained as Hiro’s fingers traced down it gently.

Hiro frowned. “It’s healing well, but I’m concerned about nerve damage in your shoulder. I’d like you to come back in a couple days so I can run some tests.”

Reika nodded in agreement, hopping off the exam table. “Sure.”

“One more thing before you leave, Agent Muto,” Kenji said, frowning as she passed him on her way toward the elevator. “The Veil is beginning to wane.”

She stared. “Wane? Megumi didn’t mention anything to me about that.”

“It hasn’t spread to all corners of the dimensions yet. Megumi’s superiors may not have informed her,” Kenji explained. “It seems to have started here in Japan, though.”

“Okay, so I’ll keep an eye out. Is it glowing blue like our portals?”

“It is, and worse, it seems to keep pulling people between worlds.”

Her eyes widened. “This could be a disaster. Is there any way to stop it?”

“At this time, it seems the only way to stop it is to close the portals. Each agent has been given a personal transporter for this emergency.”

Reika stared at the device as it was pushed into her hand. “Pretty odd to have one of these here in Domino,” she admitted. “You and Yume are always so strict about not using them unless we’re in danger in Eturn.”

“Things may get dicey here, so be on your guard. We’ve been trying to increase security, but it seems with each ripple we close, another opens. It’s like someone is trying to combine the dimensions,” Kenji sighed. “But I shouldn’t be bothering you with this now. Go home and get some rest. I’ll call you when we’re ready to put you on active duty.”

“Thanks, Mr. Hashimoto,” she murmured, making her way to the private parking lot and finally pulling out into the familiar Domino streets.

Three-thirty in the morning even in the heart of Domino City meant not many people were out and about, but still, it almost felt wrong seeing cars instead of ships. As she drove past the hospital, she squinted at the bright, fluorescent lighting of the parking lot.

Reika’s hands shook against the steering wheel.

Grandpa…

She let out a heavy exhale as she pulled up to the game shop, cutting the engine. In all honesty, she hadn’t even thought about what she might say or do if she ever came back to Domino.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

The scent of yakitori still hung in the air as she pushed her way into the apartment, closing the door as quietly as she could behind her and glancing around.

It hadn’t changed much in her absence. Not that she expected it to - Domino as a whole, despite being a city, seemed to be stuck in the mundane. They didn’t know about the global espionage agency that used a restaurant as a front. They didn’t know that there was an entire world beyond strange portals.

It was perfectly ordinary.

A yawn escaped her as she opened her bedroom door, dumping her bags by it and pulling out her phone as she flopped onto the bed. There was at least a fifty-fifty chance that her boyfriend would be awake, knowing his tendency to work through the night.

Seto, I’m home. Text me if you have time to meet.

She meant to stay up and check if he got back with her, but the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with her, and she drifted off, not even bothering to get under the covers.

#yugioh #one piece #uncharted waters #fanfiction

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Prompt: Wally Franks, but he's a wizard.

One wizard Wally coming right up!

It was a miracle how the Janitor kept the studio clean.

Even when it was just a tiny shack of a building, it was a busy tiny shack of a building that had ink and papers constantly spilling everywhere; crumpled up balls of paper that would miss the trashcans, broken bottles of ink, and god knows what else because people are messy. But it was manageable and easily cleaned. After all, if Wally 'slacks off until the last possible second every single day in that dumb hat of his' Franks managed to keep the place spotless, it couldn't be that hard.

Anyone in the studio could recognize Wally without even meeting the man because of that ridiculous hat, but nobody could tell why he wore such a thing as he always changed the story behind it.

"Laugh now, but dese are all the rage ouva in dose hoity-toity upscale cities. I'm gonna mistaken for one of those shmucks and get famous!"

"Oh, dis old thing? Okay, let me set the stage fah ya: Way, way, back in good ol' 1692, my great-great-insert a couple dozen or so more 'greats' in dere grandpa really cheesed off a witch in da woods... *one over the top ridiculous story later* ...and now my entire bloodline is cursed to weah stupid hats."

"I Might've lost da first bet, but ya should've seen da getup the outha guy's stuck with!"

"Da best way ta keep a clown from sneakin' up an killin' ya is ta trick 'em into thinkin' you're one of them."

