#I wish i had left more money in her tip jar? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

floshoe · 10 months

Text

Thank You

Single Mom! Florence x Female!Reader

Summary: Your entire life changes when you meet a girl at a coffee shop.

Warnings: Toxic relationship (previous), alluded to smut, cuteness, kids, pregnancy, self-doubt.

Women can get each other pregnant in this because i say so. <3

Also; I'm sorry I haven't been posting, writers block is a bitch. but I promise I'll get everything out!

WC: 5.9k

You met Florence at a cafe, really simple, almost cliche, but it was the best day of your life.

The first thing you noticed about her was her eyes, a beautiful green color, but obviously exhausted. Her smile was forced but still beautiful. You glance at her nametag, Florence, what a fitting name for a gorgeous woman.

She was on her 6th hour of her shift, and she was obviously wishing she was anywhere else. But of course, her being the sweet soul she is, she was able to keep the customer service voice and face on. You order your drink and left her a hefty tip for her long day.

She remembered that, because that tip allowed her to get her daughter something a little nicer for her birthday. So, the next time she saw you, she thanked you for your generosity.

After that, you concluded she was living off of tips and paycheck to paycheck, so every time you came in and she made your drink, you gave her the same tip. After a while of this, she starts getting a little suspicious, like how you have this much money and why are you giving so much of it to her.

"I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but why do you give me such a big tip every time I serve you?" She asked after about 2 months of you coming to the cafe.

"What if I told you, it's because you deserve it?"

"How would you know if I deserve it or not?"

"I see it in your eyes," you tell her as she hands you your drink, you drop off the tip, and walk out. Florence couldn't contain her smile after that, almost blushing.

The next time you saw her, she was actually happy to see you. Not because of the tips, but because of your nature. Your generosity went a long way with her.

She had your usual ready for you, you thank her, drop off the tip, with something a little extra and tell her to have a good day. You wish you could've stayed to talk but you had a busy day ahead of you.

That night, as Florence was going through her tips, she notices a piece of paper among the bills.

I swear I forget where I am when I walk in here, but I've realized I'm lost in your eyes.

(XXX-XXX-XXXX)

xoxo, Y/n

She recognized your name because she asked for it every time you got your drink. She smiled, blushed, but was saddened at the thought of you buying her affection.

It was a week before you gained the courage to walk into the cafe again. Having not heard from her, you were worried you had crossed a line. It was later in the day so there weren't near as many customers as the morning. But she was just as kind to you as before, and acted as if nothing had happened, you apologized for crossing a line and gave her the same tip as before.

"You don't have to keep giving me the tip," she tells you.

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You don't need to use money to get girls you know," she softly states.

"I don't," you replied, shocked. "Please don't think I'm trying to win you over with money, I do that because you're you, and I like you, not because I want something from you."

She blushes a little before you turn to leave. "Can I have your number again; I threw the first one out," she says with a smirk.

You smile and grab a napkin, write it down and put it in the tip jar and make your way home. She messages you that night, leading to a conversation neither of you will forget.

Both of you fall asleep with smiles on your faces that night.

Months later, that conversation still pops up in both your minds, even as you're entering your 3rd month being together. In those months, you learn you were right. She is living on her tips and paycheck. Just barely making ends meet sometimes. But your tips helped keep her a little more comfortable.

She's been to your place more times than either of you can count, mostly during the late morning or early afternoon. Over time you noticed you'd never been to her place. Not wanting to overstep, you keep that thought to yourself.

And she could tell, and as your relationship progressed, she worried more and more about telling you. And before that she had to tell you about her past with relationships.

She had mentioned it before you guys became official, worried it might scare you off, but it did nothing of the sort. It only made you want her more, so you could treat her the way she deserved.

But she went into more detail at around 7 months of dating. Because the day before she told you, she had told you she loved you. But before you could say it back, she kissed you and left your apartment.

She called you a couple days later apologizing for her running away.

"I'm really sorry for running out," her voice shaking and riddling with guilt

"It's okay Flo... you don't regret what you said do you?"

"No! No, of course not, I just kind of said it and I got nervous. But I think I need to be more honest about my hesitation," she confesses.

You blew out a sigh of relief when she said she didn't regret saying it.

"Come over for dinner so we can talk about it?" You offer.

"Of course."

When she got to your apartment that night, there was something different about her, yes, she had usually been shy. But now she seemed nervous to even be in your presence. You reach out your hand and watch as she grabs it with her smaller ones. Another thing you loved about her was her soft touch.

You walked her over to the couch and pulled her to sit next to you. She took a shaky breath before she started talking, she wanted to say it all in one breath so she could just get it out there.

"I haven't had the best experience with relationships in the past as I've told you but there is still something I didn't tell you. My last boyfriend, he wasn't the best person, but he had money to keep me from becoming homeless, so I stayed with him. Plus, he had his moments where he was loving, and actually seemed to care about me. We were together for a long time, and I ended up getting pregnant. He didn't take it well, he yelled, a lot. Things were said but we stayed together. He was a lot more distant while I was pregnant, I had to start working more because he was running out of money because he was spending so much of it on alcohol and random things he didn't need. I had to spend all mine on doctor's appointments and prenatal care, pills, vitamins, etc. He didn't go to a single appointment, he didn't support me at all, I'm not completely sure why he stayed in the first place. Probably because he wanted a son, because when I had a girl, that's when he just left. I never saw him again after I had her. But I regret none of it because I have my little girl. She makes my life worth living."

Well, it's out there, her story was out there. She was putting all her trust in you not to hurt her like her ex did. Her hands shake as she stares at them and plays with the rings she has on them. You reach out to grab them, hold them, in order to reassure her.

You honestly don't know what to say, were you going to leave her? Hell no. If only this makes you admire her more than you already did. She was working her ass off not only for herself but her daughter, she survived a shitty relationship and is willing to put her trust into you.

"That's what I ran away after I said I love you; I was scared that once you found out you'd leave."

"Never," you shake your head, "Never would I leave you over something like this."

"I just don't want you to look at me differently."

"But I do, you're such a strong woman. You survived a relationship with someone who didn't care about you, and you came out on top. Like you said, you got your little girl. So yes, I am going to look at you differently, because you're resilient, and deserve all the love in the world."

She looks at you with tears running down her face with a wobbly frowny smile. You cup her cheeks and rub them with your thumbs to get rid of her tears, she leans into your touch, making you wonder when it was the last time someone had held her so gently. "And that's why I love you."

Her smile brightened and she leaned in to kiss you, which you happily returned. You move your hands to her waist and pull her closer to you, sitting her on your lap making her straddle you. She pulls your face closer with her hands continue to kiss for a while before heading to the bedroom.

----

It's not until a few months later that you meet her daughter. Charlotte. She liked the name because it means freedom and liberation; and just what she needed after the whole ex-boyfriend ordeal.

Florence had left her favorite sweater behind the last time she was over, offering to return it to her she sent her address to you. In hindsight it was kind of obvious that there was going to come a time where you needed to meet her daughter. You two are coming up on a year of dating now. Not that there was a timeline considering you wanted her to go at her pace for something like this.

So, when you knocked on her door, and a 5-year-old girl answered, a dog not too far behind, it's safe to say you were shocked. You heard Florence shout her name from inside the house.

You see Florence rush to the door and grab her daughter pushing her behind her. The action making you frown a little.

"Hey, I was just dropping this off," you tell her with a quiet voice and small smile.

She notices your shift in demeanor but grabs the sweater and frowns when you turn to leave. "Would you like to come in?"

Her offer shocks you a little bit, "I don't want to be a bother."

She shakes her head and grabs your hand to pull you into her house.

"Who's this?" You ask as a brown and white dog sniffs at your feet.

"That's Billie, she calls her a foster fail," Charlotte tells you as she follows her mom to the kitchen.

The next thing you knew you were drinking tea with your girlfriend and her daughter. Charlotte wasn't doing much drinking because all she wanted to do was ask questions.

"Who is she mommy?" "What's her name?" "How do you know my mommy?" And this went on and on until Florence had to tell her to take a breath.

"This is Y/n, and she's my girlfriend," she explains to the younger blonde.

"What's that?"

"It's when two people, really really like each other and decide to start a relationship together," Florence does her best to explain it in a way a 5 year would understand.

"Do you love each other? Like how we love each other?"

"We do love each other, yes, but it's not the same kind of love," Florence tells her.

"How can love be different?" Damn this kid really knew how to ask hard to answer questions.

After about 30 more minutes of being stumped by a 5-year-old, Florence tells her its bedtime.

"But why?" She whines.

"Because It's late and Y/n and I are going to talk for a little bit." Charlotte makes the same frown Florence does when she's sad and you can't help but smile at how adorable it is.

Your girlfriend coaxes her defiant daughter into bed and eventually walks back into the living room. She sighs as she sits on the couch next to you, you pull her towards you so she's resting against you.

"Long day?" She nods and leans into you more. "How much do you work?"

"Almost every day, I make sure to get Fridays or Saturdays off every week so I can spend time with Charlie."

"Why, if you don't mind me asking."

"I have a lot of medical bills to pay off, as well as pay for this house. I want her to have as normal as a life as possible."

You nod and lean your head against hers, thinking.

----

The next day you had off, Florence wasn't so lucky; but Charlotte also didn't have anything planned for the day. So, Florence was stuck on what she should do. On one hand she thought maybe you could take care of her, but she didn't want to put that kind of pressure on you. And she also didn't know if her daughter would be comfortable with that.

So, before she went to work, she asked her.

"Hey honey," Florence sat on her daughter's bed.

"Yeah mama?"

"How would you feel if Y/n was to look after you today while I'm at work."

Charlie thought for a moment, "Yeah! I want to be her friend."

Her answer surprises Florence, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! If you love her, she must be awesome."

You got to her house about an hour later, and Charlotte ran up to you grabbed your hand, "Hey silly girl!"

"Hi!" she giggles.

Florence watches the scene unfold in front of her with a content smile. She was worried about Charlotte not being comfortable with you. But there she is, holding your hand and ranting about how she wanted to spend the day with you.

You guys spend the whole day playing with her toys, watching her favorite shows and movies. When Florence gets home that evening, she sees you two passed out on the couch.

She smiles and kisses you both on the foreheads before going to her bedroom to get ready for bed.

----

Florence had opened up to you about just how much she still has to pay off in medical bills and you can see how much it's been weighing on her mind for so long.

A couple days later you start planning, you make decent money at your job, so when Florence told you about the outstanding medical bills, you started scheming on how you could pay them off for her.

Your two-year anniversary was coming up so you were hoping that this could be your present to her. So, you did some snooping and found out the hospital she went to and found out her insurance provider and made an anonymous donation, exactly what was left of her medical expenses.

They thanked you for your generosity and told you that they would be giving her a call to tell her about it.

For your anniversary, Florence just wanted to relax, no fancy dinners or anything and you were okay with that. You just made her promise to let you make her dinner. She agreed and you made a simple pasta, nothing extravagant in order not to mess up the night but Florence was still grateful.

You two were relaxing and basking in each other's presence in her bedroom when she gets the call. You can see the pure confusion on her face when she listens to it, after the call ends. she looks at you and sees the small smile on your face.

"No, you didn't," she shakes her head in disbelief. You nodded and she just shook her head as she started crying and covers her face. "Why would you do that?"

You pulled her into your arms as she cried it out and told her, "Because I could see how much it was weighing on you and I wanted to help ease the burden."

"B- what...?" She was having trouble forming words and you just held her close. She looked at you with tears in her eyes. "Thank you, you have no idea how much you've done for me."

You lean your forehead against hers and you cup her face and kiss her lips, tasting the saltiness of her tears. She kisses you back and she ends up straddling your lap. "Let me repay the favor," her sultry voice and heavy accent making you feel things as she kisses down your neck before kissing your lips again.

"And how would you like to do that," you say against her lips as your hands rest on her hips.

"Like this," and she kisses you passionately before pushing you back to lay down on the bed.

----

2 months later

You and Florence had talked about kids before, it’s something Florence has to have a big family of her own for as long as she can remember.

And you wanted to give her that, you were just nervous about being a mom. You knew Florence would be an amazing mother to her children. And she already was with Charlotte. You were just worried about yourself.

Your parents weren’t exactly model parents, you were left to fend for yourself most nights, you were yelled at for making mistakes every child makes and were often hit as a punishment. And sometimes you were even banished, as in they pretended you weren’t there.

Florence knew about all of this was okay with waiting until you were ready. But that didn’t exactly go to plan.

It’s date night, and Charlotte was already in bed, so you and Florence were doing the regular things you do on date nights, she made dinner, with a little help from you, and you ate together, caught up on each other’s days, and just snuggled up close and enjoyed each other’s company.

The only thing was you noticed Florence wasn’t drinking, and when you asked about it, she brushed it off. You also noticed Billie following her a lot closer than normal.

“Just not feeling it tonight I guess,” you nodded, not fully believing her but you let it slide.

On the inside Florence was freaking out, the last she heard you weren’t ready for kids, and she was worried about your reaction. She knew she shouldn’t be scared of you getting mad or anything, but because of her ex. she was scared that you’d leave like he did. And she also doesn’t want to bring up any unwanted memories.

“You, okay?” You ask her, noticing her spacing out. She blinks a couple times before she sees you kneeling in front of her.

“Yes, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“About?”

She takes a deep breathe before she says, “I need to tell you something, but I need you to promise to not get upset.”

You look at her suspiciously, “okay.”

She gets up from the couch and goes into the bathroom and grabs the pregnancy test she had taken a couple of day prior. She walks back into the living room to see you sitting on the couch, anxiously waiting for her to tell you what she needs to.

She sits next to you and takes a shaky breath.

“Honey, what’s going on?” You ask her worried. She hands you the test and just waits for you to react. And when you realize what it is, what it’s saying, and what it means; you honestly don’t know what to do. “Oh,” is all you can muster.

You notice Florence bouncing her knee anxiously at your reaction, you put your hand on her knee and kneel in front of her. “Honey.”

She stops her knee and looks at you, “you’re not leaving, are you?”

Her question honestly shocked you, “What? Why would you think that, Flo?”

“Because I don't know if you’re ready for kids, and we agreed to wait, and I don’t want to force you into anything you're not ready for.”

“Honey, I’m not going anywhere. I know we agreed to wait but sometimes these things happen. And remember, I’m here because I love you, and that includes any new life we may welcome into the world. I’m not him, baby,” you try to comfort her, rubbing her knee. “Is that why you were so nervous?”

She nods and you honestly feel a little disappointed in yourself, you lean up and circle your arms around her waist, she wraps her arms around your neck and holds you close. “I’m sorry he made you think I would leave you over this. But I love you Florence and we’ll do this together.”

She whimpers and nods before holding onto you tighter, you mock the action and hold her as she cries. “You're going to be a mom again.”

She smiles and laughs, “And you're going to be a mum.”

----

When it came time for the first appointment, she was told she was about three months. The next morning Flo called you into that bathroom while she was getting ready, honestly worrying you, so you came as fast as you could. But when you got there you saw her staring at her stomach.

“I’m showing a little,” she said smiling so brightly it made your heart melt. You walked over to her, lightly grazing her belly with your hand.

“You look beautiful,” you tell her and slowly kiss her lips. She smiles against your lips and looks up at you.

----

Another thing you guys had to worry about was telling Charlie. Having a sibling hasn't really been a thing she has ever brought up before.

So, one night, you and Florence sat down with her after dinner.

"Hey Charlie," Florence starts, her daughter looking up at her with her adorable doe eyes. "How would you feel about being an older sister?"

She looks at the both of you before smiling, I'm gonna be an older sister?"

Florence nods with a smile.

"Really?! My friend Lily's and older sister too! She has a little sister that's super cute! Am I gonna get a little sister too?"

"I don't know darling; we'll just have to wait and see."

She smiles and starts bouncing around talking all about how she's going to be the best older sister ever. And how she hopes she and her younger sibling can be best friends.

----

But it wasn’t all cute and glamorous moments, there have been many mornings when you watch her rush to the bathroom and hear her throwing up into the toilet. You rush to her side and rub her back, holding back her blonde hair. Whispering words of encouragement into her ear.

She leans back into you when she’s done and leans her head into your neck. Seeing she’s clearly exhausted, you help her brush her teeth, and carry her back to bed.

You hold her in bed until she feels well enough to get up and get something to eat. And once again Florence is shocked at how supportive you've been. Not that she didn't think you would, she just didn't expect you to do all of this.

----

But when it came time to tell her family she was so excited, she was told by her doctor to wait until she’s into the second trimester. She still wasn’t feeling her best though, so you did your best to do everything that was needed for the little party she had planned.

With the help of Charlotte, you kind of forced her to sit on the couch, leaning against a pillow with a blanket in her lap claiming, “I got this mama, you relax.” "Yeah mama, we got this," Charlie chimed in. Her heart nearly exploded when you two said that her cheeks turned red, and she felt butterflies in her stomach. She rubbed her growing belly, Billie in her lap, and felt nothing but excitement for the future.

And she watched as her two favorite girls decorate the house and prepare for the party.

----

But there were days where her past got the better of her and Florence couldn’t help but doubt that this would last forever.

You noticed Florence was really in her head, so you sat her on your lap, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around your neck. You rested your hands on her hips and looked at her.

“What going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

“Thinking.” You raised your eyebrows, so she continued, “I’m just scared that this won't last forever. That you'll pack up and leave once you realize that I'm not worth all of this.”

You shook your head and grabbed her chin to make her look at you, “You deserve every bit of love that I give you. You deserve to have someone there for you when you're tired, and unable to do things yourself. And I'm not going anywhere, not when you need me, and when I honestly need you too.”

She softly nods with a soft smile, and you kiss her lips, “How have you been feeling lately, pregnancy wise?”

Florence had recently gotten to five months, and while she was excited to see them grow, having a bigger belly and everything that came with it has been giving her hell.

“I’ve been okay, you’ve been lots of help.”

You smile and hug her the best you can with her belly and feel a kick on your stomach, Flo gasps, feeling a jab at her ribs. You both look at each other, communicating through your eyes that this was the baby’s first kick. Her smile widens as she giggles and kisses you.

Later that night when Florence was tucking Charlotte into bed, she felt kicks and again wanted Charlie to feel her younger siblings kicks. "Charlie, give me your hand."

Confused, but she listens and feels the kicks, "What's that?"

"That's your younger sibling," Charlotte's face lights and she squeals before she starts rambling about how excited she is to be an older sister. And you watch the scene from the doorway with a wide smile on your face.

----

About a month after that, you came home from work and noticed Florence was nowhere to be seen. Billie almost tackled you to the ground, you pet and gave her some scratches before feeding her and then going to look for Flo.

You walk into your shared bathroom and see her relaxing in a bubble bath. “Hey you.”

She opens her eyes and smiles at you, she lifts her hand and makes grabby hands at you, motioning for you to come closer. You kneel next to the tub and grab her hand.

“How have they been treating you today?”

“They’ve been giving me hell all day. They will not stop kicking,” she groans.

You rest your hand on her belly and she’s right, they’re moving nonstop. “They’ve been doing this all day?” She nods.

“They usually stop when you talk to them, please say something.”

You nod and rub her belly, “Hey there, its mommy, I know you’re really excited to get here, but I need you to relax a little, okay? Mama needs to be able to rest to help keep you healthy and protected before you get here.” You feel them slowly start to stop as you keep talking, Florence gives a sigh of relief when they stop.

“Thank you,” she closes her eyes again.

“Anything for you,” you kiss her forehead, “Need help getting out?”

She nods and you start to empty the tub before slowly helping her out, once you get her into one of your oversized shirts, they’re the only thing that she can fit in now and help her into bed.

“Need anything else?” She nods and pulls you into bed with her. You two cuddle until Debbie drops Charlotte off from school.

----

When you walked into the kitchen to see an 8-month pregnant Florence trying to cook dinner, “Honey, the doctor told you to rest.”

She looks back at you, “Yeah, well I got restless and decided I wanted some food.” Florence hasn’t been in the best mood lately because of the hormones and her body getting bigger and making the simplest of things hard.

You sigh sadly and walk up behind her as she waits for the pot to start boiling and wraps your arms around her belly, “what are you doing.”

“Just lean into me,” you tell her, she complies, and you slowly lift her belly so you’re carrying the weight of it instead of her back. She sighs and leans further into you and fully relaxes in your arms.

She whispers, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you darling.” You kiss the side of her head and stand there until the water boils.

----

As she was approaching her due date, Florence started to get more and more nervous. Yes, she was excited about having another baby, but she also had to go through labor, push them out, and heal her body afterwards all over again. And it wasn't all that easy with Charlotte. These concerns had been a constant in her mind for a couple of weeks, but she didn’t want to burden you. Especially since you’re already nervous enough already. And since she wasn't used to this kind of support since her ex hadn't helped her at all, so she's used to doing this kind of thing alone.

You had noticed Florence acting differently, but you didn’t want to push and every time you had approached her about how she was acting, she would throw out, out of character remarks, and when she did, she'd see the look on your face and would start crying and apologizing. Which lead to you holding her and trying to make her feel better.

But eventually she broke and told you about her thoughts and anxiety as she gets closer to the birth.

You’re kneeling in front of her as she sits on the couch, “Why didn’t you just tell me honey?”

“Because I know you’re already stressing enough I didn’t want to add more.”

“My job while you’re pregnant is to make your life easier, make sure you’re taken care of, making sure both of you are okay, healthy, and happy. I’m here to help you,” you explain to her. “And if you get anxious about this, remember that there are medical options, I will be there the whole time to help you, and support you through this.”

Florence smiles as she tears up, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Luckily you’ll never have to find out.”

----

It’s only 2 weeks later when Florence’s contractions start. She at first thought that they were braxton kicks and didn’t think too much of them. But as they got more intense and were getting closer together, she decided to wake you up.

As soon as you figured out what was going on you made to grab everything so it’s ready to go to the hospital, you held Florence and talked her through contractions. You called her midwife to tell her, and she unfortunately told you guys to wait until they were 4-5 minutes apart.

“Oh my god,” Florence groans after a particularly intense contraction. She catches her breathe and looks up at you.

You brush a wet washcloth over her sweaty forehead.

"You're doing amazing honey," you tell her.

"Thank you for being here," she pants.

"Don't thank me, I want to be here for you," you shake your head.

"I know, but with Charlie I was alone. I would've had my mum there instead of him, but she couldn't catch a flight in time."

"You did this alone last time?"

She nods and you can't help but admire her strength. Her face scrunches up in pain and she squeezes your hand again, you whisper sweet nothings in her ear as you do your best to comfort her.

About an hour later they're close enough to where you can take her to the hospital. You call Florence's mom to keep her updated since Charlotte's staying with her. She thanks you for taking care of her, and you tell her there's nothing you'd rather be doing.

Once Florence gets settled into the hospital room, and into the gown, she gets checked and is told that she's about 7cm dialated, not too much longer to go.

Her breathing starts to get heavier so you think she's having a contraction, but you quickly realize she's panicking.

"Baby, you're okay, its's going to be fine," you try to calm her down.

"That's easy for you to say, you're not about to push a baby out of you!" She groans through a contraction and her anxiety.

You wait for the contraction to stop before you say, "I know and I'm sorry there isn't much else I can do, but I know you're strong and you can do this. You're the strongest person I know, and you've been doing great, and you will continue to do great because you're resilient and can get through anything the world throws at you," you encourage her.

She looks at you for a second before she nods and smiles a little. "I can do this," she says to herself.

"You can do this."

----

After 15 hours of labor, your son, is born. Florence felt instant relief as her son was placed in her arms. After a little while of cleaning up, Florence, you, and your guy's son, Caleb, were finally able to relax and be alone.

You watch as Florence smiles sleepily at the newborn in her arms, you are sitting next to her, "I'm so proud of you."

She looks up at you and smiles wider, "Do you want to hold him?"

She hands you the infant and you carefully support his head and watch as he fusses a bit before he calms down and grips your finger. "You're a natural," she praises. You feel your cheeks warm and bounce a little to keep him calm.

"You should sleep honey you need to rest," you can tell she's exhausted but hesitant to fall asleep. "I'll wake you if we need anything."

You can see that she doesn't want to just yet, so you walk over to her and rub her hairline and kiss her forehead. "You've just done a lot of exhausting work; you deserve to rest." She relents and falls asleep, content.

----

The next day Florence is awakened by you holding your crying son, trying not to wake her up.

"Give him to me," she opens her arms for you to give him to her, you do, and she starts to feed him. You just stand there and admire her. She is quite literally a natural at this and she couldn't look any more beautiful.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She asks pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Just admiring," you tell her with a smile.

She blushes and looks down at her son, whose content that he's getting fed, "I know you're tired of me saying this, but really, thank you. You have made not only my life, but Charlotte's life easier and better."

"I'm really glad I ended up in your cafe."

"Me too."

You walk over to her and sit next to her on the bed and kiss her head, before leaning your head against her and taking in the moment.

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

I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any ideas about little imagines about this little family send them in! <3

this fic is also just inspired by my need to help people and people needing me. but we're going to ignore that.

#florence pugh fluff #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh #florence pugh imagine

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buckysgrace · 7 months

Text

Twelve

1973

He bitterly dragged his tennis shoes across the floor, watching the way they scraped against the tile floors. He was sitting at the very edge of his seat, as it was the only way his shorter legs were able to reach the floor.

His eyes shot up as his mom slowly stood from her chair, gripping her belly as she did so. Billy watched the tired look that crossed her eyes as she finished speaking to the principal, a knowing look crossing her features before she glanced back towards Billy. He shot his eyes down, staring at the floor instead.

He’d never been in trouble from his mommy before, but he was sure that he would be this time. He hated the thought of her yelling at him, as he was sure it would be far worse than his dad spanking him or smacking the back of his head.

“Thank you,” Her voice carried like a lullaby as she left the office, gently shutting the door behind her. His eyes met hers, but he saw no anger hidden behind them. Her lips curled into a gentle smile as she approached him, holding a hand out towards him. He paused as he slid from the chair, gently grabbing a hold of her hand, “How about we get some ice cream?” She suggested to his surprise.

They walked slower than usual; the bigger the baby grew, the more his mom struggled to walk and play. The other day she had been unable to get herself off of the floor and had cried over it in front of him. He’d never seen her cry before and it had sent a series of chips down his little heart. He was young, but he could tell that there was something wrong. They no longer went to the beach or did much of anything really. Dad had been angrier than usual, it made Billy scared.

“That was a hill,” She said between deep breaths, leaning against the doorway as they entered the shop. He looked up at her in worry, wishing there was a way to help her out, “I’m alright.” She told him quickly, slowly beginning to stand a little straighter. He didn’t know what they’d do if they needed his dad. He didn’t have his number or know where he worked at.

“Can I have whatever?” He asked cautiously, still holding onto his mom’s hand as they stepped forward. The line was empty, and Billy was fairly certain they were the only two in the whole store. The worker smiled at him, leaning over the large glass.

“Do you want to try our new flavor? Mint?” The worker asked, a smile pressing onto his lips. He glanced up towards his mom, only nodding his head in response when she gave him a smile. He stepped forward on his tippy toes, taking the wooden spoon from the worker before he plopped the green cream onto his tongue.

“Yuck,” Billy’s nose curled as he tasted it on his tongue, sure that the worker had given him a spoonful of toothpaste, “Chocolate, please.” He said instead as he thought about wiping the flavor away with the palm of his hand. His mom laughed at his reaction.

“Make that two chocolate cones.” She spoke up, threading her free hand through Billy’s soft curls. His hair had grown a little longer, almost touching his shoulders now. He liked it longer as it reminded him of how big and long his mom's hair was. Dad had been complaining about it a lot and it made Billy nervous.

She slid Billy the money, earning a smile on his lips as she allowed him to practice counting it out and sliding the amount across the counter. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure it was okay before he slid the extra dollar into the tip jar. He skipped along with his mom, gripping the booth to slide himself up.

She passed him his ice cream cone before she struggled to sit down, her eyebrows knitting together as she tried to find the best position. Billy was excited about having a sibling, but he didn’t like how badly his mom was suffering because of it. He wished that there was an easier way for her.

He glanced out the window as he messily licked at his ice cream, enjoying the taste of chocolate instead of the yucky mint that he had tasted. He watched as people passed by the window, all too occupied with their own lives to notice the little boy staring after them.

“Billy,” She said softly as she gained his attention from the window, “Why did you hit that boy?” Her voice was gentle, a little stern as she spoke. He looked up towards her, kicking his feet together as he fumbled with the cone in his hands. He knew there was no way to get himself out of this talk. She wanted to know why and wouldn’t stop until he told her.

