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suga-kookiemonster · 1 year

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satisfy 05

summary⇢ “listen,” taehyung says, eyes wide and eager as he smiles at you. “i figure we can just help each other out. i scratch your back, you scratch mine.” but when you find yourself suddenly in need of a massive favor, exactly how much scratching are you willing to do? pairing⇢ seokjin/reader, namjoon/reader, taehyung/reader, …..jimin/reader word count⇢ 15.9k genre⇢ smut | escort!au | ceo!au (kinda) warnings⇢ 😇😇😇😇 *chin hands sweetly* STRAP IN, FOLKS!!: GANGBANG. this chapter will include three brothers having sex with the reader at the same time (but not with each other). if this bothers you, please feel free to skip!, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral (f+m giving/receiving), fingering, face fucking, exhibitionism, voyuerism, da booty getting ate like groceries, assplay, name calling, daddy kink, orgasm denial, forced orgasm, marking, spitroasting, cumplay, bukakke 😭, honestly this is a hot ass MESS and i should be sorry but i’m not 🤷🏽‍♀️ a/n⇢ well, hello~ long time no see!!!! i'm super pumped about this chapter because it has literally been in the works since i planned this whole fic out years ago 😭 a lot of planning and struggling later, and WE FINALLY HERE 🙌🏾 🙌🏾 i am so relieved that this finally exists in the world and not just in my head lmao. thank you all for hanging with me for this long and being so patient. i hope this chapter lives up to your expectations 😈 only the epilogue left! 😮‍💨👀 mood for this chapter is this song~ hope everyone enjoys!

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Days quickly morphed into weeks, time continuing to flow even without you consciously noticing it pass you by. You were just so busy, both your schoolwork and your unconventional part-time job a whirlwind of activity that left you too preoccupied to do much else. Your already scant social life was starting to suffer, but honestly? You were completely fine with that—a neverending schedule of sex, sleep, and studying was more than enough, and it was highly unlikely you would be able to fit anything else onto your overflowing plate anyway.

It was expected for you to not have that much free time, anyway. Jimin’s was waning too, as the further the two of you got into your studies, the busier you both became. You still texted often to make sure each other was alive, but with your differing schedules, the new normal became not getting to see him in person for weeks on end.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t losing steam. Burning the candle at both ends was finally starting to catch up with you, but there wasn’t much you could do about it other than focusing on powering through it. This was the career path you chose—your dream—and so you simply just had to bear everything that came along with it. You were willing to put the work in to reach your goals, and you just kept reminding yourself that how you were living now was just a means to an end.

Not that you at all only found the Kims to be a means to an end. Yes, they were paying your way through school, but you still really enjoyed the time you spent with each of them. They were all great company in different ways, and at this point, the only time you were freed from the library’s clutches was when one of them wanted to take you somewhere, so you found them to be more of a welcome distraction than anything else.

Unfortunately, that still didn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, you were bone tired.

You had always been good at compartmentalizing. But though you tried your best to not let your slowly-building fatigue show, even your new employers could tell that you were being ran a bit ragged. Namjoon came to pick you up for a date one day, and all it took was one long look at you while you were trying to buckle your seatbelt for him to put the car in park and hustle you back upstairs instead, despite your protests. You thought that maybe he decided to forgo your movie plans for much more carnal activities, but once you were back inside your apartment, he sprawled himself onto your couch and reached for you. You were confused, but when you reflexively took his hand, he simply pulled you down with him and easily folded you into his body.

God, he smelled good. And was comfortable and warm, so it didn’t take long for you to nod off, despite only being fifteen minutes into whatever Netflix movie he had put on. Namjoon spent his scheduled date letting you snore into his chest, and when you woke up hours later, groggy and discombobulated, you found him already gone and a blanket thrown over you.

It didn’t take a genius to realize he must have said something to his brothers. The next day, seemingly out of the blue, you got an email notification that Wendy, Seokjin’s assistant, had canceled an upcoming work lunch that had been on the calendar for weeks. (You highly doubted the lunch itself was canceled—just that Jin had decided to go alone.) And you were so used to Taehyung’s frequent visits that when he didn’t stop by for four days in a row, it became blatantly obvious that something was amiss.

They were giving you space.

But if you were honest, though you appreciated the sudden breathing room in your schedule, all of them suddenly pulling out of the arrangement was making you uneasy. This was a job, after all, and you weren’t fully holding up your end of the bargain. Hell, the week before had been your period, so you hadn’t slept with any of them then, either. And, considering the fact that all three Kims were set to go on an overseas business trip soon, the amount of leave you were inadvertently taking was quickly adding up.

You needed this money. You needed this money, this was not what they agreed to, and you were nervous you were starting to frustrate them.

To their credit, none of them ever seemed to be. Early on, when your period made its first appearance as the perpetual wrench in your plans, Seokjin had casually informed you that he was totally fine with just putting a towel down. However, when he saw you weren’t nearly as enthused with the idea, he simply gave you an easy shrug and said, “Then take whatever time you need.” His brothers had been equally as accommodating, and have been ever since (though Taehyung sometimes still liked to playfully pout at you when you told him Aunt Flo was in town).

But the fact was, you ultimately weren’t holding up your end of the bargain, and that knowledge was constantly hovering in the back of your mind and making you a bit anxious. That was why, days before he was scheduled to leave for his three week business trip, you took initiative and asked Taehyung if he wanted to come over.

Both Seokjin and Namjoon had already graciously canceled their standing appointments with you for the second week in a row, but Taehyung had never had a standing appointment. He was always much more spontaneous than his brothers, and that personality trait was no different when it came to you, so that’s what you were counting on.

[1:32] Hey! Did you want to come over tomorrow? [1:32] Or later today, I guess

Despite it being so late, Tae apparently hadn’t gone to bed yet. He was a bit of a night owl, like you.

Taehyung [1:34] Well hello~ Taehyung [1:34] So nice to hear from you, sweetcheeks. How’s it been going? [1:35] Sweetcheeks, Taehyung? Really? Taehyung [1:35] What? They’ve always looked pretty sweet to me 😌👀

You scoffed, amused and fond. Always an incorrigible flirt, that one.

[1:35] Yeah, okay lol [1:36] So if they’re so sweet, what are you gonna do about it?

A pause, one slightly too long for someone whose phone was in their hand and had been actively responding to you only moments before. You knew you had him even before his reply finally came through.

Taehyung [1:37] What time?

The next day, you focused on getting as much of your work done as you could before the hard stop of when you knew you had to start getting ready. You took a long shower, letting the hot water relax your stiff muscles before carefully maneuvering into the lingerie that was still prettily packaged in the bag from the boutique you got it from, untouched on the floor of your closet since you bought it.

You hadn’t seen him a while, so it only made sense to you to make things a little more exciting than usual. Spice it up. Honestly, sex with Taehyung was always anything with boring, but the thigh-highs you slipped into were just as much for you as him. You had been so focused on your studies that you couldn’t remember the last time you wore anything other than court-approved suits, sweatpants, or pajamas. It would be nice to feel something other than just tired again. To feel desired. Sexy.

And even you could admit the outfit you had chosen was sexy. A crimson, lacy bodysuit thing that did little to obscure the dusk of your nipples and disappeared between your asscheeks. The matching thigh-highs, joined with garters. You even had a pair of heels that you planned to wear—ones that made your legs look a mile long, but hurt like a bitch every time you attempted to wear them out. Despite their shortcomings, you were willing to slip on the deathtraps because luckily, for this particular occasion, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere in them, nor would they stay on you for very long.

You were even planning on putting on a little makeup, on properly doing your hair for the first time in weeks and giving the bun you had been sporting a rest. However, all it took was a knock on your door to put an end to all those extras.

You frowned at the sound and padded over to your front door, happy you had already thrown on one of your law school hoodies to keep yourself warm until the festivities properly started. The sight of a familiar man through the peephole, hands resting comfortably in his slacks, threw you off.

Automatically, your hands were disengaging all the locks, were swinging the door open. “You’re early—”

Whatever words you had next immediately dissipated on your tongue. Taehyung was there, but he apparently came with company. Your mind whirred, trying to come up with a perfectly logical reason for why all three Kim brothers were at your doorstep right now.

“Your hair,” you blurted, your scrambled brain latching onto the easiest subject first.

“Hmm?” Taehyung ruffled his newly dyed locks, the onyx hue a stark difference from the silver you were used to. “Oh yeah, I guess I haven’t seen you all week. My dad wanted me to dye it to a more ‘appropriate’ color before the conference. But whatever—it was time for a change, anyway. And this will be much easier to upkeep.”

You could only continue to stare at him as he spoke, your eyes naturally drifting over his shoulder at your additional visitors.

All three of them were dressed pretty casually, which was normal for Taehyung and Namjoon, but less so for Seokjin when not in the comfort of his own home. The soft pink of his sweatsuit was a stark contrast to the sharp intelligence of his eyes, and he met your gaze for only a few seconds before he was turning to meet Namjoon’s instead, a pinch in his brow.

Taehyung spoke again before either of them could say anything. “You gonna keep us out here?” he teased, casually leaning against the doorframe.

That finally jumpstarted you out of your haze, scrambling to move out of the way and gesture them inside. “Yes, of course. Come in!” Before your nosy neighbor caught them and assumed you were slutting it up.

(She would technically be right, but still. It was the principle. Your life was none of that judgy old shrew’s business.)

Tae strolled in like he always did—like he owned the place—but you noticed his brothers’ strides seemed a bit more hesitant than the confidence you were usually witness to. Namjoon’s mouth was slightly pursed in the way you’d long learned meant he was thinking. Why did they seem as confused as you did?

“Hi,” you hedged anyway, a small, puzzled smile on your lips. “It’s been a while. Sorry if I’m acting weird—I just wasn’t expecting you, so I’m a little thrown off.”

Understanding immediately crossed Seokjin’s features, but you only got a second to see it before he was whipping towards his youngest brother, appalled.

Namjoon was looking at him too, clearly irritated. “Are you serious, Taehyung?”

“What?” you asked, gaze flitting between the three of them in hope of finding some sort of clarity.

“You never asked her?” Seokjin snapped.

“You know that’s not cool, man,” Namjoon sighed, an agitated hand running though blond locks.

Why were they standing in your hallway and having whole conversations in front of you like you weren’t even there? “Never asked me what?” you cut in bemusedly, a little louder than you intended. It worked, at least, all three men immediately turning back to you.

Taehyung, for his part, looked properly contrite, cringing a little at the exasperation in your voice. “I’m sorry,” he told the room before placing his attention solidly back on you. His eyes were soft and sincere. “It truly slipped my mind, and I’m sorry, _____. I didn’t think.”

“When do you ever?” Seokjin snarked, but you ignored him, focused solely on Taehyung.

“What, Tae?” you encouraged gently. “What are you sorry for?”

It was clear from the hunch of his shoulders that he felt bad. “Um…”

“He invited us to come with him to meet you today,” Namjoon supplied. He gave his little brother a disappointed shake of his head. “But that’s not a decision for him to make. Is it, Tae.”

“I just knew that none of us have seen her in a while,” Tae whined. “And _____, when you reached out yesterday, I figured it would be the perfect opportunity since we’re about to leave the country for a few weeks.”

“I should have known better,” Seokjin muttered below his breath, looking heavenward in his annoyance. “I’m really sorry about this, _____. You never marked group activities as a no and I assumed Taehyung actually asked you like an adult, so I thought you were on board. I can leave.”

You blinked, still trying to grasp what was going on. “You were…trying to share your time?” you asked Taehyung slowly.

He nodded meekly. “I don’t mind sharing,” came his honest answer.

“But does she,” Seokjin scoffed, rubbing his temples in irritation. “That’s the only thing that matters. And to think otherwise is just selfish, Taehyung.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” The words left your lips before your brain could even register them, likely spurred on by how the increasingly chastened expression on Taehyung’s face. The three of them looked at you in surprise.

“It’s okay?” Namjoon parroted, an eyebrow raised in question.

You swallowed, mind racing to actually consider the consequences of what your mouth had just offered. But your nod of confirmation came almost immediately, because you knew Taehyung had never been trying to trap you. One of the qualities that simply made him him was his spontaneity, and while that made him fun and interesting to be around, it also was a double-edged sword that could easily make you end up in situations like this.

Tae knew none of them had seen you in a while, he knew they were soon going to jet out of the country, and had simply been trying to be nice in inviting his brothers along. He didn’t mean any harm.

“It’s okay,” you repeated, giving him a reassuring smile that visibly loosened some of the tension in his body. “You can all stay.”

The words settled between the four of you, heavy in the resulting quiet. Teeming with implication. You still weren’t completely sure what you were agreeing to, but what you did know was that you were going to need something to help stave off the nerves slowly bubbling beneath your skin. You cleared your throat, turning to make your way to the kitchen. “I think I need a drink.”

You didn’t glance back at them, but you could still feel them trailing you. Feel the heat of their gaze, and even the distinct heat of a body against your back, only a whisper away. Instead, you busied yourself with rooting around in your pantry and pulling out a handle of tequila.

“This for me?” hummed a familiar velvety voice, close enough for you to easily deduce who had invited himself into your space so intimately. Taehyung.

You looked over your shoulder at him, immediately frozen with what you saw. His eyes were blatantly trailing your figure, undeterred by the obstacle of your sweatshirt and easily roving your stockinged legs and feet. A dangerous smirk crawled across his face that had a delighted shiver racing down your spine in anticipation. “What?” came your stupefied reply.

“This.” His gaze lingered on your toes, but quickly rose so he could playfully flick the zipper of your sweatshirt. “Whatever you’ve got on under there. Is it for me?”

Heat licked between your thighs at his deceptively light tone. At the way he was looking at you. “No,” you sniffed. Not wanting to give in just yet. “Just something I wear around the house.”

“Well, it’s nice,” came another voice, and you were instantly reminded of your other guests. Namjoon was leaning against an adjacent counter, eyes dark. “You never wear stuff like this for me—Taehyung must be your favorite.”

Startled despite his teasing tone, your hands flew up in protest. “N-No, it’s not that—”

“Of course I’m the favorite,” Tae sassed, throwing you a wink. “It’s okay to admit it, _____. We all know!”

There was an almost immediate snort from behind you. Technically quiet enough to go unnoticed, but full of just enough derision that Taehyung’s proverbial hackles raised at the very sound of it. His head whipped to the source.

Jin looked deceptively bored, meeting his youngest brother’s glower with a flat stare. A single lifted eyebrow said everything his mouth deigned not worth the effort. What?

Tae scowled at his brother’s obvious disdain, but then, after a few moments, he simply shot an exhale from his nose and shook his head. “You’re clearly goading me,” he chuckled. “But you know what? It’s not gonna work this time. If you’re gonna be a jackass, you can just go.”

“I think you’re vastly overestimating your importance in this situation,” Seokjin scoffed, rolling his eyes. “But what else is new.”

“Guys,” Namjoon sighed, holding up pacifying hands in an attempt to ward off the rising tension.

You observed the whole exchange silently, still too off-kilter from the situation you’d suddenly found yourself in to do much more than look from brother to brother as if you were watching a tennis match.

This was only the second time the four of you had all been in the same room—with the first being your original meeting discussing the contract. Well, technically third, if you counted that party Taehyung took you to so many months ago—the one that rerouted your life onto this much more interesting path. But the three of them hadn’t really mingled then, so you had been left to speculate their group dynamic.

Now, though, you were starting to suspect your inklings were true.

Seokjin, the oldest, with lots of responsibility and expectations always set on him. Taehyung, the spoiled youngest who grew up without any of the same restraints, but also without any of the same parental attention. And Namjoon, the calm, stereotypical middle child, the glue who held it all together. The forced peacemaker who made sure that any of his brothers’ unspoken resentment for each other never got too far out of line.

“The only person who can tell me to leave is _____,” Seokjin continued, the sound of your name immediately throwing you out of your thoughts. You straightened, unprepared to suddenly find yourself locking eyes with him and surprised at the intensity you found there. “And is that what you want, _____? Do you want me to leave?”

“No, of course not,” you blurted. You didn’t miss the smug look Jin threw his brother, nor the way Tae’s lips pursed in irritation, but you couldn’t really find it in you to care about any of that right now. With a steadying breath, you focused instead on shuffling over to another cabinet and pulling out a glass.

It was starting to hit you. You weren’t sure what in the hell was going on, what exactly it was you agreed to, but whatever it was, you now had all three of your lovers in your apartment at the same time. Respectful of you and your space, but still obviously ogling you—ravenous predators slowly and eagerly circling their next meal.

It all made your skin prickle in anticipation, the thrill of the unknown buzzing in your veins.

“Choo choo,” you muttered to yourself sarcastically, pouring a healthy amount of tequila into your cup.

Namjoon raised a brow. “What?”

“What?” you parroted immediately, startled that he had heard you.

“I just…nevermind, I thought you said something.”

“Oh. Uh, I was just wondering if any of you wanted any.”

“No, I’m okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll take some,” Tae piped up brightly, moving into your space before you could blink. Body a breath away as he reached over to you to pull his own cup from the cabinet. You froze at his proximity, unable to look away as he smirked down at you. “Choo choo,” he murmured with a wink.

Before you could react with anything more than a sharp gasp, he was pulling away again, reaching for the tequila bottle.

Jesus.

With a slightly unsteady hand, heart pumping furiously in your chest, you welcomed the burning liquid down your throat, sticking your cup out for Tae to pour you more once it was empty.

“So how have you all been?” you babbled, tone a little too high and strained to be casual. “It’s been so long, I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me. Or that you’d made other arrangements or something. I don’t think I’ve ever been paid to be stood up before, that’s kind of embarrassing—” A hand, warm and gentle, rested on your arm, and immediately, all coherent thought escaped your electrified body.

It was Seokjin, slowly rubbing what he likely thought were calming assurances, but only amping you up more. “She rambles when she’s nervous,” he informed his brothers, the small smile on his lips betraying his endearment.

“Aw, don’t be nervous, babe. I’ll take good care of you,” Taehyung cooed, effortlessly draining his glass and motioning towards yours. “Want another one?”

No, that probably wouldn’t be a good idea. The last thing you needed was something that could lower your gag reflex even more. Vomming all over them would certainly make for an interesting going away gift, but then they would most certainly ghost you for real.

You shook your head of the negative thoughts, timidly swiping a tongue over your suddenly very dry lips. “So how exactly is this going to work?”

“The way it’s always worked,” Tae reassured you with a nonchalant shrug. “It’s just you and me. The only difference is that they’re here too—but you don’t have to worry about that. I told them they could only watch.”

It took you a few moments to process that, your eyes silently roving over each of them and finding them all watching you right back. Ready, but waiting.

Look, don’t touch. Another interesting twist to a night that was already looking to be interesting.

“Is that okay?” Seokjin asked, clearly intending to follow your lead. Leaving the ball in your court. And another glance at the other two showed they obviously shared their older brother’s sentiments.

A memory flickered teasingly in the corner of your mind—the trepidation of being fucked in front of a window where anyone could see. The undeniable thrill that followed the thought of being watched.

You swallowed. “Yeah,” you finally replied. “If…you want to.”

“Do you want us to?” Namjoon pressed sternly, refusing to let go of your gaze. Communication, he always insisted. Solid consent, or no consent at all. Yes or no.

All three stared at you. You shifted under their attention, a bit out of your element, but ultimately sure. “Yes,” you breathed.