"All my outha hats got covered in ink."

"Didn't ya see dat Mickey Mouse short in da 'Fantasia' thang Disney put out? Obviously I wear dis stupid hat 'cause gives me magical powers."

"Isn't 'Steamboat Willie' they only animation that Disney made?"

"Aw shoot- I mean, I must've been thinkin' about something else then."

Often after answering he'd laugh and nonchalantly change the subject. Nobody really thought anything of it, the Janitor was the biggest chatterbox in the studio and always had a bunch of different subjects on his mind.

The day after Henry left, the studio expanded.

More rooms to fill with art, more people to fill the void of the lost creator, more ink to fuel it all. In fact, it didn’t stop there, why should it? Joey more musicians and started hiring voice actors to make future cartoons even better than the old ones, to prove to himself that he didn't need Henry to make their creation successful. Yet in spite of this rapid growth, the cleaning staff still only had one member; a single janitor and his stupid, colorful, pointy hat.

Joey didn’t even bother trying to hire anyone else for the studio’s cleaning staff. Even when animators and musicians got concerned for Wally about being the only janitor at such a big studio, Joey always said that he could never find anyone as ‘talented’ as Wally for the job. And to the Director’s credit, he was correct. No matter how large the studio grew, no matter how often the janitor slacked off, and no matter how bad the messes got, the studio would always be completely and perfectly spotless when the workers arrived in the morning. While Wally did complain to high heaven about having to clean up after everybody and often repeated what was essentially now his catchphrase, he never seemed to be exhausted from the job itself. If anything, he seemed to be overall more well rested than the other staff.

However, almost no one paid mind to this, after all, they work to do and had deadlines to meet, no time to spend wondering about the Janitor's uncanny ability to stay on top of his workload, they just were used to it and accepted it as one of the studio workers’ natural mysteries. Like how the building felt like it was changing itself sometimes, or how the projectionist seemed to be anywhere and or everywhere, or how the music director seemed to be a seer who made bitter, sarcastic, and or dry humored remarks that would often turn into accurate predictions of the future, or how Joey always seemed to know where everyone in the studio was. (Okay, that last one might’ve just been that he had the building wiretapped and there was nothing supernatural about that.)

Thankfully for Wally Franks, there was only one person who really took the time to sit down and question how he managed to get all several stories of the now almost constantly inked studio completely spotless was the man who had piled on a couple extra chores with his and his machine's arrival.

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

“So I’m cleaning da studio late at night an' I almost forgot dat Mistah Conner started doing late night shifts an' he almost caught me in full swing, I had brooms and mops out flyin' everywhere an' he almost saw everythang! Luckily, his footsteps are pretty heavy so it was easy ta know when he was coming but man dat was close! And I'm startin' ta think he's caught on to da fact dat there's something fishy goin' on down 'ere an' I bet I was really something suspicious back 'dere. 'Dis is the first time since dat incident he let me outta his sight while on da clock. What do ya think Sam? Last straw? Should I really get outta here before it gets worse? How'd my futuah look eitheah way?"

The music director sighed in annoyance before answering the janitor.

"For the last goddamned time, I CAN'T really see the future, Franks! That's just a dumb running joke between the studio."

"But you definitely can! And wit' accuracy too! remembah when ya told me ta not eat dat sandwich in the fridge or else I'd get punched even though it was MY Sandwich and afta I shrugged ya off, Jerry went an' clocked me in da jaw? You saw the freakin' futuah! You saw that I'd get punched and ya tried ta warn me!"

"Or, I saw the fact you have a long history of eating other people's food, had my back turned to you at the moment, and thought you were eating Jerry's sandwich. Jerry probably also thought you were eating his sandwich because you two brought in the exact same lunch!"

The musician stood up from his seat to refill his coffee mug, but before he could, the janitor dropped down on his knees in front of him and gave him his best 'puppy dog eyes'.

"C'mon Sammy! Please tell me what I should do! I don't wanna end up stuck in jail or dead from this! I have a girlfriend and a kid!"

The unwilling prophet pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought of something to tell the "wizard" to get him off his back.