“I had to mama.” He said quietly, still swinging his feet as he spoke. His shoes were hitting against the back of the booth, echoing quietly as he looked towards her. Her blue eyes were soft, kind in a way that he didn’t understand. She sighed.

“Why?” She asked him, frowning as her tone became stricter. He looked back down at the melting ice cream, watching as the chocolate dripped onto his chubby hand. He thought about the incident at recess as his stomach twisted together bitterly.

“He was being mean,” Billy said at last, “He was killing a butterfly. He was ripping the wings off of it, then he squished it.” He mumbled, sniffling deeply as he tried to erase the image of the butterfly trying to flutter away. He thought about how all the other boys had been laughing, how he’d tried to desperately make them stop but they didn’t care. He didn’t mean to hit the other boy, but he wasn’t listening. It was the only way that Neil got Billy to listen sometimes. He assumed it was alright to do in that situation.

“He made you mad then?” Rosemary asked softly, her eyes observing him gently as she tried to gain the full story. Billy licked away the ice cream from his hand, not liking the sticky feeling that was beginning to erase against his fingers.

“That little bug didn’t ask to die,” Billy said defensively, “He hurt it.” He inhaled deeply, trying to keep his bottom lip from wobbling. Rosemary’s eyes softened, her own sadness locked deep inside as she nodded her head in understanding.

“You shouldn’t hit people,” She said softly, adjusting again so the table wasn’t pressing into her belly, “But sometimes you need to.” She told him, leaving him to figure out the difference between the two.

////////////////

“The fucking bastard,” Tommy spit out, “Fucking my sister and knocking her up, can you believe that?” He grumbled over the phone as Billy held it up to his ear. It was Saturday already, nearly a week since Sam arrived, and he had made no indication that he was leaving anytime soon. Billy still didn’t know how to handle him.

He played with his lighter as he listened to Tommy ramble about how terrible Steve was. Gina had apparently broken the news to everyone, or rather Logan had found out through work and exposed her. Billy wasn’t that interested in the conversation, but he’d woken with an odd sensation in his chest this morning. He had dreamt of his mom last night and he wanted to do anything to keep his mind off of her.

“Gina said you talked about Kim a lot,” Billy said in response as he glanced around the room. Sam had taken them out, insisting that he treated them to a nice lunch. Billy was hoping that it would be the last one before he left, “That’s interesting.” He said dryly, still not liking that Tommy had been into Kim for so long without him noticing.

“Shut up we’re not talking about that,” Tommy said just as quickly, “Harrington knocked my sister up, I’m facing a crisis right now.” Tommy said dramatically. Billy listened to the sound of him beginning to crunch on chips again. He rolled his eyes, thinking that Tommy was drawing this out more than necessary.

“It’s not like you have to see him anyways.” He told Tommy seriously. He was far away in sunny California, meanwhile Gina was stuck here. He was sure that Steve would never leave this little town. He’d end up just like the rest of the people who were born here. He’d die here too. Billy wouldn’t allow himself to die in such a shithole.

“Dude,” Tommy drew out sharply, “Our parents are pissed. They don’t want her there anymore. They want to send her here, with me.” He made a point to emphasize that Gina might be stuck with him. Billy tried to keep from snorting, thinking that it must be nice to have money to get rid of your child when they were giving you issues.

“Don’t you live in a dorm?” Billy questioned him as he leaned against the wall, knitting his eyebrows together in confusion. He wasn’t sure how Gina would manage to be out there on her own anyways, unless her parents didn’t mean to make her finish high school.

“They think I’ll just move out and share a house with her,” Tommy paused dramatically again, “With them.” He pointed out, sounding like it would be the end of the world. Billy couldn’t help the smile that was beginning to form, even if Tommy was being a little annoying. He sounded more heartbroken when he spoke about Steve than when he spoke about Carol.

“Would daddy be paying for it?” Billy asked sarcastically, already knowing his answer before he spoke. He figured that he’d rather be anywhere than this shitty little trailer. Although, he did have Kim. He couldn’t complain about that. He kept reminding himself that this situation wasn’t so bad as long as he had her.

“Shut up,” Tommy huffed, “Steve has more money than us. He better be paying for it.” He grumbled underneath his breath, like he’d already put a great deal of thought into it. Billy shook his head, feeling a different sensation beginning to bubble through him.

“Weird that your dad will kick Gina out but does nothing about your brother.” He said softly, sounding a bit snarkier than what he meant to sound. Tommy had been clear that he had come forth to his father, but his old man didn’t believe anything he’d said. Billy wondered if it was better that Kim had stayed quiet about what happened, but it still made his heart hurt to see her in such a manner.

“You act surprised,” Tommy snorted, clearly not bothered by Billy’s tone, “Logan is like the younger version of himself. He can’t do anything wrong.” He said and Billy could almost picture him shrugging his shoulders. Tommy had always felt underappreciated and perhaps Billy related a little bit to that. Still, he couldn’t see how Logan hadn’t been punished for what he had done. Billy couldn’t imagine doing anything of the sort but was sure that Neil would’ve smacked him into next week had he done anything similar.

“Yeah, well,” Billy drew out quietly, “I still hope he dies.” He said seriously, not caring if he was Tommy’s brother or not. Tommy laughed in response. Part of his reaction made Billy sad, wondering if Max had ever felt that way about him. He couldn’t say that he hadn’t felt that way about her before.

“Was there anything wrong with the cabin?” Tommy sounded a little more serious as he spoke this time, “I tried to tell Gina to flip the pictures and stuff without you know, telling her anything.” He breathed out quickly, trying to reassure that Kim’s secret was safe with him. Billy exhaled, remembering that he had already blabbed her secret to someone else.

Billy recalled that there had been a few pictures flipped, but not all of them. Tommy had definitely thought hard about the situation the first time they’d gone there. Billy was too afraid to bring Kim back as he thought that she had fully understood that Logan lived there as well. It made him anxious to think about what she’d do if she ever bumped into him.

“I think it was fine,” Billy lied, not wanting to embarrass Kim by bringing up her night terror. He’d never seen her so pale, so frail looking. Her eyes had been so wide and fearful that it had scared him as well. She had been clearly terrified, and he was almost convinced that there was someone in the house with them, “She had a lot of fun.” He spoke of her birthday instead, thinking about how happy she had been with everything else.

“Good,” Tommy spoke up again, “I’m glad nothing happened.” Tommy did sound reassured as he spoke. Billy chewed on his bottom lip, not wanting to bring down his reassurance. There was nothing Tommy could do about the situation anyway.

“Well,” Billy paused for a moment, “Harrington did bring out a boombox and sing to your sister.” He smirked as he thought about the memory, thinking about how dumb and gross it had been. He pushed his hair back again, listening to Tommy snort on the other end of the line.

“Disgusting,” Tommy spat out after a second, “I can’t believe I was friends with him.” He responded pitifully. Billy rolled his eyes, waiting for the long rant to come from Tommy’s lips. He had heard the story more than once, more than a hundred times probably. He was sure he didn’t want to hear about it again.

“I’m sure if you were given the chance, you’d do that for Kim.” Billy said, his voice a little dry even though he was teasing Tommy. There was no doubt in his mind that Tommy would rush in if anything ever happened between him and Kim. Friend code be damned.

“Hey,” He could hear the smirk on Tommy’s lips, “I’m not admitting to anything that I’ll be held accountable for.” He spoke just as sarcastically, making Billy roll his eyes. He supposed he was a bit jealous, but he knew that Kim would never do anything with Tommy. She had already proved that she wasn’t interested in him more than once.

“You’re funny.” Billy’s voice was completely dry this time, no longer amused by the conversation. He didn’t want to sound possessive, but Kim was his in every shape and form. He didn’t want to share her, not even in jokes.

“I think I’m hilarious actually.” Tommy replied, still sounding like he was smirking. Billy wished that he was here so he could punch him in the arm. He thought that Tommy wouldn’t think he was so funny then.

“Well, I’ll leave you to your schoolbooks then,” Billy replied sarcastically, “Don’t break your hand thinking of her.” He hung up at the sound of Tommy laughing, though he had his own smile beginning to form on his lips. He paused for a moment as he tried to decide what sounded good to eat.

He made his way towards the fridge, making a mental note that they’d need to go shopping again soon. He opened up a package of bologna, just beginning to give it a whiff to make sure it was safe when the phone started ringing again.

“Hello?” Billy sighed deeply, expecting it to be another call from the station. He kept trying to convince himself that he had no interest in speaking to Neil, but he still wondered what his father was thinking. If he was regretful for how their last conversation went. Billy raised his eyebrow, beginning to lift the phone away from his ear when the other person finally spoke up.

“Who's this?” He could tell by the tone and voice that it was a younger boy speaking on the phone, maybe about Max’s age. His voice was a little high pitched, squeaking a bit as he spoke. Billy began to wonder if one of her little friends was going through puberty.

“Mayfield residence,” Billy replied agitated, unsure of why the boy on the other line would ask him that. He knew which number he had called, “What the fuck do you want?” Billy asked dryly, his stomach beginning to grumble in hunger. He glanced towards the clock as he realized how long he’d spent talking to Tommy.

“I’m looking for my dad, you asswipe.” The boy spit back, just as vicious. Billy was slightly taken aback, stunned at how Sam’s son spoke to him. He began to wonder if that’s where all of Sam’s fire went, before he remembered that he wasn’t actually Sam’s. Billy didn’t like the disrespectful tone. He didn’t owe Sam or the little brat anything.

“He’s out with his daughter’s,” Billy pointed out, not caring if it hurt the little shits feelings, “Call some other time.” He hung up forcefully, hoping the kid got so angry that he didn’t call back at all. He wouldn’t be passing along that he had called to Sam. That wasn’t any of his business.

His fingers were still around the telephone when the front door was pushed open. Kim entered the room, her eyebrows knitting together as she quickly scanned the room. She beamed as she peered at him, her face brightening in a joy he didn’t fully understand. The way she looked at him made him confused, but it filled him with happiness at the same time. He wasn’t sure how anyone could look at him in such a manner.

“I got you a burger and fries,” Kim said cheerily as she walked towards him. She pushed the bag towards him, “Daddy said get anything we wanted, and I didn’t want to leave you out.” She wrapped a skinny arm around his waist, leaning forward to kiss the side of his cheek.

“He paid for it?” He asked, doing his best to sound like it was a bad thing. He had a hard time rejecting the offer, as he was fairly hungry. He walked to the couch, Kim lingering behind closely as he peered inside the bag.

“Don’t be like that,” She pouted her lips out as she moved to sit next to him, “Just eat and don’t be whiny.” She teased him, pressing her fingers gently against his thigh. He snorted as he pulled out the burger, unwrapping it as he watched her.

“When have I ever been whiny?” He asked her seriously, not one instance crossing his mind. Something about the way she raised her eyebrows and the glimmer in her eyes let him know that she was thinking of more than one instance. She shrugged her shoulders instead, giving him a playful look as she took one of his fries from his bag, “Where’s Max?” He looked at her curiously, realizing that she’d been the only one to come inside.

“They went out back to look for rocks,” Kim said with a hint of a smile on her lips, “I’m sure she’s having the time of her life.” She giggled to herself as he began to eat. He thought that combing through rocks sounded about the most boring thing someone could do. He supposed the hobby fit Sam.

Kim fumbled with the remote for a while, flipping between the different stations as she rested her feet between his legs. He watched the way the pictures danced off of her hazel eyes, how she’d knit her eyebrows for a moment to decide if she liked a show or not. His eyes wandered down further to her the yellow shirt she wore and the fading hickeys that littered the crook of her neck. His eyes flickered back up towards her reddening cheeks as she was clearly becoming aware that he was staring. He couldn’t help it. She was more interesting than anything on TV.

“Look,” Kim dropped the remote as she tucked her hair behind her ears. Billy moved the bag away from him, watching as she carefully scooted herself onto his lap. She turned to look at him, excitement filling her features, “Addi got me this.” She motioned towards the locket on her neck. Billy struggled for a moment to pick it up, accidentally picking the ring instead. He noted how the locket rested on the same chain as the ring. He looked at it curiously before he popped it open, noticing the picture of him inside it.

“Where’d you get that?” He asked her seriously. She smiled bashfully, her face burning a brighter red as she looked a little shy over the whole situation. He felt a warmth spreading inside of him, thinking that it was a cute gesture.

“I took a picture of the one we did together. With your cute little smile,” She giggled as she pinched his cheeks. He made a face, lightly brushing her hands away as she continued to laugh, “I just zoomed in on you and she helped me shrink it to this size.” She said in excitement, beginning to comb her fingers through his hair instead.

“You’re talking again?” He asked, worried that he might sound too hopeful. He had been a bit anxious over the situation. The more he thought about how he’d exposed Kim, the worst he felt. He only hoped that Addi wouldn’t tell Kim how much she knew. He began to fumble with the hem of her shirt, drawing his attention there instead.

“We worked it out,” She smiled proudly, “She said maybe we could all hang out. It could be fun.” She told him excitedly, her eyes burning a little brighter than usual. Billy felt his heart swell, happy that she was at least looking a bit like her old self again.

“Sounds awful,” He admitted with a smile beginning to curl against his lips, “Eddie isn’t pissed?” He asked more seriously this time. He was surprised that Addi had let the whole situation slip by so easily but was glad that she wasn’t blaming Kim for anything anymore. Kim shuffled a little closer.

“I don’t think he’s said anything,” She leaned against him, curling her long legs up against him, “I’m so happy.” She responded through a deep inhale, sounding a little dramatic as she turned to face him. He chuckled, squeezing her hips softly as he looked at her curiously.

“Why?” He asked, just enjoying the sound of words flowing off of her tongue. He wondered if she’d want to smoke again, because he enjoyed the way she freely rambled. Not to mention, it always made her frisky. She shrugged her shoulders, another flush spreading over her features before she began to speak again.

“Because I have you.” She twisted the chain of the locket around her neck, laughing like she knew how ridiculous she sounded. He pressed his chin against her shoulder, looking up at her curiously for a moment. He was certain that no one else thought of him in such a way. He felt lucky suddenly, but he wondered how long it would last. He was sure there was only so much he could prevent before she got annoyed with his attitude.

“Wow,” Billy laughed, his fingers lightly digging into her soft sides. She giggled in response, “And I’m the cheesy one?” He asked her seriously, thinking about how she’d accused him of being cheesy not long ago. She grinned, pushing the blonde curls from his forehead. She looked down at him, her eyes swarming before she bent down and gently pressed her lips against his.

“You know what’s sort of nice?” She asked as she pulled away, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. He pulled her closer, as if that was even possible. She continued to dig her fingers through his blonde curls.

“What?” He asked her softly, wanting to know everything that was swirling through her pretty little head. She twisted a curl around her finger as she peered down at him, her gaze light and airy as she admired him. The way she looked at him nearly made it hard for him to breathe.

“Just having someone know about us and not judging,” She said softly as her eyes flickered back down to his own, “I feel normal. Like I’m introducing my boyfriend to my dad and there’s no reason I should be ashamed of it.” She said at last, speaking a little fast as if she was trying to spit it all out at once. He felt his eyebrows knit together.

“You felt ashamed?” He asked her honestly, feeling like he was long past that stage. He knew people would judge and say whatever, but he didn’t care. He had her and that was all that mattered to him. He didn’t give a damn what other people thought of him or about their relationship.

“I mean,” She looked bashful as she tucked her hair behind her ear, “Yeah. I thought it was wrong. Everyone else thinks it’s wrong, that we should be ashamed of it. I don’t care anymore. You make me happy.” She said reassuringly, nodding her head as if she could make it more truthful. He felt another smile poking against his lips as squeezed his hand around her waist.

“You make me happy too,” He told her gently, sitting up a bit so he could get a better look at her. He wanted to make sure that she was being honest, that she wasn’t hiding anything from him, “I’m glad it feels normal too.” He told her honestly. She was right, it was nice not having to keep a secret from anyone. It made them feel more real, like this really would last.

“Billy,” Kim said softly, “I just think I need to point out that Gina looks a lot like Tommy.” She said slowly, like she was waiting for his reaction. He looked up at her curiously.

“Yeah?” He asked slowly, questioning why she was bringing this up. He had honestly thought Gina was Tommy’s twin the first time he’d met her. They did look a lot alike, but they acted very differently in his opinion. Kim pursed her lips together.

“Like a lot,” She was trying to keep from giggling as she spoke, “Like, did you not feel like you were kissing Tommy when you were- you know.” She held her hands together as she gestured towards him. He knitted his eyebrows together even tighter as his lips parted in surprise.

“Fuck no,” Billy looked at her in disbelief, unsure of why that had crossed her mind. Gina was attractive, Tommy was not, “You look like your mom, and I don’t think about her when I’m fucking you. Well, not all the time.” Billy pointed out the obvious fact. He smirked at her, teasing her at the end of his sentence. Her eyes went wide, her cheeks burning.

“You’re terrible.” She groaned as she covered her hands with her face. She groaned as she shook her head, sounding as if it was the worst thing, he’d ever said to her. He chuckled in response, knowing that Kim did look just like Susan. He wouldn’t deny that Susan was attractive, but she had honestly never crossed his mind in that way before. He’d been too hesitant around his dad’s girlfriends, not wanting any of them to get any more bright ideas about him.

“You love it though.” He told her softly, pulling her down towards him so he could press his lips against hers. He breathed in the scent of her lip gloss, liking how easily it coated his lips. Her hands moved towards his shoulders, squeezing softly as he moved his fingertips underneath the hem of her shirt. She jolted against him; her skin cool as he gently brushed his hands against her ribcage.

“I do,” She confirmed, her nose gently brushing against his, “We really need to go grocery shopping.” She said softly, grinning as she whispered as if it was some sort of secret between the two of them. He nodded his head, thinking that they were indeed down to the bare minimum.

“Do you want to go now?” He asked, feeling like it would be better to get out and do something than lounge around in this house. The more distance he had between him and Sam, the more he could go back to pretending that Sam didn’t exist.

“Sure,” Kim smiled as she rose. She walked towards the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until she pulled out a tin cookie jar. He watched curiously as she pulled a wad of cash out, “I wasn’t hiding it from you.” She reassured him quickly, her eyes widening like she realized how it may look. He bit his lip as he shook his head, not thinking of a reason for her to hide money from him.

“It’s fine,” He told her softly, “We can split the cost.” He told her truthfully. He wasn’t sure if she had been hiding money from Susan, or if she was doing it because Sam was here. Either way he supported her doing so. He’d been hiding his own for a while now as well.

“I can pay for it,” She said gently as she returned the jar into the cabinet. She grabbed her pink purse as she moved towards him, “I think I’m going to see if I can waitress on the weekends, maybe after school too.” She told him honestly as he pulled the door open for her. He watched as she slowly navigated her way down the stairs, careful to keep it from tipping over on the one side. He bit his lip, remembering that he still needed to fix it.

“You should focus on school.” He told her, following the same path with a wince. The stairs always creaked much louder under his weight and he feared that eventually they would collapse underneath him. He watched the way she paused in front of his car, her eyebrows knitted together tightly in disbelief. He shrugged his shoulders, sticking to his word. He’d always had summer jobs, but when school started Neil made sure he focused on his school work instead. Not that it really mattered, Billy had no plans on going to college. But Kim did and that made the biggest difference between their situations.

“And have you pay for everything?” She asked him seriously, a fleeting look of guilt crossing her features, “I don’t know what to do with mom being in jail.” She admitted, gesturing towards the house. She looked frustrated this time and he easily picked up why. It would be hard, but it wasn’t like Susan had been putting her full share in anyways. He didn’t tell her that, worrying that it would just make her relationship with Susan more complicated.

“It’ll work out,” He reassured her, passing the keys in her direction, “Your turn.” He grinned, watching as she clumsily grabbed them. Her hazel eyes grew three sizes, her glossy lips parting in surprise. She shook her head, like she could somehow change his mind. He pulled the passenger door open, leaning an elbow against it as he lit up a cigarette.

“Do I have to?” She asked, whining a little bit as she scurried her way to the driver’s side of the car. He grinned, wondering if she really knew how special she was to drive his car. He’d never allowed anyone else to do it before. There would be no one after her either. He figured that eventually she’d realize how much better she could do, but he’d never find anyone like her.

“Yes,” He said simply as he slid into the seat. He struggled for a moment before he adjusted it, scooting it further back so his legs weren’t so cramped, “You have your own car now.” He reminded her, looking at her curiously as she struggled with the keys for a moment.

“In California,” She sighed, knitting her eyebrows together for a moment before she pulled the seatbelt over herself, “I don’t want to crash your car.” She told him honestly, her features knitting together with worry. He didn’t want her to crash his car either, but he’d never say that out loud. He didn’t want to make her more nervous than she had to be. He didn’t think she’d actually wreck it, or mean to do so.

“Then don’t,” He chuckled at the look on her face, “Friday after school, you’re doing your test.” He told her, throwing the butt of his cigarette from the window as she slowly began to reverse the car down the driveway. She slammed on the breaks, jolting him forward in shock.

“You’re not serious?” She asked, her eyes wide and fearful. He straightened himself a bit, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that there was no one behind them. He glanced back towards her, noticing that her expression was still the same.

“I already set it up,” He said with a shrug of his shoulders, “You hadn’t done it yet.” He reminded her gently. He wasn’t sure why she was still putting it off, but she was more than ready. She’d pass, she just needed a little nudge forward.

“I was working on it,” She mumbled as she started to drive forward this time, “You didn’t have to.” She briefly glanced towards him, her fingers so tight around the steering wheel that they were turning white.

“I’ll go with you,” He reassured her softly. He thought it would be fine. They had nearly a week for her to practice and to grow comfortable, “You’ll do great.” He promised her, hoping to build up her confidence in herself. She hummed in response, her eyes darting around twice as much as she took in every little detail on the road.

It took her four times to park correctly, but she eventually did it well enough. The left back tire was just a smidge over the line, but Billy didn’t say anything. It was better than nothing and she’d get better with more practice. They hadn’t spent much time in parking lots.

“What do you want to get first?” He asked her, grabbing the cart from her hands. He leaned his elbows on the handles, following in her direction as she loosely looped her fingers through the grates. She looked around for a moment.

“Lunch meat?” She asked, walking them towards the deli section. He walked a few paces behind, his eyes lingering on her hips and the way they moved when she walked. He wondered if she was even aware how tempting she was towards him.

“What do you like?” He asked her, his mind finally wandering back to the task at hand. She leaned against the front of the cart, her eyes drifting down the different sections. They both lingered on the cheaper options.

“I like olive loaf,” Kim pointed to the lunch meat in the glass case, “I think you’d like the pickle loaf.” She motioned towards the bundle next to it. He raised his eyebrows a bit, noticing that they were both bologna.

“How come?” He asked curiously, wondering what her thoughts were. He leaned over the cart a little bit more, watching the way she began to fumble with her fingers. She looked away from the glass.

“It has pickles and peppers in it,” She looked up at him with a sheepish smile, “Since you like to eat them in the middle of the night.” She added quickly, her smile turning brighter. He grinned in response, walking a little closer to her. He wasn’t sure why simple things about him excited her so much.

“They’re good,” He told her, brushing his shoulder against hers softly, “You’re missing out.” He told her seriously. He liked the way his tongue would burn when he’d eat something spicy. In his opinion pepperoncini's weren’t even that bad.

“They’re spicy.” Kim said a little more seriously. He felt a little amused, thinking about how picky she was. He wondered if she’d be more open to trying more foods if he offered it to her. She tilted her head to the side, looking like she was deep in thought.

“You’re just weak,” He teased her gently, liking the soft smile that formed on her lips. He glanced up as an older worker approached them, “Two half pounds of the pickle and olive loaf.” He spoke up before Kim, figuring that she wouldn’t want to do it. He wondered how she handled grocery shopping before.

They zig zagged through the store, collecting different items throughout the week until their cart was more than halfway filled. It was a little more than usual, but he was beginning to figure out that she may be doing it because of Sam. He kept his mouth shut, not wanting to punish her for being so kind.

“Get them,” Billy grabbed the cookies from the shelf, noticing the way Kim was eyeballing them, “It’s fine.” He told her honestly as he tossed them into the cart. She made a little sound of protest, looking like she wasn’t sure about his dismissal.

“Do we have money for that?” She asked him, her features knitted into worry again. He knew money was tight, but still felt like she deserved her own package of cookies. He nodded his head, hoping she wouldn’t question him about it anymore.

“Yeah, it’s the cheap shit,” He pushed the cart forward, so she was unable to grab it from the cart, “What else?” He asked her, wondering if they were almost done. She peeked into the cart again, her eyes scanning the items as she checked her mental list over again.

“Do you want any fruit?” She asked as she thumbed over the different bins. He watched as she tilted her head back and forth, looking like she was debating between a few different items. She held up a thing of bananas, looking at him curiously.

“I like bananas,” He agreed with her as she picked up a bundle of them. They weren’t his favorite, but he’d survive on whatever she liked, “Those are good too.” He agreed, watching as she picked up a bag of granny smiths. She whined as she struggled to put them in the cart. He furrowed his eyebrows together, wondering if she really was that weak.

He followed her as she moved towards the opposite side of the store. She looked back at him sheepishly, moving towards the feminine products. He felt his nose wrinkling up but he quickly tried to relax his features, reminding himself that it wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Homecoming will be soon,” Kim looked up at him bashfully, quickly moving them out of the aisle, “Maybe we could do something.” She suggested slyly, as if he would have any other plans. With Tommy gone, he had nothing else to do than linger around her. He thought that trying to party with a bunch of kids a year younger than him sounded fairly lame.

“What do you have planned, Red?” He teased her, liking the way her face began to burn again. He wasn’t sure why it was still so easy to get her so flushed, but he liked it. She glanced back towards him, biting back her own smile.

“I don’t know yet,” She said softly, glancing around to make sure that no one was listening to them, “I guess it’ll depend on what Max is doing and if my dad is still here.” She said after a brief pause, looking a little defeated. Billy chewed on his bottom lip, wondering if it was appropriate to add that he didn’t care what Sam was doing. They could still have fun. He stayed quiet as he decided against it, not wanting to cause any issues.

“I need condoms,” He said at last, wincing at how forceful it sounded. He turned the cart in the opposite direction, noticing how she was still standing there, “You’re not coming?” He looked at her confused, watching the way she was stiffly beginning to play with her fingers in front of her.

“Should we be buying them together?” She asked shyly, glancing over her shoulder again. She looked even more bashful, like she was trying to form an excuse on why it would be okay to buy condoms with her former stepbrother.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” He grinned at her reaction, “Don’t get lost.” He teased her as he pushed the cart away, his mind beginning to wonder for a moment. Neil and Susan were no longer married, which technically meant that they could be together if they wanted to be. Billy wondered if she had thought about that or if she was still too embarrassed to be seen with him.

Billy tossed the condoms into the cart, grabbing a few extra boxes just to be safe. If he was being honest, Gina’s situation had freaked him out. He didn’t need to accidentally knock Kim up and make their whole situation messier. He knew that it would only be harder for her. His thoughts lingered for a moment as he thought about how uncomfortable she’d grown when he’d questioned her about their future. She wasn’t ready. That was clear enough in his mind.

He pushed the cart back down the next few aisles, searching for where Kim had gone. He lingered at the end of an aisle, his eyes narrowing as he noticed her stiff stance and the way she was anxiously twisting her fingers behind her back. He assumed the worst for a moment, fearing she had run into Logan when he’d realized who it was.

“Need something, Carver?” Billy asked casually as he pushed the cart up towards them. Kim’s eyes were wide, her lips parted in disbelief as if he had somehow made the situation worse. Jason looked taken aback for a moment before the asshole relaxed his figure, his eyes glancing towards the condoms in the cart.

“I see you’re stocking up,” Jason grinned from ear to ear, “You and your sister must stay busy.” His eyes drifted towards Kim, obviously pleased with the way she was still frozen. Billy chuckled, knowing that Jason had no proof for anything he was accusing them off. Jason was just clearly able to see how badly it bothered Kim.

“Actually, it’s for your mom,” Billy leaned against the handles, smirking at the way Jason went stoic. His cheeks burned brightly, “Does she still wear that red lipstick? It looks really good on her.” He told Jason seriously. His mom was really pretty and looked far younger than what she actually was. He knew that Jason wasn’t dumb enough to admit that she had a wandering eye either.

His lips parted as he glanced back and forth between them, before he ultimately gave up and turned quickly on his heel. Billy gripped the cart, beginning to push it forward when Kim quickly grabbed it. He sent her a look, thinking that Jason deserved to get his heels ran over.