“Okay,” Namjoon simply replied with an approving nod. With a pleased smile that brought forth dimpled cheeks. But then he shifted towards you more, and the slight change in his stance seemed to completely change his demeanor. His intention. “What’s your safeword?”

You knew he knew it; knew he knew you did as well. The two of you had been together enough times for a rhythm to between you to form, so this repeating of superfluous information was likely solely for his brothers’ benefits.

“Cinnamon.”

“And if you can’t say it?”

“Tap you 3 times.”

“Good.”

“Safeword?” Taehyung chuckled incredulously, eyes a little wide in surprise. “Well shit.”

“Yeah, and I know how to use it too, if you get out of line,” you teased, but your mind was already elsewhere. It didn’t matter that Tae was the one who would be actively playing with you today—you had spent enough time with Namjoon that you had apparently been conditioned. The blond had asked you your safeword, you repeated it to him, and so the scene had officially started. All of your previous unease ebbed away as you couldn’t help but focus instead on what you were all here for.

Carefully, you set your glass down on the counter and moved to exit the kitchen, brushing against Taehyung on your way out and shooting a pointed look at him over your shoulder. “You ready?”

“Baby, you know I’m always ready,” he purred, jolted into action and eagerly trailing down the hallway after you. “I’ve just been waiting on you.”

You didn’t bother to turn to see if the others were following you. You knew they were, their very presence somehow making the hallway feel like it was shrinking, overstuffed. Still, you tried not to let that unnerve you, continuing on with purpose until you made it to your destination and were hovering awkwardly next to your bed.

They all filed into the room, one by one, and you bit your lip, fully out of your element. Three handsome men had allowed you to lure them here, but now that they were? You had no idea what your next move was supposed to be.

Luckily for you, Tae was more than happy to take initiative, immediately slinking up to your side and waggling his eyebrows suggestively. The gesture was so ridiculous that you couldn’t help but snort, and he simply grinned, pleased with himself for lessening your nerves, even if only a little. He reached for you without a second thought and you let him, eager to fall into more familiar territory.

Taehyung’s large hands smoothed over your hips, your ass with clear familiarity. A finger curled under the top of your thigh highs, lightly snapping the elastic against your skin. “You really did this is for me, huh?”

The dark look in his eye had the breath catching in your throat. “Shut up,” you scoffed unconvincingly.

He tsked, the wicked curl of his lips ruining any illusion of disappointment. “You know I like it when you’re mean to me.”

You could only blink in response. You hadn’t known that. Was he serious? Was this another level to his subjugation, or was he just pulling your leg?

Before your brain had the opportunity to come up with a proper retort, Tae was reaching out a finger to tap the zipper of your sweatshirt, gaze focused on its slow, teasing sway. “So.”

Your brow lifted, an unspoken prompting.

The swinging zipper almost slowed to a stop, and when he reached out this time, it was to lightly run his thumb over the metal, to slowly roll it between his fingers. You swallowed, the anticipation of what you knew to be coming only adding to the charged silence between you. Distractedly, the tip of his tongue swiped across his lips, drawing your gaze. “You invited me to play,” he finally continued, voice honeyed amber. Crushed velvet.

As if he hadn’t been playing with you from the moment he entered your apartment. You tilted your head anyway—an invitation and a challenge. “Then let’s play.”

A small smile touched his lips, clearly pleased that his teasing invoked yours. But he didn’t say anything else, his response simply to finally guide the zipper down its track. Leisurely, unwrapping you like a present and delighting in the underneath.

And you had technically dressed yourself to be one, so you let him. Let him take his time so he could fully appreciate the swell of your breasts, the purposeful, flirty peek of your nipples through the scarlet lace. You wished you had had the time to properly do your hair and makeup and slip on the heels you had set aside just for the occasion so he could get your full intended effect, but your less than perfect appearance didn’t seem to dissuade Taehyung at all. No, he simply slid his hands under the fabric when he finally got impatient enough—fingers light and palms warm—and pushed the sweatshirt off your shoulders with eyes that were all pupil. His hungry gaze carefully roved your form, a lingering path from head to toe that made your skin tingle in its wake.

His lips parted, tongue giving them another distracted swipe, and then he finally moved again, making his way to your dresser. Now that his broad form wasn’t blocking your view of the rest of the room, you were quickly reminded of the room’s other occupants. Seokjin and Namjoon still hovered near the doorway, quiet, but obviously also drinking in the sight of you now that they could see you properly. Your breath caught, not used to having so much obvious desire directed at you, the air so thick with it you could practically taste it, heady and syrupy.

A light scraping sound regained your attention, and when you turned your head, you realized Taehyung had pulled open a particular drawer—one that he had quickly became familiar with since the start of your arrangement. He pulled out the lube he was looking for, but was much more interested in something else in there, if the mischievous look on his face was any indicator. “What’s this?” he asked, mouth a delighted box, and before you could chastise him about going through your things without permission, he was already pulling out your wand vibrator. “You got a new toy?”

“It’s not new,” you huffed, slightly embarrassed despite everything. “I just usually keep it in the shower.”

You saw his Adam’s apple dip at that information. Saw the wheels turning behind his eyes before he was quickly shutting the drawer and headed towards the bed with his loot in hand. He sat on the edge and eagerly motioned for you to follow.

Your eyes narrowed suspiciously at the vibrator he had neglected to put away, but Taehyung just reached for your hand and gently pulled you towards him until you were close enough for him to properly guide onto his lap. “Don’t be like that,” he murmured against your neck, his hot breath against the skin inciting a shiver to run through you. “Gotta prep you for the show.”

Ah yes, the show. He had faced you away from him, so now it was impossible for you to forget your captive audience. At some point, Seokjin had pulled your office chair away from your desk, and now he was lounging across the room, in direct view of the bed. His legs were comfortably spread, almost as if it was an open invitation for you to crawl onto his lap instead. Namjoon, on the other hand, was casually leaning against the desk, arms crossed. Eyes dark.

Lips trailed up your neck, quickly regaining your attention. Taehyung pressed slow kisses into the sensitive skin, humming contentedly when you tilted your head to give him better access. His hands dragged up and down your stockinged legs, his exploration only pausing to playfully snap the garter at your thigh. Your breath caught in your throat, heat thrumming through your veins at the action. You felt him smirk, and then he was tactfully lifting your legs by the knees and hooking them around his own one by one. Easily spreading your thighs by widening his own.

Easily revealing to your unsuspecting employers that your lingerie was crotchless.

The sudden display of your pussy had an immediate effect on the room, though no one said a word. The air was so charged with crackling energy that you shivered, almost breaking out in goosebumps at the onslaught of blatant desire. This close, it was quite easy for you to hear how Tae’s breath hitched, quite easy to interpret the excitement of his fingers, still compulsively tracing over the pattern of your stockings like he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. Inexplicably, you still found yourself feeling a bit shy at the salacious attention you intentionally brought upon yourself, gaze darting to the floor for a few seconds before you finally chanced a look at the other two from beneath your lashes. Seokjin was busy unabashedly staring at your spread pussy, Adam’s apple bobbing, but Namjoon was unabashedly staring at you, your heart pounding when you locked eyes.

The spell was only broken when an impatient hand guided your head to the side, Taehyung demanding your full attention. After lapping against your pulse one last time, his mouth promptly switched course to your own, the kiss sweet, but decidedly sloppy due to the angle. In any case, it was easy to quickly lose yourself in the warmth of his lips—at this point, it was all practically reflex—and you were so engrossed in the ebb of his tongue that you completely missed the rather foreboding buzzing in the room until something was being purposefully pressed against the most sensitive part of you.

“Shit,” you gasped, jerking in his hold. But it didn’t matter, because Tae’s other hand was gripping tight at your thigh, ensuring you could do nothing but squirm in his lap, breath quickening in anticipation.

“Hm?” came his casual response. You knew from experience that he only had your vibrator on the first or second level, but the way his restless fingers still plucked at your stockings told you he was nowhere near done with you. Let’s play you had teased, and he clearly intended to do just that.

Before your thoughts could linger too long on how intense this night was likely going to be, the vibrator was shifted slightly to the side, resting momentarily on your thigh so Taehyung could reach for the bottle of lube and give it a generous squeeze.

“What’s your plan?” you breathed, the question inane even to your own ears. But the words escaped you before you could even properly process them, needing to say something in an effort to distract yourself from the muted vibrations that were still trickling up your leg to your core.

Tae let out an amused exhale, clearly not fooled by your feigned nonchalance. He humored you anyway, despite your very obvious failings to suppress a shiver. “Gotta prep you,” he answered huskily, busy warming the lube with his fingers and making them visibly slick in the process.

You only had one moment—two—before you felt him sliding a finger across the seam of you. Slowly dragging the digit up from your entrance to your clit, ghosting over the bundle of nerves just enough to make your breath catch, then drifting his way back down again.

“Don’t tease,” you murmured.

That earned you a chuckle in response. “Don’t you think you’re the one being the tease here? Texting out of the blue and wearing this—”another snap of your garter against your thigh, to punctuate his point—“when you knew damn well it would drive me crazy?”

“I don’t know. Sounds like I was being pretty direct to me.”

Another chuckle. “Fair.” And without further preamble, he slipped a finger in you, your relief leaving you in a shuddery exhale. “That better?”

“M-Much.”

“How about this?”

Another finger, plunging into your willing heat and making another relieved sigh escape you at the stretch. “We’re getting there.”

You didn’t have to be able to see him to know he was grinning, always one to be entertained by the easy banter between you. Tae didn't say anything, his response better communicated by a scrape of his teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck, settling to suck on your pulse point.

You didn’t bother hiding your shiver this time, unconsciously slumping further against him, hips reflexively jerking forward to pull him in deeper.

Taehyung added a third finger, snapping and scissoring and pressing and curling. Seducing your body’s natural resistance until you really started to betray your need, hips canting greedily towards his thrusts, whines erupting from your throat.

“You’re enjoying this already, baby?” Tae cooed, delighted by how responsive you were being. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You just nodded distractedly, the familiar warmth that was building in your core and creeping down your legs making it hard to think about anything else. Still, you couldn’t help your gaze being drawn to the other occupants of the room, who seemed to be frozen in time, dutifully having not moved from their posts. Completely enraptured by the way their brother meticulously worked you open.

Tae breathed hot into the shell of your ear. “You like it when they watch you?” came his knowing whisper, a nip against the cartilage punctuating his point. “Like for them to see how good I make you feel? Hmmm? What if we show them how good you take this dick?”

Your pussy fluttered. Tae cussed under his breath, teased with the wet, pulsing grip of you and falling deeper into his own fantasy. “Fuckkk, you’re dripping all over my hand, baby. I would probably just slide right in, wouldn’t I?”

“Yesss,” you moaned. “I can take it, baby.”

“I know you can. With this perfect fucking pussy. But what if we played some more? Got you nice and juicy for me?”

“I’m always juicy,” you sassed back, but any more retorts died on your tongue when you saw him reach again for the momentarily forgotten vibrator.

Tae’s arms circled around you, his chin slotting into the crook of your neck so he could get a better look of what he intended to do. The vibrator was turned up from its low rumble and pressed unceremoniously against you, and you yelped, jolting in his hold. It was too much, and you couldn’t help but writhe against him. Still, you welcomed the sudden intensity, desperate whines freely escaping you as you hurtled toward your peak. Tae only fingered you faster in response, the undoubtedly sloppy sounds drowned out by the vibrator. “I could slide right in, but I won’t cause it’s much more fun this way. Especially since we haven’t seen each other in a while. More fun for everybody if take our time, right, baby? So how about you cum on my fingers first, and then you can pick everywhere else on me you’d like to cum?”

You could only moan freely, just like how Tae liked. If you weren’t so distracted by the way he was fucking stars behind your eyelids, you would have noticed just how affected your spectators were becoming at your display. The shifting, the subtle rubbing over pants.

But as it were, you were completely preoccupied by your swift descent into madness, your hand desperately scrabbling for purchase before ultimately rooting itself in the hair at Taehyung’s nape to await your rapidly approaching release. Because at this point, your orgasm was inevitable, your thighs quivering with the sheer force of it, every atom of you hyper-focused on achieving that satisfying end goal.

Until the sudden sound of a certain voice knocked you out of your trance.

“Stop.”

You jolted as if touching a live wire, hand immediately wrapping around Taehyung’s wrist like a vice and yanking the vibrator away from you.

For a few moments, the room was silent, save the rumble of the toy and your heavy breathing. But Taehyung was too baffled to let what just happened slide. “What’s the matter?”

You nervously licked your lips, too frozen in Namjoon’s dark stare to answer his younger brother.

“You know better,” came the blond’s low admonishment, Seokjin turning to look at him in bewilderment.

And you did know better—when you were with Namjoon, you were not allowed to cum without his express permission. It was a game the two of you played that you often lost, despite your valiant efforts. It just never occurred to you that you would still be expected to play in Namjoon’s general presence, whether he was the one touching you or not.

Jittery with your aborted orgasm and nervous excitement, you looked away, your eyes automatically averted submissively to the floor in a last effort to assuage him. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” you replied softly.

“Daddy?” Taehyung repeated incredulously. “What the fuck?” In his confusion, his hold on you slackened, and, nervous he wouldn’t take the hint otherwise, you used the opportunity to shift his fingers out of you and stumble forward on wobbly legs.

“Take your clothes off,” was your reply, breath labored and skin already veiled in a light sheen of sweat. You needed to distract him from asking too many questions right now. Needed to distract yourself from just how strongly your body was begging to fall apart.

Tae was still confused, but he didn’t need to be told twice. Off came his button-down shirt, each button popped open just roughly enough that you were surprised none of them ended up scattered across the floor in his haste. Off came his slacks, unzipped and then easily slipped down his slim hips. He paused when reaching for his underwear though, eyes narrowing at something behind you.

You didn’t even get the chance to turn around to investigate what had caught his attention before you felt it—the distinct feeling of someone hovering in your space, close enough you could feel his body heat radiating against you.

“Hey sweetheart,” came a familiar husky voice, goosebumps rippling across your body at the feel of Seokjin’s hot breath ghosting up your neck. “Can I touch you?”

“Hey,” Tae scowled.

“_____?” Jin interrupted, still only millimeters away. A whisper away, but never touching, waiting for the only permission he truly needed—yours. Not Taehyung’s.

Without a second thought, you leaned back against him, delighting in the feel of his body slotting so naturally into yours. “Yes,” you breathed, pressing your ass further into what could only be the hard jut of his cock.

Soft, plush lips trailed up your neck instantly, large hands sliding over your hips and around your waist. You immediately melted into him, your body well-trained and eager for the pleasure it knew those lips and hands would deliver.

“This wasn’t the deal,” Tae huffed, eyebrows scrunched in irritation as he finally slid off his boxer briefs. Drawn like a magnet, your eyes fell to the bounce of his freed cock, tip already shiny with precum.

Seokjin tutted distractedly, too busy nibbling along your jaw to give his youngest brother much attention. “You need to learn to share, Taehyung. The rest of society learned that concept when we were toddlers.”

“Whatever,” Tae grumbled, clearly not happy with the way the night was turning out. He only allowed his brother a few more seconds to have his way with you before he was reaching for your hands and walking you back towards the bed.

You gasped in surprise when the world was suddenly off-kilter, your hands reflexively scrambling to hold onto Tae for balance, but it was only when the two of you landed on the mattress that you realized he had purposely tipped you into him, your chests flush.

“Really, Taehyung?” you laughed, now conveniently in his embrace instead of Seokjin’s.

Tae just grinned in response, so close that his nose brushed yours. Cheekily, his hands worked the flesh of your behind.

“I’ve been wondering where those have been coming from,” you heard Seokjin say behind you, and your face heated up in realization of what he was talking about, once again shy to be so on display and open for scrutiny. You had forgotten how mottled the skin of your ass still looked, and it was a little embarrassing to be called out on it. Time apart meant the bruises were near the end of their healing stage, but though you no longer sported marks of potentially alarming colors, their faded remnants still branded you in the distinct shape of a hand.

“If you were wondering, why didn’t you ask,” you countered, tucking your face in Tae’s neck to help hide your flustered state.

“Because that’s rude,” Jin answered easily, his own hand reaching over to gently smooth over the discolored skin. “And it’s really none of my business.”

“I think they’re pretty,” Taehyung cut in from below you. This close, you could feel the rumble of his declaration, could feel the heat of his stare. Of his want.

“So do I.”

A different voice, one that made an undeniably eager shiver run through you. Slowly, you lifted your head and turned, and there was Namjoon, still standing across from the bed, eyes all pupil.

The way he was looking at you…desire rippled through your whole body in response, your next words leaving your lips before you could even process them.

“Are you going to touch me too, Daddy?”

The room was quiet, the question marinating long enough that the air became thick and heavy with the resulting tension. Just when you thought you might suffocate, Namjoon finally tilted his head. Slowly—a predator locked in on prey, playing with his meal simply for his own amusement—he stalked closer to the bed. He walked past Seokjin and made it all the way to the foot of the mattress, close enough to touch you if he so pleased.

The burn of his gaze was somehow stronger now that he was closer, a palpable energy that drew you like a moth to a flame. You couldn’t help but scramble upright when he was finally right in front of you, clambering to your knees despite Tae’s clear reluctance to let you go.

“Do you want me to?” Namjoon asked passively. He looked down at you, seemingly unimpressed by how eagerly you knelt on the mattress, just waiting for him to join you on it. “You already have enough people taking care of you. Are you really that greedy?”

“Yes,” you shivered, the action involuntary but wanting. “Want you too, Daddy.”

“Hm.” The single syllable was dismissive, but your previous time spent with Namjoon had taught you not to take that at face value. That you had to have patience, that if you simply waited him out, you would always eventually get what you wanted.

As if proving your point, Namjoon silently considered you for a few more seconds before his eyebrow finally raised in challenge. “Open,” he demanded.

Your jaw dropped instantly, tongue out, and he smiled, pleased at your obedient response.

You weren’t sure you had the energy to be bratty to him today when his brothers were still in the mix too.

“Good,” Namjoon cooed, all dimples and boy next door. The boy next door who firmly grasped your chin, lifting your head a little and leaning down. But though your eyelashes fluttered in preparation for the slot of his mouth against yours, it never came. Namjoon paused, slanted eyes quietly observing you, then spit in your open mouth instead.

“Jesus,” came Taehyung’s awed reply from behind you, but you were too busy trying not to whimper, thighs squeezing together with sudden want. Namjoon hadn’t told you you could swallow, so you didn’t, drool starting to collect until it overflowed and dribbled down your jaw.

“Very good,” Namjoon murmured, and this time, he did lean down to kiss you, all wet and sloppy. You eagerly pushed further into his space, blood thrumming with your need for more, but he pulled away before you could get too carried away. He cleared his throat, lips pink and spit-slicked. “Gonna keep being a good girl for us today?”

You immediately nodded, a thrill going through you at the way the action rapidly made his expression steel over. He tsked condescendingly. “Now, now, you know better than to not speak when spoken to.”

“I’m sorry Daddy. I promise I’ll be good.”

“Well, that definitely answers the mystery bruises.” It was Seokjin, now behind you. Somehow you hadn’t noticed him discard his shirt and climb onto the bed, too caught in Namjoon’s spell. You felt his hands drifting across your waist again, roaming up to cup your breasts and lightly pinch at your nipples through the lace. You whimpered, arching eagerly into his touch.