"My best advice to you is to tell Conner about your secret in a secluded area, preferably a night shift you both work. If he doesn't believe you, demonstrate a simple yet flashy spell. And then wait for his reaction. If you get the feeling he's going to tell the world, tell him that if he tells anyone else, you will curse him and his entire bloodline."

"Wait, really? I mean, I don't plan on ignorin' ya but is dat really the best caurse of action?"

"What's wrong with it?"

"Well fer starters, cursing an entirah bloodline ain't somethin' you should take lightly! Even if it's something small, just, an' kinda silly like; 'Every time ya yell at someone for somethin' they didn't do, yer voice turns all high pitched and squeaky'. Ya could end up ruinin' someone's life! What if Tom's great-great grandson or whateva decided ta become a lawyeah and while defendin' his client, his voice got all squeaky. He'd be da laughin' stock of da legal system an' I'd be ta blame!"

"Okay, fine. Then just curse Conner specifically if he tries to ruin your life."

"But I don't even use magic on livin' things! What if I screw up an' accidentally turn him inta some kinda squeaky toy? Besides, is dere any otha way than just, revealing my secret dat I kept for my entirah life ta some guy who came in here an' started bossin' me around?"

Sammy rolled his eyes in annoyance. An action that registered to Wally as 'Why do these people keep asking me for help with the future if they keep fighting against me over the advice I give?' While Sammy knew his action meant 'Why am I constantly being bothered by my coworkers over their dumb running jokes pretending that magic is real?'

"Well, you told me, didn't you?"

"I mean, yeah, but dat's different! We're both, you know, and he's... well, not! I know you won't out me, but he might, even unda da threat of cursing!"

The two stood in silence for a bit before Sammy tried to leave again and Wally blocked his way.

"Just in case, do ya have any otha predictions?"

"I predict that if you stand between me and the coffee machine for any longer, you will suffer a terrible fate by my hands."

"Okay, okay! jeeze..."

And as the musician left for the break room, Wally silently dreaded the next time he and Tom would work a night shift together. Hopefully the studio's constantly irritated oracle was right about this being the best course of action.

#bendy and the ink machine #wally franks #sammy lawrence #batim au #fanfic #request

[ksgeekgirl]

Back to the House that Love Built - Chapter 1: Bucket List

Title: Bucket List Word Count: 2800k Warnings: None in this chapter...but they are coming! Pairing: Francisco Morales (Pedro Pascal, Triple Frontier) x Kaylah Riley OFC Chapter Summary: Takes place about 18 months before the happenings in Triple Frontier. Your standard grumpy pilot boy meets girl :) Author’s note: After watching Triple Frontier I couldn’t believe how they did my boy Frankie, so I decided to give him the back story he so richly deserved. Big thanks to @heather-lynn​ for helping me with story structure, being a kick ass beta and encouraging the shit out of me. If you like it, please let me know! 

Kaylah stretched her arms over her head, rolling her neck slowly in a circle. She’d been ma’am’d to death, had her heart blessed and had way more people than she was comfortable with knowing a little bit of her personal details. She’d even had one man, who sounded old enough to be her grandpa tell her “you sound real pretty, i’m sure we can work something out.” Hard pass. 

Despite that, every call ended the same way -- way out of her price range or unwilling to help. So now, she was down to the last name. Her final shot. 

She picked up her phone and tapped in the number, a little too aggressively, as she got psyched for one last call. 

“Okay Francisco Morales,” she said to herself as she popped her airpods back in and hit send, “ I dare you to tell me no.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Frankie had been working at the airport for eight months and it was a good fit. He was flying copters, getting in the air daily and keeping him close to the team. His brothers. They had been to hell and back in the nearly 20 years they were together in the Army -- then it all ended about 18 months ago. 

That first 10 months had been rough, he’d never really thought about what he’d do when he got out because he didn’t think he’d live to see the day. And he wasn’t alone. All of the guys were a little afloat after leaving the Army, except for Pope who was doing the same work, just without the flag. But, things had settled and while it wasn’t exciting it was so much better than he deserved, in his opinion. 

He was working four days on and three days off lately running workers out to oil rigs and various other projects. This was the end of a four day shift and he was running the post trip checks to make sure the bird was ready when he came back. 