“Do you like red lipstick?” She asked casually as she continued to keep a grip on the cart as they walked. He watched her for a moment, noticing how rough her shoulders were moving as she tried to control her breathing. He felt bad, wishing that she wouldn’t let people get to her so easily.

“I think it looks sexy,” He said slowly, imagining what she’d look like with it on, “I like it when you wear nothing.” He whispered as he leaned over the cart, watching the way she flushed from head to toe.

////////////////

It didn’t take long for them to put the groceries away once they’d returned. Max and Sam had made the living room a mess, full of dirt and rocks as they scoped through them. Billy did his best to keep from staring, but he genuinely could not understand what they found so amusing about a bunch of rocks. Rocks were everywhere. He had come to hate dirt roads, as they always left his car messy and he feared one would eventually hit against his windshield too hard and create a crack in the glass.

“Clean up your mess,” Billy said as Max walked into the room, holding up a rock in front of him, “Seriously, there’s dirt everywhere.” He added a bit more seriously, feeling an uneasy feeling beginning to settle over him. Max narrowed her blue eyes, an impatient look crossing her features.

“Shut up and take this.” She grumbled as she held it out towards him. He raised an eyebrow as he held it up gently, taking in the soft blue color. He pressed his finger down on it gently.

“It’s a rock.” He said in confusion, unsure of why she was giving it to him. Perhaps it was radioactive, and she was plotting to make sure he lost his fingers.

“It’s Celestine,” Max said a little more eagerly, “Kim said that blue is your favorite color.” She added softly, a hopeful look crossing her features this time. Billy paused, unsure of what to feel as he realized Max was presenting him with a gift.

“Oh,” Billy froze as he touched the rock with more fondness this time, “Thank you.” He looked back down at Max, watching the way she shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s whatever.” She said stiffly, acting like it was no big deal at all. They shuffled in an awkward tension for a moment, neither of them knowing what to do before Billy reached forward and pressed a finger against her forehead. She knitted her eyebrows together in confusion, but he offered no explanation as he walked past her.

He walked past Sam, no longer caring about the dirt on the floor. He rubbed the rock between his fingertips as he walked into his room. He sat on the bed, opening the drawer that was filled with farewell letters from the little kids he’d been training to swim. His eyes lingered for a moment before the door popped open again.

“Do you want to join me?” Kim grinned as she held up her pajamas and towels. He felt his lips curling into a smile, watching the defiant look on her features. He thought it was cute, for she must be figuring that showering together was clearly rebellious.

“Do you think I’d say no to that?” He asked her seriously, watching as she shuffled forward to look at what he was doing, “Max gave me a rock.” He told her as he placed it inside of his dresser drawer.

“She told me,” She giggled softly, her eyes soft as she peered down at him, “She was excited.” She said more seriously that time. He glanced back inside of the dresser before he shut it. The feeling of having a good relationship with both of them made him feel odd. He didn’t know how to handle it.

“She’s not that bad,” He said as he rose. He leaned over her, grabbing his own towel as he watched her smile grow, “I guess.” He said finally, unsure if he wanted either of them to know just how much he enjoyed Max’s company.

He followed her out the door, nearly stumbling into her as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that Sam wasn’t watching. She tugged him into the bathroom quickly, locking the door before she moved to the tub.

“Are you afraid daddy’s going to catch you?” He whispered huskily, enjoying the way her eyes dilated and her cheeks flushed. She parted her lips, the amusement gone as the lust filled deep within her eyes. He felt his lips curling into a smirk, enjoying the way she melted so easily underneath his words.

“Billy,” She said softly, “Don’t.” She replied less seriously as she poked two fingers against his collarbone. She turned, bending over as she worked on providing the desired heat from the shower stream. Billy watched, admiring the curve of her ass. She straightened up when she was satisfied, turning to look at him shyly as she fumbled with the hem of her jeans. It was like she was waiting, gauging what his reaction would be.

He nodded towards her as he unbuckled his belt, deciding to take the lead to spare her nerves that were clearly circling through her mind at the moment. He wasn’t sure how to tell her that she didn’t have to be shy around him, that he’d never critique her body or tell her she looked bad. He thought she always looked beautiful.

“Pretty,” He murmured as he traced his fingertips along her pale back. Her sunburn was almost gone, leaving behind mass amounts of freckles that now decorated her skin. He tilted his head down, pressing his lips against the crook of her neck. His hands came around her bare waist, pushing her pants down further as she melted up against him, “You’re so pretty.” He told her truthfully, earning a shrill giggle from her as she fanned him away.

She kicked her pants off around her ankles, leaving the discarded clothes behind as she stepped into the water. She looked at him bashfully over her shoulder, her lips parting as she waited for him to join her. He stepped inside, nearly blinded by how hot the water was as he closed the shower curtain behind them.

She tilted her eyes up towards him, her hands crossed over her chest like it was the first time he was seeing her. He gently wrapped his fingers around her wrists, giving them a light tug until she dropped them to her sides. He could feel her watching him intensely as he grazed a thumb over her hardened nipple, enjoying the way her body jerked in response.

“You’re handsome,” She told him quickly, cheeks burning as his eyes grazed away from her perky tits, “Really handsome.” She spit out awkwardly, taking a few steps back so she could scrub at her scalp. He felt his lips curling into a grin, wondering if she knew how cute she really was.

“Help?” He asked, holding out his bottle of shampoo towards her after he’d gotten his hair wet. She grinned brightly, nodding her head as she began to squirt some of the liquid onto her palms. He watched as she lathered it together in her hands before she leaned forward to run it through his hair. Her fingertips lightly dug into his scalp, making him feel more sensitive than usual.

She giggled softly, watching the way his eyes fluttered the more she massaged the shampoo into his hair. He tried to keep his eyes open but he couldn’t help how good it felt. His scalp tickled as her fingertips lightly scraped against them.

“Don’t fall asleep,” She teased him lightly, gently moving out of the way so he could scrub the soap from his hair. He chuckled, although part of him knew how easily he slept when she played with his hair, “Can you help me?” She asked, her eyes bright as she looked at him hopefully.

“‘Course,” He grinned at her, already planning on doing so before she asked. He took the bottle from her, gently squirting some of the rosy liquid onto his hands before he began to massage it into her long hair. He worked on it slowly, careful to avoid hitting against her still reddened shoulders, “How’s it feel?”

“Really good,” She agreed, her lips curled into a bright smile as he continued to massage it into her hair. He grinned, bringing his soap hands down her face to leave a makeshift soapy beard. She giggled in response, “Do I look good?”

“Very sexy,” He agreed as his hands moved down towards her waist. He rubbed his fingertips up and down, admiring how smooth her skin felt against his hands. He observed the freckles down her back, gently tracing his fingers down her spine. He moved his hands down further, cupping her small ass in his hands, “Still hurt?” She jolted against his touch.

“You surprised me,” She grinned, looking over her shoulder bashfully at him, “It’s not that bad anymore.” She pointed out how it was nearly back to the same shade as the rest of her skin.

“Should I do it again?” He asked, leaning forward to bite her earlobe. She shivered underneath his touch as he moved his hands back towards her soft hips. He felt his cock twitch at the thought of bending her over his knee again.

“No,” She giggled softly as she pressed back against him, “It’s not my birthday anymore.” She glanced towards him, fluttering her eyelashes softly. He bit his lip, liking the lust that was swirling in her dark eyes.

“So?” He moved a fingertip up towards her mouth, gently pressing down on her pouty bottom lip. She flicked her tongue against his finger, still holding eye contact as she slowly slid it into her mouth. She moaned as she puckered her lips around it, bobbing her head like she was taking his cock.

He roughly removed his finger, overcome by the desire building inside of him as he connected their lips roughly. He swallowed her moans and spit, lingering in the soft sounds that were produced against his mouth. He moved his hands down further, tracing her curves as his cock became fully erect.

“Billy,” She sighed against his mouth, a moan tumbling free as his fingertips brushed against her sensitive clit, “What if someone hears?” She whispered softly, her dark eyes lighting up in a sense of fear and worry. He tilted her hair to the side, getting a clear look at her slender neck.

“They’re looking through rocks,” He mumbled as he dragged his lips along the curve of her neck, “They won’t even know.” He continued to speak against her skin, enjoying the way her body shivered against his. He sighed softly, sliding his cock between her thighs as he slowly thrusted forward. Her skin felt so smooth and warm. She moved her hand lower, slowly wrapping her fingers around his pulsing cock.

“You’re so big,” She breathed out as she pumped her hand up and down the length of his cock. He exhaled harshly, wondering if she’d still say that if she had been with anyone else. He groaned, thrusting his hips forward a bit to rut himself between her thighs, “I want you.”

“You want what?” He furrowed his eyebrows together, playing dumb as he waited for her to clarify what she meant. He enjoyed watching her squirm, listening as she tried to form the right words on her tongue. Her cheeks burned as she turned to face him.

“Your cock,” She replied hotly, her words creating a knot of pleasure in his gut, “I want my big brother’s cock.” She whimpered, rolling her hips back until her ass was pressed up against him. He groaned, admiring the way she squeezed her fingers tighter around his cock.

“For such a good girl you have a dirty little mouth,” He smirked to himself, lightly grazing his teeth along her shoulder. It drove him crazy how she always insisted she was good, “How bad do you want it?” He slowly withdrew her fingers from his cock, wrapping his own around them instead. He listened to the small moan that left her lips as he dragged his tip along her wet folds.

“So bad,” She turned to face him, her lips puckered out into a pout, “Want it more than anything.” She told him urgently, nodding her head as she did her best to convince him. He grinned, pulling her closer to him as he gripped one of her thighs tightly.

The shower was slightly more cramped than the previous one, but he still made due as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder. The crook of her knee rested comfortably over his shoulder as he gripped her waist tightly, keeping her nicely balanced. He thought that she really would’ve been a good ballerina, as she was quite flexible.

He traced his fingers down her abdomen, moving it further and further until he was gently caressing her darker pubic hair. She sighed blissfully, facing him with intense interest as he gripped his cock that was resting against her skin. He pushed his tip in slowly, his mouth parting with hers as he filled her slick walls.

“Feel good?” He asked, a little amused by the cock drunk look that crossed over her features. She shuffled a bit as he kept a tight grip on her, ensuring that she wouldn’t slide across the slipper floor. She bit back a moan as she nodded her head in agreement.

“Yeah,” She breathed in deeply, her eyelashes fluttering for a moment as he slid into her deeply. He groaned softly, admiring how wet and tight she felt wrapped around him. He squeezed her hips softly, enjoying the pretty sounds that left her lips, “Harder please, Billy.” She begged, her walls fluttering around his thick cock as he pressed deeper into her.

His lips grazed against her cheek, his warm breath coating her skin as he moved her up and down the length of his cock. He peppered a kiss against her face, groaning as her cunt engulfed him. She whined a little louder, her hands pressing up against the shower wall. He thrusted forward harder, enjoying the way her moans became louder the harder his tip pressed against her g-spot.

“You take me so well,” He complimented as he sped up his movements, his balls smacking against her wet skin. The sound echoed under the jets of the stream as he squeezed her hips in his hands. He moved his hand up a little further, pressing up against the bulge that was beginning to poke against her skin, “Feel how deep?” He whispered huskily, watching how her lips puckered out as she moaned again. She nodded her head, her eyebrows furrowing together in bliss.

She slid back against him, her lips parting in bliss as her eyebrows contorted into pleasure. He groaned as her lips met against his roughly. He rubbed his fingers against her clit as his tongue slid inside of her mouth, licking away her sweet sounds as her cunt squeezed his throbbing cock roughly. He kissed her with renewed fever, his pleasure building deep in his chest as she moaned against his lips.

He moved one hand up her body, gripping one of her perky tits in his hand softly. He squeezed, massaging the bubbles around her skin as she squealed against his mouth. He pinched at her hardened nipples, his cock pulsing as he rammed into her deeper. She was loud as his cock continued to press against her spongy bundle of nerves.

“What if your daddy hears you?” He teased her after she cried out again, her fingers curling into fists against the shower wall. Her cunt clenched around his cock harder, nearly knocking the breath from him as he pressed his cock harder inside of her. He licked at her neck before he began to suck on her sensitive skin, earning another round of cries from her, “You want him to hear how big of a slut you are?” He nibbled on the spot that made her jolt in pleasure.

“No,” She whimpered as her nails dragged against the tiles. Her pouty lips were parted, her eyes hazy as she looked back towards him. He pressed his fingers against her clit roughly, enjoying the way she squirmed against him. She looked like she was fighting to keep quiet, but was unable to as he dragged his cock along her spongy walls again. He loved how easily she responded, how she still acted like this was the first time, “Trying, feels so good.” Her voice came out higher pitched as his fingertips dug into her soft skin.

“Such a dirty whore,” He spit out in pleasure, moving his hips forward harshly. He groaned against the crook of her neck, grunting in pleasure as he felt cock becoming wetter from her slick. He moved one hand to grip her thigh that was raised in the air, squeezing it as she shook around him. Her face pressed against his, the water trickling down between their bodies as he gripped her body closer to his, “My little whore.” He added softly, his lips parting with hers as they ushered out the same sounds of pleasure. He felt like his heart beat the same rhythm as her; for her.

“All yours,” She confirmed, her tongue snaking into his mouth. He moved his against hers, tasting her once again as his fingers wrapped around her neck. He squeezed softly, watching the way her tongue pressed against her lips as she smiled in bliss. He admired the drunken look on her features; waves of pleasure crashing through him as he took it in, “Wanna cum, please, please.” She whined, sounding a little more desperate as he felt his movements becoming much more sporadic.

“S’okay,” He breathed out harshly, his chest beginning to feel tight as the pleasure curled up deep inside of him “Cum on my cock like a good girl.” He told her sternly, watching the way her eyes became more hazy as she nodded her head. He felt her body stiffen, her thighs beginning to quiver around him as she searched for something to grab. She landed on his wrist, squeezing tightly as her cunt clamped down on his cock. He grunted lowly, feeling like she was sucking everything from him, “Fuck, fuck.” He cursed, his cock throbbing harshly inside of her.

“Billy!” She cried out as she came around him, her pussy spasming as she rocked against him. He huffed, trying to keep his rhythm up but fell short as the pleasure overtook him. He was rock hard, fighting the urge to spill deep inside of her, “Right there.” She squealed, her body still trembling against him.

He huffed, trying to hold himself together as he continued to rock into her. He bit down on her shoulder, unable to hold it back any longer as he came deep inside of her. He groaned, gripping her leg tightly as he bottomed out inside of her. He leaned forward, pressing his cock as far as it would go as he decorated her walls with thick, white ropes.

She breathed roughly, her hands still pressing against the wall as she held herself steady. He groaned, his heart racing as he traced his lips against the curve of her neck. She felt better than any workout, than any other physical activity he’d ever done.

“Gosh,” She gasped softly as he gently dropped her leg, still holding onto her to make sure that she remained balanced. He continued to kiss her neck, wondering if Sam would question where the marks came from, “Felt good.” She giggled, fluttering her eyes shut.

He stayed quiet as he pulled away, gripping her hips as he roughly turned her around. She was still giggling, her eyes wide as she stared down at him. He fell to his knees, spreading her milky thighs as he dipped his tongue against her drenched hole. He licked away his cum, swirling it inside of her cunt as he licked it from deep inside of her. She moaned, her hands lazily cupping his curls before he pulled away.

He stood, dragging his thumb against her bottom lip to open her mouth. She stared up at him, eyes wide as he spit his spunk into her parted lips. She choked out a moan as she licked at the corner of her lips, holding it all into her mouth before she swallowed. Her eyes appeared glossy as she held her tongue out, pressing her body back up against him to prove that her mouth was clean.

“Nasty,” He told her softly as he spit another glob onto her tongue, watching the way she eagerly swallowed that as well. He felt his stomach tighten again and wondered if she’d be up for another round later, “Such a good baby sister.” He teased her, enjoying the way she moaned again.

“Kim,” Loud knocking separated them for a moment, her eyes going wide in fear, “Are you almost done? We need to talk.” Sam said from outside the door. Billy bit his lip, watching the fearful expression across her features. Part of him wished he was still buried deep inside of her cunt.

“Yeah,” Kim spoke, clearing her throat as she grabbed her bottle of conditioner quickly, “Just a few more minutes!” She replied louder, her cheeks pink as she roughly massaged it into her hair. He grinned, lazily massaging the conditioner into his own hair as he observed her frantic movements. He thought of how embarrassed she’d grown at the arcade when they’d left the bathroom together.

“It’s alright,” He told her softly, scooting over so he could wash his hair out, “I doubt your dad says anything.” He told her honestly, doubting that Sam even knew he was in here with her. Sam seemed less than observant, barely noticing anything that happened around the house.

“Maybe you’ll warm up to him,” She said softly, shutting off the water once they were both rinsed off. She wrapped her hair up into a towel, before she began to dry herself off. He gripped his towel, lingering for a moment as he admired her body. He sometimes wondered if he was dreaming, if she was just part of his imagination, “Or not.” She giggled as she looked upon his features. He doubted that he’d ever like Sam, not after what he’d put her through.

He rubbed shaving cream across his jawline and cheeks, feeling more prickly than usual. Kim brushed through her hair, looking over at him curiously as he began to drag the razor across his skin, “Do you want to try?” He offered, holding the razor out towards her.

“Is it like shaving your legs?” She asked curiously, her eyes wide as she stared at it. He shrugged his shoulders, having no idea if it was similar or not. He trusted her though; he watched as she took it from his fingers and moved a little closer. She gently pressed it down on his skin, testing a line. Her eyebrows furrowed together as she realized she’d have to do it harder. He bit his lip, watching as she reapproached her actions. She was delicate, soft as she moved her hands. He still thought it was funny that she clearly thought that she may hurt him. She could never hurt him. Not intentionally.

“Looks good,” He complimented, glancing in the mirror as he looked at half of his face. She grinned, looking a little proud as she started the other cheek, “Don’t forget the neck.” He told her softly, not wanting to look too ridiculous.

“You can do that part,” She giggled softly as she washed off the razor again, “I don’t want to cut you.” She said honestly as she handed the razor back towards him. He peered down at her, grinning sweetly at the nervous look that crossed her features.

He finished as she worked on drying herself off and dressing into her pajamas. He rubbed on some aftershave, glancing at her as she brushed through her wet hair. He watched as her hair fell into small ringlets, curling against her back.

“You look handsome,” She told him, kissing his now smooth skin, “It’s getting long.” She grinned as she touched the hair against his top lip. He grinned, looking down at the observant look on her features.

“Do you like it?” He asked softly, fully willing to shave it off if she no longer enjoyed it. Her features looked towards him in disbelief, her lips parting quickly.

“I love it,” She grinned as she moved past him, slowly rubbing her fingertips along his skin. He dressed quickly, not wanting to be left behind without her, “Are you coming?” She asked, her fingertips lingering against the doorknob. He nodded his head, following behind her shortly.

Max was the only one in the living room this time, her features contorted in concentration as she worked on her homework. Billy plopped down on the couch, pulling Kim onto his lap with a smile. She giggled softly, a gentle look on her features as she watched him.

“Can you help me?” Max looked up towards Kim, her math book sprawled in front of her, “This makes no sense.” She huffed in frustration. Kim nodded her head, pulling her nightgown over her knees as she began to join Max on the floor. Billy gripped her waist, not wanting her to leave so soon.

“Wasn’t your dad a teacher?” He asked seriously, feeling like the least Sam could do was help Max with her homework. She pursed her lips together as she sighed deeply, like she was trying to stop herself from snapping at Billy.

“He’s still in the room,” Max told him as she glanced back towards her math book, “He’s been acting weird.” She mumbled underneath her breath as she began to tap her eraser on her paper. Kim’s fingertips paused around Billy’s wrist, a concerned look forming over her features.

“We need to talk,” Sam said softly as he walked into the room. He rubbed his palms across his jeans, looking nervous as he peered at the three of them. He had on glasses this time, “It’s important.” He said at last, furrowing his eyebrows together as if he was deciding on where to start. Billy bit down on his bottom lip, hoping that this would be it.

Sam would be leaving.

“What’s wrong?” Kim sounded slightly alarmed as she spoke, sitting up a little straighter on Billy’s lap. He rubbed his fingers across her hips, slowly dipping them against her small bottom before he rested his hand on his lap. He observed the curve of her back, wondering when he should fuck her ass again.

“Seeing that Susan won’t be out for a while,” Sam drew out slowly, removing Billy from his dirty thoughts, “And I have a home back in San Diego, well we all do-” Sam began to ramble, pacing nervously in front of the couch as he went off the trail. Billy felt his eyes narrowing in frustration.

“Get to the point.” He didn’t mean to snap, more so to push Sam further but his tone came out harsh and irritated. Max shot him a look before she nudged his knee hard and he took that as his sign to shut up and listen. He wasn’t sure if he even needed to be here during this part, but he didn’t want Kim to be upset on her own. Sam was going to break her heart again.

Sam paused, licking his lips as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He looked so nervous that Billy nearly felt bad for him. Sam looked like he was seconds from upchucking onto the floor or passing out in front of them. The room filled with a tense silence, awkward as they waited for Sam to continue. He inhaled sharply, like he’d finally found the confidence to speak.

“I want you girls to come back with me,” Sam nodded his head, furrowing his eyebrows as he thought for a quick moment, “No, not want. You girls are coming back with me.” He said more firmly this time, looking surprised at his own tone. Billy was sure it was the only time he’d been stern with them before.

He didn’t have time to process Sam’s statement before Max and Kim spit out a hundred different questions, both of them protesting at once as Sam nodded hs head in frustration. He looked like he was trying to answer both of their points, but the other one would begin to protest before he could finish.

Billy didn’t know what to think. In all reality, he didn’t feel anything keeping him to Hawkins. He hated it here. He’d hated it for a long time. He knew he’d be fine as long as he had Kim, but then again, Sam didn’t sound like he was directly inviting Billy to join them either. Billy knew that Sam was a fool if he thought he could get Kim away from him.

Billy suddenly realized that there was something keeping him in Hawkins. Something darker and more cruel. Neil. Billy inhaled an icy breath as it came rushing forth to him. Billy would be running off, leaving Neil behind just as his mother had. Conflicting thoughts and feelings filled him, gripping him tightly as he became lost on what would be the right thing to do.

“What about mom?” Max asked for what felt like the fifth time. Billy turned to look at her, watching the way her eyebrows were knitted together in dismay. Her blue eyes were wide, full of emotions as she waited for Sam to answer. Kim had since moved from Billy’s lap, looking just as concerned with Max’s question.

“I understand you have ties here, I get it,” Sam said softly as he held his palms out towards the floor, like he could somehow calm them down, “But Susan ran off with you girls before I could do anything. I deserve to have a second chance, the same way she did.” He admitted to them, looking honest as he spoke. Billy felt his eyes narrow, feeling like his words didn’t match up. Sam hadn’t written or called them, so how could Susan have run off with them?

“You left us,” Kim said at last, her voice breaking as she spoke, “Mom did the best she could do.” She defended Susan as her bottom lip wobbled. Billy reached forward to brush his hand against hers, hoping that Sam wouldn’t get her too worked up.

“She knew I was trying to get better,” Sam said desperately, gesturing towards himself as he looked at his daughters, “I wanted you girls. I really did, but I couldn’t let you continue to see me like that.” He said, his voice beginning to crack as he spoke. Billy didn’t say anything, but he could feel an anger forming inside of him. He was sure that they’d rather have their dad at his worst than not at all.

“So, leaving was better?” Max’s bottom lip wobbled; her eyes even brighter as they filled with tears. Billy had a strange urge to pull her closer, feeling bad for what she was going through too. Sometimes Billy forgot that Kim wasn’t the only one who had been abandoned.

“Of course, it wasn’t, but I thought of you every day,” Sam looked just as heartbroken as the girls as he spoke, “I am better. I have built a better life for us. Please, just give me a chance.” He pleaded with them, looking desperate in a way Billy didn’t understand.

“I don’t want to leave.” Max said at last, sounding like a small child as she spoke. Billy felt bad, thinking about how she didn’t have many friends in San Diego. She usually stayed to herself or followed Kim around.

“I can’t stay here,” Sam told Max honestly, “I’ll lose everything if I stay here.” He said bitterly, like it was a simple way to change their minds. It made Billy angry. Sam was acting like a victim, like the girls should pack up their lives and move just because he asked it of them. He wanted to ask Sam why he thought that was so vital, when he’d left them so easily before.

“But you’ll have us.” Kim spoke up at last, her eyes looking hazy as she pinched her fingers together. Billy observed her, watching how hard she was trying to keep it all together. He felt so terrible, wishing he could take all of the pain from her. Sam glanced towards her, his expression softening as if he was slowly understanding everything they were meaning.

“Hey,” Sam bent down to Max’s level, “When your mom gets out of jail if you want to come back, that’s fine. I promise you; I’d never keep you from her. Just please. Give me a chance.” He begged of her; his brown eyes filled with tears as he spoke. Billy looked at how close he was resting towards him. He thought about how easily he’d be able to kick him and knock him over. He huffed to himself, surprised at how strong the urge was.

Max watched Sam for the longest time, her blue eyes still wide and filled with tears. Billy thought about how long she’d wanted to go back to her dad, how long she fought and defended him. He knew her answer before he was sure she even did.

“Okay,” She drew out softly, “When do we leave?”

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove stepcest #tw stepcest #tw pseudocest #billy hargrove x original character #stepcest #Dancing in the Dark

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palialaina · 9 months

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I don't think Jel liked my attempt at a joke. Then again, I did kind of fall from the top of Pavel mines to the bottom, so I suppose I cant blame him too much.

In my defense, I was hunting iron for Kenyatta.

Jel might forgive me. Eventually... Maybe I can bring him something to eat...

When I went to talk to her, she asked me to get her stuff to make a pickaxe, and like... Kenyatta is a darling. A snippy, sarcastic, rebellious darling. But that girl has never actually worked hard at a physical job a day in her life.

Still, she was determined, and I was low on iron anyways. And I got a cute, sad story about the old lighthouse that I was able to tell Jel while he uh... Well. So, I walked to his shop, and told him what happened, and he made me sit on his couch until the day was done and then helped me home.

Lucky me, I finished my bathroom, so I was able to have a hot soak before I laid down.

I'd put a mirror over the sink, but honestly, I think a third mirror in this room might be overkill. I do want to change up the wallpaper though, but I spent my money on the tub. (Zeki's night market prices are the most painful thing in ever....)

I am going to add another hallway and big room to my house, I think. My front room is too much, and I have an idea of what I want to do with a large room. My garden and the preserve jars are getting a workout, that's for sure!

Anyways, the story at the lighthouse! Apparently an old keeper had a fight with their partner and was so despondant after they left that they threw bottles into the ocean, and then buried a cache of things under one of the trees next to the wall of the Flooded City.

I swear, I walked around for hours trying to find that cache. At first I thought it had to be at the top of the lighthouse, but I couldn't figure out how to get up there. It was after I wondered if maybe there was a way up to the top of the wall that I found it, and I have to admit, it's quite the view.

I'll have to take a picture next time I got to Bahari. Maybe I can ask Jel if he wants to come with me? Though who knows how his fancy clothes would survive the trip. And the climb.

....Well, I'll ask him anyways.

He's taken to calling me his most precious muse, and I swear, he's gonna be the death of me for sure with how sweet he is. I wish I could make him something nice the way he's made me pretty things. But even if I learned to sew tomorrow, I probably would never be able to match his skill.

....maybe I'll ask Auntie Dal if she can show me some things. I know she sews all the clothes at the Daiya farm, so maybe she can give me tips or something. Or I can just... ask Jel. And not say why I want to learn. But he might take that as me not wanting his help in sewing up the rents in my clothes any more and start moping.

Would he mope about that? He seemed a bit disgruntled when I had to borrow a shirt from the shop so he could fix up the rip up the back of what I was wearing. Or maybe that was more him being concerned about me than me damaging a shirt.

Maybe I should stop wearing nice things. I don't keep them in good repair, and he's got so much else to do...

Ugh. I don't know. I ache and I'm tired, so I'll sleep on it, and maybe there'll be a solution in the morning.