“Oh come on,” Taehyung whined. A turn of your head produced him, naked and sulking in the middle of the bed. “It was supposed to be my turn.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his cute pout, dutifully extracting yourself from Jin’s hold to crawl your way towards the youngest brother. “Don’t worry, baby. I know how to multitask.”

He greedily grabbed you as soon as you were in reach, holding you tight to his chest and plopping back onto the bed so you were once again on top of him, knees straddling his hips. You giggled again at his antics, flattered by his sudden possessiveness, and Tae playfully nipped at your collarbone in retaliation.

The bed dipped behind you, and then there was Seokjin again, undeterred by Tae’s petulant behavior. “Not only are you bad at sharing, but you’re only thinking about yourself,” he scoffed, grabbing your hips without preamble. “What about _____?”

Taehyung immediately bristled beneath you.

“It’s okay,” you tried to reassure, but before you could properly defend him, you suddenly found yourself face down and ass up, the sudden appearance of a tongue swiping through your slit rendering you shuddery and brain dead. “Fuck. Jin—”

You felt Seokjin’s smirk against you. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said huskily, hot breath ghosting over your most private of parts. “Couldn’t help myself. You dressed my meal up so pretty.”

That was fair, you supposed. That he made proper use of the easy access your lingerie provided, that he gave himself the opportunity to admire the tiny lacy hearts on your garter belt up close. But Seokjin didn’t allow himself to preen for very long, his focus immediately turning back to the task at hand. Laving hot and slow, your whole body tingling down to your toes.

Unconsciously, you pushed back further into his face, and Jin hummed approvingly, massaging your asscheeks, large hands spreading them apart so he could get as close to you as humanly possible. His enthusiasm has always been so fucking sexy, and you knew he wasn’t playing it up for theatrics when the slurping sounds started. You were that turned on, still frustrated from being led to the edge of the proverbial cliff and not allowed to jump, and Seokjin was more than happy to help himself to the honey he was coaxing from between your thighs.

A haze was starting to take over you, completely focused on how good he was eating you out, on how hot you were, sweat and desire prickling your skin. Your hips mindlessly circling while you vaguely tried not to drool on Taehyung’s chest.

Not that Tae seemed to mind much, hands idly roaming whatever stretch of skin he could touch, content to watch how your expression twisted and eyes glazed over as lust easily towed you under.

Seokjin pulled back a bit, chuckling at your whines of protest when he did so. But the familiar click of a top being popped open shut you up, lifting your head and looking over your shoulder to confirm your suspicions. The lube was a bit cold when it hit your asshole, and Jin wasn’t shy with the amount he squeezed out. His eyes were completely blown, enraptured by its slow decent, watching the lube trail through your pubic hair and down your slit. A distracted tongue swept across his lips, completely focused on sliding his fingers through the slick and making everything somehow even more wet.

You shivered at his touch, thighs twitching as his long fingers smoothed the lube over your bundle of nerves in sure, purposeful circles. He leaned in again, tongue blazing a hot, meandering trail up the inside of your thigh and giving the sensitive skin there a playful nip before his fervent licks returned. Tongue slipping down to caress your clit, wandering back up to dip into your throbbing cunt, and dragging back down again.

It was on one of these passes that Seokjin accidentally drifted a bit too high, your undulating hips causing him to lap over your asshole instead. You moaned, loud, and he immediately froze.

It was clear neither of you had been expecting that reaction. But while you could only describe the look on his face as light surprise, you couldn’t help but duck your head in embarrassment.

“What’s the matter?” Taehyung breathed into your hair, wondering what halted the activities.

You weren’t really sure what to say, now embarrassed by your embarrassment. But it turned out you didn’t have to say anything, Seokjin curiously testing the waters by leaning in and placing a chaste kiss against your rim. When you didn’t do anything but suck in a breath, his tongue dipped out again for a tentative lick. You shuddered, ass reflexively bucking towards him instead of pulling away, and that was all the confirmation he needed. His hands palmed your asscheeks again, spreading them open to give himself more room to press his tongue against you more confidently, and you trembled in response.

It was a foreign sensation, but not bad. You technically hadn’t marked this as a no when signing your contract, but it never even crossed your mind that getting your booty ate would be a very real possibility. You weren’t against assplay per se—you simply had never experienced it before. And never in a million years would you have expected it to feel like this.

“Mmmm, that’s good,” you couldn’t help but whimper. Electricity licked up your spine when his sloppy tongue slowly circled around the tight ring of muscle. Unbidden, your hand reached back, gliding through his hair before rooting itself and pulling in an attempt to get him impossibly closer to you.

Seokjin hummed approvingly at the your enthusiasm, the sound almost sounding like he was blowing bubbles with the way you were now shoving his face between your asscheeks. Leaning somehow further into it, he ate you out with a vigor that told you he was clearly pleased you were using him to get yourself off. You melted into his ministrations, a whine falling from your lips when he gently slipped his sinful tongue inside you, the foreign feeling making your toes curl in unexpected pleasure.

You were getting worked up. With nothing more than his mouth, Seokjin was easily restoking the blazing fire within you that only minutes before had been forced to embers. You were getting worked up, and the more you moaned and gyrated against him, the more Taehyung’s fingers twitched restlessly against your skin. If you had been in your right mind, you would have noticed his rising agitation and wouldn’t have been surprised when he suddenly grabbed you by the backs of your thighs and pulled you away from his brother. Instead, you blinked at him dazedly, pelvises flush after momentum had you inadvertently scooting further up his body.

“I’ve shared enough,” he growled, irritated. “It’s my turn now.” Another pull, and you were back on his lap, his leaking erection grinding pointedly against your slick folds. “C’mere, baby—fucking sit it on it.”

You were dazed, already pretty fucked out even though things were just getting started. The constant influx of pleasure was striking all your coherent thought, unable to understand anything other than finally being able to cross the finish line. And you knew from experience that Taehyung’s massive dick was a great way to get there, so you didn’t mind at all when he continued to maneuver you as he pleased, large hands canting your hips at a proper angle to receive him.

Your breath hitched when he finally sunk into your fervid body. You were so turned on and wet at that point that it didn’t hurt the slightest, but he was so big that the very pressure of him forcing your walls apart caused your eyes to roll back in your head, your nails pressing crescent moons into the caramel of his skin. “Ungh—”

“Shit,” Tae groaned, fingers tightening on your thighs at the wet grip of you. “Feel so fucking good, baby. Always so fucking good.”

He was buried balls deep, too on edge to give you any more than a few seconds to adjust before he was bucking wildly into you, easily scraping against your spongy nerves with every unforgiving stroke. You couldn’t do much more than take it, unfiltered moans readily escaping you. Hot and low, like they were generated deep in your pussy and Taehyung was hard at work fucking them up and out of your mouth.

You were so worked up at this point that you knew you weren’t going to last much longer, your walls tightening more and more by the second, your whole body trembling in preparation of the inevitable.

“_____,” Namjoon snapped.

It took some effort to lift your head from where you had buried it in Tae’s neck, startled into blearily looking up to meet the middle brother’s steely gaze. Your mind raced, flustered and trying to understand how you had somehow forgotten about him. When his lips curled with a whisper of a smirk, it instantly dawned on you that him fading into the background had been entirely by design.

Namjoon had allowed you to be distracted by his brothers. Had allowed them to have all the fun while he quietly watched your slow, uncontrollable descent into carnality. Because he knew that all he had to do was wait, and you would inevitably disobey him.

And then his fun would start.

You had played your part in his little game, cockily swaggered your way right into his trap with thigh highs and a smile. Too naive to notice that the situation had been rigged from the start, and now that everything was in motion, it was far too late to save yourself from your oncoming reckoning.

You were gasping, the pistoning of Taehyung’s cock setting all of your nerves alight and making it hard not to meet him thrust for thrust, trapped in meeting Namjoon’s stare through your wet lashes. He had moved to stand at the foot of the bed, close enough to touch, and he was the only person in the room who was still, bafflingly, fully-dressed.

“Please,” you babbled, too far gone to even know who your begging was directed towards. “Please, I—” Your body spazzed violently, only contained by Tae’s bruising grip as he relentlessly continued to plow into you. “Ohhh godddd! Fuckkk—ah, ahhhh—”

Against your best efforts, your cunt locked down, hard. So hard you forgot to breathe, pleasure and relief finally flooding your veins as you stuffed your face into Tae’s neck to ride it out, bucking and whining and incoherent.

Taehyung made a loud, choked noise, the feeling of you pulsing around him throwing him further into his trance. “Fuck yeah,” he growled, fingers digging into your thighs punishingly. Drilling into you harder, your release heightening his desperation for his own. Biology making him single-minded, manic, even when you started to mewl in oversensitivity. “Squeezing me so tight. Cream me good, baby. Fuck.”

You continued to tremble, nothing more at this point than sparking nerve endings. Tae lifted his head a little to lick into your awaiting mouth, kissing you wet and wild and desperate while still plunging deep inside you.

But even though you did nothing to attempt to control the torrent of whines freely spilling from your tongue, in the back of your mind, you still had the good sense to be nervous. Because even without seeing his face, you already knew Namjoon was pissed.

You had failed.

As if confirming your thoughts, fingers wrapped around your hair and pulled, naturally ripping your lips from Taehyung’s and forcing your head to lift. With nowhere to hide, you were forced to meet the full intensity of Namjoon’s glare.

“What did I say,” he demanded darkly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. Your blood pounded excitedly.

“Cut her some slack, Namjoon,” came Jin’s mild reply from behind you. Your eyes widened, not expecting his dismissive tone to go over very well.

Namjoon didn’t acknowledge his older brother, instead focusing his attention on his younger. A carefully controlled tempest that was moments away from unleashing its wrath. “Taehyung. Move.”

The swivel of Tae’s hips slowed, but didn’t stop. He was too on edge, too close to joining you in bliss. “I—g-give me a minute, hyung—”

“Move.”

You could feel just how reluctant Tae was to comply—his rutting finally stopped, but his hips still instinctually twitching in a primal need to keep fucking you. Still, something in his brother’s tone made his protest cut off in his throat, and after a few labored, frustrated breaths, he obediently slipped out of you.

You whimpered at the loss, your toes curling at the resulting friction. Between the cum that had long been leaking from you and dribbling down your thighs and the mess Tae’s cock was making in his excitement, it was hot and sticky where your bodies slotted together, and you couldn’t help the way you senselessly started to grind against him, lashes fluttering at the feeling.

Namjoon scoffed at your clear desperation. “You would have liked that, wouldn’t you?” he snapped, grip still firm in your hair. “For him to cum inside you.”

You shivered at the thought, a little embarrassed that you were so obvious. “Yes, Daddy,” you murmured, releasing a shuttering breath when you felt Tae’s slick cock jump against your stomach at your admission.

“Well you’ve been bad,” Namjoon replied slowly, as you weren’t very bright, “so you don’t get to have what you want.” He took a step forward, legs knocking into the edge of the bed, now only a breath away, and you licked your lips, mentally preparing for what you knew would come.

But before he could get any closer to you—before Taehyung could even slide from beneath you—there were once again hands on your hips.

“Hey!” Tae snapped irritably, but whatever he had to say was drowned out by your surprised, rather pathetic choking when, with a delicious roll of his hips, Seokjin unexpectedly sank inside your pliant body, thoroughly making himself at home exactly where Tae had been forced to vacate. You had been so focused on Namjoon that you somehow missed the weight shifting behind you, the telltale rustling of clothing as he pushed is sweatpants down his hips enough to free his cock so he could stuff you the hilt.

You had been saved by the eldest Kim, at least for now. But for how long would he really be able to delay your punishment?

Since he was still holding you by the hair, you could easily see the emotions flicker across Namjoon’s face at his older brother butting in, but his expression quickly settled into something mirroring cool indifference.

You knew better. Namjoon was a patient man, but you doubted he would let your disobedience slide so easily.

Seemingly uncaring of either of his brothers’ vexation, Seokjin rode your ass, hips rolling forward in constant waves, strokes long and deep and pointed. Clearly wanting to keep you mewling for him.

And as you did just that, you rapidly realized that saving you from Namjoon’s wrath had never been his intention. No, he simply liked you just like this, whiny and shivery and too fucked out to care that you were drooling and desperate.

“You feel it, sweetheart?” he asked, voice melodic and sweet. Leaning over to press plump lips up your spine and sucking on a rather sensitive spot at the back of your neck.

“Yesss,” you whined. You could feel everything, could feel the ripple of your ass every time his hips slammed against it, could feel every ridge of his cock that scraped against your insides. Sparks shot through you after every stroke, your clit forced to drag across Tae’s stomach with the force. “Fuck, you’re so big and deep, fuck, fuck.”

Seokjin just hummed, playing your body like a fiddle and pleased by how it was responding to him. Breath stuttering, toes curling, fingers gripping the sheets.

But despite how good he was making you feel, you weren’t too fucked out to overlook Namjoon this time. No, this time forgetting him was impossible, the middle brother doing nothing to hide his massive presence. He towered over you, intently watching you get railed by his older brother, and the barely suppressed fury you could sense radiating off him was making your cunt throb and head spin.

“I’m sorry, D-Daddy,” you stuttered, everything tingling at the look he fixed you with in response. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Are you?” he asked lowly, a tic in his jaw. He let the question marinate for a few moments, let you simmer beneath his intense stare. Just when you felt the overwhelming compulsion to apologize again, he finally reached for you, a single finger lifting your chin and forcing you to meet his gaze directly. With a patronizing tilt of his head, he popped open the button on his pants. “Then make it up to me.”

You were already pushing yourself to your hands and knees, desperate to please. Taehyung’s hands drifted up your sides to steady you, your body trembling from the way Seokjin still reamed into you, undeterred. You reached out for the band of Namjoon’s pants, trying to get to the important bits, but he simply tutted and smacked your hand away.

“Mouth,” he said simply, the single word full of derision.

So you leaned forward again, this time using the tip of your nose to part his fly and give you proper access to his clothed cock. He was thick and swollen already, straining against the material, and you felt him stir with interest when you mouthed at him through the fabric. Coquettish licks lapping hot against the length of him and making his hips reflexively shift forward, unconsciously chasing the stimulation. You licked and sucked until there was a noticeable wet patch, doing your best to show that your apology was sincere and give him your full attention.

But that was hard to do when his brothers were busy giving you their full attention.

Seokjin was in a trance, fingers sinking into your thighs so he could properly hammer into you. Thrusts steady and coaxing your pussy to leak its praises, your thighs sticky with your essence.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was getting noticeably antsy beneath you, fingers increasingly twitching against your damp skin the longer his brothers got more of your attention. You looked down, and the furrow of his brow and downturn of his lips were your last clues to his growing jealousy before he took action, hand reaching up to drag through the mess you were making before his thumb sought your clit, rolling and pinching. You bucked and squealed, the extra stimulation rocking you to your core and making your walls pulse dangerously enough that you found yourself squirming to escape him, grabbing Tae’s wrist for the second time that night in an act of self-preservation.

He was undeterred, rerouting his focus to your chest instead. With impatient hands, he yanked on the cups of your bodysuit, a concerning ripping noise immediately filling the room at the action. Before you could even say anything, he was already lifting his head to eagerly bite and suckle on your newly freed tits, tongue curling around a pebbled nipple and mumbling “I’ll buy you another one.”

Switching from one erogenous zone to another did nothing to quell your desire, but at least the stimulation wasn’t as intense. This you could safely enjoy, lashes fluttering, chest inadvertently pushing further into his face in silent encouragement.

And encourage you did, Taehyung creating enough suction with his mouth to properly burst capillaries. Contentedly littering your skin with marks you allowed, comfortable in knowing this was a region easily covered by your clothes.

Determined not to lose focus, you leaned forward again to continue giving Namjoon your full attention, trying to strategize the best way to get at him without using your hands. But either Namjoon finally decided to take pity on you or he was getting impatient too, because it was his own hands that reached down, only bothering to disturb his waistband enough to free his already leaking cock.

You didn’t know if it was a conditioned response from your past escapades or simply the extremely sexy sight of him giving himself a few firm, confident pumps. Either way, you felt it when you started to salivate, aching to properly taste him.

Your enthusiasm must have shown on your face, because the blond man simply smirked down at you knowingly, thumb slowly running over a prominent vein and further smearing his own mess around. “Well?” he prompted, almost sounding bored. You knew he wasn’t. That he was rock hard and dribbling precum, that his eyes were hooded yet laser-focused on the way his brothers devoured you—those were clues enough. Still, you couldn’t help the fire his feigned disinterest lit low in your belly, desperate to please him.

You started low, turning your head so you could playfully tongue first at his balls before making the long trek up the massive length of him, taking care not to accidentally involve your teeth from the way Seokjin’s thrusts were rocking you forward. Finally, you took him in your mouth, suckling on the weeping head. Humming contentedly at the salty taste and meeting his blown eyes from beneath your lashes.

Namjoon’s lips parted, but he didn’t say anything, hips twitching forward when you pressed your tongue into his slit.

You didn’t notice at first. To be fair, you were plenty preoccupied with everything else going on, with all other sensations. So you didn’t notice Taehyung’s hand drifting over your hip until he was cupping one of your asscheeks, fingers teasing further inward.

Before you could say anything, a finger sunk itself into your cunt, right next to where Jin was still plowing into you. You groaned, eyes rolling back at the added stretch, but the oldest brother wasn’t as pleased by the intrusion.

“Taehyung,” he said gruffly, voice deep with irritation and thinly-veiled hunger. But Tae just pumped the long digit into you a few times and then slowly backtracked, lightly trailing the slick back up the cleft of your ass.

“Relax,” came Tae’s mellow reply, and when he started circling a questioning finger around your rim, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or Seokjin.

Still, you shivered, breath stuttering when you realized where this was going. When the finger did nothing more than circle and lightly press against you, you released Namjoon’s cockhead from between your lips, eyes fluttering. “Yes,” you breathed hot against Namjoon’s crotch, understanding what Tae was wordlessly asking you.

A glance down produced Taehyung, eyes all pupil, tongue lolling thoughtfully in his mouth as he watched you tremble above him, tits rippling and swaying from Seokjin’s force. Finger mindlessly continuing the massaging of your hole. He locked eyes with you, making sure he understood, and then slowly started pressing the slick digit into your asshole.

You whimpered, fighting against your instinct to clamp down on him. Relax. Relax. It didn’t hurt exactly—was just pressure where you weren’t used to having any. And Tae made sure to go at a glacial pace, made sure to keep massaging your insides, to help you acclimate to the intrusion.

Distantly, you felt Jin’s thrusts slow to something much more languid, and you had a feeling the way your body was opening up for his youngest brother was more than a little distracting.

“Good?” Tae asked shakily, sinking into you bit by bit.

“Yes,” you slurred, completely fucked out. Tae’s always had large hands with long, elegant fingers, and right now, when he kept going further and further in, you were becoming privy to just how long they actually were. Your eyes threatened to roll back when his last knuckle finally breached you, and when he gave you a cursory tap after a few seconds, you had to swallow a moan.

Rather affectionately, Namjoon started caressing your face, bringing your attention back to him. Dazed, you put him back in your mouth, continuing to suck him and trying not to think about how Seokjin was revving his pace back up and Taehyung was tapping your insides in tandem. Namjoon just smiled softly down at you, and it was so sweet that you almost don’t see what happened next coming, too preoccupied with everything else that was going on. Gently, his hand drifted up—and gripped you securely by the hair, cock suddenly surging down your throat. You immediately gagged, throat repeatedly convulsing around him, and he grunted appreciatively at the feeling before pulling all the way out. Cheeks still sweetly dimpling at how wrecked you were.