The beginning notes of Go Away by Godsmack began blaring from his phone, which only meant an unknown number. Frankie contemplated ignoring the call, but he was still on the clock and he was nothing if not responsible. 

“Morales…” there was a pause before Frankie heard a very determined Southern drawl.

“Mr. Morales, my name is Kaylah Riley. Johnny Rowland over at Channel 9 said that you were the man who would be able to help me.” Kaylah didn’t even slow down before launching into her ask, not wanting to give him a chance to tell her no. 

“I’m looking for someone to take my mom and me up on a private tour. I know it’s a big ask, but i’ll be happy to pay for your expenses…” she heard him start to ma’am her on the other end and barrelled on “..and an additional fee for your time, we can make any time work to fit your schedule,” another soft ma’am on the other end “...we’d just really…” 

“MA’AM” Frankie almost yelled to get her attention. “I’m sorry, but we’re not a charter service. I’d be happy to give you the name…” 

“Mr. Morales, you don’t understand, I…” 

“No, Miss. Riley was it? I do understand. I’m sure one of the charter groups would be a much better experience. Like I said I'd be happy to recommend someone.” Frankie was not in the habit of giving Southern belles helicopter tours. He was about ready to give her a name when he heard her voice crack. 

“Mr. Morales, I’m going to be honest with you.” Kaylah could hear the defeat in her own voice as she laid it out. “I’ve called every charter and pilot in a 100 mile radius. You’re my last chance.” 

“Miss Riley, I…” Kaylah barreled on. 

“You see, my mom is dying. She has taken care of me my entire life and I’m trying to help her knock off her bucket list before she is ripped from me. Unfortunately the crazy woman’s list includes a helicopter ride.” a laugh bordering on panic bubbled out of Kaylah’s chest. “Please Mr. Morales, you really are my last hope.” 

Silence stretched on the line as Frankie took off his baseball cap and laid it on the workbench, running his free hand through his shaggy hair as he dropped onto a stool. He should tell her no. It wasn’t his problem. He could feel in his bones that this wouldn’t be a simple job. 

“Mr. Morales, please?” her voice was pleading. The edge from earlier gone and replaced with anguish. 

Shaking his head, Frankie pulled his cap back on. “Yeah. I’ll do it.” Frankie couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face as he heard her clap on the other end. He swore he could feel her smile through the phone. 

Frankie looked at the reports, “Weather is shit this weekend, pardon my language, but next Saturday should work. Can you be here at 10?” His hand rubbing the back of his neck as he talked. 

“We’ll make it work. And Mr. Morales,” Kaylah took a big breath, a tear escaping her eye, “thank you.” 

“Yeah. Next weekend.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaylah was excited to get home that night and tell her mom the good news. Dropping her backpack by the door and kicking off the shoes, she didn’t bother yelling for her mom. She knew the tiny woman would be planted on the back patio, ice tea in one hand and book in the other. 

She grabbed a beer on the way through the kitchen, leaning against the frame of the french door watching her mom a bit before breaking the silence. She’d nodded off, her chin resting on her chest and snoring lightly. Kaylah pushed off and walked over to the wicker loveseat, shaking her lightly. 

“Momma..” She jerks awake, looking around until Kaylah comes into focus. 

“Kaylah-girl. How long have you been home?” Her mom’s accent sounded so weird to others, but it was comforting to Kaylah. Born in Dublin and married to a Texas native, Maureen Riley had the odd combination of twang and lilt that could make her almost impossible to understand. Even after forty years in America.  

“Just got here,” She sat and slid an arm around her mom. “I have some good news.” 

Maureen’s eyes sparkled as she took in her daughter, “Good news? Let me guess...you have a date?” 

“Sort of,” Kaylah smiled as she saw her mom’s mouth drop open, “WE have a date to go up in a helicopter next Saturday.” 

Honest to god her mom squealed like a six year old, causing Kaylah to break out laughing, but that was followed by a very serious expression. 

“Momma, what’s wrong?” 