#palia #palia online #singularity 6 #berry plays palia #palia game #palia journaling #palia journey #palia mmo #palia roleplaying

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littleoddwriter · 2 years

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hi hello i have entered my saw phase very late and wanted to request some stuff with william easton x male reader! possibly coffee shop au but honestly i will gladly take any easton content :] 📼

Black Coffee, Please | William Easton x Male!Reader

Hi there! It's never too late if you ask me! Welcome! :') Thanks for the request, I really hope you like what I've done with it! Sorry it took me a bit. ^^"

summary; William always goes to the same coffee shop and is instantly enamoured by you when he first meets you there.

notes; Male!Reader; Coffee Shop AU; Asking Out; Pre-Relationship; Short-ish Fic.

Every morning, William went to the same coffee shop. He knew the staff by name and even some private things about them at this point, after years of going there every single day; even on his days off.

So, of course he immediately noticed a new face as soon as he entered.

Walking up to you with a smile, he was greeted by you with your own grin, as you enthusiastically cited the coffee shop’s signature greeting.

“What can I get for you?” you asked, then, tapping your fingers lightly against the side of the cash register’s screen.

“Just a black coffee, please,” William answered, already taking out the money for the coffee, plus tip. He always left at least twenty dollars of tips and fifty on a very good day.

Today was one of those better days, considering that you were new and that he was instantly enamoured by you. He didn’t know why. It was just something about your attitude, which didn’t seem fake at all, and your overall being that captivated him.

To be polite, he let you tell you what he owed for the coffee before putting the dollar bills in your outstretched hand and then leaving the fifty dollars in the tip jar for you.

Your eyes widened. William couldn’t help the smirk that stretched his lips.

“Uh, sir? That’s- those are fifty dollars. Did you mean to-”

“I did,” he said gently, “You’re new here, aren’t you?” It was a rhetorical question of course.

Dumb-founded, you nodded.

“Nice to meet you,” he squinted at your name tag, “Y/N. I’m William Easton. I work at the Umbrella Health insurance company across the street.”

“Oh, that’s you!” you exclaimed, clamping your hand over your mouth as soon as you said it, “Sorry. Just- Selina told me about you already. She speaks very highly of you. I can see why now.”

A soft chuckle left William’s lips, “I should hope so. Is Selina well? Greet her for me when you see her, please.”

You nodded, “I will! She’s just taken a day off.”

“Right. I remember.”

With a polite little smile, you gave him his coffee that Jack made behind you while you two talked.

“Thank you. Have a good day, Y/N,” William told you kindly.

Quickly, you thanked him and then he turned to walk out.

He thought he was going to like coming to the coffee shop even more now that you were there.

______

Over the next couple of months, William found himself looking forward to coming to the café every morning, smiling before he even entered when he could spot your face from outside already. He still wasn’t sure what it was about you that ran him over with all those feelings, but he wasn’t about to complain. After all, you were a handsome man, kind, a little shy at first, and overall a fun person to be around, he’s come to realise.

Every time, you two talked a little, considering he usually opted to come in at a time that not a lot of people were around, so it was possible. During those months, he found out quite a few things about you; what you liked, your hobbies, why you decided to work at the coffee shop, and so much more. And everything you had told him only made his feelings for you grow.

William didn’t really know what to do with those feelings, though. Should he tell you and hope for the best? He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. He had a hunch that you liked him too, but perhaps that was more wishful thinking than anything else.

Nonetheless, he opted to find out instead of letting his few insecurities get in the way. He always prided himself to live in the present. There was no time like it, after all. Especially because his job was to look into people’s past and future and decide on their present based on those facts. It was only fair if he was to take a risk for once, he thought.

Thus, he came back into the coffee shop during his lunch break when there were only a few people inside.

“Oh! Hi, William,” you greeted him with a bright smile upon seeing him. He loved hearing his name fall from your lips. It was only recently that you started calling him by his first name, rather than ‘Mr Easton’, after he insisted on it for a good while.

“Hello, Y/N.” William walked up to the counter, adjusting his tie; although it wasn’t necessary at all. He was nervous. “Listen, I just came in here to ask you something.”

Your smile never left your lips, but it wasn’t as big and bright anymore, “Okay?”

William exhaled slowly to steady himself a little. He wasn’t usually nervous like this, as he was confident in himself, but even he had to admit that the possibility that you might turn him down scared him.

“I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me sometime?”

For a few short moments, there was silence. You looked surprised, but not disgusted, which was a small relief.

“Uh, sure! Yeah, I’d like that. Um, you do mean that as a date, right?” Your eyes moved frantically, as though they were searching for something in his own when you answered.

“I do,” he smiled, taking out one of his business cards, on which he’s written down his private phone number, “Here’s my number. Call me and we can discuss the details then, all right?”

Nodding, you took the card, read over it with a smile and pocketed it.

“Will do!” you beamed at him.

With excitement making him feel all fuzzy and warm, William returned the smile before leaving.

Indeed, he loved coming to the coffee shop more and more with every day. Especially when he got to greet you with a kiss, now.

#i swear i couldn't come up with a better title rip sorry #male reader #william easton #william easton x reader #peter outerbridge #saw vi #saw franchise #saw movies #saw fandom #saw fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic

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explodcor · 1 year

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@heterochromatica said:

The last couple days had been stressful for them. All of them. Shoto had felt the exhaustion in every cell of his body and it he had muscles of his body ache where he didn't even knew he had them but, nothing would stop him from remembering this day. It was the most important day of the year actually (at least for him it was). He had put all his braincells to work and came up with this plan.

Like most mornings, Katsuki left for a morning jog that Shoto pretended to be too lazy to join and Katsuki didn't push it but the immediate moment his boyfriend closed the door and his footsteps had disappeared down the hallway Shoto was wide awake and got to work on this.

When Katsuki returned Shoto would meet him in the common room and in his arms was a basket big enough that he had to hold it with both hands a big bow atop. Inside was an assortment of the spiciest snacks the world had to offer (yes he had spent unspeakable amounts of blood, sweat, tears, and money on getting them shipped here).

The collection consisted of:

a jar with lid that contained Fuyumi’s homemade spicy mapo tofu with a little card tied to the top with best wishes from her

another jar with homemade kimchi made by Katsuki’s mom with another card attached to it

a bag of american fiamin' hot cheetos with a tag that said "from AM"

six packs of different variants of the spiciest instant ramen Shoto could find online

a big flask of tabasco he ordered from mexico

german handmake dark lindt chocolate with jalapenos in it

a bottle of extra spicy sriracha sauce

a third jar with pickled jalapeno peppers

milled japapeno powder from some expensive food brand

pink sea-salt together with a small lidded glass of aji charapitas pepper

a bag of beef jerky sweet n hot with a certain someone’s tape on it saying "happy birthday old man"

two boxes of loose tea: chili-chai & masala-chai with a golden label

three cans of sparkling water that had a really bad ass design (the tag on them said "they reminded us of you bro - Kami & Kiri"

a smaller jar that said bhut jolokai chutney with a tag saying its from "kacchan’s favorite alienqueen"

and a dozen more cards with best wishes from all their friends (even if Katsuki wouldn't admit them to be friends)

and in the middle sat what seemed to be a potted plant, red and yellows and green chili peppers growing on it (that had been Izuku’s idea). Shoto had not cooked any of the stuff but he had put in a lot of work so Katsuki would get the best of everything.

No one else was there but Shoto and he watched as Katsuki walked in. "I told them not to dogpile on you because you wouldn't like that." he said when his boyfriend looked at him. "Happy Birthday, Katsuki..."

The last thing in the basked was a large red jalapeno entirely made of glass but the tip was a little rounder than in would be in nature and when Katsuki found it, Shoto blushed but didn't say a word.

Katsuki had thought nothing of Shouto claiming he was too tired to run just yet. It wasn’t exactly the first time Shouto had claimed that. Especially if it was after certain activities that happened during the previous night.

Though, he had been somewhat curious of what his boyfriend had planned for him for his birthday. His partner had been very “busy” and secretive over the past few days. There was definitely something going on...

When he got back, he had planned to head for the showers, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Shouto standing in the middle of the common area with... a basket...?

“Oi, what are you--?” He raised an eyebrow and ventured forward until he was standing directly in front of his boyfriend. He peered down at the basket, eyes widening when he noticed the assortment of different gifts for him. All of them were from different students or faculty. “Holy fuck...!” he gasped. “You all put this together for me...?”

There were so many amazing spice-related foods to choose from. He didn’t even know where to start. However, what he didn’t anticipate was the odd way his eyes suddenly started to burn. Did someone leave a cut open pepper in here...?

He abruptly averted his face, angrily wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “I-I’m not crying!” he exclaimed before Shouto or any of the prying eyes from the kitchen could accuse him of it. “Fuckin’ dusty in here!”

Then, softly, he added, “...Thanks...” The weight of his gratitude could be heard in the single word. The edge of a smile could be seen crossing his lips.

#Katsuki replies #dawwww #this is so cute #Katsuki's bday #bday event #heterochromatica

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space-lesbian · 7 years

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yo real talk i was #blessed by a dunkin donuts employee yesterday night. i hadnt had dinner bc i fucked up time schedules and i had to move all my shit out of my dorm room. but the moment my dad started driving the car to go home i was like “oh fuck bro. i feel very sick bad” and so we had to go on a search for food to put in my tumblies. we went to a borger king. but they were closed for 30 minutes. so we ended up at a dunkin donuts. and i got a sandwhich but my tired hungry dumb ass couldnt understand the lady at the counter (she had an accent, i probably couldve worked it out if i was so out of it) telling me that if i got hashbrowns id get a second hashbrown 4 free. any way i gota sweet sandwhich and good good smoothie and in the car discovered she gave me two hasbrowns even tho i didnt order them.

#I wish i had left more money in her tip jar?#she saved me #from hunger sickness at 10 pm

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nogitsune-the · 3 years

Text

day 8

Alpha!Aizawa x omega, fem!reader

Warnings: Cockwarming, smut, cocwarming for comfort, 18+, mentions of breeding even if it isn’t the prompt, and breeding prompt comes later, heat, ABO dynamics.

Wordcount: 1129

Tip Jar (food money) 🍸 Masterlist BNHA Masterlist Kinktoberlist

Aizawa is a loving mate that always takes care of you. it seems like people think that he would be a lazy alpha and mate but he isn’t. He’s attentive and he keeps a good eye on you and knows how your feeling just by the subtle signs you show or the slightest changes of your scent. He was the best alpha you had and you wished he was the first alpha you courted but sadly he wasn’t. But he was your alpha now and that’s all that matters.

Now you had been at the beginning of your heat and had stayed home from work waiting for him to come home from work, you had called and told him that you were in pre-heat meaning you would get your heat in a day or two, and told him. He had asked you if you wanted him to come home early but it had been ok, and it still was. You were uncomparable but it was manageable. You could feel slick starting to form where you sat and even if it was just pre-heat you knew it was a chance for Aizawa to trigger it into full heat already today.

It wasn’t an uncommon thing to happen when you were in pre-heat with Aizawa close to you, and it had only gotten worse after the two of you moved in with each other and you were surrounded by his scent all the time. It’s the second heat you have had since the two of you moved in together and the last time it was triggered super early due to the scent around you.

But now your body was more used to it it didn’t happen as fast as the first time and since you were so close to heat anyways it didn’t bother you. It was just that the scent was more intense, and you also knew that your Alpha would be home soon and that made you fidget in your seat. You could feel your body become warmer and your body begins producing more slick getting ready for him.

Aizawa on the other hand was waiting for the last meeting he had at work to be over growing more and more impatient to get him to his omega in need. And when the meeting had run an hour longer and still wasn’t done he was reaching his last straw. Then he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket with a message from you. “Alpha are you here yet? It’s getting worse and I need help” That broke the last shred of restraint he had as he stood up and left the school. On his way, he told Mic the situation as he reached the door to the two of yours apartment.

As soon as he opened the door he could smell your sweet scent, and as he came inside he could see you fidgeting on the couch as you wait for him. “hey omega, you need a hand?” you just nod your head at him before presenting yourself to him. You had taken of your underwear when you texted him. And so all that was covering you was one of his sweaters. He could see the slick running down your leg as you were dripping. A clear sign of your heat/pre-heat.

Watching the way you present yourself made him let out a groan and he could feel pleasure run down to his cock. He could feel his cock start to strain in his pants. “come her kitten, let’s get you seated. He sat down on the couch and pulled out his cock before grabbing your hips to help you sink down on his dick. He groans at the feeling of your warm insides. As you fully sink down on him you try to wiggle your hips on him feeling impatient to get the stimulation you need. “Alpha please move, I need you.” he could see the desperation on your face but he wouldn’t let you as he grabbed your hips.

“patience omega let me relax a bit first” he pulled you into a soft kiss as he sat back holding you close, the tight heat of your insides, your scent, and laying down on the couch made him relax a lot. He knew you were impatient and he knew why but it was too fun to tease you when you like this. It might be slightly mean of him but he also knew you didn’t mind and that you would tell him if it was too much for you.

He sat there with you impaled on his cock while he scrolled through the phone for the last half hour. And he could feel your patience running thin as you keep rolling your hips to his trying to get something to happen other than just feeling him inside you. So he tossed his phone to the side lifted you up and walked towards your room. “Do you want your nest or the bed omega?” he stood there with you in your arms as you decided before pointing to the spot where your nest was.

All he did was nod but on the inside, he was cheering that you wanted to be in your nest with him. You didn’t always want him in your nest but today you did. He put you down in your nest as he pulled out of you. When he did you let out a groan from the empty feeling. “sush omega it’s only for a moment.” He leaned down to take off the sweater you were wearing before stripping himself off.

It didn’t take long for him to be inside you again before he moves. He had teased you long enough and knew you were getting desperate. “Alpha, move please harder” he started to piston his hips into yours. “Alpha please I want your knot, I need it alpha! Your words made Aizawa lose his cool as he rutted into you faster, his omega wanted a knot so you would get his knot. He would breed you with his knot if that’s what you wanted. It didn’t take long for the both of you to reach your highs and he could feel his knot start to pull against your walls before he came hard inside you.

He moved the two of you into a more comfortable position as the two of you calmed down. He went to pull out of you when his knot deflated, but you stopped him in his tracks. “Please stay inside alpha, it feels nice.” And he did he stayed inside even when he had calmed down just for the comfort of being connected to one another. He kissed your forehead as he fell asleep, with you following not long after.

#bnha #bnha smut #bnha imagine #bnha aizawa #bnha abo #aizawa shota #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shota imagine #kinktober #kinktober 2021 #bnha kinktober #bnha kinktober2021

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snackhobi · 3 years

Text

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested. It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.)

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.)

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist.

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.)

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back.

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power.

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it.

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

“Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall.

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond.

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron.

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi.

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner. There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway.

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out.

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot.

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire.

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway.

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary.

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you.

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else.

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright.

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you.

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.)

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung.

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth.

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to.

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up.

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say.

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really.

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists.

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.”

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor.

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed.

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad.

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee.

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is.

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

“Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say.

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all.

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice.

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity.

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think.

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

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the-witty-pen-name · 3 years

Text

Deadbeat Pt. 1

Lee Bodecker x F!Reader

18+ ONLY

Warnings: age gap (reader is 21), smut/masturbation (implied/mild), cursing, abandonment, infatuation, alcohol, cheating, violence?, mild housewife kink?

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You work at the bar at the edge of town, the Sheriff is going through a divorce and needs to rent a room.

A/N: I’m terrible at writing summaries and I’m so sorry about that! I don’t think I would consider this a dark!fic, but it does cover a lot of themes, and topics that are darker than I usually write about- but I think that comes with the territory of writing about Lee Bodecker. I’ll make sure to update the warnings for each chapter and do not read if you are underage. I also ignored canon for this one.

There are no tags on this one, because no one has specifically asked to be tagged on smut fics and I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable!

I hope you all enjoy!

Tags and Requests are OPEN

“Get out of here Lee,” you spat, pointing to the door he just walked into the bar from. “You swore to Janie you wouldn’t touch a drop.”

“C’mon (y/n),” he said sitting at the bar anyways, a smug grin on his face, making you scoff.

“I ain’t having anything to do with you breaking your promise to that lovely woman,” you say confirming your point. You wipe your hands on the towel that was hanging from your apron.

“Jack and coke?” He asks, looking at you with eyes that would be endearingly puppy dog if it weren’t Lee Bodecker. You shook your head.

“A coke it is,” you say and he gives up trying for now. He regrets telling you on his last visit he’d be swearing off drinking cause Janie finally threatened to throw him out.

You slide a glass bottle of Coca-Cola down the length of the bar to Lee and he grinds his teeth slightly. The sugar was always his temporary fix. You also sent down his way a small bowl of roasted peanuts, feeling bad for the mess of a man.

“She’s gonna leave me anyways,” he grumbles and you shake your head, picking up on his attempts to illicit sympathy to coax you into giving him a drop of anything.

“Stop giving her a reason to Lee,” you point out, gesturing with your hands to emphasize that he was in the same small bar on the edge of town he always wandered into on weeknights. He’d tell Janie he was on duty but he’d really be down in this little box of a building getting drunk as a stunk.

“She’s the one who gone and cheated,” Lee said in an angry tone, not towards you, just at his situation. “That Miller fellow living a few miles down from me. I see his truck parked outside my house plenty of times to know he’s not just being neighborly.”

“I’m sorry Lee,” you say with a genuine tone of sympathy. You felt for him and his pain. You knew the stress of the job he led and the pain of knowing the love of your life don’t love you.

“She’s going to leave me,” he says, staring intently at the condensation on the bottle in front of him. “I’d been trying so hard for her and our marriage and she’s two timing with the neighbor when I’m out working.”

“And the thing is I don’t even care if she cheated,” Lee continued, “I’d look the other way if I knew she’d be staying with me. But it’s cause I know she don’t love me anymore. That’s what’s hurting me most.”

“Maybe y’all can work through this-“

“This was inevitable,” he says, cutting you off. You don’t point it out, cause he’s clearly distressed but normally you’d have no problem saying to Lee ‘Fuck you, let me finish Sheriff.’

“Do you got somebody?” Lee asks you. The question takes you back cause it wasn’t like the Sheriff to ask your about anything personal. He would come in, and you’d shoot the shit, exchange small talk, maybe some harmless flirting for a larger tip, but that was the extent of it.

“No, not anymore,” you say, having recently broke things off with your boyfriend. “I was seeing Arvin Russell for a couple months, but we just broke it off.”

“You’re too good for him anyways,” the sheriff scoffed at the mention of the Russell boy and took another swing from his bottle of pop. “How old are you anyways, sweetheart?”

“Twenty-one,” you respond, not thinking too much about the nickname. He had a habit of frequently using names like that when he talked to the women in this town. You think it started out as a tactic to win re-election and then it just stuck. He nodded.

“Yeah you two are around the same age,” he said, more so thinking out loud than it being a statement directed towards you. “Why’d you break it off?”

“Beat up my brother,” you answered, “Granted, the little shit had it coming. Can’t blame Arvin after I heard how the asshole was bothering that sweet thing Lenora. But he just took it too far. Almost killed the kid. The boy saw red so I got myself out of the picture. You can’t be with a boy who does that to your kin.”

Lee nodded understandingly. You didn’t interpret his actions or questions as genuine concern or interest in you, but that he was just asking you questions to distract from his marital woes.

“I’d do so many things different if I could be your age again,” he chuckled in a self-deprecating tone. “I’d sure as hell love to turn back time and have myself go down a better path.”

“It’s not just you, Sheriff,” you reply after collecting money another man sitting at the bar. You nod as a goodbye to the man, and then curse under your breath when he doesn’t tip you. “Asshole,” you mumble, tossing the few pennies into the tip jar. You walk back over to the sheriff and prop your elbows on the bar. “I’m sure everyone is this town wishes the same thing,” you say, trying to make him feel better.

“I’d love to just be your age again,” he says with a sigh, and then pops a small handful of the peanuts in his mouth. “Young, got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I’m not sure working in a place like this is setting me up for great things, Sheriff,” you chuckle moving to wipe the bar in the area where that other customer left. “A woman working as a bartender is equivalent to just being a whore according to the eyes of the Lord... at least in this town,” you laugh, using the towel from your apron to wipe the rings left behind on the countertop from the glasses.

“Arvin didn’t think so,” Lee countered, trying to make you feel a little better about your position. “I don’t think so. Hell, people in this town are so uptight about things that aren’t their business. You’re young, you need a job and you have one. It’s that simple.”

“I wish more people in this town thought that way,” you reply with a smile. “That new preacher last Sunday-“

“Don’t listen to that asshole,” the Sheriff scoffed, and chuckled when your eyes widened at his derogatory words towards the preacher. “He’s a showboating son of a bitch and he’s as phony as they come.”

“Those ruffled shirts are the most pretentious thing I ever seen,” you say, letting out a big laugh thinking about when he is giving a sermon in what looks like tacky prom attire.

“Pay him no mind,” Lee said, bringing the bottle to his grinning lips as he looked at you. “You’re a better person than he is.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” you chuckle.

“Have a goodnight hunny,” another customer at the bar says dropping cash on the table as they leave. “Goodnight Sheriff,” the older man tips his hat and then walks out.

“Have a goodnight Marvin,” you call after him, “Give my love to Loretta!” You clear the empty glass and drop the cash off in the register.

While you’re moving around, Lee takes a moment to actually look at you. Any man with eyes knew you were pretty, but he ain’t never noticed before just how attractive you were. His eyes lingered for a moment at how the canvas waist apron extenuated your figure. He couldn’t believe this stunning young thing was stuck in a place like this with a dead end job talking to a deadbeat like him.

“How long you staying for Sheriff?” You ask suddenly, pulling him out of his trance.

“Uh, not sure,” he says, looking up at the dingy Luger Beer clock that hung on the wall. “Why sugar?”

“Seeing as though your sober I was hoping I could trouble you for a ride home?” You ask shyly.

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “No trouble at all honey.”

“Thank you, Lee,” you say with a smile, making his heart skip a beat.

He’d talk to you most weeknights and never had this feeling. Maybe he had but he was too wrapped up in his own troubles to notice it. You were such a sweet girl, and he realized what an injustice it truly was for you to be stuck here.

The thought crossed his mind very quickly about if he wasn’t married- even though he knew divorce was coming around the corner any day now. If he had met you at a different time in his life if it would’ve been better. Instead of meeting you as an overweight, deadbeat of a sheriff which a drinking problem- he’d met you when he was fresh out of school, same age you are now. You all coulda fallen in love, started a family, and that would’ve been enough to keep him from taking up drinking in the first place.

He knew from the beginning Janie ain’t ever loved him. Hell, he’s not sure if he ever loved her thinking back on the whole relationship. Lustful, without any sort of promise behind it and they both were users. They used each other. He knew he treated her poorly as poorly as she treated him. He definitely had loved her, that much he knew was true, but now she’s cheating- something Lee never thought of doing at all no matter how many fights they had until the early morning hours.

As you maneuvered around behind the bar, locking up the liquor and wiping down the machines getting ready to lock up for the night, his mind played little tricks on him. The canvas apron was instead a pinafore, and the bar was his kitchen. He’d loved the sight, thinking about coming home to you instead of what was soon to just be an empty house.

Hell, he wasn’t even sure if he’d even be the one to keep his house. The idea of finding a new house- buying one for you, and being able to start over sounded like a dream life. Hell, he’d run away from this town right now if you said the word. He’s sure he could secure an election in another town, he had the connections to make it happen.

“I just got to lock up the office and I’ll be ready to go,” you say, untying your apron. He gulps and nods as confirmation. You disappear in the back room, cash drawer in your arms to lock away in the safe. He heads behind the bar to dispose of his empty bottle and the cardboard tray his peanuts were in.

You come back, your peacoat buttoned and the sash tied around your waist in a bow you had made. You had a small handbag in one hand, and your work apron in the other. Suddenly, he was nervous and didn’t know how to carry himself around you. Undeniably, the Sheriff was developing a crush. He couldn’t shake the feeling. He wanted to ask you out on a proper date, but he knew with his age and reputation- it wouldn’t be fitting. He was moving way too fast in his own mind to keep up with. Just daydreams, he thought to himself, suppressing the thoughts of a future with you for now.

“Okay,” you said, giving the place one more once over to make sure it was all set. “That does it.”

“After you,” he said, holding the door open for you. You giggled, and once you both were outside, you used your key to lock the front door. He held the door open for you to take the passenger seat in the cruiser. As you buckled your seatbelt, he walked over to the driver’s side and then slide into his seat.

You were a little nervous. You weren’t sure why. This wasn’t the first time you’d asked for a ride home. Usually, it’s never this late. When you close, you usually walk home alone. You definitely didn’t live that far, but again that was more dangerous than getting a ride home.

You realized that you were worried about nothing. You thought maybe some would accuse you of something scandalous, getting a ride home from a man so late. However, this was the Sheriff and the streets didn’t have another car on it at all. The town knew where you worked and if anyone were to see you, they’d know you were closing shift and you asked for a ride to avoid walking home this late alone.

“Thank you again,” you said, starting up a conversation as the sheriff was backing out of the tiny lot that was next to the bar.

“Oh, don’t mention it, hun,” he said, “It’s my job to make sure you get home safe. Your house is the white one at the end of Birch?”

“The very one,” you say, looking out the window. There aren’t any street lights, and the only light for miles is coming from the headlights of the cruiser. You don’t catch Lee stealing glances at you as he starts moving forward.

“How’s your ma doing?” He asks, making conversation.

“Oh, she left,” you said nonchalantly, and it makes Lee’s eyebrow raise in confusion.

“Wait. What?” He asks looking over at you for a second before turning his eyes back to the road.

“Oh, I thought you would’ve heard,” you say softly, your façade of indifference torn down. “She left us about a month ago. Met a man from Columbus and moved in with him. The whole town was talking about it for weeks.”

“So, is it just you and Tommy now?” he asks, wondering what kind of a mother leaves her girl to take care of her high school aged brother on what she makes at the bar.

“Oh, he went with her,” you explain, “House is all mine. After the whole thing with Arvin, she decided to pull him out of school and he goes to school in Columbus now. She wasn’t gonna bring him but after that, she changed her mind.”

“They just left you?”

“I chose to stay.”

“No offense but why would the hell would you chose to do that?” he jokes, making you laugh a little.

“It’s all paid off, and my grandpa left it to me and not her anyways,” you explain. “House has been in my name for three years now. And if we sold the house, she’d just piss the money away. Besides, would you move back in your mother now, Sheriff?”

“No, I can’t say I would want to,” he chuckles.

“So, I’m just supporting myself and that ain’t too bad,” you shrug.

“Sounds lonely,” he comments and you nod in agreement.

“It can be,” you admit, as he turns down your street.

“You ain’t worried living alone?” He asks.

“You tell me, Sheriff,” you joke, “If I got something to worry about it sounds like you’re not doing your job.”

“Ouch,” he says and holds a hand clutching his hand to his heart dramatically. It made you laugh, and it made him smile that he made you laugh. God, he loved your laugh.

“Thank you again, Lee,” you say sincerely, quickly kissing his cheek when he parks in front of your house. The gesture takes him back, and he’s relieved you can’t see how red his face is. He’s almost angry at how flustered you make him and you have no idea. “Have a goodnight,” you say.

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” he says, a little shakily. You get out of the car, and he watches you walk up to the porch, your hips swaying naturally, and he bites his lip. He groans, but at his disappointment in himself for staring again. You disappear behind the front door and he hits his palm on the steering wheel, trying to shake whatever feeling this was.

He reluctantly drove home, not wanting to have to talk or see Janie. He knew he was just heading home to a fight for being out so late, even though he knows she takes full advantage having fucking Miller over. His jaw is locked, angry about a fight he hasn’t even had with her yet. His cheek still tingles from your touch, and he thinks about if he should just leave Janie. He could just leave, get an apartment nearby or something. He doesn’t even care if she gets the damn house. He’s bracing himself for another night of fighting as he pulls into his own driveway and heading up to his own house.

He fumbles with his keys in the dark. He thinks he had the right one, but it doesn’t work. He tries another that is the same shape, still doesn’t work. He intakes a sharp breath and tries the first key again- he’s positive that’s his house key. “Fucking Christ,” he mutters when the key won’t even go into the lock. “Janie!” he shouts, pounding on the front door. She changed the locks.

“Fuck,” he exclaims, stomping down the front steps and walking around to the back door. He tries his keys again with no luck. He pounds into the door hard and incredibly loud. He knows she’s there, upstairs in their bed, ignoring his knocks. He tries the kitchen window, but it’s locked. Every window on the first floor is fucking locked. He curses again and heads back to his cruiser. He slams the door shut and his grip on the wheel is turning his knuckles white. Does she expect him to sleep in his car in the driveway?