And wrecked was the only way to describe you. You were gasping, jaw glistening with spit. Eyes watering and whole body twitching from all the relentless stimulation.

Namjoon only gave you a few seconds to gain your bearings before a pull of your hair had your head snapping back. Before his cock was pushing back into your panting mouth. You tried your best to relax your throat this time, taking stuttered breaths from your nose when his fucking began in earnest. Tried your best to ignore the way your jaw threatened to lock from trying to accommodate the sheer girth of him.

It was a lot. You were feeling sensations from so many areas at once—ass, tits, mouth, cunt—that your brain was absolutely swirling trying to figure out which brother’s ministrations it should be focusing on. And though the pleasure pumping through you was borderline unbearable, you couldn’t even let that overflow of emotion out, your wails stuck bubbling in your chest because you were too busy lewdly gargling on Namjoon’s cock.

You remembered, all those months ago when you’d first been considering whether you should take this job, how you'd poured yourself another glass of wine and reread the contact for the nth time thinking well, I guess I do have three holes. That’s certainly convenient.

Now that it was happening, however—now that all three of your holes were stuffed and both your mouth and your pussy were dribbling and messy and straining with effort—now, it was nothing short of intense. Nothing hurt, but you were so completely and entirely overwhelmed by all of the feeling that you thought you might just simply burst, your nerve endings crackling free and raining over the room like fireworks.

It’s too much. It was too much, but right when you were starting to consider giving Namjoon two taps on the wrist—a metaphorical yellow—he backed off on his own, easing some of the pressure. And suddenly your mouth was free, a string of saliva still connecting you to his glistening cock before the tension of him stepping back eventually made it snap.

Namjoon had eased some of the pressure, but he couldn’t stop more from surging forward in its place. Your body could only take so much of their tortuous teasing before it succumbed to its baser instincts, and it seemed you had finally reached your boiling point. In a trance, you pressed your hips backwards to meet Seokjin’s next stroke, forcing him deeper inside you and making you both shudder. And that small action was all the encouragement he needed, his primal instincts screaming at him to ruin you.

Drilling into you with new purpose, Jin fucked the remaining breath out of your lungs, staccatoed bursts of ah ah ah pouring from your drooling mouth. Panting like an animal in heat, moaning so wantonly that you would be embarrassed if you weren’t already so completely braindead with pleasure.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung breathed, watching your rapid unraveling in amazement. “You’re so fucking hot. Fuck.”

Before even realizing what was happening, you finally shattered around him, your bones liquifying at the intensity and causing you to collapse on Tae, writhing and choking into his neck.

“There you go,” Jin encouraged, words wobbling as he tried to weather the force of how tightly your walls were squeezing him.

Taehyung was curling his finger within you to lengthen your orgasm, was absently rubbing your back to guide you through it. “So perfect,” he whispered, lips fondly brushing against your temple while you shook.

When it finally ended you were left twitching and sensitive, too dizzy from the sheer force of your climax to register the thunder rolling across Namjoon’s face.

His brothers did, though.

An audible squelch filled the room when, without warning, Seokjin pulled completely out of you. Confused, you looked over your shoulder at him, only to suddenly find yourself lifted and tilted, Taehyung surging upright and taking you with him. Unprepared to catch yourself, your back easily hit the mattress, now finding yourself looking up at the three brothers who hovered over you.

“Hmmm.” Namjoon pretended to think, tone calm but eyes steely. “I could have sworn I specifically told you not to do that.”

“You did,” Jin cut in mildly, looking between the two of you curiously.

Your eyes widened, unprepared for this turn of events. You never would have pegged Jin as such an instigator, but apparently he was very interested in seeing the consequences of your continued disobedience.

Your betrayal must have shown on your face, because Seokjin’s lips pursed in amusement. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he chuckled, leaning down to press a chaste kiss against your lips. “You’ve been so good for me, but we have to be fair. And unlike Taehyung, I know how to share.”

“Am I or am I not sharing right now?” Tae griped, unamused by the dig. But you were no longer paying those two any attention, your focus now fully on Namjoon and the leisurely way he was now stripping out of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you hedged, knowing before you even said the words that they would do jack shit to appease him. “It just felt too good…”

Namjoon raised an unimpressed eyebrow, throwing his t-shirt on the floor as if it offended him. “All you keep saying is sorry,” he mused. Down went his pants and underwear, kicked out of his way. His knee hit the mattress, Taehyung shifting to the side so Namjoon could finally stalk over to where you lay, fucked open and wet. Cautiously, you met his stare, the breath halting in your lungs when you recognized the retribution that was undoubtedly about to come.

“But sorry means nothing if you don’t modify your behavior,” he tsked, eyes darkening. “So. I don’t believe you.”

That was all the warning you got before he was crowding into your space, grabbing you by the ankles and hooking them over his shoulders. Caging you in with his body, pressing close enough that his cock easily slid over the mess of your cunt, making you mewl at the sensation.

And that involuntary reaction didn’t seem to help your case with Namjoon. “More?” he scoffed, seemingly displeased, though the way he rocked his length through the seam of you told a different story. “After all that, you still want more?”

You were exhausted, thighs still quivering from your last orgasm. But you couldn’t help the way the weight of his body and the slide of his cock were causing your pussy to pulse. “Yes, Daddy,” you breathed, angling your hips down so you could deliciously meet him on his upstroke.

“And it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?” he mocked, spearing you to the hilt in one go. You choked at the intrusion, not expecting him to enter you so suddenly. At this point, you were fully prepped enough to take him, but, like his brothers, Namjoon was still a lot to take all at once.

Particularly when he had already made up his mind that the best way to punish you was with his cock.

You quickly gathered his gameplay from the immediate way he started rutting into you, not giving you any time to adjust or catch your breath. Simply railing you into the mattress, your legs over his shoulders ensuring he hit deep enough for you to feel it in your throat.

“Fuckkk,” you groaned, fingers curling in the sheets, biting down on your lip enough to taste metal. “Fuck fuck—”

“What?” he taunted, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. Making sure he scraped your g-spot on every thrust. “This is what you wanted, remember? And it’s all about what you want.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You could already feel yourself ready to clamp down again, your extremely sensitive pussy overreactive to any and all stimulation. “I want it, I want it, yesss—”

He pressed impossibly closer, bending you enough that you felt the burning strain in your legs, and that did the trick. Before you could nervously start to ponder whether you were flexible enough for what he wanted to do, you were cumming, hard, back attempting to bow with the force of it but only succeeding in making your whole body lock up and your vision blur.

Namjoon didn’t slow down during your climax, and he certainly didn’t slow down after. He fucked you like a machine, undeterred by how your pulsing walls tried to suck him in and keep him there. Undeterred by how you hopelessly whined and squirmed in overstimulation. And when you suddenly heard a familiar buzzing noise, there was nothing you could do but meet his intense gaze with wide, alarmed eyes.

“What?” he demanded, pressing your long-forgotten wand vibrator right on your clit and making you immediately jerk. The caramel of his skin was already glistening and beading with sweat, but he seemed long from tired. “You think you can cum on everbody’s dick but mine?”

It was too much, the near animalistic pace of his fucking paired with how high he had turned the vibrator making your hands shoot up, scrabbling along his biceps in a panicked response, your body now entirely on autopilot, desperately trying to save itself from its fate.

“Please,” you heard yourself beg, choking at the intensity. Legs jerking uselessly on his shoulders, nails scratching marks down his skin.

But the word that would make him stop never passed your lips. And so he continued to ignore your unsuccessful struggling, fucking you right back to orgasm, this time somehow even stronger than the last and stealing all air from your lungs.

He felt it, of course. Felt exactly how hard you were squeezing him, the tight grip of your pussy evoking the grit of his teeth.

“You’re gonna have to try harder than that to milk me,” he growled, moving the vibrator away from you just enough for you to suck in a breath. “Come on, take this dick since you want it so bad. Take it!”

And you had no choice but to take it, trying your best not to black out as he forced the coil within you to snap, again and again. You were shrieking, but you couldn’t even perceive your own actions anymore, swept completely by his unforgiving undertow of pain-lined pleasure. Namjoon was fucking you stupid, scrambling your brain as easily as if it were an egg, forcing you to your most primal of reactions, your most basest of self. Thrashing beneath him, desperate tears trickling down your cheeks, spit freely trickling from your wailing mouth.

It felt neverending, this exquisite torture, and just when you were starting to get distressed about how much longer you would be able to take it, Namjoon’s thrusts started to turn sloppy.

“This is all you wanted, right?” he panted, hips stuttering. A welcome warning for what was soon to come. His focus rapidly shifted from your orgasm to his own, and the way he tossed the still buzzing vibrator to the side was nothing short of impatient.

You blinked up blearily at him, the reduction in stimulation helping you slowly return to your body after being stuck the stratosphere.

“Wanted my nut? Agreed to fuck all of us at once just so you could get more of it, isn’t that right, babygirl?”

His intense stare told you he expected an answer, but all you could do was whine in response, hesitant to admit it. Pussy pulsing at the very visual he had conjured up. Warily, you glanced at the other two brothers, nervous at what you might find there, but one look quickly evaporated all uncertainty.

Though they had moved out of the way for Namjoon, they hadn’t moved far—still close enough for you to reach out and touch, still close enough for them to hover over you and get a close view of the action. Still close enough for you to see understanding dawn across Seokjin’s face, to see pure astonishment take over Taehyung’s.

Namjoon spotted your division in attention and was having none of it, a hand guiding your jaw until you were focusing on him again. “You like being a dirty cumslut,” he prompted mildly, your heart racing in response. Slipping a thumb between your plush lips and humming approvingly when you sucked on it, tongue twirling. “Don’t you, baby?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned hoarsely, the very admission making your whole body vibrate. The continued hammering of your sensitive core making you want to reflexively squirm away, though Namjoon’s heavy body ensured you had nowhere to go.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I like being a dirty cumslut.”

Taehyung whimpered, and it was easy for you to deduce from the rapid movement you could see from the corner of your eye that he was jacking himself off while watching you. Well and truly done with delaying his own pleasure.

And from the rather manic way Namjoon was looking at you, he was obviously on the same wavelength. “And do you know how much cumsluts love it?” A quick swipe of his tongue over his panting lips. “They want it in them. On them.”

“Please, Daddy,” you begged, nearly sobbing at the strength your want. Your head whipping around, desperately pleading with all three of them. “Please let me have it! I’ve been so good, please—”

“Holy shit,” Tae groaned, eyes rolling back in his head. “Okay baby, I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you it all. You want it all?”

“Yes. Yes, yes yes yes yesyesyes—”

Abruptly, Taehyung was pushing forward into your space, hovering more directly over you and treating you to the sight of how those long fingers were furiously pumping his cock. He was panting, a prominent vein in his neck visible because of his efforts, little whines escaping him as he viciously worked his slick length.

There was shifting on your other side, and your focus immediately turned to Seokjin. He looked back at you dazedly, lips parted, chest flushed at your attention.

“Please?” you whimpered, fully aware how pathetic you must have looked but not giving a single shit. So long as you got what you wanted. You needed them to give you what you wanted.

The oldest immediately softened at your pleading, always so willing and eager to please you. “Of course,” he breathed, hand already moving over himself with long, tight strokes. He shivered, hips reflexively jumping forward at the stimulation. “W-Where?”

A shift, and Namjoon was pulling back from you, maneuvering your legs back to the bed and sitting back on his haunches. Despite this new position, he never let his cock leave the comfort of your walls, continuing to hammer into you, jaw locked in concentration, balls smacking into your ass with a lewd slapping sound. Focused only on racing to the finish line.

“Anywhere,” you shuddered. “Everywhere, just…” Your entire body was on fire and you could barely take it, the anticipation of what was about to happen making you writhe over the sheets, whimpering pathetically. Your tongue lolling out your gasping mouth, an eager target.

And then finally—finally—you were given what you asked for. Loud, uncontrolled moans spilled from Taehyung’s lips, swiftly becoming desperate before one last squeeze of his cock had him cumming, his release spraying hot all over your breasts and slowly trailing through your cleavage.

You moaned with him, delight buzzing through your veins at being marked so intimately, and the sound seemed to trigger Namjoon, who immediately pulled out of you, expertly pumped himself a few times, and then ejaculated with a long, drawn-out grunt. After essentially edging himself for most of the night, the amount of cum he gifted you was more than generous, most of it painting your pussy in long ropes, but some of it inevitably ending up on your belly with how aggressively he was jerking himself off.

The sight of it all, the feeling, was so unbearably hot that you almost came untouched, eyes rolling back, pussy pulsing with interest despite how exhausted you were. And your obvious pleasure was what finally set off Jin, teeth digging into his lower lip while his seed spurted white across the lower half of your face and slid down your jaw, some of it delightedly landing on your awaiting tongue.

You hummed contentedly, immediately licking the thick, heady remnants from your lips so you wouldn’t waste a drop. Your eyes fluttered shut, your hands slowly and sensually trailing over your own body. Basking in it all. Purposely smearing their mess over wider stretches of skin—pinching gently at your nipples, dragging your fingers between your tits, gliding over your hips, drawing light, sticky figure eights around your clit before dipping a bit lower and slipping two cum-coated digits inside your hot walls. Your hips twitched, lazily chasing the intrusion on reflex. Simply enjoying being so completely and utterly satisfied.

You were so transfixed and in your own world that you completely forgot about the three other people still in the room, greedily feasting on the undeniably filthy way you savored what they gave you. You weren’t sure how long they let you be, but it was a voice finally breaking the silence that slowly lured back to reality.

“_____?”

The voice was gentle, yet deep, the spell cast over you immediately broken at the sound of it. It was Namjoon, hovering over you again, lips quirking into a small smile as he watched the fog disperse from your eyes. “How do you feel?”

You let out a satisfied sigh, pulling your fingers out of your pussy with hum. “Tired,” you admitted, voice raspy from the activities. “But amazing.”

His smile widened, cheeks dimpling. “I’m glad.”

Suddenly, Taehyung was laying on the bed with you, arms wrapped around your sticky form. Just like always, his sweaty body slotted easily against yours, happily nuzzling his face into your neck and apparently wholly unfazed about the fact that you were completely covered in spunk. “You’re amazing,” he chirped, pressing a flurry of kisses into your skin and making you giggle. “You know, when you told me you liked cum forever ago, I didn’t realize this was what you meant.”

“You never asked,” you shrugged, somehow still timid despite everything that had just happened. “What did you want me to say, exactly? Hey Tae, do you mind doing me a solid and shooting the club up? Or maybe can you give me a nice, relaxing facial?”

The pure bafflement of his expression had you laughing again. “In what world would I ever say no to that?” he demanded incredulously.

Amused by the turn in conversation, Seokjin bent down to press his lips against your forehead in gratitude before swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Do you mind if I use your shower?”

“Of course,” you replied, moving to direct him to your bathroom before Namjoon stopped you with a pat on the thigh.

“I’ll show him.”

You couldn’t help but watch their strong, naked forms leave the room, eyes drawn to the musculature of their backs and buttocks.

“Hey.” Tae poked you in the cheek, mirth dancing in his eyes from catching your ogling. “Focus. I’m talking to you.”

“What, I’m not allowed to enjoy the view?”

He couldn’t help but huff out a laugh, though he was undeterred from getting the answers he sought.

“I told you what I wanted,” he reminded you gently, pressing another kiss against your jaw. “You know you could have done the same.”

You shifted in his hold, sheepish. “Tae, all of this isn’t really about me…”

“What, so just because we’re paying you, you’re not supposed to enjoy it too?” he scoffed. “Baby, as we’ve just proven tonight, it’s more fun when we all have fun.”

“I always have fun!” you protested, but you were prevented from elaborating by Namjoon returning with a washcloth. He climbed back on the bed, reaching for your ankles and guiding them apart.

“Open,” he directed, his tone containing none of the dominance it often had when he usually uttered the word. You obediently followed his instruction, a soft sigh escaping your lips when he pressed the warm cloth against your thoroughly battered netherparts and started cleaning you up.

For a little bit, Taehyung watched your makeshift bath in silence, not even saying anything when Namjoon left to rinse off the towel and came back with a freshly damp one, gliding over the stained skin of your face and chest before they started to crust over. In fact, Tae didn’t speak again until your spot bath was finished and Namjoon was clambering back in the bed with the two of you, an arm slinging low over your waist as to not disturb where Tae’s rested. Pulling you against him until your chests were flush.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us on our trip?” You could feel Taehyung’s pout against your skin, displeased at the idea of being away from you for three weeks.

You huffed out a laugh, slinging a leg over Namjoon’s hip to settle more comfortably into your new position as the filling of a TaeJoon sandwich. “I’m positive. I have a lot studying to do and frankly, I’m not completely sure I can walk anymore.”

“Who said you need to walk?” Namjoon cut in sleepily.

“We can pay someone to walk for you,” came Tae’s enthusiastic, yet ridiculous offer. “We’ll be going to meetings, but you can just roam the city if you want. Or relax at the hotel. You can lounge by the pool all day and put all your food and drinks on our tab.”

Though it certainly sounded tempting, you were fully aware what the tradeoff of that makeshift vacation would be, and the absolute last thing you wanted to think about after the crazy intense session you just experienced was sex. So, despite Taehyung’s wheedling, you managed to stand firm in your decision, completely fine with waiting until they were back in the country to even consider spreading your legs for any of them again.

And you were justified when Seokjin finally reappeared, fully clothed, rubbing a towel through his hair, and informing you that his assistant Wendy would be in touch to schedule his next session for sometime after he returned.

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#taehyung smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #bts smut #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #taehyung fanfic #seokjin fanfic #namjoon fanfic #mine #husband #bae #mr. worldwide #✨kim tag✨#fic: satisfy

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umbrvx · 23 days

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i like ur art. its great and interesting!! i really like your artstyle and i really like the way u draw hsy, yjh, and kdj. you captured them so well in terms of vibes/character. also i was wondering do u have any advice to improve on drawing anatomy/poses/faces?

wahh thank you so much...!! i feel like im still trying to figure them out in a lot of ways but i do really like ironing out my visual interpretations of them so im really happy to hear if people like what im coming up with

also anon you super activated the part of my brain that cant help but yap about art theory... i spent some time writing as many tips as i could think of. unfortunately i dont think i have the time currently to do a fully illustrated guide, but ill still try to include some visual examples:

[incoming wall of text lol]

ANATOMY:

to preface i think that like 100% of the time you should reference a real life photo for anatomy rather than other artwork or drawn references. the best way to learn the body is by… well, actually looking at the body! but also artwork is informed by a person's own artistic ability/stylization choices/sense of idealism, so while looking at art can help give you an idea on how to break down forms, i think you would be best served observing real life references. i labor on this point because i do think that having over relied on drawn reference material and avoiding photographic references on the basis of not being interested on realism hindered me as a largely self-taught artist as a kid, so i want to encourage live or photographic reference since anatomy is one of the foundations from which everything else is built on. that being the case, all of my doodles i'm doing for this are going to be for the sake of example rather than to strictly say how you should or should not be drawing something

-> when you are doing a study of a photo, just try copying it as best as you can. pay close attention to the natural lines and shapes of the body -- the S-curve shape of the leg, the triangular shape of the forearm, the trapezoid shape of hips/thighs when they sit, and so on. note where the body folds or squishes or pulls; how mass will shift to accommodate a certain position. if a form is hard to visualize, focus on the negative space and carve that out, rather than strictly drawing the positive space.

don't expect to get it perfect the first time. in fact, iterate on it multiple times to build understanding. try doing it to a timer of 15, then 10, then 5 minutes. doing this will force you to have to prioritize the most important shapes. you can help reinforce this by using a thicker brush or a brush with no pen pressure (no joke ms paint works great for this) to force you to be loose and not become preoccupied with details.