“Oh nothing baby...i’m just trying to figure out what you wear to fly in a helicopter!” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His little corner of the airport was dead on Saturday. Frankie got there early that morning, one to get the bird ready and two, because he wouldn’t put it past Kaylah Riley -- because she always used both names -- to be there early. 

He had grabbed a couple of blankets on the way out this morning. It got cold up there and he’s not sure that his suggestion to dress warm really got through to her when she called on Thursday. It may be the South, but it was still January and the combination of altitude and wind could make it brisk to say the least. 

Frankie had just gotten the headsets tested and ready to go when he saw a beige SUV pull up. He checked his watch, 9:30, just as he’d expected. He was walking out to tell her she’d have to move to the parking lot as she rounded the front of the car. 

He didn’t know what he’d expected, but he could say without a doubt it wasn’t the pretty redhead that was headed his way. Frankie didn’t know if you could be fearless and fragile at the same time, but that was what popped in his mind seeing Kaylah Riley for the first time. Shit. 

“Mr. Morales,” the wind whipping her ponytail as she walked up to Frankie, hand extended, “Kay…”

“Kaylah Riley. Got it.” Frankie gripped her hand in a strong shake, trying not to get distracted by her bright red lips. “You’ll need to move your car, you can’t leave it there.” 

“Good morning to you to Mr. Morales…” Kaylah was glad she had on her sunglasses so he couldn’t see her eye roll. “I’d planned on moving it, I simply wanted to drop my mom off first...walking really wears her out,” 

Kaylah pulled her hand back, realizing that she was still holding his long after the shake, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I mean, If that’s okay with you…” 

“Yeah. That’s fine,” Frankie nodded his head at the tiny woman headed their way “but I think she got tired of waiting for you.” 

Kaylah turned to see her mom strolling their direction. She couldn’t tell what made Maureen look more silly, the mirrored aviator sunglasses, her dad’s old leather bomber jacket or the long white scarf that was roughly the same color as her hair. 

“Ma’am,” Kaylah turned to look at a smirking Frankie, one hand on his hip, “is she dressed like the Red Baron?” 

She couldn’t help but laugh, “Mr. Morales, my mom is not what you’d call understated.” 

To his credit, Frankie didn’t laugh, but the way his eyes crinkled showed how amused he was. Before she knew what he was doing, Frankie stepped around her, jogging towards her mom and offering his arm like a proper gentleman. Kaylah watched them walk towards her, Maureen’s charm in full effect, but her eyes were on the man next to her. Baseball cap pulled down, jacket stretched across his broad shoulders. Dear lord, she was staring like a teenager. 

“A Stór, Francisco was just delightful to help me over here wasn’t he?” Maureen smiled up at Frankie. “Now go park the car and hurry back so we can get up in the air!” 

Kaylah smiled and gave her mom a small salute. “I’ll be right back” and headed back to the car. When Maureen turned to watch her go, Frankie followed her gaze. Kaylah’s black moto jacket ending at her waist and drawing Frankie’s eyes down her slim frame. Biting the inside of his jaw, he pulls his hat down a little lower, definitely not what he’d expected. 

Maureen was watching Frankie watch Kaylah, a glint in her eye as a smile spread across her face before she squeezed his arm. “Francisco, do you have somewhere I can sit down?” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kaylah looked back at the retreating figures as she started the car and pulled towards the parking lot. She was a little embarrassed at what she had expected with Francisco Morales. Johnny had told her that he was a vet, the best pilot he knew and a man of few words. What she had constructed in her mind in no way matched the man that was chatting up her mother. He wasn’t what passed for handsome these days. She’s seen handsome up close and that was surface level at best. He was something else. 

She parked and turned off the car, checking her reflection in the mirror, searching for the right word to describe him. Shoving her wallet and phone into her jacket pocket she jumped out of the car as the word came to her. 

Masculine. 

Francisco Morales was inherently masculine. Not macho, but just so comfortable in who he was there was no need to try and convince others. Like the Marlboro Man...with a helicopter. The only other man she’d known like that was her dad. 

Kaylah shook off that thought as she walked, looking up to see her mom already strapped into the front seat of the bird, headset in place and blanket tucked around her. 

“Momma?” Kaylah shielded her eyes as she looked up at her mom. “You two leaving without me?” 