He doesn’t even think about where he’s going to go, but he knows damn sure he’s not going to give her the satisfaction of sleeping outside of his house in his cop car for the whole town to talk about. He just pulls out of his driveway and starts driving. He isn’t even thinking about what route he’s driving, it’s like he’s driving on autopilot while he screams out every curse word in existence.

By the time he calms down, he realizes he’s driving down Birch again. His muscles in his body tense, and he thinks back to your conversation when he dropped you off. Your mother and brother were gone, meaning you have two spare bedrooms. He knows he shouldn’t but the temptation is way too overwhelming. He has nowhere else to go. If someone saw his car… well, he’d worry about that tomorrow. Your house is two miles away from your nearest neighbor, settled back at the end of a long dirt road. Someone knowing he was there was unlikely. He had people who could save your name. It was all innocent. Janie kicked him out and he knew you had an extra room. Hell, he’d rent a room from you- Wait. That’s perfect. That solved all of his problems and yours. He knows you were downplaying how hard it must be to keep up with the house and by him paying rent, you could take care of the house. It was a win-win.

He felt so confident now and he was so proud of himself for devising this plan. He parked his car out front and then walked up to your front door, knocking gently. The sound of the knock made him now incredibly nervous. He didn’t want to scare you or for you to think he was trying to take advantage. Granted, there would be a lot more than financial benefits to being able to live with you, which he knew were selfish, but the idea of being able to see you everyday was overwhelming. It was the closest thing to the dream he was wrapped up in back at the bar. He could live out his little pretend domestic bliss, and you’d get the money you need for the house. He knew he was insane and this was probably wildly inappropriate, but he knew you were too kind to turn him away.

You opened the door with a small yawn, a yellow bathrobe secured over your nightgown fully, to keep yourself decent when you answered the door. You were going to call the Sheriff when you heard the rapping at your door so late and ignore the knocks, but looking out the window of your bedroom you saw it was Lee’s cruiser parked outside.

“Lee?” you ask quietly, sleepiness very evident on your mumbled voice.

“Janie kicked me out,” he said softly, “Changed the locks on me. Darling, I’m so sorry for intruding but I have no where else to go.”

“Come in,” you say sympathetically, the news waking you up quite a bit. “Lee, I’m so sorry. You can take my mom’s old room; it’s got an attached bathroom you can use too.”

“Thank you (Y/N),” he says quietly. You close the door and secure the lock and the chain again as he looks around the house.

“Don’t worry about it,” you insist. “I can take you there. Follow me.”

You walk up the stairs, Lee following closely behind and he’s ashamed that he took the opportunity to just openly check you out again. At the top of the stairs there was a hallway lined with photographs in mismatched frames. You point to the door at the end of the hall.

“That’s the master,” you explain, “There’s a bathroom attached inside if you want to clean up or anything. There’re clothes in the dresser if you want pajamas- should be in the bottom drawer.”

“Okay, thank you,” he replies, looking down at you as you yawn again, and he notices how your hair is a little messy. The sight drives him wild.

“Anything in the kitchen is up for the taking to,” you offer.

“Look, (Y/N),” he says, “I know this isn’t the best time to be talking about this, but I really need a more permanent plan on where to go. I know it sounds crazy and out of the blue, but could I rent that room from you? Name your price. I figured… I really need a new place, and you could probably use another source of income to keep up with the house. Plus, it’s safer than living alone…”

“Um…,” you begin to speak, but you bit your lip, showing that you’re intently thinking about his offer. Everything he said was right. You needed the money, and he was right that living alone was dangerous in this town and living with the sheriff is the safest person there was in the whole town. People would talk, of course, but no one would deny that the circumstances were just ideal for the two of you and nothing more. You were an adult, a homeowner, and it was your business who you rented a room too. “Yeah, I think that makes sense for both of us,” you agree. “We’ll sort out the details tomorrow.”

“Of course,” he says with a smile.

“Alright, um,” you say crossing your arms around your chest awkwardly. “Goodnight, Lee.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N),” Lee responds as you head back into your own bedroom. He let’s out a heavy sigh and heads into your mom’s room- or rather his new room. He’d have to figure out how to get his stuff back from Janie tomorrow. He’d really just need his clothes and some other necessities.

The room was fairly spacious. There was a closet and dresser. The closet still had some clothes of your mom’s left behind, and for the most part, the room looked fairly intact. It was like she up and left with just a few things. Lee shook his head, angry at how poorly you were treated by your mother. He pulls off his leather jacket, tossing it and his hat onto the bed. He opened up the bottom drawer of the dresser, and just like you said, it was filled with men’s clothing. He concluded they had to belong to the man your mom lived with now, more things just left behind.

He tosses a pair of plaid pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt onto the bed, and then he heads to the bathroom.

In the drawer beside the sink, he finds a new toothbrush still in its packaging, that he opens for himself and drops it in the white toothbrush holder on the counter. The towels are all clean and folded neatly on the shelf above the toilet. He finds a new soap under the sink as well, and decided he needed a shower to just wash off everything of tonight off in hopes he’ll feel better.

He strips of his uniform, folding it nicely knowing he’ll need to wear it all again tomorrow morning. He steps into the shower and turns on the water. The hot water just immediately helps him to loosen the muscles that had been so tense. He lets the warm water run down his face and back, just letting himself enjoy the feeling. He lathers up his body with soap and then it finally hits him that he was here, living with you, and then suddenly he’s hard.

“Fuck,” he mutters, resting his head against the shower wall, the running down his back. He was in so much trouble he realizes. As he beats himself off in the shower, his mind is clouded with thoughts of you. The way the apron at the bar looked around your hips, and the smell of your perfume when you leaned into him. The way your body looked as you paraded yourself around behind the bar. The way you have no problem talking back to him when he walks into the bar after saying he’s off the bottle the night before, just making want to shut you up with a rough kiss. The feeling of your lips on his cheek and he imagines your lips on his neck. He thinks about how your hair looked tousled when you just showed him to his room. He lets himself slip back into that same domestic daydream. You being his wife… married to you instead dealing with this goddamn divorce. The absolute sickening sweet domesticity making him groan, as he imagines his hand is yours. Why on earth did he think he’d be able to do this?

PART TWO

#lee bodecker #the devil all the time #lee bodecker imagine #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #lee bodecker smut #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan characters #lee bodecker x reader smut #angst #smut

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study-coffee-chicago · 3 years

Text

Seasons of Med: Season 2 and Seasons of PD: Season 4: Necessities, Love, & Care (A Halstead Brothers + Halstead Sister! Imagine)

Your age: 15

Jay's age: 29

Will's age: 31

You were currently sitting at the library, trying to figure out how you'd get food for dinner. It was January and you had run out of your Christmas money two weeks ago and you had burned through your money from helping with kettle corn at the beginning of December. Right now you were SOL: Shit outta luck.

Your mind wandered back to the last day you had helped working the kettle corn stand when it was a dreary late October day.

"We have kettle corn, caramel corn, cheddar, Chicago style, and a few other flavors," you explained to a customer. She picked up a medium bag of caramel corn. "That one?"

"Yes, dear. Me and my husband love this stuff," the old lady said.

"I'm sure. It's really good! It'll be six dollars." She pulled out a five and two ones. "I'll be right back with your change."

"Oh, no, keep the change, dear. Thank you for the popcorn."

"You're welcome. Have a nice day."

"Y/N," Emma said to you. "Can you grab me a lemonade from the cooler?"

"Just one?"

"Yup, just one."

You grabbed it from the cooler and were about to pass it to her when you saw who her customers were: Jay and Erin.

"Y/N?" Jay asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Working," you answered quickly. "Little bit of extra money never hurt anybody. The real question is, what are you doing here? I know Erin hates being outside when the weather is crappy."

"It's because he's annoying when he whines and begs to do something, so I figured it was just best to give in," Erin answered.

Jay rolled his eyes. "God, I can't win with either of you. Why do you always gang up on me?"

"Because, Halstead, us girls gotta stick together," Erin laughed.

"Okay, okay, fine. Y/N, what popcorn should I get?"

"First of all, it's kettle corn," you corrected. "And, I suggest the cheddar. Or, if you want a combination of both salty and sweet, then get the Chicago style. It's cheddar and caramel."

"Me and Erin like sweet, but I know you. You like cheddar. And you'll pick out the cheddar pieces when you're at my apartment, so I'll get the Chicago style."

"Or," Erin started as she picked up a large bag of caramel and a large bag of cheddar, "We could get this big bag of caramel, and then you could have this bag at your apartment for Y/N. That way the flavors aren't touching."

"Erin Lindsay and not liking her food touching. Fine, we'll take what Erin suggested and one lemonade."

"One or two straw holes?" Emma asked, picking up the lid-punching tool.

"One's fine," Jay answered.

"They swap enough spit as it is," you whispered to Emma, causing her to laugh.

"What'd she say?" Jay asked.

"I can't tell you. It's a secret."

He huffed. "Fine. Keeping secrets from your big brother? That's cold Y/N, that's cold."

"So you're saying you never kept secrets from Will?" Erin asked.

"I have the right to remain silent."

"Exactly," Erin said. "How much does he owe you?"

"Excuse me? I didn't know I'd be the one paying for all of this."

"You were the one who dragged me outside, so yes, you are paying, Halstead. Now, get your card ready."

Jay rolled his eyes and pulled out his wallet. "How much?"

You did the math in your head. "$23."

"Emma, can you check her math?" Jay asked and you rolled your eyes in his lack of faith in you.

"$10 for the cheddar and $8 for the caramel makes $18...plus $5 for the lemonade...yup $23."

You handed him the card reader. "And now it's just going to ask you a few questions," you told him after his card went through.

Without allowing him to read it all the way through, Erin hit the tip and no receipt buttons. "Hey!" Jay exclaimed.

"Don't blame me! You were the one who wanted me to come out here!" She turned to you and took the bag of kettle corn as Jay picked up the 32 oz lemonade. "Thanks, Y/N!"

"No problem! Just make sure he doesn't buy any more paintings of motorcycles!"

Man, how you wished you could work that job right now because it was only for a few hours on the weekends. But, it was winter now, so there were no street fairs, farmers markets, or festivals going on. Because of this, your money had run out. You'd have to do what you'd have to get yourself some food, even if it would leave you with a guilty conscience.

With that in mind, you got up and left the library.

***

"Pop's been complaining of chest pain and refuses to go to the hospital," Jay told his older brother as he walked through the front door and into the living room.

"Of course he did," Will grumbled. Then, he turned to his father. "This won't take long. Unless it's bad. Then you'll have to come with me and actually go to the hospital this time."

"You can't force me to do anything," he argued as he watched his oldest son open up his medical bag.

"Just let him do his job. He knows what he's doing," Jay agreed with Will. Then, he remembered something. "Where's Y/N?"

"At school."

"At school? At 5 pm?" Jay asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Sometimes she stays after school and does homework. She's always home before it gets too late so I don't ask."

It's not like Jay and Will could have known this, though. Yes, you would talk and they're obviously there for you because they're your brothers, but your dad's parenting skills--or lack thereof--hadn't ever come up. You'd get together with your brothers once a week, but it was usually at one of your brothers' places. They rarely came inside your and your dad's place.

"All units, we have reports of a robbery at 3020 East Main Street. Assistance requested," Jay's radio stated.

Jay looked to Will, silently asking if it was okay for him to take it. "I've got it from here."

"Thanks, man," Jay said, clapping Will on the back and leaving the house.

He drove to the small corner market that had made the call. It was only a block away from where you and your dad lived, but despite it usually being somewhat slow, today it was even slower. There was only one car parked in the lot, so Jay was confused as to who would even rob this place.

He put on his vest and walked into the store. "Got a call about a robbery," he said to the store manager as he entered.

"Yes, right over here."

He led Jay over to where a girl was sitting on a stool, tears rolling down her face. She held a box of pasta, a loaf of bread, and a small jar of peanut butter. Her coat was unzipped, revealing the tampons and pads she had stuffed inside her coat after she had ripped open the box.

"Y/N?" Jay asked in disbelief. "What are you doing? What were you even thinking?"

"I- I'm sorry," you sniffled.

Then he turned to the store manager. "You called the cops on a fifteen-year-old girl for grabbing what looks to me like necessities?"

"I've let her go the past two times when she needed things, but today she didn't have the money, so I couldn't let it slide."

Jay threw $30 in the man's hand. "There. Now it's all paid for." He turned to you and took the loaf of bread. "C'mon."

You followed him out of the store, waiting to be yelled at as you entered his truck, but it didn't come. He pinched the bridge of his nose as he handed you the bread. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"There- There's barely any food in the house. I was just hungry."

Jay looked you up and down. He hadn't been really looking for changes in weight like he told Natalie he would do six months ago. He kept it up for a few months and then winter came around and it was hard to tell because of bulky jackets and sweaters. But, now that he actually looked at your face and hands in an investigative manner, it was clear as day: You had lost even more weight.

"And the other stuff?" he asked.

"Dad won't buy them for me. Says that they're too expensive and to just use something else. He said that if he had had a son he wouldn't have to worry about it, like it's my fault. Usually, I take some from school, but I ran out and I needed them."

"And the food?" Jay asked as he started driving back to his childhood home.

"I get breakfast and lunch at school, but I have to eat dinner at home. And on weekends I just skip meals and eat breakfast and dinner."

"What? What about Dad?"

"He gets takeout or he goes to the bar and isn't home until late."

Jay sighed as he pulled into the driveway. "Go pack a bag, kid. You're staying at my place until further notice."

"Really? I thought you guys forgot about me?"

"We could never forget about you. It's just, work has been busy for both of us. So, sorry if these last few times we've all been together for dinner have seemed a little rushed. Now, go inside and grab your stuff while I have a chat with Will and Dad."

"Dad, Will," Jay said after you had run upstairs and they were sitting on the couch. "I need to talk to you. In the kitchen."

"Really, Jay. Why can't it be here?" your dad grumbled. "First he--" He pointed to Will. "Wants to take me to the hospital because he said I have a valve issue and now I can't even have a conversation with my sons while sitting down?"

"Just get up, dammit!"

The three entered the kitchen and sat down, but Jay stayed standing. "Jay, what's going on?" Will asked.

Instead of answering his older brother, Jay just opened the fridge. There was a half drank gallon of milk, a jar of grape jelly, and a can of pasta sauce, along with other condiments, and a lone egg sat on a shelf. "This? This is what you expect your daughter to eat? I caught her stealing from a store just so she could get food and tampons!"

"Well, I'm not gonna pay for it."

"Excuse you?" Will exclaimed, eyebrows raised in surprise. "What do you mean you're not paying for it? She's your daughter, isn't she? Then you have a legal responsibility to feed her, make sure she has shelter, clothes, and goes to school!"

"She can go get a job."

"She is fucking fifteen!" Jay yelled. "She doesn't need to be worrying about where her next meal is coming from! She's supposed to be worrying about getting a good grade on a math test or if that boy likes her or not, but not that!"

"She needs to learn to grow up someday. And she won't if you boys baby her like you always do whenever you see her."

"Baby her?" Will yelled, disgusted. "She's a kid. She needs to be babied sometimes. She needs fucking food and a nice home to come home to, not whatever the hell you think this is."

"It hasn't been a home since your mother died."

"Yeah, we gathered that," Jay scoffed. "But you don't have to take it out on her."

"Jay," your small voice said from the doorway into the kitchen. All three men looked over to you, your backpack on your back, a duffle bag slung over your shoulder, and your favorite blanket wadded up in your hands so that you could carry it without it dragging on the ground.

"Ready to go?" Jay asked, his voice immediately softening.

"Uh, yeah," you answered, unsure of how your dad would react.

"What do you mean ready to go?" Pat Halstead asked, standing up from where he had been previously sitting at the table. "She's not going anywhere!"

Will rushed over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder while Jay stalked over to be face to face with your dad. "She is coming with me until further notice. You're lucky I don't arrest your ass for child neglect!"

"You wouldn't do that to your own father!"

Jay pulled the cuffs out of his back pocket. "Oh yeah? Try me."

He sat back down and Jay turned to you. "Here, let me take that." You handed him your duffle bag and followed him and Will outside.

"Jay, I gotta go. I gotta get Dad to Med to get the valve fixed. And, I said one hour out of the hospital tops and it's been two."

Jay closed the truck door once you were safely inside with all your stuff. "Good luck trying to get Dad to go the hospital," he scoffed. "Get going. Don't give Goodwin another reason to fire your stupid ass."

"I'll call an ambulance if I have to." Then, Will smacked Jay upside the head.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"You know what it was for. And, I'm your older brother, it's my job."

"I'm your older brother, it's my job," Jay mocked. "But, in all seriousness, do me a favor and make sure Y/N's all caught up on her immune- immune--"

"Immunizations?" Will laughed.

"Yeah, those."

"I'll do that. And if she's not, I'll give them to her tonight when I come over to your place after my shift is done...which will be in like two hours...depending on how much of a pain in the ass he is to get in the hospital."

Jay nodded, and then got in the truck, both of you making your way to his place.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Jay said after you had put your stuff down by the couch. "You have homework?"

"Yeah," you looked down, not wanting to even try and struggle through your homework...or have Jay sign the slip that said that you failed your last test.

Jay smiled. "I'll help you with it when I'm out of the shower, okay, kid?"

"How'd you know--"

"That is the universal facial expression of I need help, but I don't know how to ask for it. I'll be ten minutes tops."

And so, you tried to struggle through your homework for ten minutes. But, you ended up working and reworking the stupid algebra problem. Why did math need letters anyway?

"Okay, I'm back," Jay said as he pulled a chair out to sit next to you. "What are you workin' on?"

"Can you sign this first?" you asked, sliding the yellow paper over to him along with the pen. You hoped he'd just sign it blind, but as you saw his eyes skimming the page, you knew that wouldn't happen.

"Did you try your best?" he asked as he slid the piece of paper back to you after signing it.

"What? Yeah, of course, I did."

"Okay, then we'll figure something out. Now, how about we eat some dinner? I've got pizza in the freezer. That okay?"

"That's great," you answered.

Jay got the pizza in the oven while you went and changed into your pajamas. You decided it was in your best interest to have Will help you with your math homework.

***

"Ah! The man of the hour!" Jay exclaimed as he pulled out the pizza and Will entered the house.

You immediately noticed the red bag he was carrying over his shoulder and the two king-sized Twix bars.

"Why do you have your medical bag?" you asked.

"How did you know this was my medical bag?"

"I'm not stupid, Will."

"Okay, so you're all caught up on your shots, but I need to do a blood draw because I need to see if you're deficient in any vitamins and minerals. Have you been eating enough fruits and veggies?" he asked.

"Probably not as much as I should," you admitted. "They're too expensive unless I get the canned kind and I don't like those unless it's canned peaches. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Short Stack. None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. I just need to take the blood and then get it sent to the lab to see if you need to get any specific pills to get your vitamin and mineral levels up."

"Okay. Does it hurt?" you asked. You knew what a shot felt like, but you'd never had your blood drawn before, so you didn't know what it felt like to have a needle in your arm for a long time, taking blood. You knew what it felt like to have an IV in from when you passed out at the movie theater, but you didn't know if this needle would be the same size or bigger.

"You just feel a slight pinch at the beginning."

"Like getting a shot?"

"Like getting a shot," he confirmed.

"Hey, I was thinking," Jay started as he reappeared from the kitchen area, "what if we have celery and carrots with ranch for dinner, too? You know, like when we eat chicken wings at restaurants and they bring you some veggies, except we'll have ours with pizza."

"Okay," you agreed. "I like ranch."

"So does everyone in the midwest," Will joked.

"What's the medical bag for?" Jay asked. "She needs shots? And, what's with the Twix bars?"

"No, I'm drawing her blood to see if she's deficient in anything. And, there's one Twix bar for her and one for you because we all know how you feel about needles, Jay."

Jay rolled his eyes. "We doing this before we eat?"

"Yes. And, I need you to answer some questions for me, Y/N. These are strictly doctor protocol questions, okay? You don't need to be embarrassed about any of the answers."

You nodded.

"Okay," Will started, "When did you last eat? Just need to write it down for fasting glucose levels."

"Um, lunch at school, so around noon."

"So, six-hour fast," Will scribbled down on a piece of paper. "Next one, are you sexually active?"

"Will!"

"It's just standard protocol, just in case I need to test for STDs."

"No, I am not. Next question."

"Okay, last one: When was your last period?"

"You've got to be kidding me. I'm not pregnant, I haven't had sex!"

Will chuckled. "It's not for that. Sometimes when people are deficient in vitamins and minerals, they can lose their period for months at a time, signaling that their body isn't healthy. The medical term is amenorrhea." But, what he wanted to say was that when girls are underweight, this can also happen. And, from seeing how baggy your sweatshirt and jeans were on you, he assumed that you'd lost ten pounds since last going to the doctor when you passed out in the movie theater parking lot, making your weight loss a grand total of 25 pounds, which would qualify you as being underweight.

"Oh. I started today."

"Okay, good to know. Any changes in length or heaviness of menstruation?"

"I swear, I'd rather have Natalie or April be asking me these questions," you grumbled. "But, yes, it's a lot lighter and it went from me having my periods for five days to two days. Can we please stop talking about this now?"

"Yeah, we're all done. Sorry about that, but it's protocol."

"Says the guy who's drawing my blood at Jay's apartment instead of in a hospital, where it should be done."

"Hey, I've worked in much worse conditions than this in Sudan. How much water did you drink today?"

"A lot."

"Okay, good." Will started to unzip his medical bag. He passed a Twix bar to Jay. "Here, eat this and focus on it so you don't focus on the needles and then freak out."

Jay rolled his eyes, but took the candy bar and unwrapped it.

"Do I get one?" you asked.

"Once I draw your blood, yes, the other one is for you. Now, right or left arm?"

You held out your left arm and Will moved to the other side of you so he had a better angle. He sanitized his hands and then snapped on a pair of gloves.

"So, what do you do?" you asked. "I've never had my blood drawn before."

"I just tie off your arm so that I can get the veins to show a bit better, wipe down the spot with an antiseptic wipe, stick the needle in, and then wait for the vial to fill up."

"That's it?"

"That's it. Can you make a fist with your left hand for me?"

You did as Will told you and then he tied a band around your bicep and started touching the inside of your elbow, trying to get some veins to show. He furrowed his eyebrows and moved down your arm, rubbing your forearm and then going back up to the crook of your elbow and gently pressing there.

"What's wrong?" you asked.

"You just have really small veins is all. I could take the blood from the big vein in your forearm, but I don't really want to do that one since it's so big. Can you squeeze your fist tighter for me?" You did as he said while he kept pressing on the crook of your elbow. "There we go. Got one. Now, turn and look at Jay while I get the needle ready."

You looked at Jay and tried not to laugh. "You okay?"

"Me? I should be asking you that," he replied. "You're the one who's about to get stabbed with a needle."

"It's just that you got some sweat on your forehead. You look nervous."

"They're needles. They're tiny little sharp metal objects and if one breaks off--"

"Jay, respectfully," Will started, cutting off his brother, "shut the hell up, so you don't scare my patient. You might just want to look away instead of watching me. Then you might feel fine." Then, he turned back to you. "Okay, Y/N, keep looking at Jay. Close your eyes if you want to. You're going to feel a small pinch."

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Then, you squeezed your eyes shut tightly and grit your teeth, trying not to yell out as the needle pierced your skin.

"Hard part's done," Will said. You nodded, still keeping your eyes closed.

"That was not a small pinch," you retorted about a minute later.

"Sorry."

You opened your eyes and watched as the blood flowed from your vein into the small tube that was hooked up to the needle.

"I thought you hated blood," Jay pointed out. "And here you are, watching the entire process."

"I'm fine when it's my blood if it's not a huge, deep cut," you explained. "It's other people's blood I don't like."

"Well, that takes any job in the medical field off your career choices," Will said.

You sat there for a few more minutes, waiting for the vial to fill up. Will pressed on your arm, close to the needle, to see if more would come out. "This vein is really small," he said.

You watched as the blood coming into the tube started becoming slower and slower, in what looked to be bubbles.

"Just a little more," Will muttered.

You started taking deeper breaths as you felt sweat start to bead on your forehead.

"Okay, let's see how much this gave me." He pressed his thumb above where the needle was and you turned back to Jay as he removed the needle.

Then, he got the blood into the vial. "Bad news," he started, "I might need to take more. Let's see how much extra there is." He put the extra into another, smaller vial. "Yeah, this one clotted too, so bad news, we need more."

You nodded and closed your eyes, feeling your face get hot and starting to feel lightheaded. You pinched the bridge of your nose, willing this uncomfortable feeling to go away.

"You doing okay?" Will asked.

"Yeah," you answered.

"Okay, I'm gonna do your right arm this time." You held your right arm out to him. "Make a fist for me." You did as he told you and he tied the blue band around your bicep.

But, you were getting even dizzier. "Actually, can I get some water? I feel dizzy."

"Course," Will said. "Jay, can you get her some water and juice if you have any?"

"Apple juice good?"

"That's fine," you answered.

Will untied the band from your bicep. "We're just going to wait a few minutes until you feel less dizzy before I take more blood, okay?"

You nodded and took the water from Jay when he came back.

"Let's have the juice after I finish," Will suggested after a few minutes had passed and you finished the water. "Feeling better, Short Stack?"

"Yeah, let's get this over with." Your forehead was still a bit sweaty, but you were a lot less dizzy.

Will repeated the same process as the last arm and it went a lot faster. Turns out he picked a bit bigger vein in the crook of your elbow of this arm than he did the other one.

"And, we're done," Will said as he capped the vial.

He handed you the juice. "Thanks," you said. "That was not fun."

"I bet. At least you didn't pass out. I've had a few patients do that when I went through my clinicals. That's why normally when someone gets their blood drawn, they sit in this chair where something is flipped down in front of them so they don't fall out of the chair just in case they pass out."

"Jay, do you pass out?" you asked.

He scoffed. "No. I don't even get dizzy. My body doesn't react like that."

"He just breaks out into a sweat whenever he sees needles," Will whispered, loud enough for Jay to hear.

"Hey! I heard that! Take one more jab at me and you won't be getting any pizza, Will. I mean it!"

Will held his hands up in a mock surrender while you finished up your juice. Then, Will started to pack up his medical stuff and Jay brought the pizza and veggies and ranch out, along with plates of course.

You ate your pizza while Will helped you with your math homework. Once you finished two slices of pizza and some celery and ranch, you said that you were done.

"You sure?" Jay asked. "You can have as much as you want."

"I'm good. Gotta save some for tomorrow." Your eyes widened as you realized what you had just said. "I'm gonna go take a shower. It's been a long day."

"Okay, clean towels are in the cabinet in the bathroom where they always are," Jay said, trying not to react to what you had just said even though he knew exactly what you were doing.

You were rationing food.

"Fuck," Jay said as he put his head in his hands when he knew you were in the bathroom and out of earshot.

"What? What did she mean by gotta save some for tomorrow?" Will asked.

"She's rationing it. I used to do it in Afghanistan. Save some of my MRE and put it in my pack to eat the next day if I was on a long trek and we knew we wouldn't get back to base. It would be cold and usually disgusting, but I'd choke it down because it was calories and I needed fuel to be sharp in case we came in contact with combatants."

"Poor kid. At least we had Mom."

Jay nodded. "What happened with Dad at the hospital?"

"Had to have a mitral valve replacement because his wasn't working properly. Told him over and over to get his checked regularly, but he didn't because he's stubborn. He went for the non-surgical option first, but then there were complications, so Rhodes performed surgery. He's fine."

"That's good... I guess." Jay glanced around and he saw your duffle bag sitting outside the bathroom door. You had grabbed your clothes to bring them into the bathroom and left your open duffle bag by the door.

Jay stood up and started walking towards it.

"What are you doing?" Will hissed.

"I need to see if she's got anything else in there that will help prove neglect. I'm assuming it needs to be proved...I only know criminal court cases, don't know much about family court cases."

"What do you mean family court? You're going to fight Dad to be able to take care of her?"

"Yeah, I'll fight to be her legal guardian. Unless you want to do it. My loan went through for a new apartment, which has two bedrooms, so I figured I might be better suited."

"Go ahead. You'd probably have a better chance anyway because you were around more when I was in New York."

Jay nodded and started to dig around your duffle bag. He chuckled and pulled out your Build-A-Bear. "She still sleeps with Beary," he said as he held up the stuffed bear. "Probably doesn't change his clothes anymore because she's too old for that, but he's in pajamas."