-> pinterest is a great resource for finding and compiling photo reference material

-> organic shapes are curved, so embracing/emphasizing that (particularly for the extremities) can help make your drawings look more natural or fluid

POSES: -> it all begins & ends with contrapposto… you've probably heard of the line of action, which is related. if you're offsetting the shoulders & hips, it: makes poses more natural, more dynamic, and helps the pose sort of "draw itself" -- the legs will follow the direction of the hips, and you can use the arms to reinforce the angles

-> context is key. don't ask: what pose should i draw? instead ask: what do i want this character to convey? what does happiness, anger, sadness, and so forth look on this particular character? how do they express that? consider these drawings: these are both ostensibly the same pose, but look at how changing just the shape of the spine recontextualizes it.

for more on pose design i recommend watching Tracer & Pose Design 101 - The Animation of Overwatch by New Frame Plus (i promise this is a genuinely super informative video).

to expand on this, in general, all of the components of a piece (background, composition, pose, etc.) are best considered in conjunction rather than separately. it is difficult to choose a pose and then choose a background because they are missing the context that would make a piece cohesive. when you are planning a drawing, try to begin with your general concept/idea/prompt and then do several thumbnails -- small and quick doodles that should take no longer than 5 minutes each -- developing it: you may find that the pose and bg will naturally fall into place.

-> silhouette: the degree to which you need to push this varies by style but generally speaking the pose needs to be readable; i.e. instantly recognizable. try to keep important elements of the gesture outside of the silhouette. for example, if the character is pointing, keep that arm out of the interior of the body. the same pose can be more or less readable or dynamic depending on where the character is pointed in relation to the viewer

-> exaggeration!! goes along with the previous point. push the pose as much as you can (and what makes sense for your style) to communicate your pose as clearly and as intensely as possible.

FACES: -> i highly recommend the app Handy Art Reference Tool by Belief Engine for all things related to drawing hands/heads/feet. its on both android and ios. it isn't free -- it costs around $3 -- but that is seriously such a small price to pay for the amount of utility you get out of it: the hands models are fully poseable (there's also pose presets), you can rotate the head models however you want, and there is 3-point customizable lighting. it is really helpful for getting those super tricky and hyperspecific head angles that you just can't find a real life reference for. that being said given that there's only a few different head model variants, bear in mind how differences in features can affect what exactly a face will look like in those angles.

-> i still recommend doing studies of real people. as with anything else, learning generalized proportions is important, even if you are going to later on bend or break this depending on style

-> as for my own approach... it kind of depends on the style i'm doing at that particular time. for my paintings (what id consider my main style) i approach a character with a few real-world features in mind and then apply them to the best of my ability. it usually will take a few iterations to land on an interpretation i really like as i try out different things. a lot of the face also gets developed during rendering rather than through my initial sketch too, as i adjust for lighting and correct proportions on the fly

(look how much this image changes between sketch and render lol)

if i were to recommend anything, i think it would be to nail down your most distinct features first -- the ones that will make your character's face recognizable, and could apply regardless of art style. in my case with kim dokja, i knew when i first started drawing him that i wanted to give him a longer face and down-turned eyes. when i decided to do the disco elysium inspired set, in which i was breaking out of my comfort zone by letting go of any idealizations focusing on conveying characterization/making them feel "real", i landed on some more specific traits (defined lower lids/perpetually tired eyes/eyebags(?) the crease there idk how to describe it) which i continue to try to evoke even if im drawing something much more cartoony

(pictured are my first kdj -> disco elysium style -> my post de-style kdj)

as a side note, this very same process changed yjh much more dramatically

(^ that first guy is mad someone else)

those handful of key features will be the thing that you can then take into a simpler style and simplify or exaggerate to whatever degree suits you. you can also play with shape theory (square = sturdy/solid, circle = natural/smooth/welcoming, triangle = energetic/dangerous). shape theory doesn't necessarily need to be so rigid -- you can combine shapes as you please to convey whatever vibe you're going for -- so please think of it as a tool that may help rather than a rigid law you must abide by.

-> expressions: exaggerate them. thats kind of it!! make it big!!! you wanna be able to really feel those emotions. the principles of squash & stretch help here: think of how the muscles move when you, say, open the eyes or mouth really big. as one side of the face stretches open, the other side squashes to accommodate it

even without changing the position of the jaw here, moving the nose and scrunching the eyes will sell the expression

you can also play with squash/stretch to break proportions to sell a feeling more

since expressions are just, well, poses for the face, everything else for poses applies here (and facial expressions & pose should also be considered in tandem). while the term contrapposto itself just refers to the offset of the shoulders & hips, the similar principle of asymmetry also carries here as that will help make the expression a bit more dynamic.

and i think... that's it!! all i can think of at least. i hope it helps anon!!!

#umbrvx.ask #sorry the reply took a minute i have been writing this post since i got the ask im so serious #i tried to determine what advice i could give that would be the most immediately actionable #also sorry its a huge wall of text im a little crazy about learning and discussing art theory . oops (the yapper)

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 8 months

Text

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 10: March I

{{ Chapter 9: February I | Chapter 11: April I }} Chapter Directory

the fucking feels i had while writing this chapter kdfskjf

also i used "aniki" for isabel's references to levi because the english translation is "big bro" and i like aniki better so i'm going with that lol

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, mutual pining, idiots in love, mentions of floche being a dick, mentions of grief, graphic (ish) description of a fire, the one bed trope because i'm obsessed with overused cliches ✧ word count ➼ ~5.4k

It's been much too long since you went on a first date. It was at some point during high school when you had met Zack, but even that wasn't really considered a blind first date. The two of you had gotten to know each other through school and things just kind of happened.

This case with Floche was different. You barely knew him other than the fact that he was persistent.

You were fumbling around your closet, frustrated because you felt like you couldn't find anything acceptable to wear. A part of you knew that what you wore at home when not in your pajamas was fine. Just wearing a t-shirt and jeans to a casual first date was more than okay, but something nagged at you to wear a blouse or skirt.

You were acutely aware of the fact that you dressed differently around others when compared to being around Levi or when you were at home. You were also self-aware enough to know that it had to do with a huge sense of shame.

You remembered all the passive aggressive comments that Zack would make towards you unless you dressed and acted a certain way. That, plus the distasteful comments your aunt would always give you, meant that you were much too preoccupied with your appearance.

Levi glanced up at you with a disinterested expression as you ran out of your room for the fifth time asking if a certain outfit looked okay.

He was currently sitting on the couch, pretending to be on his computer typing something, his eyes flashing up multiple times as you were running around the house trying to get yourself together.

"Are you seriously going out with him of all people?"

As soon as you had exchanged numbers with Floche, Levi had the suspicion that something was going on between the two of you, although you never explicitly said what it was. There was an uncomfortable and undesirable feeling building up in his gut, but he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was. His mood had soured for the day as soon as he saw you getting ready for this supposed first date.

It must have been because you were being more rowdy than usual. That was the only explanation.

"What is that supposed to mean?" you asked with a frown.

"Just thought you'd settle for better," Levi said nonchalantly with a shrug.

He figured the increased intensity of his grumpiness was due to the fact that he would now have to deal with you struggling with navigating a relationship on top of everything else that he had to deal with, especially if it was with someone like Floche.

Deep down, Levi knew that his logic was flawed and that there was an additional factor that contributed to his unease regarding your potential new boyfriend, but he really didn't want to spend the brain power thinking about it.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" you asked, your defensive tone increasing with each additional exchange. "He's been..."

It took you a second to figure out the proper words to describe Floche.

"...nice and sweet," you finally said hesitantly.

Levi looked up at you with a skeptical expression, immediately being able to tell that you were trying to convince yourself of that as much as you were trying to convince him.

He didn't know Floche personally, but Levi was generally good at reading people, minus a certain undergrad that decided to suddenly intrude upon his life a few months ago.

Floche was what he would call a stereotypical fuckboy, and stereotypical fuckboys had a habit or pattern of trying to woo someone before disregarding them as soon as they got bored—the "swine" of undergrad culture, as Levi would call it.

"What?!" you scolded, getting increasingly irritated with your roommate's judgy expression.

"You know he's just going to screw you over, right?"

You scoffed.

"And how do you know that?"

"He's a stereotypical fuckboy, what else is there to know?"

The frustration in Levi's voice was beginning to match yours.

Floche wouldn't leave you alone at the Rumbling despite you repeatedly saying that you weren't interested in him. The rational part of you knew that Levi's instincts were right. This date was a bad idea, but part of you wanted to give Floche the benefit of the doubt, as uncertain as you were about it.

"I can take care of myself," you finally mumbled after a few seconds of silence.

Levi stared at you before looking back down towards his laptop without responding.

He knew that. Of course he knew that. You were more than capable of taking care of yourself, but he couldn't shake off that uncomfortable feeling of you going out with someone like Floche. He legitimately did think that you deserved better.

He didn't know who exactly would fit that or what characteristics they would have, but it definitely wouldn't be someone like Floche. The fact that he was even thinking about this was increasing his agitation. He wasn't a matchmaker and it also wasn't his business.

He heard the metal of your keys clicking against each other and he glanced up from his laptop again, watching you open the front door and promptly step out without a single glance back towards him, shutting the door a bit more aggressively than usual.

It seems he wasn't the only one that was pissed at the situation.

~~~~~

"No _____ today?"

"What?" Levi responded sternly as he glanced over at Nicolo, sounding oddly defensive over the innocent and casual question.

"Just wondering since she's usually in around this time," Nicolo wondered as he wiped down his pastry counter. "Was curious when I noticed you didn't have a Matcha waiting for her."

Nicolo's comment seemed to bother Levi more than he was willing to admit. Levi immediately averted eye contact and went back to quietly working at his station.

Nicolo's comment wasn't wrong. Levi did develop a habit of prepping a Matcha for you every day. It was always waiting for you by the time you arrived at the café. He even stopped charging you for it earlier last semester. It was a blatant habit to everyone except for Levi.

The frown on Levi's face grew more and more apparent. He was rarely in a great mood, but he was much grumpier than usual today. He barely responded to any comments and was in his own head for the majority of the shift. He was even being rough and slightly aggressive with his drinks, when he usually handled his teas with great care.

Something had clearly set him off before coming in for work today.

He heard the door to the café open.

"Hey look, it's aniki*!"

"Quiet down, Izzy!"

Two people walked into the café that weren't regulars: a highschooler with red ponytails and a blonde male around Levi's age.

"You'll end up giving Levi a stroke with all the attention he's suddenly getting."

These two weren't regulars to the café, but they were regulars in Levi's life. They were what he had effectively called his found family. He had met Farlan in undergrad when he was in the middle of struggling with his lack of financial aid because of his good-for-nothing uncle. Farlan had dealt with something similar the year prior and was able to help him get something sorted out. The two of them had picked up Isabel a year or two later, with Farlan officially adopting her as a younger sister to get her out of an abusive household.

Levi meant what he had said to you all those months ago: not having a "family" didn't have to be lonely.

He glanced down at his watch and saw that his shift was about over. He made eye contact with Farlan and nodded before walking into the employee storage room to take his apron off and clock out.

Hanging out with Isabel and Farlan made his mood significantly better. After calming Isabel down, the three of them walked over to a diner around the corner to catch up. It had been almost a year since he had seen them last. Levi was just busy with his studies and time got away from him. It was one of the many things that he wanted to work towards changing.

The last time that he had seen either of them was last year during spring break. Since then, Farlan had been saving up to hopefully move into the city, and to get an apartment to help support Isabel when she went off to college, if that was the route she wanted to take. When they asked Levi what his plans were after graduation, he simply scoffed and mentioned that he didn't even want to think about prospects that far out, given how early he was into his graduate career.

Although both of them had significant life updates, when it came to Levi to talk about what had changed in the past year, he found himself unsure of what to say. He still lived in this cramped town and he still attended the same university.

The only thing that really changed was you.

"Not really anything of significance," was all he said.

~~~~~

It was already 10pm by the time Levi got home. He had spent the evening hanging out with Isabel and Farlan, electing to go to a local arcade after grabbing dinner. It was late for him. He wasn't necessarily tired, given the fact that he never really slept anyway, but he rarely stayed out past 8pm voluntarily.

Since it was so late, he was surprised when he saw someone in front of the door to the lobby of your apartment complex.

Upon walking closer, he recognized their figure. It was you.

You were sitting on the steps leading up to the door, with your face buried into your knees. Your body was tense and you looked like you were shaking.

"What, did your dumb ass lock yourself out again?" he asked in a disinterested tone as he walked up to you.

You flinched as he stepped up to you and you looked up at him with a somewhat dumbfounded expression. Your eyes were slightly swollen and your nose was red. Your hair was messy and disheveled. Your eyes were wide, as if you were surprised to see him.

"Shit," you whispered as you immediately wiped away any stray tears. "Thought you'd be home already."

You found yourself out here because you weren't ready to see Levi. You thought he'd be home already, so you wanted to take some time to sit outside and gather yourself and make it look like you weren't sobbing for the past hour.

You didn't have to say what happened. He could already deduce that your date didn't go well.

Levi chose not to say anything and just sat down on the steps right next to you.

"How long have you been here?"

"Not long," you said with a sniffle as you rubbed at one of your eyes. "Maybe like 45 minutes."

"Seems pretty long to me."

You slightly pushed against his shoulder with yours in retaliation for his retort.

He was glancing down at you. Of course, he was curious over what happened, but didn't pry. He knew you. If you wanted to talk, you'd talk, whether he asked for it or not. It was incredibly annoying when the two of you first met, but it's one of the qualities he's come to appreciate about you. At least with him, you said what was on your mind.

"He blew me off," you spoke quietly as you looked down at the ground.

"Hmm?"

"Floche," you clarified, frowning. "He blew me off. And then not 10 minutes later, I find him on the phone, talking about I'm just-"

Your words trailed off as you felt your breath get caught in your throat. The tears were threatening to come on again.

Levi remained quiet but watched you intently, giving you time to gather yourself to form your words. Whether you were originally planning on telling him anything or not, he was there to listen.

"-h-how I'm just a pity date," you whispered finally, burying your face in your knees again, almost as if you were ashamed to face Levi. "So I guess you were right."

Your voice came out muffled.

Levi wasn't surprised at this information. Those "I told you so" thoughts ran through his head. It had been less than 12 hours since he blatantly told you that Floche was going to do something to fuck you over—but he didn't voice that.

He watched you as you quietly cried, your face hidden underneath your arms. He felt an uncomfortable weight build up in his chest and he was almost tempted to even lift his arm in a vain attempt at comforting you. He didn't know if that would help or make it worse.

"I'm so fucking pathetic."

"What?" he asked after you finally spoke again.

"I couldn't even get this dumb sophomore to like me long-term. I don't know what I was thinking," you mumbled as you looked back up, using the sleeve of your jacket to wipe away the tears that had recently fallen.

At this point, your cheeks felt sore and raw from how often you've had to wipe away the tears. You felt a headache rapidly approaching and there was so much pressure building up in your sinuses that you felt like your head was going to explode.

"I think I was lonely and wanted to forget the shit that's happened in previous relationships," you muttered quietly. It was unclear if you were talking to Levi or yourself. "And of course that blew up in my face. It was dumb of me to think otherwise. It's just how things always are and always will be."

Levi didn't speak at first, but his eyebrows scrunched together at your comment as he looked at you with skepticism on his face. He wasn't sure what merit your comment had or what was going on through your head to make you want to say something like that.

Whatever you were referring to within yourself seemed irrelevant as to why your date fell apart to him. The only factor that contributed to that was the fact that Floche was a dick. Nothing that you did or didn't do was to blame. The fact that you spoke in such a fatalistic way confused the shit out of him.

"Well, what are you going to do now?" he asked in a matter-of-fact tone while continuing to look down at you. "Sit here all night?"

Your finger tapped on your knee as you remained silent, as if you were nervous to say what was on your mind.

"Can you...can you stay by me?" you finally asked.

Levi scoffed.

"We live together, where the fuck am I going to go?"

"I mean here," you said with a frown. "Can you stay with me for a bit?"

Levi blinked at you a few times, as if he was genuinely surprised by the request. After a few seconds he cleared his throat and nodded.

You responded by shuffling a bit closer to him. Before you knew it, you found yourself leaning on him with your head resting against his shoulder. He was leaning back and propping himself up with his arms, which made contact with your back.

Having him this close felt oddly natural. You just naturally leaned into him and he naturally drew you in. You didn't tense upon feeling him and he didn't pull away when you leaned into him. There was no tension or awkwardness. There was just...him—and that was exactly what you needed right now.

You took a deep breath, appreciating how unexpectedly nice it felt to be against him.

You mumbled something underneath your breath.

"What?" Levi asked.

"I wish more guys were like you," you mumbled as you twiddled your thumbs together.

Levi glanced down at you without moving, not really knowing how to respond.

"Even though you can be a bit of an ass."

He rolled his eyes and slightly nudged at you in protest. Given the fact that you were leaning on him, you were rudely removed from your comfortable position, although it was only for a moment, with you immediately falling back into your original spot.

If you weren't so caught up in your own head, you might've noticed just how closely you were leaning against him or the fact that he was leaning forward to be closer to you instead of leaning further back and away.

If you weren't so caught up in your own head, you might've noticed how comfortable you were around him, or how interacting with him no longer felt effortful.

If you weren't so caught up in your own head, then you might have been able to realize that you really wouldn't mind if you had someone like him be a bit more involved in your life.