“If you don’t hurry up we will,” Maureen shouted. “Now hurry up so Francisco can get you strapped in. I want to fly!” 

“Yes Ma’am!” Kaylah hurried around the copter where Frankie was waiting. She was trying to get in when she felt warm hands on her waist lifting her up drawing a little gasp out of her. 

“Sorry.” Frankie mumbled as he strapped her into the seat, tightening the belt around her soft hips, his eyes catching on the glimpse of freckled thigh through the stylish tear in her jeans. He bit his lip as he handed her the headset, using the bill of his cap to keep from looking at her. “You’ll be able to talk to us without doing anything. Just say something if you have a problem.” 

Kaylah nodded her head, at a loss for words...a condition that seldom plagued her. She watched as Frankie went through his process to get the helicopter running and then, they were in the air. 

While she took in the sites from 1,000 feet up, Frankie was the perfect tour guide. He and Maureen talked non-stop. No, that wasn’t accurate. Maureen talked non-stop and Frankie added the well timed “hum” or “really” that kept her in peak storytelling mode. In fact, she could have stayed on the ground and neither of them would have known. It was glorious. 

With their conversation as the soundtrack of the trip, the tour had passed quicker than expected as Kaylah saw the airport below. Coming to an end as Frankie sat the helicopter down as gentle as putting a baby to sleep. Kaylah was impressed as she heard his deep voice through the headset. 

“Wait until the blades stop before you unbuckle, then I'll come help you out.”  

Kaylah couldn’t help herself, her smart ass comeback slipping out before she even thought about it. “Aye, aye Captain.” 

“I was never a Captain,” the scratchy voice caused her to snap her head up to see Frankie looking at her over his shoulder. She couldn’t tell if he was joking or if she’d offended him. Kaylah was fairly sure that Francisco Morales didn’t have a funny bone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was about 30 minutes from when they landed until Kaylah headed back across the apron towards her car, leaving her mom in Frankie’s capable hands until she could return. 

Frankie watched Maureen get misty watching her daughter, seeing that as his cue to distract her and keep her focused on the great day. “Mrs. Riley…” 

“Francisco...please call me Maureen” she patted him on the leg, dabbing at her eyes. 

“Maureen then, you remind me so much of my mamá. Not just your personality and, um...stature,” Frankie smiled remembering the feisty little woman “but I don’t think anyone outside of Uncle Sam has referred to me as Francisco since she passed. Visiting with you today has given me a little piece of her back. Thank you.” 

Maureen smiled as she watched the years fall away from Frankie’s face as he thought of his mom. “What a lovely compliment Francisco. How old were you when you lost your mother?” 

“I was 20,” Frankie stopped, the muscle in his jaw working as he thought of that time. “In fact, I've been without her longer than I had her.” 

Maureen stood, and without saying a word, wrapped him in the kind of hug that only can come from a mom. “I know I can’t replace her, and lord knows you’ve had time to learn to live without her, but you don’t hesitate to call me if you need a stand-in mom.” 

She pulled back as she heard the car approach, patting him softly on the chest before turning to wave at Kaylah. Frankie moved to help her toward the car, walking in companionable silence as Kaylah came around to open the door. 

As they reached the car, Maureen turned and looked up to Frankie, patting him on the cheek, “I meant what I said Francisco.” Frankie smiled and took her hand, kissing the back of it...the same sign of affection he used to bestow on his mom. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Frankie stepped back as Kaylah got Maureen situated in the car and shut the door. She turned, pushing her sunglasses on her head, as she looked up at Frankie, extending her hand. 

“Mr. Moral…” Frankie interrupted her as he enveloped her small hand in his, “Please, call me Frankie.” 

“Okay. Well, thank you for everything,” Kaylah smiled up at him, pushing her sunglasses back down as she broke the handshake. “Frankie.” 

Kaylah made her way back to her side of the car. Getting in with a quick wave and driving off, leaving Frankie standing on the apron as her taillights disappeared. He scuffed his boot against the seam in the asphalt, shaking his head as he looked down. He knew this wasn’t going to be a simple trip. 

Shit. 

#frankie morales #catfish morales #pedro pascal #please read this #just the beginning