"Remember that military uniform you got for her bear? Mom said she barely took Beary out of that because she missed you so much."

"Yeah, and if she wouldn't have dropped him at the airport, I might not have met Mouse."

The two fell into a comfortable silence as he continued to dig through your bag. He got to a big zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric that were stained light reds and browns.

"Will, c'mere," Jay said, waving him over. Will squatted down next to Jay. "You know what this is?"

Will sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. I saw a lot of this when I worked in Sudan."

"Well, what is it?"

"So, when girls don't have access or money to buy feminine hygiene products, they'll use scraps of fabric and wash them. Looks to me like she cut up some, um, she cut up some underwear and then used them as make-shift pads. If they aren't taken care of properly, she could end up with an infection. And, if she tried to use them as tampons instead of pads, it could lead to TSS, which stands for Toxic Shock Syndrome."

"We're gonna have to talk to her about this now, aren't we?"

"Unfortunately, yeah. She's not gonna be happy you dug through her stuff, so I'll let you explain why you were going through it. And, if she used them as tampons, I want her to get a pelvic exam, just to make sure she didn't get any infections. Much more likely to get an infection from tampons than pads."

Jay nodded. He hated having the current conversation and knew he was going to hate the next one even more, but he knew he had to do these things if he wanted to petition the court for legal guardianship.

Jay picked up your duffle bag and brought it to the living room and he set the zip-lock bag full of pieces of fabric on top.

"I can't believe we missed this," Will said. "I mean, we're both trained in how to spot abuse and we couldn't even spot it in our little sister."

"There weren't outright signs," Jay said. "No bruising, limping, cuts, burns, nothing like that. And, it's winter, it's easy to hide the weight loss. But, I still agree with you. If we would've spotted it earlier, we could've gotten her out of there."

"I'm pretty sure she's officially underweight now."

Jay ran a hand through his hair and then stood back up. "I'm gonna go put clean sheets on my bed. I'll let Y/N take it tonight so that we can keep talking out here when she goes to sleep."

"Good idea."

A few minutes later, Jay was back on the couch next to Will and you walked out of the bathroom, wearing a baggy t-shirt and some sweatpants that you had to keep pulling up because they were too big on you now, and a pair of fuzzy socks. You were cold all the time now and wanted your hoodie out of your duffle and wanted to put your dirty clothes in there, but when you looked down to the spot where you thought you had put it, it wasn't there.

"Guys?" you asked. "Have you seen my bag?"

You walked over to the kitchen table where your blanket was sitting on the chairs and wrapped that around yourself instead.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you saw your brothers on the couch, your duffle bag in front of them on the floor, and on top, your bag of ripped-up, old underwear that you used as pads when you didn't have any.

"You went through my stuff?" you asked, starting to become angry.

"Y/N," Jay started, "I know you're mad and it was me who went through it and not Will, so don't be mad at him, be mad at me. But, I went through it to see if anything was in there that could help me get you out of dad's house. Permanently."

"You- You want to have custody of me?" you asked.

A small smile appeared on Jay's lips and he nodded. "It wouldn't be considered custody because I'm not your biological parent, it would be considered guardianship, but yes, I want you to stay with me. And, my loan went through for a new apartment, so you'd have your own room and everything."

"Okay."

Jay looked at Will, not wanting to be the one to start this conversation. And, he figured Will would be the best one to start it because he was a doctor.

"Y/N, we need to ask you about these." Will motioned to the zip-lock bag on top of your stuff.

You sat in the loveseat across from them and looked down at your feet.

"It's okay, you're not in trouble," Will continued. "We just want to know how you used them in case you need to get a pelvic exam to check for infections in that area."

Your lip began to tremble as tears started to roll down your cheeks. "I used them as pads," you said quietly. "Dad wouldn't buy me any and I stopped getting them from school because I thought they'd suspect something was wrong if I- if I kept taking them."

"One more question," Will said softly. "I just need to know in case we need to take you in for this. I know you said you used them as pads, but did you ever try and use them as tampons?"

"No. I only used them as pads," you whispered. "I was scared to use them as tampons." You looked up at your brothers, who both had tears in their eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you rushed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner I was just--" You let out a wail and Jay got up and knelt in front of you.

"Hey, hey, none of this is your fault. Do you hear me? Absolutely none of this is on you. It's all on Dad. Every single bit of it. You are not the one to blame."

You launched yourself into his arms, crying out every emotion you had felt these past few months: anger, frustration, fear, sadness, it was all coming out now.

And, Jay just held you and let you cry it out because that was what your guys' mom used to do for him. And, he knew it worked.

Twenty minutes later, your wails were just quiet whimpers and you pushed yourself back up onto the loveseat, where Will had moved to the spot next to you. He wrapped an arm around you and you leaned into him, craving the comfort that had been denied to you for so long.

"You still have that Twix bar?" you asked.

"All that crying made you hungry, didn't it, Short Stack?" Will asked as Jay got up to retrieve the candy bar from the table.

You nodded.

"Thank you," you said when Jay handed you the Twix bar. You unwrapped it and broke it into the two sticks. "You guys want any?" They both shook their heads: they knew you needed to get as many calories in you as possible.

Jay sighed, he might as well get this hard conversation over with you tonight as well. "Y/N, you can eat as much as you want. I won't say anything about you eating too much, okay?"

You looked up from your candy bar. "You won't call me a burden because I'm eating your food? Like Dad did?"

"He said that?" Will asked, giving Jay a look that read when I see him next, I can't be held accountable for my actions.

"Yeah. One time there were some leftovers he had gotten from a bar and I was so hungry and it was the middle of the night, so I took them out and heated them up. The microwave timer must've woken him up because he came out just as I was about to start eating and then he yelled at me for eating his food and called me a burden."

"Well, we don't think that. Neither Will nor me think that," Jay told you. "And you can eat as much as you want."

You yawned as you crumpled up your Twix wrapper.

"Tired?" Will asked.

"Yeah," you mumbled.

"It's been a long day," Jay said. "You can take my bed."

"Jay, it's your apartment, I can't--"

"Y/N, this isn't up for discussion. I already put clean sheets on the bed for you."

"Is- Is there a fan in your room? I can't sleep without white noise."

"There is. You want me and Will to tuck you in?"

"I'm too old for that." You stood up and Will did, too. "Jay, can you hand me Beary? He should be in my duffle."

"Here you go, kid."

You took your bear and held him loosely in your arm. Then, you enveloped Jay in a hug and did the same for Will.

"I love you guys."

"We love you, too," Will said.

"Now get to sleep. You've still got school in the morning. I'll be here when you wake up."

"Dad sometimes wouldn't be home when I woke up for school. He'd be at a friend's house sleeping off a hangover from the night before or just sleeping."

Jay furrowed his eyebrows. "Doesn't he have to work?"

"He does work, but only a few days a week. The other days, he stays out really late and then comes home either drunk or hungover."

"I see," Jay stated. "Well I won't be doing that, I can promise you that."

"I know. You aren't like Dad. Neither of you are." You yawned again. "I'm going to bed, goodnight."

A few minutes later, you were out like a light and Will was still at Jay's apartment.

"So, Abby called me the other day," Will started. "She's looking for you. Says she's in town for a few days and wants to meet up."

"Oh yeah? She say why?" Jay asked, wondering why his ex-wife--who was the result of a blackout drunk wedding in Vegas, a thing that lasted only 24 hours tops--was in Chicago and was looking for him of all people.

"She said you two are still married."

Jay threw his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

***

"Morning," Jay said as he stood at the stove flipping some eggs. "Sleep good?"

"I slept really good. Didn't even hear you wake up."

"Fan did the trick then?"

You nodded and grabbed a mug from the cupboard and went to start pouring yourself a cup of coffee.

"Nuh-uh," Jay chirped, putting his hand on the handle of the coffee pot as well.

"Why not? I drank it at Dad's."

Jay raised an eyebrow. "You drank coffee at Dad's?"

"Yeah, on the weekends sometimes that would be my breakfast because it curbs my appetite and there wasn't a lot to eat."

Jay sighed. "Well, you'll have enough to eat here, I can promise you that. And, coffee stunts your growth."

"Jay," you groaned. "I haven't grown since sixth grade."

"Okay, well, then you don't want to become dependent on it at such an early age, then. Come talk to me when you're a legal adult or in college."

"Fine." You let go of the coffee pot and put the mug back in the cupboard.

"You can have juice though." The toast in the toaster popped up and Jay placed the toast on a plate and then put a slice of cheese on each piece and then an egg on top. He also put a small bowl of strawberries next to it. "I'm gonna go get dressed while you eat. And then, once you're ready, I'll take you to school."

"Okay, thanks, Jay."

"You're welcome, kiddo."

You rolled your eyes at the nickname and then went to the fridge to get the apple juice. When you opened the fridge, you saw a brown paper bag with your name on it. Curiosity got the best of you, so you took it out and looked at the contents while you ate your breakfast.

Inside was a ham and Colby jack cheese sandwich with lettuce, pickles, mustard, and mayonnaise, an apple, a coconut-flavored Greek yogurt, celery with peanut butter, and a chocolate chip granola bar. There were also two dollars at the bottom of the bag paperclipped together with a sticky note stuck to the top.

For chocolate milk. ~Jay was what the note read.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you continued to eat your breakfast. You don't remember the last time you brought a lunch to school; you'd always get your lunch for free at school. When you got the paper from school about the free/reduced lunch because teachers noticed you didn't have much to eat, you waited until your dad was hungover and it was early in the morning, and handed him a pen and he signed the paper blindly. And, that's how you got lunch and breakfast at school without any cost to you or your dad.

"Hey, I can just brush my teeth at the kitchen sink if you want the bathroom--" He cut himself off when he saw the tears in your eyes. "What's wrong?"

"You- You made me lunch?" you asked as you turned to face him.

He smiled. "Of course I did. I know how bad cafeteria food can be. And, if it tastes good, it's usually not very good for you."

"Thank you," you said as you wiped a tear away that had rolled down your cheek.

"Aww, hey, don't cry, don't cry. It's okay. You're safe now. You don't need to worry about where your next meal will come from. And, I'm going to petition a judge for legal guardianship in a few days. I just have to have a few conversations with some lawyers."

"Does this mean you have to move? I don't want to kick you out of your apartment."

Jay dismissed that with a wave. "I already put in a loan application for a new apartment. Two bedrooms. Really nice."

"Can you tell me about it? While I finish eating my strawberries."

Jay nodded and sat down in the chair across from you. "It's a two-bedroom, washer, dryer. But, I know you don't care about those things. There's underground parking. It's got a gym, a whole club level, with like a coffee lounge, and all this other stuff."

"That sounds really nice."

"Yeah, it is a pretty nice building. Coffee lounge would be perfect for you to get your homework done if you don't feel like staying in the apartment."

"I thought you said I couldn't drink coffee?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I meant the caffeine in the coffee. Decaf coffee and lattes and tea lattes, that's a different story. I'm sure they have pastries there, too."

"Never pegged you for a coffee snob," you joked.

"You learn a lot about coffee and about a person when you have to get your entire unit coffee. I'll let you in on a little secret: Ruzek's coffee order is the most complicated."

"Really?"

"Really. Now, go finish getting ready. Don't want you being late for school."

***

"Hey, Er, can you meet me at the diner we usually go to?" Jay asked his girlfriend over the phone after he had dropped you off at school.

"Yeah, no problem. Give me fifteen minutes. We haven't caught a case yet, but we should keep our radios on just in case. Everything okay?"

"It's a long story. I'll explain everything in person, okay?"

"Okay," Erin answered skeptically. "I'll see you in a few."

Fifteen minutes later on the dot, Erin walked into the little diner and spotted Jay sitting in the corner booth.

"Alright, what's going on?" she asked after she had ordered her food and some coffee. "You sounded really stressed on the phone."

Jay sighed. "I'm going to fight for legal guardianship of Y/N."

"What? Why? What happened?" Erin asked as she widened her eyes.

"Our dad, he uh, he hasn't really been the greatest. Not keeping food in the house, calling her a burden when she tries to eat some of his food, not buying her products for you know...girl stuff. She's probably lost like 25 pounds since the end of last school year. And, I know that doesn't sound like a lot with the amount of time that's passed, but she's underweight. Will drew some of her blood last night to see if she's deficient in some vitamins or minerals."

"My God."

"Yeah, so, I know we were going to move into your place together, but I need another bedroom and my loan went through at that place I told you about, so I'm going to put an offer in there. You could always move in with me if you want, but I don't know if it would be a good idea for that to happen right away. I just want to get Y/N healthy again. I'm sorry."

"Jay, I get it. She's family. Do you know how you're going to go about this? Did you talk to Voight about taking any time off to sort this out?"

"Not yet. But, I think I'm going to call Antonio and see if he can help me out with getting a meeting with ASA Stone. I know he works criminal cases, but he's gotta know some stuff about family court cases. So, I figured he might be able to help me with this whole process."

"Good idea. If you need any help, just say the word and I'll be there."

Jay smiled. "Thanks, Er." He didn't want to have the conversation he was about to have, but he knew he had to tell her. "There's uh, there's one more thing I need to tell you."

"Okay, what is it?"

"About eight years ago, I was married."

"Excuse me, what? You were married and you didn't tell me?"

Jay knew this was a bad idea...which was why he hadn't wanted to tell Erin, but now that he wasn't officially divorced for whatever reason, he knew needed to tell her. "Just let me explain."

"Yes, please do," Erin sneered.

"Her name's Abby. She ran Cultural Support during my last tour in Kandahar. About a year after I came home, I saw her at a funeral in Vegas. Was... was a guy in our unit, he had redeployed, and, um, he didn't... Um, I was, like, blacking out most nights, and we were both pretty shook up. And, um, we got married." He chuckled at the thought of his twenty-one-year-old self thinking that marriage was a good idea. "It was, like, a 24-hour thing, it was a total joke, and it is long over."

Erin just stared at him, as he waited to be chewed out by her. "Jay, you married this girl. And you never told me, and you were never gonna tell me," was all she said.

"I know. And, I'm sorry. But, I'm meeting up with her in a few days to sign the documents that I thought I'd signed because she's getting married and we need to make the divorce official...even though, in my mind, it's been official for eight years.

"Er, please don't hate me, but with everything going on, with me trying to get guardianship of Y/N and me finding out that I'm somehow still married--"

"You want us to take a break?" Erin asked, finishing his sentence for him.

Jay nodded. "I'm sorry. I just don't think I can juggle a relationship with all this other stuff. And, it's not fair to you."

Erin swallowed. "Well, just tell me if you need any help with Y/N. I'll always be there for you. Relationship or partnership, I'll always have your six."

"And I'll always have yours."

Erin's phone buzzed on the table and she picked it up. "It's Voight. We caught a case."

Jay laid some bills on the table. "Then let's go."

***

"Got the results of Y/N's bloodwork back," Will told Jay over the phone while he had a quick break for lunch...even though it was four o'clock in the afternoon. But, that's the thing about the medical field: breaks are never regular.

"And? Any deficiencies?" Jay asked, walking into his bedroom as you were at the table doing homework and he didn't want to distract you.

"Yes, two actually. Iron and riboflavin. The low iron explains why her periods have become shorter and lighter, but that can also be attributed to how small she is now."

"How do we go about this then?"

"I'll send you a list of foods that have levels high iron and riboflavin. Oh, riboflavin's found in vitamin B by the way."

"Okay, care to tell me what iron and riboflavin do? I know iron helps with hemoglobin and red blood cells, but I have no idea what riboflavin does."

"You're right about iron. I'm shocked. Or, what do the kids say these days? I'm shook."

"I swear to God, please never use that phrase again. And, I know what iron does because I paid attention in high school nutrition class, thank you very much."

"If I remember correctly, I helped you with most of the homework in that class."

"Whatever, you helped me. Now, tell me about riboflavin."

"So, riboflavin just helps convert food into energy and is needed for healthy skin, hair, blood, and a healthy brain." Jay could hear a beeping in the background on Will's end. "Gotta go. I'll send you that list of foods right now, though."

"Thanks, man."

You looked up as Jay came back into the kitchen. "Everything okay?" you asked.

Jay pulled out a chair and sat across from you. "So, I just got off the phone with Will. He got the results from your bloodwork back."

"Is it bad? Am I dying?" You set your pencil down, bracing yourself for bad news.

"No," Jay chuckled, "you're not dying. You just don't have enough iron and riboflavin, which is a specific B vitamin. Will sent me a list of foods that have high levels of those in them. You up for some grocery shopping? We can also grab some multivitamins that have those in them, too, just to help your levels stabilize faster."

"Okay, we can go now. I'm due for a break."

***

"So, some foods that contain riboflavin include milk, eggs, cheese, yogurt, meats, green leafy vegetables, and riboflavin enriched grains and cereals," Jay read off his phone.

"I've had a lot of those today already," you pointed out. "Eggs and cheese with breakfast. I had that yogurt for a snack at school, and I had meat and cheese on my sandwich and I had chocolate milk with my lunch at school."

That was just standard, Jay thought. He wondered what you ate when you were at your Dad's. And, he knew that if he wanted to obtain guardianship of you, he'd need to know these things.

"What did you eat at Dad's?" Jay probed.

"I mean, I barely made it to school on time most mornings because I was trying to be quiet so I didn't wake Dad, which made me move slower when getting ready. So, I'd usually just grab a small thing of dry cereal when I got to school and eat it in my first class. I never checked to see if it was one of the enriched ones. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. There's no way you could've known. Now, what did you usually have for lunch at school?"

"I always tried to get veggies with my lunch, but most of the veggies were the gross canned ones, like canned corn or green beans. I don't like those. Sometimes, they'd have little salads as a side and I'd get those. Sometimes they'd have yogurt parfaits and I'd get those. But, I'd usually go for the pre-made subs, because at least those would have veggies on them...even if it was just lettuce and pickles. I'd usually try to get an apple or banana as my side, too." You paused. "If I was getting meat and cheese from the sub and milk from my chocolate milk, then how am I deficient in this?"

"It's probably because the meat and cheese schools use is so heavily processed that there are little to no vitamins left in it," Jay answered.

"And you know this how?"

"As you get older, you acquire a lot of knowledge and one of those things is that the more processed a food is, the fewer vitamins and minerals are preserved...and I watch a lot of The Food that Built America on the History channel."

"Oh, okay. What foods are on that show?"

"Usually it's about fast food. One episode I watched last week was about ice cream and popsicles and how they came to be in America. Pretty interesting."

"Can we watch an episode tonight? That show sounds good."

"Of course." He paused in front of the fresh produce. "Take your pick. But, just make sure you get some leafy greens for the riboflavin and some fruit and other green veggies for iron."

You picked up a few things such as more apples, a bag of Clementines, bananas, spinach, carrots, and celery, and then, you shocked your brother as you picked up a bag of kale.

"Kale?" he asked. "Didn't know you liked it."

You shrugged. "I heard it tastes kind of like spinach. And, I saw a recipe on Pinterest for a salad that has kale, lemon juice, and dates. Is it okay if we try that?"

"You know, I think that would be the perfect side for dinner tonight. I'll add lemon juice and dates to the list."

"I didn't grab too many fruits and veggies, right?" you asked, not wanting to waste food or your brother's hard-earned money. "I- I can put some back if you want me to."

"Nope, it's all good. We can always freeze the bananas if they go bad for smoothies or banana bread. And, we can always turn the apples into apple sauce. Spinach and kale freeze well, too and you can't even taste them if we put them in smoothies."

"How do you know this stuff?" you asked.

"I used to watch Mom cook a lot when I was little. And, when I moved out on my own, she gave me a copy of a cookbook she always used. Said the recipes at the beginning of the book were simple enough that I wouldn't burn my apartment down."

You laughed at the thought of your mom scolding Jay if his apartment got ruined from his cooking. "Do you still have it?" you asked. "The cookbook, I mean."

"I do."

"Can we make something out of it tonight?"

"You know, I think that's a great idea." He pursed his lips. "How about Mom's chicken pot pie? I think I have some frozen peas and corn in the freezer and we can use the carrots we just grabbed in it, too."

"That sounds really good. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." Jay paused. He figured now would be as good a time as any to tell you. "Uh, do you remember the day that we got ice cream and went and played soccer with Ben when you were little? The night that Mom went into the hospital?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat at the memory of that day.

"Well, she told me to take care of you. There's no way I would break a promise to Mom."

"She said that?"

"Mhmm."

"It's like she knew something was going to happen."

"Mom was a smart lady. Will had to have gotten it from somewhere and he sure didn't get it from Dad."

You laughed. "Hey, you're smart, too. Just not sciency smart. You're more puzzle smart because you put the pieces together of who committed a crime." Jay laughed at your description of his job. "Oh, is the recipe for Mom's garlic mashed potatoes in that cookbook?"

"It is. Want those as a side along with the salad you mentioned?"

"Yes, please...if it's not a problem."

"They're super simple and quick to make." He scribbled on a piece of notebook paper that he had written down a few groceries on, like the salad ingredients you had mentioned. "Alright, potatoes, a rotisserie chicken, and pastry dough have all been added to the list."

***

"I'll be back later tonight, no later than midnight," Jay told you two days later on Sunday night. "I know it's not ideal because you have school in the morning, but try and get some sleep while I'm gone, okay?"

"I'm used to being home alone at night, Jay." You shrugged. "I'll be fine."

"I know, it's just that not something I want you to get used to. Feel free to eat anything you want, cook anything you want. As long as you don't burn down the house, I don't care what you make. Oh, and remember to take your multivitamin before bed."

You rolled your eyes. "I'm fifteen, not five. Now, get going. Don't want you to be late to meet that lawyer."

"Love you. I'll be back by midnight. Lock the door behind me."

"I will. Love you, too."

With that, Jay left his apartment to go meet with ASA Stone and you locked the door behind him as he told you.

***

"So, Antonio told me you have some custody questions," Peter Stone said once he closed the door of his office.

"That's right," Jay replied as he took a seat in front of Stone's desk and turned his phone completely off and Stone took a seat in his chair behind his desk.

"Didn't know you had a kid, Halstead."

"No, I don't actually," Jay chuckled. "I have a kid sister. Name's Y/N and she's fifteen."

"Okay, and why do you want guardianship then?"

"When me and Will, my older brother, were kids, our dad kinda checked out on parenting us when we hit our mid-teens. But, we had our mom around, so it was okay. I went over there the other day because my dad was having some heart issues and I called Will. When I was there, I got a call of a robbery and it was Y/N. She was stealing food from a corner store because our dad wasn't feeding her," Jay explained.

"I see. So, other than her word and her stealing food, do you have any proof of this?"

"I know I should've called DCFS before letting her stay with me, but I couldn't let her stay there a minute longer, Peter. She's lost like 25 pounds in the past six months and she's deficient in both iron and vitamin B."

"Okay, what we have to do is petition for guardianship in front of a judge. I can help you with the documents and I can even represent you at the hearing if you want."

"Wow, yeah, that'd be great. Thank you."

"Anything else you want to tell me about your dad? Any physical or emotional abuse?"

"Not technically, but there is something else." And then Jay launched into all the information you had told him two days ago.

"Okay. And, you know your dad could theoretically press kidnapping charges against you because you took his kid without his permission?"

"I do. But he was basically starving her. No jury would find me guilty."

"I'm not going to argue with you about that one because I agree with you."

"So, do you think I have a chance of getting guardianship over Y/N?"

"In theory, yes. But, most judges like to keep the child with their biological parents. But, seeing as Y/N's fifteen, she does get some say in who she stays with," Stone explained. "When we have a custody or guardianship battle, we use the child's best interest standard. This means that you must prove that you are capable of providing food, clothing, housing, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N. There will be one or two home visits before appearing before a judge, just to let you know."

"I'm aware of that. And, I just put an offer in on a new apartment with two bedrooms this morning and they're pretty quick in responding, so I should know in the next few days whether or not I got it."

"That's a good start. And you are financially stable to raise her until she turns eighteen, so three more years?"

"I am."

"Alright, let's start on those documents then. Unless you have any more questions for me?"

"I do actually. I, uh, I just found out that I'm technically still married. Something about me not signing the divorce papers even though I specifically remember signing them? And, before you ask, me and this girl served together, we were both twenty-one, going through rough patches and it was a Vegas wedding eight years ago. Lasted no more than twenty-four hours."

"It's really good that you told me this because any good lawyer would find that out when you file for guardianship. It's possible that she didn't co-sign the divorce papers. If that's the reason, I can help you draw up new divorce papers right now."

"Really? You'd help me with that?"

"Of course. A friend of Antonio's is a friend of mine," Stone said as he started typing on his computer. "So, what you can do is you can file for a no-fault divorce."

"You're gonna have to be specific, Stone. I know a bit of criminal law because I've had to testify in criminal cases, but like I said, I don't know family or civil law," Jay said.

"What a no-fault divorce is, Jay, is that you don't have to prove that either of you did anything wrong to get a divorce. All you have to do is state that your marriage is unsalvageable and continue filing for divorce."

"That's it? What if she doesn't sign it?"

"The divorce papers will be served to, uh...what's this girl's name again?" Stone asked.

"Abby."

"Abby. The divorce papers will be served to Abby and she has twenty days to file her response with the court. If she doesn't, then the court rules it as an uncontested divorce and then you're officially divorced."

"Me and Abby are meeting up to talk about all this tonight. But, can we just fill out paperwork for this no-fault divorce just in case things don't go as planned? I just really need to get guardianship of Y/N. The least amount of problems, the better."

"Of course. And if everything goes well with her tonight, then just give me a call and I'll shred the documents."

"Alright, just tell me where to sign."

***

"Wilson is running through the showers wearing nothing but a Kevlar vest, right?" Jay reminisced on the good parts of his Ranger days with Abby at a bar around 8:30 that night after his meeting with Peter Stone.

"Well, the lieutenant said, all outdoor activities to be conducted in body armor." Jay laughed at Abby's rendition of their lieutenant's voice. "Do you remember, he had his girlfriend's name tattooed on his ass?"

Jay set his empty drink down on the bar. "Did he tell you that was his girlfriend? That was his dog's name," Jay laughed.

"That actually makes more sense," Abby said. "I could go for another one of these."

"I, um, I shouldn't."

"Gotta get back to the barracks?"

"No, I uh gotta get back to my little sister, actually. I'm looking after her at the moment. It's a long story. Do you have the papers?"

"I, uh, I don't have them."

"Abby."

"It's just, I never told you. Even that crazy day we got married, I never told you that I loved you, Jay. It didn't feel right. But, I loved you, Jay. I do love you."

Jay sighed. "Abby, you deserve everything good. I'm just not the guy that's gonna give that to you." He brushed her hair to the side and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

After putting some money on the bar to pay for the drinks and tip the bartender, he left the bar. Guess he was going to need these no-fault divorce documents, anyway.

He was almost to his car when he heard someone calling his name. And, it was a voice he knew all too well.

"Erin?" he shouted as she came closer. "What are you doing here?"

"Would it kill you to turn on your phone? You need to get to the district. Now."

"What? Why? What's wrong?"

She got in his passenger seat. "Just drive. I'll explain on the way."

***

You were sitting on Jay's bed reading a book when you heard a knock on the door.

Slowly, you got off his bed and made your way out of his room. You took a knife out of the knife block, but you hoped you wouldn't need to use it. Jay would've told you if someone was planning on stopping over. And, if it was Will, he would've given you a heads-up.

The knocking got louder and more aggressive. "Jayson! Open this door! I have the right to see my daughter!"

Dad.

With the knife still in hand, you backed up and then, once on the carpet, ran back into Jay's room and quietly shut the door and locked it. You pulled out your phone and tried Jay. It went straight to voicemail. The pounding was getting louder. You tried Will. It went straight to voicemail because he was on shift. You thought you heard your dad starting to kick the door now instead of just pounding on it with his fists. You tried the last person you thought could help.

"Y/N?" Erin asked as she answered her phone and paused the tv show she was watching.

"Erin," you whispered. "I'm scared. I need help."

"You need help? Can you tell me why?"

"My dad, he's- he's here. He's looking for me." You heard a crash.

"Jay? Y/N? I know one of you is in here!"

"I- I think he just broke down the apartment door. Please help."

"Okay, okay, here's what you're going to do. I want you to hide somewhere and I'm going to call a patrol car over there right now. You're going to turn your phone on silent and I'm going to call you right back," she told you.

"Okay," you whispered as quietly as you could.

"I'll call you back in one minute tops."

You moved as quietly as you could with the knife and your phone still in your hands and opened Jay's closet door. You buried yourself behind the two garment bags that contained Jay's police blues and his military dress uniform, hoping against hope that your dad wouldn't find you.