Being around him was easy.

~~~~~

There was too much chaos around you. The smell of smoke and gasoline permeated the air. There was a ringing in your head and you couldn't actually hear anything. Your vision was blurry.

You vaguely heard your parents call out your name before everything faded to black.

You took a sharp inhale and shot straight up in bed, heaving. Your pulse was going through the roof and you felt like you were drenched in your own sweat.

You were in your bedroom. The lights were off and it was in the middle of the night.

There was no fire. There was no smoke or gas. There was no one that called your name.

You looked forward with unfocused eyes as you tightly gripped onto the blanket.

It was the fourth or fifth time that you have had this nightmare within this one night alone. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw some vague scene that involved a plane crashing into a fire before everything rushed past you and left you standing alone.

You weren't there for the scene of your parents' death, so the visualization was different every time. You could remember the dream in vivid detail every single time. You could barely control your shaking and you had lost track of when the tears first started streaming out of your eyes.

Looking at the clock, you saw it was still early into the night: 1am. At this rate, you wouldn't last the night. You kept waking up every twenty minutes from the same nightmare and would wake up more and more distressed every single time.

You didn't want to go back to sleep, but you didn't want to just be alone in your room the entire time either. While the nightmare had a weaker hold on you while you were awake, you still couldn't get it out of your head.

You sniffled and wiped away your tears for the millionth time that night. You weren't sure what to do. You couldn't focus enough to do any work or to even scroll mindlessly through your phone.

Someone shuffled on the other side of your bedroom wall and you glanced over towards Levi's room. He was awake. Of course he was awake.

Without thinking, you got up out of your room, grabbed the throw over blanket from the couch, and walked towards his room. You raised your hand to knock on his door.

You froze and hesitated. While you had gotten up from your bed and moved to this physical location without a second thought just a moment ago, now you were questioning why you were even here.

This is stupid. Why am I bothering him?

"What do you want?"

You heard his voice and froze, realizing that he had heard and likely saw you fumbling around through the open crack in his door. You glanced inside and saw that he was sitting on his bed, reading.

You were kind of shy about what it was that drew you to his room and looked towards the ground, unsure of how to explain yourself.

Levi finally glanced up towards you.

"Spit it out," he said curtly.

"I..."

He had heard you tossing and turning throughout the past hour or two, so he figured it had something to do with not being able to sleep, although that still didn't explain why you were suddenly standing in his doorway.

"I don't want to be alone," you mumbled quietly. A part of you hoped that he didn't even hear you, but he did.

Levi blinked at you a few times, the frown disappearing off his face. Given the combination of the tossing and turning and how upset you seemed from just your body posture alone, he implicitly understood what was going on.

Even if it had nothing to do with the nightmares, you just weren't in a great state and he was able to tell.

"Come in," he mumbled and sighed.

You slowly scooched your way into his room.

Not wanting you to sleep in the chair, he scooched towards the edge of the bed and then patted his hand down on the opposite side.

"Just don't get the sheets dirty. I just did the laundry."

If you weren't so distressed, you'd probably make some snarky comment regarding being careful to not get his sheets "dirty", but you instead just silently crawled onto his bed, wrapping yourself in the throw over blanket you brought over from the couch.

Seeing that you were settled, he shuffled and began to get up to go read in the chair to give you space.

However, before he could even throw his feet over the side of the bed, he felt you grab at his arm.

"Wait," you said quietly with uncertainty and a hint of fear in your voice, "don't go."

His eyes went from looking at your hand on his arm to your eyes.

"Please?"

An annoyed expression appeared on his face, although it wasn't directed at you for once. He silently cursed at himself as he laid back down, being pissed that he gave into you—but at the same time, he understood.

You just needed someone to be next to you.

It wasn't like you took up that much space anyway. He continued reading his book as you tightly hugged your blanket, struggling to fall back asleep. You were still scared to close your eyes.

His eyes flashed down towards your figure as he noticed you still shuffling restlessly.

"If you can't sleep, get up and do something."

He's fought with insomnia long enough to be able to tell when it was just a night where it was difficult to sleep and when it was a night in which he wouldn't be getting any sleep at all. Most of all, he knew it was no use tossing and turning in bed for the entire night—might as well get up and try to walk off some of the restlessness.

You buried your face into his pillow, frustrated.

You were immediately hit with a mix of various scents: fresh laundry, the residual musky scent of his cologne from his clothes that smelled...smooth? You couldn't quite put words to it. It brought you a weird sense of comfort.

"I keep dreaming about my parents," you mumbled, your voice getting muffled through the pillow.

He glanced down at you.

"Yeah?" he asked, closing his book and putting it on his nightstand.

"The way they died," you muttered, looking up from the pillow, although half your face was still buried. "I haven't really thought about it since high school, but the dreams kept on coming tonight."

You groaned.

"This has only happened a few times, but it's terrible when it does."

He watched as your eyebrows furrowed together into a frown. You were glaring at his headboard now.

"It's been years already," you grumbled. "You'd think I'd be over it by now, but I'm not and I hate that I'm not."

A part of you knew that the only reason that you were this emotionally vulnerable was because of the bullshit that had happened with Floche earlier in the night throwing your entire body out of whack when it came to emotional processing. Everything stung more than it would have otherwise.

Now that you thought about it, the few other times that you did have nightmares usually occurred right after you had a big fight with Zack.

"What have you done before?" Levi asked, nudging you.

"What?" you asked, finally lifting your face from his pillow.

"You mentioned this has happened a few times? How did you cope?"

You looked away from him, thinking for a few seconds over how to respond, or even trying to recall what you did previously.

"Nothing really," you finally said. "My...My ex didn't really want to deal with me when it happened, so I'd either sleep on the couch or just stay up for the rest of the night. Eventually it'd go away."

The frown on Levi's face returned upon hearing about Zack's behavior towards you when distressed. Not wanting to "deal with you" seemed like shit behavior at best.

"You said you lived with your ex before here?"

"For around two years," you said with a nod before pausing. "The more I think about it, the more I realize that it wasn't the best time."

"Living with them?"

You gave Levi a grim expression.

"He wasn't particularly the best boyfriend either."

An empty look appeared in your eyes as you recalled memories of your relationship with Zack. It had started out normal, but quickly evolved into a relationship that was controlling in which Zack was a combination of being a dick, negligent, jealous, and an unhealthy mix of other types of controlling behavior that could only spell out the word 'shitshow'.

"Whatever," you mumbled, your mood now considerably worse. You laid back down to try to sleep again.

"I journal."

Levi spoke up before you could fully lay back down.

You gave him a confused look.

"Or grab an ice cube. Worst case, I go on a drive."

It's been a while, but having recurrent nightmares wasn't an unfamiliar experience for Levi. He's dealt with them long enough and often enough that he was able to come up with some quick coping skills to help calm his mind down. It was similar to when he used box breathing to calm you down from an anxiety attack. He had learned all this through experience. He knew what you were going through—particularly when it came to the untimely (and to be quite frank, traumatic) death of a parent figure.

You remained silent as you laid back down, facing away from him, repeating what he said in your head as you drew circles with your finger on the sheets. Levi also happened to deal with the same thing. You weren't sure if it was just the universe playing an ironic joke on you at this point.

You heard him get up to switch off the lights before coming back to lay down on the opposite side of the bed.

"Remember: if you can't sleep, go do something."

Despite the apparent persistence of your insomnia and the anxiety that would arise any time you closed your eyes, the knowledge of what Levi had told you, plus his consistent presence next to you, eventually did lull you into the calm of the sleep that your body and mind so desperately needed.

~~~~~

You were fast asleep and for once, so was Levi.

Levi's insomnia was generally relentless. This was the first time in months that he was able to stay asleep for more than 20 minutes, not to mention two hours.

Even when he did fall asleep, he couldn't ever say that it was comfortable, but that's how he felt right now. He felt at peace for once and he found himself actively not wanting to open his eyes. He rarely got to fall asleep as well as he did just now and a part of him wanted to cherish it.

He was warm in a lulling and comfortable way that was cozy and pleasant. It was a strange sensation for him.

He finally peeled his eyes open and completely froze once he realized there was another person in his bed.

Levi was momentarily confused as to where he was or who it was that he currently had his arm wrapped around. You were pulled up against him, with his arm wrapped around your waist. His face was buried in your hair, which smelled like your bodywash and the lotion that he usually got annoyed of smelling in the bathroom. It smelled oddly nice now.

His face flared up once he realized what was happening. He immediately pulled away, taking care to not accidentally wake you up. He cursed to himself, annoyed that he even let you sleep in his bed with him.

He groaned as he began to sit up and get off the bed, rubbing his eyes with his hand to try to shake his nerves off. He should've just kicked you out once he decided to also sleep.

He froze as you began to shuffle in your sleep, watching as you rolled over to face him. He looked at your face that was relaxed, with the stress from the former night and proceeding nightmares nowhere to be found. He held his gaze there for a few seconds.

Levi wasn't an idiot. He knew that he cared for you in some capacity now, although he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that development. It just brought complications in his life that he didn't need.

It also didn't help that he wasn't entirely grossed out by the fact that he had woken up with you in his arms. In fact, the only part that did gross him out was that he technically did it without you knowing or prompting for it.

He felt heat slowly rising up into his cheeks again while looking at you.

You actually looked quite adorable when you were able to sleep peacefully like this.

Levi immediately planted his face into his hand upon having that thought, holding himself there in frustration.

He peeked at you through his fingers, confused and irritated over the thoughts swirling around in his head. He vigorously shook his head after a few seconds, as if he was trying to literally shake the thoughts out of his head.

Levi rolled over towards his nightstand and tapped on his phone to check the time: 4am. He had fallen asleep for around two hours and it was too early for him to realistically get up if he didn't want to be absolutely miserable the next day.

He sighed and got up off the bed, picking up the edge of the blanket and bunching it up so that it was bundled in between his body and yours so that he didn't end up accidentally cuddling you again.

His sleep for the next few hours felt more typical to his usual nights: simply drifting in and out every 20-30 minutes.

When you finally woke up, Levi had already gotten up. He was next to you, reading in bed again. There was a cup of tea next to him, indicating that he had been up for a while—or at least long enough for him to brew the beverage for himself.

"About time," he grumbled without looking down at you.

"Hmm?" you mumbled groggily as you tried to rub the sleepiness from your eyes.

"You were hogging the blankets all night," he said with a frown, blatantly ignoring the fact that you had technically brought your own blanket into his room. "Barely got any sleep. Get out."

You turned to look at him, matching his frown.

"Liar. I heard you get up and lay back down earlier."

You weren't completely awake for it, but you vaguely remembered feeling Levi shuffle around before laying back down. You knew in some capacity that he had actually gotten some sleep.

Levi stared at you with a blank expression.

"...Whatever," he eventually mumbled. "Think what you want."

He was caught off-guard by your comment. He wasn't sure what disturbed him more: the fact that he had you pulled up against him or the fact that you were somewhat awake while he was having those conflicting thoughts.

He was beyond irritated at himself. He let you into his room and sleep in his bed next to him because he knew that you were scared to be alone, and what made it more distressing was that he did it because he didn't want you to be scared or to feel alone.

Levi Ackerman couldn't deny that he cared about you—and he absolutely hated that he cared.

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #modern!au levi #coffeeshop!au levi #college!au levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk #levi fanfiction #fics: matcha

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wenclairfamily · 23 days

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Click here to read Part 1. Click "Keep Reading" below to read Part 2.

Gomez Addams was walking through an empty hall at Nevermore Academy. All was silent... until Gomez heard one faint sound of movement for a second. Gomez stopped moving his feet, as he turned his head to inspect his surroundings. Then suddenly a figure in a black cloak jumped down from the ceiling holding a small dagger in their right hand. Gomez dodged the cloaked figure's attack, and immediately grabbed his own small dagger (which was attached with velcro to the bottom of his right shoe). Both Gomez and the cloaked figure swung their daggers at each other several times; each dodging the others' attacks. Then Gomez finally hit the wrist of the cloaked figure hard, causing the figure to drop their dagger. Gomez then made a big happy grin as he said, "Very nice. You almost had me... brother."

Then the figure took off his cloak, revealing himself to be Gomez's brother: Fester. Fester then made a big smile as he said, "And I can see this school hasn't softened you yet." Then Gomez and Fester, in the midst of excitement - bashed their foreheads against one another. The two young men laughed, as Gomez said, "Ha ha. Your skull is still as strong as ever Fester. But why are you here? I've been at this school for less than 24 hours." Fester made a sad sigh, and then looked at Gomez as he said, "And it's been so boring for me back home. I've got no one around the house to electrocute or try to stab now. So I thought I'd check out your new pad." Then Gomez padded Fester on the shoulder as he said, "Well, it's good to see you brother. However I must go. I promised someone I would help our dormitory win a special school competition today known as the Poe Cup." Fester suddenly looked cross as he said, "You're gonna ditch family for a new friend?" Then Gomez grinned as he said, "Not a new friend at all. Just another member of the family."

Then suddenly a large stack of walking hair appeared around the corner, and rushed over to Gomez as it said, "Hdsads sfgfgth gffgfdgf dmfddn." Fester immediately looked very excited as he said, "Cousin Itt! That's right. I heard you were attending here as well. How are things going?" The Cousin Itt immediately sounded upset as he said, "Yhfddf dfdss dfhkdk fbdfba pdmssd." Fester then with a caring voice said, "Oh. I'm sorry you're down a man for the Poe Cup. Hey! I know I'm not a student here, but do you think they'd let me join your team and help out?" Then Cousin Itt excitedly said, "Rmfd ffdssldk nfdu amvdb." Gomez then happily patted both Fester and Cousin Itt on their shoulders as he said, "Excellent. With three Addams men together, we are sure to meet victory today!"

***

Near the river that came close to Nevermore Academy, many students were gathering in preparation for the Poe Cup. Several boats were being placed into the water by teams wearing different matching costumes. Amongst them were Morticia and Larissa (wearing black cat outfits) who were pushing their boat into the river. As the two women checked on the condition of their boat, a smiling Larissa said, "So Morticia... ready to lead us to victory again this year?" Morticia looked a bit preoccupied as she said, "What? Oh, um... yes, of course. Sorry Larissa. My mind is... elsewhere in this moment." Larissa made a sympathetic smile as she said, "I know what's on your mind Morticia." Morticia suddenly looked worried as she said, "You do? How!?" Larissa then calmly said, "It's Raine. We're all worried about her too. However she's with the best doctors in town now. There's nothing more we can do."

Then Francoise walked over to the two ladies as she said, "Looks like the principal let one of the boys dorms get some new participants last minute. Is that allowed?" Then a curious Morticia asked, "Which boys dorm?" Then Francoise motioned nearby as she said, "That dorm." Then Morticia and Larissa noticed Gomez, Fester, and Cousin Itt pushing their own boat into the river. Gomez and Fester were dressed as pirates (which included black pants, white shirts, and black vests), while Cousin Itt only wore an eyepatch tied around near the top of his body. Larissa made a warm smile as she said, "Ah, it looks Gomez is joining Itt's team this year; and they must be dressing up as Captain Kidd and his pirate crew. I suppose that works since they were used in one of Edgar Allen Poe's stories. So nice to see Gomez is getting so involved in school activities already. He certainly is a respectable man. Wouldn't you say so Morticia?" Morticia however looked like she was a bit lost for words as she said, "Um..."

***

*Several Hours Ago:

Morticia stood surrounded by fog in the cemetery as a shadowy female figure walked towards her. Morticia looked confused as she said, "What is happening here? I demand to know your name!" Then suddenly emerging from the fog was a girl in a black dress and dark braids. The girl then glared at Morticia, and while keeping an emotionless tone to her voice she said, "My name is Wednesday Addams... and I've traveled from beyond to assist you in this important turning point of your life... mother."

Morticia stood in complete shock as he said, "You.. you called me mother... but how can that be? I was told people with my abilities could sometimes be contacted by the spirits of our ancestors... but how can I be contacted by the spirit of someone who has not yet been born? This makes no sense!" Wednesday then stepped towards Morticia as she said, "Desperate times call for desperate measures mother, and the next 24 hours are a crucial fixed point in the space time continuum... which is slowly starting to become 'unfixed'. Needless to say: if my existence, and the existence of so many others are to be preserved, it is imperative that I ensure your future marriage is to occur as history says it should."

Morticia then began to look a bit worried as she said, "Wait. You said you were my daughter from the future, and that your last name is... Addams. Then... does that mean..." Wednesday nodded her head as she said, "Yes. Gomez Addams is to be your husband one day, and my father. It's hard to explain, but there are forces at work that are trying to erase your marriage to him, and erase my very existence. However I cannot allow that to happen." Then a frustrated Morticia asked, "But why him? Why not follow my own heart? Am I to be forced to marry a man just because a fortune teller says so? Why should I marry Gomez Addams!?" Then Wednesday looked directly at Morticia with cold eyes as she said, "Because there is no soul more perfect for Morticia Frump, than the soul of Gomez Addams." Then Wednesday walked away as the fog around Morticia got thick again. Morticia began to feel a bit dizzy as she fell to the ground. Then the fog began to lift away... and a confused looking Morticia stood up.

***

In the present, Morticia looked lost in thought as she stood near the boat. The Morticia turned her head to look right at Larissa while saying, "Any woman would be fortunate enough to have a man as noble as Gomez Addams in their life." Then Larissa smiled as she said, "Any woman would be fortunate enough to have you in their life." A confused looking Morticia then asked, "What do you mean by that?" Then Larissa blushed as she nervously said, "I meant... never mind. Just silly words coming out of my mouth." Then both Morticia and Larissa heard Francoise say, "Do you both find it hard to control your urges when that person you find so attractive is right near you?" Suddenly, both Morticia and Larissa looked very nervous as Morticia said, "What do you mean?"

Then a smiling Francoise looked away as she said, "Itt... he's so handsome. That big hairball look is just magnificent. I'd try to take a chance with him... but he already has the eye of too many." Then the three girls noticed that nearby: Cousin Itt was surrounded by twenty attractive female students that were all gently petting his hair. Cousin It sounded very happy as he said, "Tsdfdn fdksldm dsgdos mfsm." Then one of the attractive female students petting Cousin Itt said, "Oh Itt, you and your naughty jokes. So... are the rumors true that you never settle for less than ten girls sharing a bed with you at one time?" Then Cousin Itt wiggled his body around as he playfully said, "Rdsd lknds fgbu aznk." Then all of the girls surrounding Cousin Itt began to giggle. Morticia meanwhile looked a bit confused as she said, "Frankly, I don't see the appeal... Not to say I'm hairball-phobic... as I do consider myself an ally."

***

A short time later, all of the teams competing in the Poe Cup were in their boats, and ready to go. The female school principal then proudly stood near the water as she loudly said, "Welcome everyone to the Edgar Allan Poe Cup; one of Nevermore Academy's proudest annual traditions. Today, we shall watch as each team here shall row to Raven Island, pull a flag from Crackstone's Crypt, and then return here. Aside from making sure their boat is not sunk, no other rules apply. First team to successfully make it back with a flag: wins the cup, along with bragging rights for the rest of the school year. Now then... let the Poe Cup begin!" Then immediately all of the boats with different students took off down the river.

***

Near the water, a female siren stood on a small beach as she took a small lizard creature out of her bag. The female siren smirked as she looked at her small lizard while saying, "Now my tiny little beast. Swim through the water, bite through the wood of all of the boats that do not belong to our sisters, and then we shall win..." Then suddenly a figure with a shovel hit the female siren in the head from behind, knocking her out. The figure then emerged from the shadows as Ansel Gates, who immediately tossed his shovel down. As Ansel's son: Garrett followed behind him, he looked concerned as he said, "Dad, did you really need to knock her out?" Ansel then casually picked up the siren's lizard creature as he said, "It only takes a siren one second to brainwash you Garrett. Couldn't take the chance. Now did you bring the formula?"

Garrett then reluctantly handed a bottle with a strange formula in it to his father while saying, "Yeah dad. It's here. What is this stuff anyway? Some magic potion?" As Ansel opened the bottle, he said, "No. Just science. If you want to outsmart the outcasts, you have to out-think them. You see I've been doing research on not just the outcasts of Nevermore, but also some of their ridiculous pets... and I learned of a formula than can add a little more growth to these pets some sirens have." A skeptical looking Garrett then asked, "Are you sure we should be doing this dad?" Ansel smirked as he said, "Just a little prank Garrett; that's all. But if it gets out of hand... well... sometimes unexpected things just happen in life." Then Ansel immediately dumped the strange formula out of the bottle, and onto the small lizard creature.

***

Gomez, Fester, and Itt had their boat reach the island in the middle of the river first. The three then jumped out of the boat as an excited Gomez yelled, "To the flag men, and then to victory!" Then Gomez's foot immediately hit a wire that was on the ground, and then suddenly a large net sprung up from the ground and captured Gomez, Fester, and Itt inside of it. As Itt struggled to get free, he yelled, "Edssa dngral dhenl!" Then Fester angerly said, "You said it Itt! Whoever did this to us, deserves to be shot in the back!" Then suddenly the three heard Morticia's voice say, "Maybe we can play that game later." Then the three men turned their heads, and saw Morticia, Larissa, and Francoise walking towards them with smiles.

Gomez then began to look very happy, and made a warm smile as he said, "Hello Morticia." Morticia smiled a bit as she said, "Hello Gomez." Larissa however stood proud and composed as she said, "As you can see, it's not always smart to be ahead at first. Morticia spent quite some time last night putting this trap together. Now then, Morticia - you get the flag. Francoise and I will stand watch and make sure no one sabotages our boat." Morticia nodded, and then ran off. Fester however looked annoyed as he said, "Aw come on. Being detained in a trap set up by some girl... this is humiliating." However as Gomez saw Morticia running off, he smiled while saying, "On the contrary Fester... I'm quite impressed."

***

Morticia was running in her black cat suit through the woods. She soon saw the location where the flags were set up for the teams to grab. However, just as Morticia grabbed one of the flags: she saw smoke appear, which began to slowly surround her. Morticia paused for a moment as she felt her head begin to feel a bit dizzy. Then from the smoke: Wednesday appeared glaring straight at Morticia. Morticia looked confused as she said, "You're returned. Why?"

As Wednesday kept a very straight face, she folded her arms while saying, "The timeline is beginning to become undone. I have come to tell you that you must repair it by..." Then Morticia angerly glared at Wednesday as she quickly said, "No! You will not tell me who to love, who to marry, and who to have children with. I decide my fate! The future is always filled with possibilities, and who is to say that by creating a destiny that is different than what you speak of could not make a better world."

Wednesday then stepped towards Morticia as she angerly said, "You don't understand though. If you break the sacred timeline... then you will also break yourself." Then suddenly more smoke began to surround Morticia as she began to cough. Wednesday then disappeared into the smoke, while Morticia fell to the ground and began to pass out. Then as the smoke slowly began to disappear, a large lizard monster appeared walking towards Morticia.

***

Gomez, Fester, and Itt freed themselves from the net as a happy Gomez said, "Excellent. We're free. Good work Fester." Fester meanwhile was chewing part of the net in his mouth. Then Fester stopped for a moment, smiled, and said, "My pleasure. Chewing through rope that I'm tied up in brings back lots of fun memories of my first, third, and twelfth girlfriends." Then suddenly the three men heard a strange roaring sound from nearby. A startled Itt then yelled, "Rfsdn fpfhy xldsh!" A concerned Gomez turned to look at Itt while saying, "I don't know Cousin Itt, but that noise is coming from the direction that Morticia was running in. So I say we investigate!" Gomez, Fester, and Itt then quickly ran through the woods... but stopped when they saw a 16 foot tall lizard monster was knocking over trees, roaring... and holding an unconscious Morticia in one of its claws.

Gomez had a worried look in his eyes, but then turned to look at Itt as he said, "Itt, go find us allies to help us stop this beast. In the mean time, Fester and I will do all we can to vanquish this creature and save Morticia." Itt nodded as he said, "Ythsd dfkdd!" Then as Itt ran off, Gomez turned to look at Fester while saying, "Fester, remember that fun game we played at Uncle Macabre's wedding anniversary?" Fester made a big grin, nodded his head, and then said, "You got it Gomez." Then Fester suddenly grabbed Gomez's body with his arms, and then threw Gomez high into the air. Then Fester shot small bolts of lightning out of his hands at the lizard monster while yelling, "Hey ugly! You remind me of my fourth girlfriend's hot mother!"

Gomez meanwhile, while flying into the air, grabbed a hold of a long strong vine attached to a tree. Then as the lizard monster was distracted by Fester, Gomez took out a sword that was hiding behind his back. Then as Gomez swung towards the lizard monster, he yelled, "Unhand that damsel you foul beast!" Then Gomez had his sword make a deep mark on one of the lizard monster's hands. The lizard monster shrieked in pain as it let go of Morticia. Gomez then swung quickly on the vine, and grabbed a hold of Morticia. Fester meanwhile kept the creature distracted as he shot more lightning from his hands at the beast.

As Gomez reached the ground safely with Morticia in his arms, Morticia slowly opened her eyes. Morticia, seeing the scene, quickly looked confused as she said, "What's going on? What happened to me?" Gomez smiled as he said, "A beautiful but dishonorable creature grabbed you with its foul claws Morticia. So I came to save you." Then Morticia calmly said, "Oh my. I thought I was being squeezed by my pet cobra I keep in my dorm room. I should've known better though, considering my body didn't feel quite as near death as it typically does during my usual mid-day naps." Then a confused Gomez asked, "Do you know where that creature came from?" Morticia looked curious as she said, "It looks like a pet of one of the sirens I know at school. However it's obviously grown quite a deal. I am confused though, as that species of creature isn't typically violent."

Then as Fester continued to shoot bolts of electricity at the lizard monster, the creature grew angry and had it's claws punch at the top of a large hill that contained a cave under it. Suddenly, many werewolves in the cave ran out howling with anger. The many werewolves immediately tried to attack the tall lizard creature, but the monster began to easily swat away the many werewolves in its' path. A concerned looking Morticia then said, "Oh dear. That creature is attacking those poor werewolves. Oh, I do love hearing them howl every full moon. It would be a shame for their howls to never be heard again." Then a grinning Gomez said, "Then we shall have to put that beautiful beast out of it's misery. Do you need a spare sword?" Then Morticia suddenly revealed that she was hiding behind her back: her own very large sword; which she immediately held out proudly as she said, "Oh, I am quite prepared." Gomez made a large grin, until the lizard creature immediately ran at Gomez and Morticia with its' claws out.

Gomez and Morticia then immediately moved in unison together as they ran around the creatures' sides. Then the two ran under the creature; with both of them striking their swords at the monster's two legs in the same moment. The lizard monster roared in pain, as Gomez and Morticia ran over to a nearby tree. Gomez and Morticia immediately realized the strange tall tree before them had no branches for the bottom 40 feet of its' trunk. However Morticia immediately took out a small rope from her pocket, held it out around the tree, and then gave one end of the rope of Gomez (while holding onto the other end herself). Without any time to talk or look at one another, both Gomez and Morticia ran up the tree; holding the rope with one hand, and using their other hand to hold onto the others'. Both the rope and the others' body helped balance Gomez and Morticia's bodies as they ran up the tree.

Then once Gomez and Morticia reached a set of strong branches they could stand on, both of them immediately found a strong vine they could grab onto. Morticia and Gomez gave each other one look, smiled, and then swung off the tree while holding onto their respective vines. The creature looked confused as Gomez and Morticia swung around it multiple times... until the two each grabbed onto their vines tightly, and the creature realized (too late) that the vines were now wrapping around it's neck. Then Gomez and Morticia each threw a sword into one of the monsters' eyes, blinding it. Now unable to see anything, the large group of werewolves were able to run at the lizard monster, and began biting at its' legs. Then the lizard monster finally fell to the ground. Fester immediately shot a large bolt of electricity from his hands at the creature's head... and then finally the monster was dead. The werewolves immediately made a victorious howl into the air, while Gomez and Morticia together happily said, "We did it!" Then Gomez and Morticia immediately upon instinct hugged one another with happiness and excitement all over their faces... but then after a moment, the two let go of each other, looking a bit nervous.

***

A short time later, police had arrived on the scene and were preparing to remove the body of the dead lizard monster. Morticia and Gomez meanwhile stood near some of the werewolves (who had all recently transformed back into human form, and were now wearing loose clothing). A young werewolf man then approached Gomez and Morticia as he said, "Thank you for helping save my pack. If you hadn't injured that creature in those strategic points like you did... some of us may not have survived." Gomez made a warm smile as she said, "We were just happy to help my werewolf friend." The young werewolf man then said, "I must say though... your methods may have been different... but you battled as if you had inner werewolf spirits within you. Where did you both learn to combat like that?" A smiling Morticia then said, "Well, I can at least say that much of my training comes from the self-defense courses taught at Nevermore Academy. I am just one of a very large number of students there that are well trained in many forms of combat."

The young werewolf man looked impressed as he said, "Interesting. Werewolves are often taught that our ways are superior to all... but perhaps if I have children of my own one day, I shall send them to Nevermore Academy where they could perhaps benefit from the teachings and culture of your school." Then a smiling Gomez said, "Well I've only just started attending the school myself... but I can say with great certainty now that it has already proven to be quite life changing." Then as many of the other werewolves prepared to leave, a young werewolf woman yelled, "Come on honey. Stop talking to those wimpies. We have to go!" The young werewolf man made a little sigh, and then said, "My newlywed wife. She became so demanding immediately after the wedding. Anyway, I must go. It was a pleasure to meet you two." Then before the werewolf man could leave, a curious Morticia asked, "Sir, before we part company... can we ask you your name?" The young werewolf smiled as he said, "The name's Murray... Murray Sinclair."

***

Meanwhile, far away... Ansel Gates was standing behind a tree as he was watching the police take away the body of the dead lizard monster. Ansel immediately looked incredibly angry as he said, "Those damn outcasts... they're like cockroaches. Not even a lizard monster can eliminate them. Well... I suppose it's finally time for my endgame plan."

***

Gomez and Morticia were walking back towards Nevermore Academy together as a grinning Gomez said, "Oh, that battle was magnificent. Morticia: your skills and your grace... I never thought I'd ever meet a woman with abilities as amazing as yours." Morticia smiled as she said, "You really think so? You know the very few boys in my life I fancied found my interests and skills to be... too overwhelming for them to handle." Gomez however looked at Morticia with awe as he said, "Then they can't see the perfection that I view before me." Gomez and Morticia then paused for a moment as they found themselves just looking into each other's faces. Then the two looked down... and realized that somehow by instinct, they were holding the others' hand. Then the two found their faces slowly moving towards the others'... until they heard Larissa say, "Morticia!" Gomez and Morticia then both nervously turned their heads and saw Larissa running towards them. Larissa however had just seen what had happened, and had a nervous look in her own eyes.

However Larissa tried to remain calm as she said, "It... it's good to see you're all right. I heard about what happened with that creature. However... no one has returned to the school with a flag yet, thus technically the Poe Cup isn't over. So I must ask... did you grab the flag from Crackstone's Crypt?" Morticia then quickly took a flag out of her pocket while saying, "Why yes, I did." Larissa then quickly took the flag from Morticia, and ran off with it... while she had a few tears in her eyes. Morticia then looked at Gomez briefly as she said, "I should join the other girls from Ophelia Hall now." Then Morticia walked away. Meanwhile Fester ran over to Gomez holding a flag out as he said, "Gomez. I got your team's flag! Quick! Lets get it to the finish line before that girl does!" Gomez however remained perfectly still and happy, and as he watched Morticia walk away - he said, "Fester... for the first time in my life... victory means nothing to me... for only she does now."

***

Many students were partying right outside of Nevermore Academy, as two girls from the Ophelia Hall dorm proudly held up the Poe Cup trophy. Morticia meanwhile stood off to the side, smiling as she watched the festivities. Suddenly Garrett appeared from nearby. The young man smiled and approached Morticia as he said, "Hello Morticia." Morticia looked troubled as she said, "Garrett, what are you doing here?" Garret then put his hands up calmly as he said, "I just wanted to make sure you're okay. I... I didn't mean for things to get out of hand the way they did." A confused looking Morticia then asked, "What do you mean? Regardless, you must leave now. This is not your school. You are trespassing... which isn't smart considering many police officers are currently on the school property due to what just happened." Then Morticia saw a police officer nearby, as she yelled, "Oh, officer..."

Garrett however looked angry as he said, "Enough! You think that scares me? My father has the sheriff in his pocket!" Morticia looked a bit nervous as her body began to tremble... but then she quickly blurted out, "I've found someone else Garrett. There's another man I've fallen in love with. If you really care about me, you'll accept that and leave." Garrett suddenly had a heart broken look in his eyes. Then upon seeing that several curious police officers were coming his way, Garrett ran off with tears in his eyes. Morticia then turned and walked in the opposite direction... not realizing Larissa had been standing not far behind her, and had heard everything that Morticia had just said as well. Then Larissa turned away with tears in her own eyes.

***

Morticia was walking towards her dorm as she walked through one of the hallways at Nevermore Academy. However Morticia suddenly felt her head feel disoriented as smoke began to surround her. Then from the smoke, Wednesday showed herself as she said, "There are things we need to discuss." Morticia nodded her head as she said, "Yes, there are." Wednesday then looked directly at Morticia... then paused as some uncertainty appeared on her face... and then said, "It was wrong for me to push you to follow the destiny I set out for you. You do deserve free will... as I simply should have aided you in discovering your destiny, rather than directing you to it."

Morticia then looked at Wednesday with loving eyes as she said, "Thank you. However the truth is... I do love Gomez. I've loved him since the moment we first made formal introductions with one another. But... I don't know if I can be good enough for him. I don't know if I have the ability to truly fall in love with a man, become a housewife, or start a family." Wednesday raised one eyebrow, and then said, "No one truly ever thinks they're good enough to take on a new role in life... but if you act like you are long enough... then the act may soon enough become real." Then Wednesday walked back into the smoke as Morticia began to feel disoriented again. Then within a moment: Wednesday was gone, and soon the smoke subsided again; leaving Morticia all alone again in the hallway.

***

Larissa sat in Nevermore Academy's garden with a sad look on her face. Francoise then walked into the garden, and immediately saw how upset Larissa looked. Francoise then sat down next to Larissa as she said, "For someone whose team just won the Poe Cup a few hours ago, you don't look happy." Larissa looked down as she said, "Maybe I helped win the Poe Cup... but I feel like I've just lost something important." Then Francoise casually said, "You mean Morticia?" Larissa suddenly looked nervous as she said, "I... I... How did you know?" Francoise then made a warm smile as she calmly said, "I have my own side that I keep well hidden, so I know what disguising one's nature in plain sight looks like. So... have you ever tried to tell Morticia how you feel?" A few tears appeared in Larissa's eyes as she said, "It's not proper. It's not appropriate for a woman to have these types of feelings for another woman." Then Francoise nudged Larissa as she said, "What are you talking about? Nevermore was created as a safe haven for all outcasts to learn and grow, no matter who or what they are... and that doesn't just apply to special abilities, you know."

Larissa just looked down, and began to wipe away tears that were appearing in her eyes. Francoise looked up for a moment... and then looked directly at Larissa again as she said, "Look... right before Raine disappeared yesterday... she told me how she always felt comfortable visiting you and Morticia in that dorm of yours. According to Raine... she sensed that one day a great love would be born in that dorm room. She didn't say from whom that love would be born from... but maybe you should see if Raine was perhaps referring to you and Morticia. I mean... Morticia can't decide how she feels about you if she doesn't completely know the real you. You should take the plunge." Larissa took a deep long breath... and then stood up, smiled, and looked directly at Francoise as she said, "Thank you Francoise."

As the sun began to set, in another outdoor area of Nevermore Academy: there was a large outdoor train set located under a pavilion. Gomez was standing near the train set, as he was controlling several of the model trains. From nearby, a smiling Morticia walked over to Gomez as she said, "Why hello Gomez. I see you found the school's model train set." Gomez smiled as he said, "Of course. Designing and playing with model train sets is a hobby of mine." Morticia happily grinned as she said, "Really? Me too. Well, I did prefer more to chop off my dolls' heads when I was young. However, my father would always ask me to play model trains with him every Sunday evening growing up. Those trains always took my mind away from so many of life's more difficult challenges." Gomez smirked as he said, "They certainly do that. Come. Join me."

Gomez then moved to the side, and allowed Morticia to take a turn with the controls that operated the model trains. As Morticia operated the trains, she looked at Gomez somewhat nervously as she asked, "Gomez... the Raven dance starts in about two hours. Have you already made plans to go with anyone, like Larissa?" Gomez turned his head and then said, "No. Larissa is nice... but she's not the girl I have my eye on now." Morticia then turned to look at Gomez, and immediately the two paused as they looked into each other's eyes. The two then slowly moved their faces towards one another... but then Morticia nervously pulled her face away, and turned her eyes back onto the model train set while saying, "I just had an idea. Wouldn't it be more fun if you had the two trains on this model set crash into one another?"

An excited Gomez's eyes lit up as he said, "Brilliant idea Morticia! In fact... why not take it a step further, and blow them up just as they crash!" Morticia's face then became very excited as she said, "What a splendid idea!" Then Gomez took a hold of the controls, and changed the directions of the two small trains on the model set. Then Gomez turned to look at Morticia as he excitedly said, "When they meet at the bridge, you hit the explosion switch!" Morticia made a giddy smile, as she prepared herself. Then just as the two model trains began to crash, Morticia pressed a button - and then the two model trains were destroyed in a large fiery explosion. Gomez looked at the explosion with great pleasure in his eyes, while a very happy Morticia exclaimed: "C'est merveilleux!"

Suddenly Gomez's face looked like it was caught in a trance as he said, "Morticia... you just spoke French. Somehow... it caused me to feel... things I have never felt before." A curious Morticia then asked, "Like what?" A confused but smiling Gomez then said, "I'm not sure. However... could you speak in French again... please?" A confused looking Morticia then simply said, "C'est merveilleux?" Then a very excited Gomez put his heart over his chest while he said, "I... I feel something strange coming over me. For the first time in my life... everything feels so clear." Then a smiling and happy Morticia said, "Si magnifique."

Then suddenly Gomez's eyes widened, and then he gently grabbed Morticia's right hand and kissed it. As Gomez looked at Morticia's face briefly, he said, "I'm sorry Morticia. I don't know what I'm doing... but I can't help it." Then Gomez began to make kisses up Morticia's arm; while a smiling Morticia said, "I can help it... but I don't want to." Then a very excited Gomez looked directly at Morticia as he said, "Morticia, say something else in French. Say anything in French! Excusez moi. Soup du jour. Moulin Rogue. Anything!" Then Morticia made an excited smirk as she simply said, "Wala."

Then an over-excited Gomez immediately grabbed Morticia in his arms... and immediately the two teenagers kissed one another, while holding the other tightly. Then after a long moment of kissing, the two had their lips part (but still held the other close) as a passionate Gomez said, "Morticia... ever since the moment we made formal introductions with one another... I've felt deeply romantic feelings towards you." A smiling Morticia then happily said, "And I have felt the same. I didn't wish to speak of it at first because I thought you'd find me mad for having such intense thoughts for someone I just met." Then a happy and passionate Gomez said, "Then let us be mad together!"

Then Gomez grabbed a hold of Morticia once again, leaned her back, and the two teenagers kissed once more for a very extended period of time. As their long kiss continued: the sun set behind them, while the moonlight began to shine over them. However as Gomez and Morticia continued to kiss... Larissa came walking around the corner with a smile on her face. However as soon as Larissa saw Morticia and Gomez kissing... sadness entered her eyes, and she immediately walked away. Also in the same moment, from another direction - Garrett came sneaking in behind a bush. However Garrett too stopped as he saw Morticia kissing Gomez. Pain entered his face... and then Garrett reluctantly left the scene.