Your phone lit up and it was Erin. You answered.

"Y/N, the officers will be there soon. I don't want you to talk. Just know that I'm on the phone with you."

At the same time, as she was talking to you over speakerphone, she was texting the team. She assumed you couldn't reach Jay or Will since you had called her. She told them what was happening and that a few of them needed to get to the district because they needed to find Jay's location. She also told Voight to get ahold of Sharon Goodwin so she could notify Will of what was currently happening.

"Chicago PD! Put your hands where we can see them!" you heard from your hiding place.

"See?" Erin said. "I told you that you'd be okay. I told them that you were hiding, so if someone opens the door, it's just an officer."

Just after she said that the closet door opened.

You squeaked.

"It's okay. You're safe," the officer said. "We're just going to take you down to the district. You're safe."

You peeked out from your hiding place and you saw the blues of the officers. You slowly made your way out and followed the officer out to the patrol car, the one that didn't house your dad for a breaking and entering charge at the moment.

***

"Where is she?" Jay yelled as he entered the district.

Platt just pointed to the bench next to one of the offices where you were sitting, staring at the floor, with a police jacket draped over your shoulders.

He sunk to his knees in front of you. "Are you hurt? Did Dad hurt you? Did he put his hands on you in any way?"

You shook your head.

"Oh thank God."

"I was so scared," you whispered. "When you and Will didn't answer, I thought he was gonna get me."

"I'm sorry. I turned off my phone when I talked to ASA Stone, and I forgot to turn it back on. I'm so sorry. C'mere."

You all but fell off the bench and into Jay's arms. "Is he going to jail? I don't want him going to jail."

"He was drunk out of his mind. I can ask not to press charges, though."

"Please. He needs help."

Although Jay didn't say it, he knew you were right. Jails and prisons didn't rehabilitate, they just taught criminals how to be better criminals. He knew that his dad needed rehab, a twelve-step program, anything.

"Okay, I won't press charges. But, I think we're gonna need to stay with Will for the night because our door's broken. What do you say we run home and grab some clothes to bring to Will's? And, since Dad will be here for a little longer, we can run to his house and get more of your stuff. Sound like a plan?"

"Can we get Dairy Queen on the way to Will's?"

"We sure can."

***

"I- I don't think any of these dresses will fit me anymore. They look way too big," you said to Jay as the two of you unpacked a bunch of your stuff in the guest room of Jay's new apartment. You wanted to think of it as the guest room for now instead of calling it your room just in case Jay wasn't awarded guardianship. You didn't want to get too attached.

Jay sighed. He figured you were right. He would see if Erin could take you, but their relationship was on the backburner right now. And, Erin had some stuff with Bunny she had to work out after she had brought her that pearl bracelet and said that she might be leaving Chicago. So, now wasn't really the right time for him to be bugging Erin about going shopping with you. And, he couldn't ask Kim because she was taking some furlough after finding her sister brutally sodomized after a night out.

He thought about asking Will if Nina could come, but he didn't think that those two were too happy with each other at the moment since Will hadn't told Nina about their dad being in the hospital and she had to find out from Natalie. Not Will's greatest moment.

He racked his brain for more women he knew.

Then it hit him: Gabby.

Yes, they had briefly dated, but that was five years ago. She was married now and his feelings for her were completely gone. They were civil with each other when they saw each other in the field and would chat when Gabby showed up at the district to pick up Eva or Diego.

"How about you try a few on after we finish unpacking, and then if none of them really fit, I can give Gabby a call and see if she'll take you shopping while I work on unpacking the rest of the house," Jay suggested.

"Okay. Will's gonna be over after his shift to help though, right?" you asked.

"He better be. He said he would. If he doesn't come, he better have a really good excuse."

"You can't unpack the kitchen without me," you told him.

"Why not?"

"I can't have you putting the glasses and other stuff on high shelves because I wanna reach them without having to climb on the counter."

"Okay, fine. I'll keep your short little height in mind while I unpack." He paused. "Do you want to get those fancy word stickers for your room for one of the walls?"

"Decals? And, it's not my room yet."

"Listen, after that stunt Dad pulled at my old apartment, Stone is 99.9% positive that I'll be granted guardianship. We just have to jump through all the hoops first."

"Like the home checks?"

"Like the home checks," he confirmed.

"What do I say in court?" you asked a few minutes later as you were putting the pillows on your freshly made bed.

"You just tell the truth," he answered.

"Will you be in there with me?"

"No, I won't. Stone said that usually in these cases you talk to the judge by yourself so that you can't be intimidated by either of the people who are fighting for custody or guardianship."

"So you won't be there? Will won't be there?"

"Will will be out in the hall and I will be in a different room. I'll be in like a witness room, where they make witnesses of a crime wait so that their testimony isn't swayed by what the other people are saying on the stand. But, me and Dad will be in the courtroom at the same time, just so I can see what he'll be saying."

"And, I'll be in there then, too?"

"Yes."

"What kind of questions do they ask me?"

"Stone said that since you're older, you get a say in who you stay with, so they'll ask you questions like who've you known the longest, who you feel safest with, who you want to live with, etc."

"Will they ask me questions about Dad? Like how he didn't give me food and how he broke into your apartment?" you asked.

"They will," Jay confirmed. "But, Stone will be in there for those questions just in case he needs to object to something."

"So the only time I'll be alone with the judge is when they're asking me the first few questions? Like who I feel safest with?"

"Exactly. Now, do you need help putting these books on the top shelf of your bookshelf?"

***

"Hey, how was your day?" Jay asked as he came home from work that afternoon. It was a shock that he was home by 5 pm, but you had a big day tomorrow. Not only was tomorrow Friday, it was the day you and Jay had to go to court to see if he would be awarded guardianship of you.

"We've got a problem," you stated.

"Um, I can try to help you with it, but let me go put my gun away first."

While he was doing that, you pulled out the slip of paper and the note that Gretchen Cunningham had written, saying that she wouldn't allow you to make up the test you would be missing because you had to go to court.

"Alright, what's the problem?" Jay asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"Cunningham. She's the problem...as always."

You handed him the papers and he read them over. "Yeah, this isn't going to fly. She doesn't need a judge's signature to allow you to take the test. I'll talk to the school tomorrow morning when I call to tell them you'll be absent."

"I hate her," you groaned. "She's so mean. And, I know what you're gonna say. You have to deal with people you don't like. But, she lost one of my assignments and told me I didn't turn it in and couldn't re-do it!"

"Well did you?" Jay asked. "Turn it in, I mean."

"Jay!"

He put his hands up in a sign of surrender. "I'm just saying, could be your fault."

"Yes, I turned in the stupid assignment. And, she paired me up with the stupidest kid in the class and told me to do well on this assignment because he needed a good grade to pass. It's not my fault he's failing! Don't put his grade on me, lady!"

"And she wouldn't let you re-do it?"

"Nope. But it's fine. I'm still getting an A. That might change if she doesn't let me take this test, though."

"It's like deja-vu from my freshman year all over again. Why doesn't she retire already? She's like 100."

"Or they could fire her," you quipped. "Or I could switch classes."

"I'll see what I can do. Who's the other history teacher?"

"Um, Miss Hedge."

"Hedge? As in Jayne Hedge?"

"Yeah, it's actually her. Why? Do you know her?"

"Yes he does," Will said as he entered Jay's apartment. "In fact, they went to freshman snowcoming together."

"How did you even get in here?" Jay asked, turning around to look at his older brother.

"For a cop, you're not that smart. You didn't lock the door behind you."

"I don't lock my door when I'm still awake. And, seriously? You just had to tell Y/N that, didn't you?"

"You guys can't just leave me hanging now. Tell me the story!"

"Fine," Jay grumbled and Will just laughed and sat down at the table, too. "I met her at school, obviously. She was on the freshman basketball team and I had winter weight training for the soccer team. I thought she was pretty and she was really smart, too. And, I knew that a bunch of the girls went to get Taco Bell after practice, so me and some of my friends decided to go, too."

"There used to be a Taco Bell close to school?" you asked. If there was, you'd never seen it before.

"It got torn down just after I graduated," Jay answered. "Anyway, we went to Taco Bell and I started talking to her and we talked a lot after practice. I'd walk her home sometimes. Then, I asked her to snowcoming and she said yes."

"So, why'd you guys break up? I know you dated Allie in high school."

"We realized we were better off as friends." Jay shrugged.

"And he realized he liked Allie more," Will added.

"Yeah, that too."

Will set a big bag of takeout on the table.

"Seriously?" Jay asked. "I thought we weren't going to do this that much anymore so we can get Y/N's vitamin and mineral levels stabilized."

"I'm sure she'd appreciate the break from your mundane meals," Will said. "And, I got us all side salads to go with the burgers instead of fries, so calm down." Jay gave him a look. "Fine, I got the side salads along with the fries. But, they're made out of potatoes, so they're technically a vegetable."

"For a doctor, you don't know much about nutrition, do you? And, my meals are not mundane."

"Dude, you'd have chicken, spaghetti, or grilled cheese every night."

"Not every night, just a lot of nights when I'd get home from the district late. I'll have you know me and Y/N have been making really good diners lately. Wanna tell Will what we made last night for dinner, Short Stack?"

"We made this really good pasta. We used Orzo, which looks like rice, but it's pasta. And we made a sauce out of tomatoes, onions, and orange juice. It was supposed to be lemon juice, but Jay didn't have any. We put chicken sausage in it for protein...and spices of course," you told Will.

"That actually sounds really good. Wow, Jay cooking every night, not something I expected."

"I like it," you said. "And, he lets me play whatever music I want when we cook."

Will rolled his eyes. You had Jay so wrapped around your finger that he'd do almost anything for you. Will didn't think he himself was that bad, but deep down, he knew he'd do anything for you, too...despite not being in Chicago as long as Jay had been.

***

"So I got a call from Stone this morning," Jay said around 11:30 that night when he and Will were sitting on the couch, each nursing a beer.

Will set his beer down on the coffee table in front of him. "And?"

"And, as of yesterday at midnight, I am officially divorced from Abby. Turns out, they served her the papers and, since she didn't sign them and it had been twenty days, it turned into an uncontested, no-fault divorce."

"Congrats, man. Might've been eight years too late, but you're a free man now."

"Amen to that. And it came at just the right time."

"Yeah," Will agreed. "You nervous for tomorrow?"

"Not really. More nervous for Y/N than anything. I've testified in criminal cases, so I kinda know how this goes, but she hasn't. And, before me and Dad go in to plead our cases, she has to talk to the judge all by herself. I just wish one of us could be in there with her."

Will nodded. "Know what they're going to ask you?"

"I know what Stone's going to ask me because we prepped, but I have no idea what Dad's lawyer is going to ask me. Pretty sure he's got just a public defender, though. Hopefully, that works in my favor."

"Not always, man," Will disagreed. "The public defenders who do these cases only do these cases. They've had a lot of practice."

"You really know how to make me feel better, thanks," Jay replied sarcastically.

"Rather have you hear it from me before the case than someone else after. Are you going to get cross-examined?"

"Probably. Don't know what they're going to ask me though because it's a cross. Stone set up some sample questions for me to answer with him to practice, but I'm going in blind. I'm used to it though because I've testified before. But, this feels like my biggest case."

"Because it probably is."

"Are you talking about tomorrow?" you asked as you quietly padded across the floor towards the living room.

"Y/N? What are you doing up? It's almost midnight," Jay pointed out.

"I- I know. But I couldn't sleep. I'm scared. What if I have to go back to Dad's? What if they find neither of you fit and I have to go into foster care?"

Jay patted the empty spot on the couch next to him and you sat down. "We just have to trust the system. That's all we can do."

"I know, but I can't sleep. And I'm so tired."

"I have an idea," Jay started and stood up, "stay here."

"I'm gonna go look for some melatonin," Will said after a few minutes of you two just sitting in silence. "I think Jay still has some for nights that he can't sleep."

Will was still rummaging around Jay's cabinets when Jay came back with a big black box with some cords and a cardboard box balanced against his hip.

"The hell is that?" You quickly covered your mouth when you realized you had sworn. "Sorry."

"It's okay. And, to answer your question, this is VCR. And, I have a bunch of videotapes in this box." He turned from you to face the kitchen, where Will was still opening and closing cabinets. "Will? What are you doing?"

"Looking for melatonin for Y/N. You got any?"

"First of all, it's so late that if you give it to her now, she'll sleep through her alarm and we can't be late for court tomorrow. And, second of all, I keep it in the medicine cabinet in my bathroom."

Will closed the cabinet and made his way back to the couch to sit next to you as Jay started to hook up the VCR to the tv. "Uh, Jay," Will began, "you know it's a little late for a movie right? And, I should get going in like half an hour?"

"We're not watching a movie. I recorded a bunch of the Blackhawks playoff games on one of these and I thought Y/N'd like to watch the 2010 Stanely Cup final series against the Flyers. Or, we could watch the final series against the Bruins when they won the cup last year."

"Let's watch the 2010 one," you said. "I don't think I watched it because I wasn't into watching hockey as much as I am now."

"And you have Jay to thank for that," Will pointed out.

"You can record things on there? Like an old-school DVR?" you asked.

"God, now I feel old," Will groaned. "Wait until she learns about floppy disks."

"Floppy what now?"

"Nevermind. Only 80s-90s kids would get it."

"We get it. You guys are millennials."

"Got it!" Jay exclaimed as he popped the videotape into the VCR and it started playing. "Now, shut up so we can relive this, Will."

You fell asleep before you even reached the end of the first period.

***

You rubbed your eyes and then looked around you to notice that you were still on the couch. You craned your neck to see the time on the oven on the other side of the open concept kitchen and living room and saw that it was 5:45 am. Jay was at the gym now. And, you knew you wouldn't be able to fall back asleep because you were already starting to worry about the rest of the day. You had to be in court at 8:30 and had to be talking to a judge at 9:00, the judge that would determine who you would be living with, which would inevitably determine your future.

God, you were thinking just like the teachers talked about the SATs, how if you didn't get a good grade on that standardized test that your future would be ruined.

You stood up and stretched and then went back to your room to grab the book you were currently reading. Then, you turned on a few lamps and grabbed a yogurt and fruit from the fridge, along with a glass of orange juice. After wrapping yourself in a blanket, you started to eat and read, hoping that that would keep your mind from wandering and worrying at least until Jay got back from the gym.

Half an hour later, Jay unlocked the apartment door and walked inside, confused as to why you were awake. It was only 6:15 and he had told you just to be up by 6:45.

"What are you doing awake, Short Stack?" he asked as he grabbed a banana from the bowl on the counter.

"I woke up at about 5:45 and I couldn't fall asleep. I'm sorry."

"Nothing to worry about. I just want you as well-rested for today as possible. You have your dress all ready? Know what shoes you're going to wear?"

"Jay," you whined. "I picked all of that out last night because you told me to."

"Just didn't want you to have to rush. I can turn the game back on for you so you can watch it until you have to start getting ready?"

You nodded and Jay came over and fiddled with the tv and the remote, going back to the middle of the first period where he thought you had fallen asleep.

"Okay, I'm gonna take a shower. Will said he'll be here around 7:45. Oh, and you can take that history test when you get back on Monday, in Miss Hedge's class."

You smiled. "Okay." Then, you turned your attention back to the hockey game.

***

You widened your eyes as you stood in the second bathroom getting ready. You had gotten dressed (into a navy blue, lacey dress that ended just above the knee that you had bought with Gabby a few days ago), washed your face, brushed your teeth, did your makeup, but now you were cursing yourself for being so stupid. You had no way of doing your hair. You didn't have a straightener here. And, your typical ponytail or bun wasn't going to cut it for court.

"Jay!" you yelled as you exited the bathroom and knocked on his bedroom door.

He opened it as he was tying his tie. "Yeah? Everything okay?"

"I don't have a straightener! I can't do my hair and if I wear my hair like I usually do then it will look bad on you and--"

"Hey, hey, calm down. We've still got over 45 minutes before we have to leave. I'll give Gabby a call and see if she's not on shift and can let you borrow hers."

You sighed the biggest sigh of relief. "Thank you."

Five minutes later, Jay knocked on the bathroom door as you were brushing your hair. "Gabby will be here in ten."

"Oh thank God."

***

"Thank you!" you exclaimed ten minutes later as you opened the door, revealing Gabby with her hair straightener. And, behind her, was Casey.

"No problem. Just tell me if you're not used to it and need help."

You took it from her. "No, I should be good. Thanks, though. C'mon in. I'm pretty sure Jay's around here somewhere."

They came into the apartment while you ran off to find Jay.

You knocked on his bedroom once more and he opened it, this time completely ready for the day. "Gabby and Casey are here," you told him.

"Casey's here?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Yeah. I think he just came with Gabby."

"Okay. Go fix your hair. I'll go talk to them."

Twenty minutes later, you were finished and slipping your shoes on when you heard a knock on the apartment door. "I got it, Y/N!" Jay yelled.

Well, I hoped you would because you're closer to the door than me, you thought to yourself.

Jay opened the door, and since it was exactly 7:45, he was expecting to just see Will. But, what he saw both shocked him and made him want to cry from appreciation at the same time.

Standing next to Will was Natalie and behind them was all of Intelligence and Trudy Platt and Mouch, all of Squad 3 and Truck 81 (minus Casey because he was inside), Sylvie Brett, Chief Boden, April, Maggie, Dr. Rhodes, Dr. Charles, Reese, and Noah.

"You're all here for the court case?" Jay asked, stunned.

"Well, Natalie has to testify about Y/N's deficiencies and weight loss, but yeah. It's better if the court sees that the person trying to get guardianship has a ton of support. So, I figured I'd call in reinforcements...even though I'm pretty sure my big personality is enough."

Jay rolled his eyes. "Your big ego maybe." He paused, not knowing how he was going to fit everyone in his apartment even if it was bigger than his last one. "However many of you guys can fit inside, can come in. Um, some of you might just need to meet us at the courthouse--"

"Jay, they just came now so you could see how many people were behind you. They're just gonna meet you there. Except for me. I'm driving you two." Jay furrowed his eyebrows. They didn't talk about this. "I'll explain later."

"Gabby," you said as you walked out of the bathroom. "Can you--" you stopped as you saw everyone outside Jay's apartment.

"They're all here for you and Jay," Gabby explained as she stood up. "And, you can't cry because it'll smear your makeup, so hold back the tears."

You nodded as you held them back. "Can you, uh, check the back of my hair to make sure I got it all straight?" you asked.

"Two spots are still a bit wavy. Let's go fix it so you can get going."

A few minutes later, Gabby had fixed your hair and everyone besides Will and Jay had left and were on their way to the courthouse. You slipped on a pair of black ballet flats and your coat.

Will had explained that the reason he was driving was that if Jay didn't get guardianship, he didn't want him driving in such a distressed state. Will had worked on so many patients who were in car accidents due to their emotional state and he didn't want Jay to be one of them.

"Ready?" Jay asked you.

"As ready as I'll ever be," you said as you wiped your sweaty palms on your dress.

"All you have to do is tell the truth."

***

You thought you'd be comfortable inside a courtroom because of the crime dramas you'd seen. But, standing inside one was very different from watching a fictional tv show.

No one but you, the judge, the court reporter, Peter Stone, and your dad's lawyer could be in the room for this next part, so everyone was either in a witness room or waiting outside in the hallway for the go-ahead to be let in. You would be allowed to be in the courtroom while they were talking to Jay and your dad, but they wouldn't be able to be in the room when you talked to the judge...for obvious reasons, such as influencing what you would say.

"All rise."

You stood up next to Stone as the judge, who you now knew as Judge Callahan, entered the room.

Once you sat down, you were called to the stand. "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth so help you God?" you were asked as you placed your hand on the Bible.

"I do," you answered.

"Alright, please allow Miss Halstead on the witness stand," Judge Callahan said. "Now, I'm just going to ask you a few questions. All you have to do is answer them. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand."

"Okay, first question: Has your father, Pat Halstead, ever hit you or physically abused you in any way?"

"No," you answered.

"Has he ever neglected to give you necessities, such as food, water, clothing, or shelter?"

"Yes."

"Can you please elaborate?"

You did. You explained how your dad never had food in the house and would yell at you and call you a burden if you tried to eat his leftovers.

"Is it true that your father tried to break into your brother's house to get you?" Judge Callahan asked.

"Yes."

"Who do you feel safest with?"

"My brother, Jay Halstead."

"Who would you prefer to live with?"

"Jay Halstead."

***

Jay sat on the witness stand. He had answered all of Stone's questions, including all of the questions about him finding you stealing, what you had been using for pads, and what he had been told that you had been eating at your dad's house. Natalie had testified about your physical well-being, weight loss, and iron and riboflavin deficiencies. But now, it was time for Jay's cross-examination. And, he sure as hell didn't expect this next question to be asked.

"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer began, "you previously said, and I quote, that your dad clocked out on parenting you and your older brother, Will, when you were in your teens, around when you started high school. Can you elaborate on that?"

"Objection!" Stone yelled. "Relevance?"

"Speaks to a pattern."

"I'll allow it," Judge Callahan said. "Please answer the question, Mr. Halstead."

Jay nodded. "He clocked out on parenting me and Will because he said that were essentially grown men at this point in our lives, we didn't need him cheering us on or him helping us. He didn't come to a single one of my soccer games in high school. And, if by some miracle we went out for ice cream or something just me, my brother, and my dad, he wouldn't pay for ours. Said we were old enough to pay for ourselves.

"But, we had our mom. She came to all our games and school events. She made us breakfast, lunch, and dinner. If she wasn't there, I don't know what would've happened to me and Will. My dad didn't even want me to go into the military and didn't want Will to go to medical school. He said a real man went right to work. The only time I felt loved by him in all my teenage years was when I left for the military. It was like because he knew I might die over there that he figured he'd say he loved me one last time."

"Redirect, your honor," Stone said. Judge Callahan nodded at Stone. "You said that your mom made you and your brother lunch. Are you doing that for Y/N?"

"Objection! Relevance?"

"Speaks to Mr. Halstead's abilities as a parent."

"I'll allow it. Please answer the question."

"I actually do," Jay answered. "I make her a packed lunch to bring to school every day and I'm sure to add foods high in iron and riboflavin to help those levels stabilize quicker. The first time I packed her a lunch, she actually cried because she hadn't gotten a lunch from home in so long."

"Thank you."

"Mr. Halstead," your dad's lawyer started, "you were previously deployed overseas in Afghanistan for two tours of duty. While I thank you for your service, is it possible that you could have PTSD and hurt Y/N in the middle of the night?"

"I would never hurt her!"

"While you are fully conscious, maybe. But, while you are in a sleep-addled state, isn't it possible that you might think that the person waking you up is an enemy soldier and not your little sister?"

Jay sighed. No one knew this about him, not you, not Will, not his dad. No one. And now all of his family and closest friends were going to know since they were in the courtroom watching this entire thing unfold.

"I am on Prazosin for nightmares caused by my PTSD," Jay answered.

"And how long have you been on this medication?"

"For about two years."

"And this has helped you manage your nightmares?"

"Yes, very much so."

"No further questions."

***

"Jesus, Jay," Will said after you had watched your dad's testimony on why he should get to keep you. It was the usual: how he was your father, so, therefore, he deserved to keep taking care of you and it's what your mother would've wanted...despite her telling Jay to keep you safe before she died. They already had the responding officers testify about the break-in, so he couldn't deny that and he was under oath, so if anyone found out he lied, then your dad would be held in contempt.

"I'm sorry I never told you, man," Jay said. "I just, I thought of it as weak that I couldn't deal with my own shit." He grimaced when he realized he had sworn around you. "Sorry, Y/N."

"It's okay. I hear that stuff at school."

"I'm just upset you didn't tell me they were getting that bad, Jay," Will lamented. "I know I wasn't there for you a lot after Mom died, but I'm here now."

Jay nodded, and Will knew he didn't want to talk about the topic anymore. You looked through the little window into the courtroom and saw that the judge was coming back from her chambers.

"Guys, I think she's made a decision," you said nervously.

"Whatever happens, me and Jay will be there for you," Will promised.

All you could do at this point was nod, as a lump was forming in your throat from all your nerves.

Jay led you back into the courtroom and you sat at the front, between Jay and Will. You wiped your sweaty palms on your dress and Jay gave your shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Judge Callahan stood up.

"By using the child's best interest standard of who can provide food, clothing, housing, education, medical care, and a stable home life for Y/N Halstead, I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead."

You could've sworn that you stopped breathing the second she said Jay's first name. You were so overwhelmed that you just turned to him and started crying as he wrapped an arm around you while he listened to the judge state your dad's visitation rights.

But, you didn't hear any of that. The only phrase that kept repeating in your head was I declare Mr. Jay Halstead the legal guardian of Y/N Halstead over and over again.

Now, you knew that you'd always have the necessities when you lived with Jay. You wouldn't have to worry about where your next meal was going to come from or if your dad would be out until 3 am drinking. You wouldn't have to worry about having access to tampons or pads and not be embarrassed anymore to ask for some from school if you forgot to put any in your backpack that day. But most of all, you knew that you would be loved and cared for.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Did I make anyone cry with this one??? The blood draw scenario was actually based on when I had to go and get my blood drawn the other day and thought I was going to pass out, which is why that scene was so long. Anyway, thank you again for reading, and please reblog/like and comment and tell me what you think! As always, if you want to be added to my taglist, just tell me and I’ll add you!

taglist: @theambracer88 @virtualreader @kelelas-life @celyndavies @brookerz122493 @musicismyescape27 @anotherfan07 @thexplosivegirl @dreamingwithlens @xoxmariaxox @onechicago18 @iamasimpingh0e

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hardlyinteresting · 3 years

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Risks Worth Taking 2/2

This is the second half, part 2/2 of the story, thank you to everyone who has read it! Professor!Zemo x Student reader Part 1 here The reader takes Zemo’s philosophy class focusing on Machiavelli. Posted in 2 parts because it exceeded the textbox limit. Apx 3k words.

Warnings: student-teacher relationship (the reader is of age, no real focus on power imbalance), implied age gap, consumption of alcohol, implication that the reader is sleeping with Zemo for better grades (she's not) and of course let me know if you want me to add anything else!!

Week five, he is not shocked to find she’s once again the first one in class. “Good evening,” he greets warmly, unwrapping his scarf from around his neck as he makes his way to his desk. She smiles back, “I left my paper on your desk there, I figured I’d get the pile started”. He laughs setting down his coat and bag, “Something tells me there will be few submissions for this class”.

He’s right. Less than half the class bothers to show up. Most of her peers seem to be getting a head start on winter break, at least the class is quiet she thinks content listening to Helmut summarize the most recently assigned chapters, providing historical context where needed.

“Enjoy your break Helmut,” she says softly as he shuts the lecture hall door.

“You as well. Do you have plans?” She shakes her head, “No, just reading”. He smiles, “Then I am sure it will be a good break indeed”.

The cafe is warm and cosy. She settles comfortably into her favourite booth with her favourite book and a second cup of tea.

The bell at the front door dings as a man enters in a long black coat and leather gloves. Fancy she thinks to herself as he approaches the counter to order. It's usually other students dressed in sweatpants and hoodies, the man’s put together dress piques her interest. He orders and then she watches over the top of her book as he drops a $10 bill into the barista’s tip jar. Oh, well dressed and exceedingly well mannered. She can't help but watch him as he waits. Removing his gloves he tucks them into his pockets and unbuttons his coat, she swears she can smell his cologne from where she sits; it's incredible!

“Cherry blossom tea for Helmut?” The barista calls sliding the cup across the counter.

Helmut? It isn't. Is it? He turns after saying a polite thank you, and she can feel her heart hammering as he turns and she sees his face. It is. She's not sure why she's shocked, she did tell him about this place after all. Do I say something? She wonders, weighing the pros and cons, but her thoughts are halted when she hears his voice,

“Hello,” he smiles softly, “I didn't expect you to be here--I know you pointed this place out, but I wasn't--”

He's worried he's intruding. Oh, how the tables have turned.

“No, no. It's okay! I don't own the place-- did you want to sit? You don't have to--”

He chuckles as her nerves get the best of her.

Silently he sets down his cup shrugging out of his coat, putting it over the back of the chair before sitting down.

“What are you reading?” He smiles, trying to peak at the cover.

Again, after their initial stiffness, the conversation flows smoothly, just like it had in his office. After several warm drinks, and a couple croissants ordered between the two of them it’s grown dark outside. Neither had noticed the cafe empty out slowly over the hours, the barista cleaning up for the night until she clears her throat from behind the counter. They both turn to look at her, finally noticing how quiet the shop is.

“Sorry, we’re closing now,” the barista smiles sweetly. “Not a problem. I apologise, we lost track of time. We’ll get out of your way,” Helmut apologizes. The pair collect their things sliding back into their coats and gloves. Helmut waits patiently for her to be ready to go his hand resting gently at the small of her back as she slips out of the booth and past him.

Helmut stops and puts another bill in the girl’s tip jar.

“Sorry for keeping you,” he apologises again.

Outside the winter wind is cold against their faces.

“Are you hungry?” Helmut asks.

“I could eat,” She responds. “Ever been there?” Helmut asks pointing to the pub across the street. “I don’t know if it’s your speed. It’s not super nice or anything, but their food is decent,” she says honestly. He laughs, “‘Decent’ is better than what I can make at home by myself”.

She bites her lip thinking about it, does he want to spend more time with me?

“Okay,” she smiles as they make their way across the street.

Settled at a table, they wait for their server, she asks, “Was that a fifty dollar bill I saw you put in that tip jar?”

He shrugs, “Yes”.

He says that as if it’s normal, she thinks.

“I know you’re not from here, but you do know that’s a lot of money right?” “Yes,” he shrugs again, “But she made excellent tea all afternoon, she let us stay as late as she could and she was polite. And I have been here long enough to know that servers of any kind don’t get paid fairly. I can afford it, she deserves it”.

She feels the smile grow across her face, she considers gushing that he’s such a good person, but instead what comes out is, “I’m really starting to consider becoming a professor”.

He laughs, “I told you, it’s family money, not my facility pay”. God, that laugh, sets off butterflies in her stomach, the warm, genuine sound of his laughter.

He continues, “Before Sokovia fell, my family were royalty. I was a Baron there”. “I knew your name sounded familiar,” she sighs, “I remember hearing about Sokovia on the news. I remember your name, you were building orphanages and relief centres”.

He nods sadly, “Many of us thought we could salvage what we had left after everything. We couldn’t”.

“I’m so sorry,” she says, without thinking she reaches across the table to place a comforting hand on his arm. His hand comes to cover hers, so much larger than her own.

There’s a silence between them for one of the first moment since he sat down with her earlier at the cafe. But it’s not uncomfortable, it’s the opposite -- a silence of understanding, both parties knowing there’s nothing they can say to make things better-- they can only ruminate.

The peace is broken by a waiter coming to take their orders. “Do you drink Helmut?” She asks with a mischievous smile. “I have been known to indulge,” he confesses, his eyebrows furrowed. “Two shots of ?” she turns to look at Helmut expectantly. “Vodka,” he replies. “Two shots of vodka, and an order of cheese fries to share please,” she orders, “thank you”.

The waiter returns not before long, placing the drinks and food on the table.

She holds her shot glass up waiting for him to do the same. “Prost,” he says raising his glass towards her. “Cheers,” she responds clinking her glass into his before they both tip them back.

And that’s how their night begins.

It’s nearing midnight when they settle their bill, Helmut insisting he pay-- though she put up a good fight. “Can I walk you home?” He asks looking at her under the light of the street lamps. She nods, her face feeling warm both from his attention and the alcohol coursing through her bloodstream. Her apartment is only three blocks away, but time seems to slow down as they walk arm in arm through the freshly fallen snow. At her door they stop, she looks up at him, him down at her. Without a thought, lips meet. It’s not rough or particularly sexy, but she feels her knees go weak when his hand comes to cup her cheek, his other splayed across the small of her back pulling her closer. This kiss deepens and she clutches the lapel of his wool coat before they both pull away. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Don’t be,” she sighs.

Then the thought hits her, “How are you getting home?” “Oh-- I was going to get a cab and go back to the cafe to pick up my car in the morning,” he explains. “Nonsense-- you can stay here,” she offers unlocking her door and stepping inside, he doesn’t follow. “Not in my bed,” she laughs flicking on the light, “I’ll set you up on the couch”. He steps inside.

In the morning he wakes to the sun shining through the window. It takes him a minute to orient himself remembering he crashed on her couch. He sits up taking a moment to look around the apartment, it’s cute. Books and textbooks and notebooks strewn about the place. It’s homey and inviting and every bit what he’d expect her space to look like. Carefully he grabs one of the open notebooks tearing out a page he writes a quick note:

Good morning, I find that I feel very sorry for having to leave before you wake. Alas, I have much to get done, and I do not wish to trespass in your home longer than needed. I am grateful for your hospitality, and even more, your company. If my memory serves correctly I must also apologise for making that advance towards you last night. It was ungentlemanly, and you are unquestionably deserving of much better. I hope you can forgive me, and that you might allow me to make it up to you. -Helmut

Week six.

“He should appear to be compassionate, faithful to his word, guileless, and devout.” Is written across the board. When she settles into her seat. She’s not early this week, rather just on time. Helmut notes the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tries to catch her breath, he holds back a smile at the thought of her sprinting to his class. When the class is settled, he proceeds to hand back all of the submitted essays, now marked. He smiles as he sets hers on her desk, “Bravo,” he says quietly enough that just she hears it as he shuffles along to the next row of students. She anxiously flips to the last page, red pen scrawl reads 100%. Her jaw drops. There’s no way. She thinks back to the rumours she heard on campus at the beginning of the year, about how difficult a marker he is. Bullshit. Her blood boils, rage sizzling beneath her skin. She avoids his eyes for the rest of class staring down at her notebook as she notices the indents in the blank page-- indents left from where he had written her a note that morning. Her anger freezes replaced by the cold sinking feeling in her chest. All his kind words, all those moments shared-- did he really think she was just spending time with him for a better grade? What kind of handout does he expect to get from her? She scolds herself now for the little crush she’d developed-- how stupid could she be? The prince must appear to be virtuous in order to hide his actions, She remembers from her reading, a dagger to her chest as she thinks bitterly that she’s not shocked that the professor is practising what he preaches.

The class ends and he moves to collect his paperwork, sorting it back into his bag. She stays. “I’m glad you stayed behind,” he starts. “I’m sure you are,” she says sharply. Confused he puts his things down turning to face her. “Have I done something to upset you?” He asks seriously his head tilted to the side as he racks his brain for anything he may have done to make her so cross. Perhaps his note was not sufficient in conveying his apology? “Do you think I’m stupid? Or that I’m naive?” she asks arms crossed, “I’m not sleeping with you for a good grade,” she states firmly, sliding her essay back across her desk, “feel free to adjust my grade accordingly”. Is that what she thinks? His mouth goes dry, his mind and heart racing with all the different ways he wants to apologise, to tell her that she has it wrong. He approaches her, finally making eye contact with her, “Your grade will stay as it is. I mark all of my student’s work without looking at the cover pages. I have always strived to remain impartial. Your essay was marked no differently,” He explains calmly, “I would be wrong to say that I don’t hold any affections for you-- it is quite the opposite. I enjoy the time we have spent together, and I would like to continue to remain in your company; I hope to eventually find myself in your affections-- but none of this has any bearing on your grade. I am sorry that I have acted in a way where this was not clear”. Her throat clenches, oh. “I’m sorry--Oh my god--I’m so stupid!” her hand flies to cover her mouth. “You have nothing to apologise for-- I should be the one apologising,” he insists. She shakes her head standing to stand in front of him, “We’ve both been obtuse”. “I’d like to make it up to you. I’d like to take you out for dinner-- a proper meal. If you’ll allow me”. She nods her hand coming to rest on his cheek, thumb running gently across his cheekbone, “I would like that,” she says quietly, her eyes glazing at his lips, “But only after the semester is done and I’ve graduated”. “If that is what you want,” he nods understanding. She can feel him leaning in, her eyes flickering up to his caramel eyes and back down to his lips, his hand rests on her hip, but he waits for her to close the gap between them.

Last day of the school year.

She waits by the door to the lecture hall as he speaks to his class. She listens to the back and forth of conversing ideas from the students, her heart beating faster every time Helmut speaks. It takes a while for everyone to leave when the class is over, but he does his best not to make her wait too long, gathering his things as quickly as possible, he makes his way over to her.

“Maybe I should’ve taken this course, the conversation was much more lively!” She laughs. “Your intelligent thoughts would have been wasted here, my dear” He smiles shutting the door behind him, “your class needed a brilliant mind in it”.

The summer goes by quickly. Fine dining, nights in. reading during rainstorms. Nights of soft romance, followed by nights of passion. Pasts shared. Futures envisioned. In his bed the night before the new school year she rolls over to lay almost on top of him, laughing when he lets out an oof. “Old man she teases,” earning a playful pinch on the thigh from him.

She glances at his nightstand, a copy of The Prince laying there.

“And what are your personal feelings about Machiavelli anyway? You never speak about your own thoughts”

“You're so clever,” he laughs, “but you're right”.

He sighs pulling her closer. he tries to focus on his hand running up and down her arm, how soft her sweater is under his fingertips. He takes a deep breath before speaking, “every time I read it, my opinions change,” he confesses, “there was a time when I was young and stupid; thought I was invincible that I agreed with a lot of his ideals. Then I grew older, fell in love--I thought him stupid and lonely. I experienced an incredible loss--”

She squeezes his side as she hears his voice grow tense with tears, he swallows and continues, “and then I thought I understood him. I learned how to grieve and I thought him intolerable. In the end I learn more about myself than I do him”.

She smiles, “and have you read it lately?”

He nods kissing her softly, “I have”.

“And?”

“I learned to trust my instincts. To take the risks that are worth taking”

“You're kind of a sap,” she laughs, her face getting warm she buries it in his chest. Part 1 here

#zemo x reader #helmut zemo x reader #professor!zemo #daniel bruhl x reader #zemo #daniel bruhl #baron zemo x reader

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bokutoslittlebird · 3 years

Text

Indebted

Day 8 of Matsuhana week: Yakuza

Summary: Left with his father’s debts, Hanamaki decides to not pay back the dangerous Yakuza boss until he’s on his knees before the man himself.

Warnings: mafia/yakuza business, threatening letters (not into much detail), minor character death (by cancer), tranquilizer gun, kidnapping, age gap, fingering, Virgin!Hanamaki, bit of corruption kink, lube, no condom, creampie

“Why does he have so much junk?” He groans, looking through another box. “Who’d have known the old man had so much stuff to hide?”

Hanamaki was digging through his ill father’s belongings. His mother was currently at the hospital while the nurses caught her up on the situation, but it wasn’t looking good. The cancer had spread to his brain, signaling his end was near. His mother, however, decided to dig into their limited money supply to see if it could be fixed, leaving them with same amount of money before his father got that new job about 10 years ago. So, Hanamaki thought he could sell some items to get extra cash.

Oh, he wasn’t planning on sharing it.

His mother had taken plenty of money he could have used for college, as well as moving out. Even now, she refused to see that her husband was a lost cause and keep the money to use on her son, but no. She’ll get all the life insurance money, as well, so it’s not like she’s in desperate need of cash. Hanamaki, on the other hand, could barely eat and make ends meet when he worked at a nearby pizza restaurant. The answer, and his reasonings, were clear.

Digging through a box he found under the bed, Hanamaki’s face changes drastically as he opens the box to find money. Wads of paper bills that could set him up for the next year, honestly. However, as he takes the money, he finds a note underneath it. Curious as ever, he decides to read it.

“50,000 yen for the Boss” is all it reads, making him tilt his head. However, more digging through the box makes him realize his dad was not just hoarding money, but rather keeping the money and giving it to this.. Boss guy. A part of Hanamaki told him it was bad news, but the other part of him needed money.

Pocketing the cash and grabbing any antiques, he left the room and never looked back.

Three days later, a proper ceremony was in place for Hanamaki’s father, who finally succumbed to the cancer eating him and left behind a widow and a son. Hanamaki’s mother was incessant on a proper burial, despite the money necessary for it. Condolence money would be given, but that money was hardly enough for someone to have a proper ceremony. Hanamaki may have spent most of his time picking bones and putting them in the urn, but he wasn’t going with his mother and uncle to the family grave, instead going back to his car.

A cheap, old car that needed a lot of money to be back into good working order, but Hanamaki liked how reliable it was. It may creak and sigh and he can’t go too fast, but he’s always to work on time and never wastes money sprucing it up. Getting to the car, however, Hanamaki saw something under his wiper. A note, most likely.

“Who-“ he sputtered, looking around the empty parking lot. He wasn’t parked illegally, nor was he in a special spot, so he wonders who left it. Reading it made him wish he didn’t.

“To the young Hanamaki Takahiro, in the wake of your father’s passing, you are to take on full responsibility and pay back his accumulated debt. Sincerely, Seijoh Family.”

Hanamaki was no idiot. He may have been able to forget about the notes and letters and the money, but he couldn’t as his eyes ran over the inked words. The Seijoh Family was a yakuza family that was well known for helping those down on their luck, as long as you could pay them back when your luck turned around. It suddenly made sense.

The lack of money and his always empty stomach, the fighting between his parents, all of it suddenly changed within a couple of days with a new promotion. Hanamaki went from eating small quantities to large ones, his house went from a small one to a nice and big one. Everything got better, but then everything got worse. It was more of a middle ground, honestly, but he could feel it slipping. His father had gotten everything he wanted and then suddenly, he needed to pay back the money he was loaned. And now, with his cremated remains in an urn, Hanamaki would be taking up his father’s debts.

Although the message scares Hanamaki, he can’t afford to let it control him. He has to go back to work and prepare for college classes soon. He can’t be worried about some creepy guy planning to kill him because he’s struggling. Even as he tells himself that, the next couple of days has him putting tips into a jar in his kitchen, sliding it under the sink and out of his sight. The money he took from his father was 10x what he makes in a week, making him worried that he’ll never be able to pay back the sum of debt.

With the dread of something bad about to happen, Hanamaki decides to push the thought away, hoping a gooey cheeseburger and soda can take the feeling away. With his dinner, a movie will be enough to take his mind off of everything. As soon as he sits down, though, he gets a wiggling doorknob. Hoping it’s someone trying to get into the wrong apartment, he waits for it to stop. When it does, he relaxes once more, only to then fly out of his seat when two people walk through the door.

They’re big, despite Hanamaki having some muscle on him. Big and dressed in dark clothing, wearing protective layers on their face so he can’t get a proper look at them. He’s quick enough to try to get away, hopping over the couch to reach the balcony when one of the guys shoots him with something. Face planting on the floor in front of the window, the last thing Hanamaki sees is the guy pull out a cell phone.

When Hanamaki comes to, the first thing he notices is the hushed whispers and he’s draped over something — or someone. His arms feel like jelly, but his eyes slowly open to reveal a corridor, dimly lit as the same two guys, he thinks, walking behind him. He’s momentarily startled awake by them, but he realizes he soon has other worries when he notices he’s entered a big room, the door shutting loudly behind him.

“Is this the one?”

“Yes sir,” one of them answers. Hanamaki is then placed down on his knees in front of the other person in the room. A glance is all Hanamaki is blessed with before his head is shoved down, almost into the floor by the guy behind him. “Head down,” he sternly says.

“Now, now. We mustn’t hurt him too badly. How else will I get my money back?” The man says, the chair underneath him creaking as he leans forward. With his head no longer forced down, Hanamaki takes another chance to look up at the man before him. Clad in black slacks and sleek shoes, Hanamaki has an easy time figuring out just who’s in front of him. The ironed white shirt had a few buttons loose, sleeves rolled to his elbows, showing enough muscles to know force was a valid option. The man himself had a smirk that made it seem as though he was playing a game with Hanamaki, further proved when his hand grabbed Hanamaki’s chin and let him get a better look. “You’re quite young, aren’t you? College age, perhaps?”

“How did-“ Hanamaki sputters, only to stop when his smirk drops. “Sir?”

“Matsukawa Issei. I’m sure you’re aware of your father’s debts, which are now your responsibility. However, I can’t see how I’d benefit from someone struggling to make ends meet. I may be cruel, but I’m also fair. If you can’t work and live comfortably, I can’t get all my money back. Do you see my dilemma?”

“You could, I don’t know, let me go?” Hanamaki suggests, raising an eyebrow. He mentally takes a point when Matsukawa’s lips tilt into a smile.

“You’re funny, but I can’t do that,” he sighs, smile dropping. His eyes then turn to the goons in the room. “Get out. I’ll discuss things in private,” he orders, each subordinate leaving. Once gone, he sighs once more as he moves over to his desk, pressing a button as shades cover the windows and the room is pitched into darkness. When the desk lamp and floor lamp near the couch turn on, Hanamaki finally gets a better look at the room.

Despite being shoved to his knees before Matsukawa as if he was placed on a throne, the room looks similar to a study. With Matsukawa leaning against a dark mahogany desk, large and almost empty aside from an old looking phone and a control board, the only thing left in the room are pictures on the wall and the spacious couch. The pillows looked so comfortable and much more expensive than the cheap couch he owns. Once Hanamaki had finished looking around, he straightened his back a bit more and looked at Matsukawa, wondering just what was going to happen.

“What’s next, then? You can’t kill me because then you don’t get money, but you also can’t just let me go because I can’t pay you back like my old man did, so we’re in limbo,” he breaks the silence first, eyes scanning Matsukawa for any instance of movement.

“You’ll still be paying me back, of course. I can’t lend you any money because of your father’s debts, sadly. Although, I’m sure you’d not want to be in his same shoes. You know what, I like you, so I’ll give you some options,” he begins walking closer to Hanamaki, making adrenaline kick in. He may not seem threatening, but he has an entire building full of people at his fingertips. As he circles Hanamaki, he continues talking. “Option one, you pay me back at your leisure. I’ll even help you a bit, of course making you pay back more, but you’re not on a time limit like everyone else. Option two, I take the money I can from you and your mother, who currently sits on your father’s life insurance money, and leave you with just enough to scrape by. Option three,” he stops, kneeling in front of a currently exhausted Hanamaki, taking his chin between his fingers until they’re eye to eye, “you let me blow off some steam and your debt will be down 10 times it’s original amount. So you don’t have to do the math, that means instead of roughly 50 million yen, you’ll be paying only 5 million. It’s quite a lot, I’ll admit, but it’s much better than what you have to pay.”

“What’s.. what does blowing off steam count as, exactly? Letting you hit me every time you get angry or something?”

“No, as in you let me use your body as I see fit. I could hit you, but I have other ideas in mind,” he says, smiling as Hanamaki’s face darkens when the gears start moving. “You can decline, of course, but that’s a lot of money. Not to mention, you’re still gonna have to pay rent and buy groceries, you may die before paying off the debt. Like I said—“

“I’ll do it,” Hanamaki interjects, relaxing his shoulders but still sitting up straight. “Despite the cliché of me paying with my body, it’s really not the worst thing in the world. I’d prefer it over you hitting me, as well,”

“The deal has been made and that means from this moment on, you and your body will belong to me,” Matsukawa says, then moves behind Hanamaki. “I’ve the perfect spot for you to lie, as well,” he practically purrs in Hanamaki’s ear, nudging him up and forward. To the desk.

“Kinda expected the couch, but it’s better than the floor,” Hanamaki chuckles, only to then gasp as cool metal slides against his skin. It’s a knife, he’s sure of it, but as soon as it’s there, it’s gone again and his bound wrists are free. Completely focused on his surroundings, Hanamaki forgot about his bound wrists until suddenly they were no longer forced behind his back. Once free, Matsukawa spins him around traps him against the desk, his hand once more cupping his chin.

“You’re a cute one. Ever kissed someone?”

“When I was 10. Some girl was dared to kiss me, but not recently,” Hanamaki breathlessly whispers, eyes drawn to Matsukawa’s lips when they’re so close. Feeling his breath ghost over his lips has him wishing for things to move a bit faster, but Matsukawa won’t give him that satisfaction.

“Some dare to kiss you hardly counts. I meant a real one,” he says in response, but doesn’t encourage a reply when his lips press against Hanamaki’s, tilting his head as his hand moves to the back of Hanamaki’s head while his other hand slips beneath the cardigan and oversized t-shirt, feeling warm skin. With his lips melding against Hanamaki’s, he finds his fingers running through pink strands as the other slips into jeans and further down, making Hanamaki tense. A swipe over the bottom lip with his tongue and Matsukawa pulls away, licking away the small strand of saliva keeping them tethered. “Like that?”

Although Matsukawa was referring to his previous sentence, Hanamaki shakily sighed as he nodded, “I did,” making Matsukawa chuckle a bit. Removing his hand from Hanamaki’s hair and jeans, Matsukawa places him on the desk. “Pretty empty for a big desk. You usually take people’s virginities on desks?” Hanamaki jokes, hoping to lighten the heavy mood, obviously unfamiliar with such serious situations.

“Virginities?” Matsukawa asks, his hands stopping at Hanamaki’s thighs before squeezing as he smiles. “I’ve never gotten the opportunity to take someone’s virginity, actually. Only taken those who thought sleeping with me would save their skin. It didn’t, but that was because it was always their idea. You, on the other hand,” he says, hands once more moving to slide under Hanamaki’s t-shirt, “are in a one of a kind situation. I’ll make sure to treat you kindly.”

“Um, small request, if I may,” Hanamaki says, hands moving from Matsukawa’s shoulders to his hands, stopping them from sliding off his clothes. “Can I keep on my shirt? I don’t feel quite comfortable being so.. vulnerable. I understand if—“

“Granted,” Matsukawa cuts him off, hands still sliding against his skin but not aiming to strip him of his clothes. After all, the main focus isn’t making Hanamaki uncomfortable but rather to send him through throes of pleasure. Hands move down, curling around the hem of his jeans as Matsukawa presses his lips to Hanamaki’s jaw and neck, making the younger man sigh in bliss. When his pants are taken off, Hanamaki flushes as Matsukawa’s fingers then gently pry off his boxers. The simple act of sliding them down his legs is made more sensual as Matsukawa kisses down his body, only to stop at his hard cock. “Excited, are we?”

“Well, you’re very good at this,” he quips back, turning his head. Instead of huffing and puffing, Hanamaki soon finds himself biting his finger when Matsukawa’s tongue slides against his cock. “I didn’t think—“

“I’m quite familiar when it comes to pleasure. Sit back and relax,” Matsukawa says, wrapping his lips around Hanamaki’s cock before putting it all in his mouth. The ease of which he takes all of Hanamaki doesn’t go unnoticed, but he’s not bothered by it as much while his hands massage the meat on Hanamaki’s thighs. Hanamaki is more bothered by it, seeing as he lets out soft moans while his teeth bite on one hand and his other curls into Matsukawa’s hair. Whines come from him as his back arches, feeling Matsukawa’s tongue lap at the side of his cock, only to then take him all back into his mouth.

While Hanamaki is busy moaning and trying to not finish so quickly, Matsukawa digs into his drawer and takes out a large bottle of lube. Its top is easy to remove without needing to see, Matsukawa slipping a couple of fingers into the cool liquid before rubbing those fingers against Hanamaki’s puckered hole. The cool sensation has Hanamaki gasping, hand moving from his mouth to grasp at the edge of the desk while his other tightens it’s hold on Matsukawa’s hair. With some more lube applied, Matsukawa slides in one of his fingers while his tongue swirls around Hanamaki’s tip. The sensations all together has Hanamaki seeing stars, a sweet mewl as he finally finishes, right into Matsukawa’s mouth.

Through his pants, Hanamaki manages to give a small apology to Matsukawa, who wipes some excess cum off his lips before licking it, locking eyes with Hanamaki as he does. He also doesn’t stop fingering Hanamaki, moving his finger in and out of him while he continues to whine from the sensations. Taking his finger out, Matsukawa applies some more lube to his fingers and pushes in two at the same time, soon adding three while Hanamaki gasps and moans, hands latching onto Matsukawa’s covered shoulders.

Once Matsukawa has deemed him ready enough, Hanamaki feels his fingers leaving while he craves more. Wiping off his fingers with a nearby handkerchief, Matsukawa then finally unbuttons his shirt and tosses it to the side, letting Hanamaki see all the muscles underneath. Despite not seeming very strong, Matsukawa had plenty of defined muscles that flexed as he stripped himself of his shirt, as well as moving to unbuckle his belt and unzip himself. Hanamaki couldn’t wait to feel those muscles under his own fingertips.

Once free of his boxers, Matsukawa applies a generous amount of lube to his cock while Hanamaki practically trembles with excitement. The sheer size of Matsukawa makes him wonder if it’ll actually fit, seeing as three fingers can’t compare to the size, but he’s always been up for a challenge. As Matsukawa lines himself up, he takes Hanamaki’s chin in his fingers one last time. “I want you to look at me while I corrupt you. Can you do that for me, Hiro?”

With such an affectionate name, Hanamaki is blushing while nodding his head, completely transfixed on Matsukawa as he slides his cock in. It’s painful, the lube only helping to ease the pain a bit and Hanamaki screws his eyes shut for a moment, only to reopen them as the grip on his chin gets tighter. “I said eyes on me,” Matsukawa practically growled, eyes darkened as he focused his eyes on him once more. Hanamaki doesn’t dare break the eye contact again, even as he desperately wants to throw his head back or roll his eyes back when Matsukawa finally bottoms out. Stretched beyond his limits, Hanamaki is finally able to lay back on the desk when Matsukawa gives him a kiss, short and sweet, letting his face go afterwards. “How do you feel?”

“Full,” Hanamaki honestly says, moving his hips a bit as he softly mewls, “very full.”

“Good enough for me,” Matsukawa says, rearing his hips back before slamming into Hanamaki. He practically yelps from the force of Matsukawa’s thrust, his ass jiggling from the impact. His reaction pleases Matsukawa who simply keeps up the force behind each thrusts, hands planted on either side of Hanamaki as he looks down at the man, enjoying each facial expression that comes across his face. Hanamaki reaches up to grab Matsukawa, bringing him closer as his blunt nails dig into his defined back. Matsukawa groans at the feeling of Hanamaki trying to mark him up, pressing his lips to his neck while his hips never stutter. One of his hands move down to lift up Hanamaki’s leg, holding his leg in the crook of his elbow as it dangles behind him. The adjusted position has him hitting deeper inside and rubbing against Hanamaki’s prostate with each thrust. Sucking a hickey onto his skin, Matsukawa feels Hanamaki tremble under him as warm liquid coats the front of his chest.

Matsukawa slows down his thrusts while Hanamaki finishes his second orgasm, cock bouncing as it gushes out the last bit of cum. Hanamaki looks exhausted, but Matsukawa isn’t quite done. Removing himself has Hanamaki confused, only for a moment, before he’s picking him up and swiftly placing him in his lap, back on his cock. “You’re still so fucking hard,” Hanamaki whines, feeling Matsukawa’s cock rubbing against his prostate again.

“Well, I’ve been told I have quite the stamina. I’ll let you take a break once I’ve had my own release, how about that?” Matsukawa says, although his silky words are mixed with soft pants, using up some of his energy to fuck. Matsukawa spreads Hanamaki’s legs, his hands trailing up thick thighs until he’s able to get a good grip, having Hanamaki bounce on his lap. Hanamaki tries to help, positioning his hands on the arms of the chair to stabilize himself, but soon finds his arms are too weak to hold up even half of his weight. Matsukawa does all the work while Hanamaki brushes his fingers through his hair, almost encouraging Matsukawa’s lips to press against the other side of his neck, adorning the skin with kisses and hickeys.

When Matsukawa’s thrusts start to get weak, he stops moving Hanamaki and groans, getting up from the chair without disconnecting him and Hanamaki. Bending Hanamaki over the desk, they’re both finishing together as Matsukawa rubs Hanamaki’s hardened cock with his hand. Hanamaki moans as he feels Matsukawa fill him up with his seed, only to give an open-mouthed moan when he feels him leave, his winking hole gushing with seed spent.

Hanamaki sees Matsukawa zip himself up and put on his shirt, thinking he’ll have to clean himself up. However, he’s pleasantly surprised when Matsukawa’s hand is gently pushed against his back while a warm and wet towel is cleaning up his mess. “I think I was a bit too harsh on you, sorry,” Matsukawa finally says, breaking the silence as he finishes cleaning up everything. Hanamaki doesn’t respond very well, his mind too hazy and body too numb to really process what’s going on. “Hanamaki, hello?” Is the last thing he hears before he shuts his eyes for the rest of the night.

#haikyuu smut #matsuhana smut #matsuhana #BB.Kinky #BB.Tweets #Mr. Issei #Mr. Takahiro #Hanamaki.Spice #Matsukawa.Spice #tw.guns #tw.yakuza #tw.violence #tw.death #tw.mafia

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