Eventually Gomez and Morticia stopped kissing, as a smiling Morticia said, "Oh Gomez... I've never felt my spirit so lifted before in my life." Then a grinning Gomez said, "I could say the same. So with that being said..." Then Gomez got down on one knee, and took a ring out of his pocket as he said, "Morticia... will you marry me?" Morticia's eyes widened in surprise as she said, "You're asking for my hand in marriage after knowing me for just a day!?" Then Gomez casually said, "Well it worked out for Romeo and Juliet, and they had a wonderful life together." Morticia smiled as she looked up briefly, and then said, "Ah, yes. Three days of marriage before committing suicide and having their remains lay together for all eternity. However... as delightful as that sounds Gomez... I would prefer to have some time to consider your proposal before answering." Gomez then stood up as he said, "Of course. Take all the time you need. But... could I at least request you be my date to the Raven dance tonight?" Morticia happily smiled as she said, "But of course."

***

In the mansion of his home, Ansel Gates was mixing together a blue formula in the kitchen. Just as Ansel poured the contents of his blue formula into a small vial, Garrett walked into the kitchen looking very sad. Ansel only casually looked at his son while saying, "Garrett, get your coat. It looks like it's about to rain, and we're going to be out tonight with work to do." Garrett then sat down in a chair looking devastated as he said, "I can't father. Morticia Frump... she's fallen in love with another man... who stole my love away from me!" Ansel rolled his eyes as he said, "Well good riddance to bad rubbish. I was already planning to have her be the first outcast we eliminated tonight after she and her friends made all those annoying calls to the police." Then Garrett looked down, with deep sadness in his eyes, as he said, "I just don't get it. How could Morticia pick Gomez Addams over me?"

Ansel suddenly had a furious look in his eyes as he said, "Addams!? Gomez Addams is at Nevermore Academy right now!?" Garrett looked up at his father with a confused face as he said, "Yeah. What does that mean to you?" Ansel then prepared to get his own coat on as he angerly said, "Gomez Addams is a direct descendant of Goody Addams: the outcast witch that murdered Joseph Crackstone and took our family's land from us! But on top of that... that psychic outcast I kidnapped yesterday, wrote down a vision she had that said Morticia Frump would marry Gomez Addams one day, and have a daughter that would be the one to end our family's work. I had already put multiple plans in place to prevent that from happening... only to realize now that I have to step up the time table of my game plan." Garrett meanwhile just look more confused as he said, "Wait. Are you say you kidnapped Raine yesterday?" Ansel then threw a coat at Garrett as he said, "Garrett, the future of our family and town is at stake. So get in the car and do as I say, now!"

***

The Raven Dance was beginning at Nevermore Academy in a large social hall. Many students walked into the event together, and many immediately went off to dance, eat, drink, and talk. Gomez and Morticia meanwhile walked into the dance room holding hands while smiling. Gomez was wearing a refined black suit, while Morticia was wearing a long black dress, with her hair running fully straight down her back. Gomez looked at Morticia with awe as he said, "The way you dressed and did your hair tonight Morticia... it's so hauntingly beautiful." Morticia blushed as she said, "Why thank you Gomez. Now then... do you know how to waltz?" Gomez grinned as he said, "Doesn't every man?" Then Gomez took Morticia's hand, and immediately led her into a slow waltz on the dance floor. As the two danced together, a smiling Morticia said, "You should be glad your cousin isn't here. He usually steals the show with his wild and elaborate dance numbers." Gomez chuckled, and then said, "Well then I suppose I should be glad Cousin Itt was suspended this afternoon after one of the teachers discovered him having a wild sex party with thirty girls in his dorm room." Then Gomez and Morticia brought their bodies even closer together, as their waltz continued.

Suddenly Larissa walked into the dance alone with pain in her eyes. She didn't talk to anyone, and just kept on walking to the middle of the dance floor where Gomez and Morticia were having their waltz together. Larissa then stopped right in front of Morticia and Gomez as she angerly said, "Having fun you two?" Gomez and Morticia immediately stopped dancing, as Gomez suddenly looked guilty while he said, "Larissa, I'm sorry. I hadn't told you for sure if I was still interested in being your date for the dance or not." Then Morticia looked guilty as she said, "No Gomez, I believe Larissa is mad at me. The two of us had come to the dance together as friends the last three years, and I hadn't informed her yet that I was planning to break our tradition." Larissa meanwhile simply looked furious as she said, "The fact that you don't even know the real reason I'm upset... is why I'm even more upset... or perhaps I'm upset because maybe this is all my fault really. Errgh. I... I hope you two are miserable together."

Then Larissa furiously walked off to another corner of the dance room. Gomez kept a calm face though as he said, "What a kind thing to hope for us. Although... I'm not sure she was completely sincere about it." Morticia then looked right at Gomez as she said, "Gomez, perhaps we could leave the dance. I'm not sure why Larissa seems so troubled, but I think we're causing it. We should create some space with her for now to give Larissa some peace of mind." Then a confused Gomez asked, "You want to cut our date short?" Then Morticia made a big smirk as she said, "I said I want us to leave the dance... I said nothing about cutting our date short. Perhaps we should go outside to catch our breath." Then Gomez made a big happy grin as Morticia motioned for him to leave the room with her.

***

As it started to rain, a car pulled up outside of Nevermore Academy. Inside of the car was Ansel and Garrett sitting beside one another. Ansel then tried to hand Garrett a small vial of a blue formula while he said, "You've broken onto these school grounds before, so do it again. I used the notes given to me by that psychic girl I took in yesterday to finally crack the formula to create Nightshade Poison in its' most deadly liquid form. That dance they're having tonight with all of those outcast scum gathered in one room will give us the perfect opportunity to sneak something special into their drinks. It'll take awhile for the symptoms to kick in... but by the time the outcasts realize they've been poisoned... it will be too late." Garrett however looked nervous as he said, "Dad, I... I can't. I can't kill Morticia."

Then Ansel suddenly looked furious as he said, "My God Garrett! Your little sister is more of a man to you. When I give Laurel a long list of instructions, she follows each command to the letter like a good soldier. Errgh. Listen to me Garrett. Those outcasts will only hurt you in the end. Just like with our ancestors, they will do more than break your heart. They'll eventually take our home, just like they did our family's original land; and sooner than we think... they'll end our lives! It's us or them Garrett! We can wait for them to make normal people like us an endangered species, or we can exterminate these vermin from our lands after hundreds of years tonight!"

Garrett however had tears in his eyes as he said, "I... I can't dad. I... " Then Ansel slapped Garrett hard in the face, and then yelled, "Prove to me you are still worthy to be called my son! Kill all those outcasts! Sneak into that dance and spike the punch bowl! End them... or I will end you. Understand!?" Garrett then took the vial with the blue formula from his dad, nodded his head while looking deadly afraid, and then said, "Yes father." Then Garrett stepped out of the car, and walked towards Nevermore Academy. However as Garrett put the vial with the blue formula in his pocket, he slowly said to himself, "Fine father. I'll kill the outcasts... but not before I kill with my own bare hands: the one who ruined everything for me first... Gomez Addams."

***

In one of the dark halls of Nevermore Academy, Gomez and Morticia were in the middle of kissing one another. Morticia then stopped kissing Gomez for a moment, as she happily said, "Un si bon embrasseur." An excited Gomez then said, "Oh Tish. The way you speak French terrorizes my soul in all the ways I love." Then Gomez and Morticia grabbed a hold of one another, and began to passionately kiss once more. Suddenly from nearby though, an angry Garrett ran up a set of stairs towards the two. With his hair wet, and murderous intent showing in his eyes, Garret yelled, "Addams!" Gomez and Morticia, clearly seeing what Garrett's intentions were without any other spoken word, slowly backed away. Morticia then glanced at Gomez as she said, "Go. Get out of here. He won't hurt me." Gomez then began to run up a set of stairs, as Morticia tried to stop Garrett. However Garrett immediately went right past Morticia, grabbed a sword from a nearby display, and ran towards Gomez with it.

Gomez then reached a higher floor of the school which was under construction (and missing a wall). As Garrett lunged at Gomez with his sword, Gomez grabbed a nearby pipe and stopped the sword. Garrett then tried to swing his sword at Gomez several times, while Gomez deflected each attack with the pipe. As Garrett swung his sword, he yelled, "Morticia was supposed to be mine! When you took her away, you ruined me, my family, and everything!" As Gomez defended himself, he looked at Garrett with compassion as he said, "You may wish to murder me Garrett, but I have no wish to murder you. A man with wonderfully sadistic passion like yours could still find a woman to have a long miserable life with. I would never want to rob someone like yourself from that." Than a furious Garrett swung his sword at Gomez again as he screamed, "Will you just shut up!" Gomez continued to defend himself with his pipe; but as he did, he looked at Garrett with pity while saying, "Garrett, I may be madly in love... but you are mad in hatred and fear... and that is a type of madness no man should bury his soul in."

Then a raging Garrett kicked Gomez in the chest, and then swung his sword towards him. However Gomez was finally able to knock Garrett's sword out of his hand, and pushed his body hard into a pillar. However, moving quickly: Garrett was able to use his fist to punch Gomez hard in the face, and then shove him to the ground. As this occurred, Morticia walked up the stairs and saw what was happening. As the battle between the two young men continued, Morticia yelled, "Garrett, no!" However Morticia's words could not be heard by the two men, as Garret got on top of Gomez, and began to throw punch after punch at his body. Morticia meanwhile stood unsure of what the best course of action to do would be as she yelled, "Garrett! Garret, stop! Leave him alone!"

However Gomez was able to get the upper hand, and then pushed Garrett off of him, and then tried to get on top of Garret's body. But then Garrett got the upper hand again, and pushed Gomez off of him, causing Gomez to roll several feet away. As Gomez laid on the ground hurt, Morticia ran to his side. However at the same moment: Garrett stood up and looked directly at Morticia and Gomez with primal rage in his eyes, and foam starting to appear from his moth. Then Gomez and Morticia looked at the fallen sword laying right near their feet. Both Gomez and Morticia then looked into each other's eyes with reluctance for a split second. Then a crazed Garrett quickly ran at Gomez with a growling sound coming from his voice. Then... the sword from the ground was lifted up...

***

Larissa was preparing to leave the Raven Dance, as one of the other students said, "Larissa, you're already leaving? The party only just started." Larissa simply had an upset look in her eyes as she said, "I didn't get enough sleep last night, so I think I'll turn in early." Then Larissa put on her coat, stepped out of the dance, took out an umbrella, and then walked into the school court yard. But then suddenly without any warning... the body of Garrett Gates fell down to the ground right before Larissa's feet. Larissa immediately screamed in terror, then looked up... and saw standing on the unfinished top floor of the school... was Gomez Addams holding a bloody sword in his hands.

***

Within an hour, many police officers were on the grounds of Nevermore Academy investigating the scene. Garret's dead body was already being put in a body bag as Sheriff Walker was talking to Larissa. As Larissa had a troubled look on her face, she had difficulty looking at the sheriff as she said, "I think he had a sword... and they had certainly had issues." Then Larissa suddenly found herself able to easily look at Sheriff Walker in the eye as she angerly said, "I don't like to tell tales Sheriff Walker... but it's all Morticia Frump's fault. They were fighting over her."

***

Within minutes, Morticia was right outside the school as she stood before a police deputy while saying, "I saw the whole thing. It was all an accident. I swear. My boyfriend... he wasn't trying to harm anyone." Then the deputy rolled his eyes, and said, "Yeah, and I just heard he's still a suspect in the investigation surrounding his own cousin's death. I wonder what other bodies your boyfriend's trial will turn up." With a pleading voice, Morticia quickly said, "All I know is that he couldn't have possibly done..." Then suddenly another deputy began to walk by while pushing along Gomez (who was in handcuffs). Gomez then turned to looked at Morticia as he said, "Tish!" Morticia then turned to look directly at Gomez, and tried to put on a calm brave face as she said, "I don't know what to say Gomez. Seeing you in handcuffs... accused of murder... I've never loved you more." Gomez made a little smile as he said, "Cara mia..." Then the deputy next to Gomez said, "All right, that's enough Addams. Lets go." Then Gomez was shoved into the nearby police car. As the police car was turned on, Morticia made a strong brave face as she said, "I'll wait for you Gomez! No matter how long it takes, I'll wait for you!"

Then as the police car began to drive away, Morticia stood still as she watched the back of Gomez's head (through the police car rear window) slowly begin to disappear from sight. Then Larissa appeared walking over to Morticia from nearby. An angry Morticia then turned to look at Larissa as she said, "How could you tell the police that Gomez murdered Garrett out of hate and spite!? I thought you were my friend Larissa!" Larissa's face, which had been filled with anger for the last several hours... suddenly was filled with a realization of the sadness her friend was feeling. Larissa then turned her head to the side as she said, "I... I'm sorry Morticia." Then Larissa walked away, just as all of the other police officers left the scene. Morticia stood alone looking brave for a moment... until her brave face broke down with sadness and tears. Morticia now began to look horrified and distraught as she began to walk into the nearby woods alone.

Suddenly though, smoke began to appear as Morticia felt momentarily disoriented. Then from the smoke... Wednesday emerged as she said, "Hello mother." Morticia then angerly looked at Wednesday with tears in her eyes as she said, "What is going on!? I thought it was my destiny to marry Gomez. Now he's being sent to jail, accused of murder; a murder that he didn't even... Errgh. Why is this happening!?" Wednesday then stepped towards Morticia as she calmly said, "You need to calm yourself mother. I know things may seem confusing, but this is all part of a greater plan." As Morticia looked up at the sky with sadness in her eyes, she said, "What great plan? Was I to fall in love with a man on this day, only to have but a few mere hours of pure happiness before he was taken from me?" Wednesday then stood behind Morticia as she said, "I understand that your young hormonal feelings for Gomez Addams, combined with my prophecy I shared with you: have confused your senses and clouded your judgment. However there was a reason for that." Then as Morticia closed her eyes, tears still came from them as she said, "And what reason would that be?"

Then without any warning... Wednesday took out a sword and stabbed Morticia through the back with it. Morticia's eyes widened with great confusion as she fell to the ground, while blood immediately began to flow out of the gaping wound in her body. Then Wednesday stood over Morticia while smiling as she said, "And you thought this night couldn't get any worse." Morticia looked up at Wednesday with pain in her eyes as she said, "How can you stab me? You're supposed to be just a spirit." Then Wednesday rolled her eyes as she said, "Actually, no. That smoke that always appeared when I showed up... I had it laced with mild hallucinogenic gases to confuse your senses. Apparently you've only just started to get visions, so that provided me with the ultimate opportunity to show up in a little puff of smoke pretending to be your daughter from the future. So glad we had notes and a drawing from the prophecy about your actual future daughter to help make me more convincing." As Morticia began to feel weaker while more blood flowed from her wound, she said, "I don't understand. Who are you Wednesday?" Then the dark girl with a pale forehead and long braids stood over Morticia as she said, "I am not Wednesday Addams. My name is Laurel Gates... and tonight Morticia Frump, is the night you die!"

TO BE CONTINUED...

*Cover art by @emeriart. Additional art by @annietheartsyartist.

#wednesday #wednesday fanfiction #addams family #gomez addams #morticia addams #gomez x morticia #gomez and morticia #morticia and gomez #addams family fanart #wednesday fanart #wednesday netflix #emeriart

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months

Text

“Hard Boot” - Dean x Reader

Part of the “Control Panel” Series

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader (Newly Established Intimate Relationship)

Tags: Dean Angst and Self-Loathing, Inability to Word, Adult Language, Dean POV

Word Count: 2500

After one night of sexual exploration, a case lured you both back into hunting mode. There was hardly time to breathe, let alone figure out how you were collectively supposed to handle this new aspect of your relationship. Is it any wonder Dean had to go and mess it up? That’s his expertise.

Note: You don’t have to read the first part, Factory Reset, to get the gist of this “What the heck are we supposed to do now? Friends to lovers” trope. But if you’re intrigued by these two, please try it.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Admit it." square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: Supernatural/Warner Bros.)

The shot glass tinks atop the counter. It’s barely audible. Dean glances up and the bartender appears, summoned by the tell tale call of a drunk.

Not just any drunk. The Fuck It Up Seven Ways To Sunday kind of drunk. Also known as Dean Winchester.

The bar is deserted. It’s 1:00 pm on a Wednesday outside the touristy parts of New Orleans.

The bartender tips the whiskey bottle in her hand. Dean nods. She pours.

“So, what exactly are you tryna drown, cher? Cause it might be easier to head a little north and walk into Lake Pontchartrain.”

Dean snorts. “Trust me, that’s crossed my mind.”

All the wrinkles in the older woman’s face droop along with her frown. “It can’t be that bad. Unless you’re broke… or your heart is.”

Dean shifts atop the stool. “My wallet’s full, thanks. Leave the bottle.”

Dean grunts at his inability to put one foot in front of the other trekking down the hallway to the hotel room. The air is spinning around him in a vortex, forcing his body to lean to the right even though his brain tries to rationally push forward. He’s in an anti-funhouse of his own creation.

He doesn’t remember how he finally gets into the room. Just that he is. He flops on the bed. Breathes in deep and holds it. Staving off the nausea that he deserves.

You should be here. Beside him. Celebrating a win.

He closes his eyes and lets the pain and loss keep him company instead in the late afternoon.

Sleep eludes him. He tosses. Turns. Spends time with his head hanging over the toilet bowl.

He stares at the alarm clock on the nightstand as it ticks over into 10 PM territory. When his eyes peel open again, it’s sometime after 1 AM.

He sniffs the air.

He smells you.

Before he can realize it’s a mistake, he springs to sitting. The hammer nailing together a house in his head takes a back seat to the elation seeing you sat at the foot of the bed.

You look demure in your side saddle position. The patient stare has Dean wondering how long you’ve been watching him sleep.

He wants to ask. But he’s afraid anything he says is going to be wrong. So he just stares back.

Your face is void of any discernible emotion.

And that freaks Dean out more than anything. Because even when he couldn’t read you like a book, he could at least hazard a guess. Even if it was wrong, it was something.

But all he sees now is a shield. A wall that he’s caused.

“I’m gonna head out.” You state in a curt tone that leaves no room for debate.

“You already were out.” The head pounding irritation preoccupies him enough that the sass spills out, uncontrolled. Your lids slit for a second. Well, he got some reaction.

“I-” You straighten up. A sorry attempt at a laugh huffs out. “Forget it.” You’re up off the bed and snagging items dropped around the room. Things are stuffed into your bag with haste.

Dean wants the elation to return to the room. Twenty-four hours prior, you were smiling. Eager to track down the Djinn. It had been a day’s drive from Lebanon to New Orleans, with a 6-hour stop in between at the Cradle Rock Motel.

Dean would have done whatever you wanted in that motel room. All that possibility and you had him flying high on adrenaline. You’d handled him with kid gloves and given him an experience he’d cherish, even if he was still sore. He would have let you strap on Marvin again and fold him like Origami. He wanted that again. He wanted it all with you.

But all you had wanted in the end as you laid in bed was to curl up and sleep in his arms. You wanted to rest before getting back on the road in your separate rides.

And the simple act of being with you. Static. Stationary. Silent. That was wonderful, too.

There was the promise of staying in bed for days after you took care of the monster together. Lingering lips. Suggestive smirks. Greedy gropes.

All of that was a distant memory now.

You throw the duffle over your shoulder. “Bye, Dean.”

He bungees off the bed. Rushes to the door to wedge between you and the exit. “That’s it?” His stomach roils at the exertion but he pushes it down.

Your voice doesn’t waver. “For now. Yeah.”

Dean holds his ground for another second. Two. Three. Four.

“Don’t make it worse.” You plead.

That reminds him the ownness of this whole mess is in fact on him. And he relinquishes.

And watches you walk out the door.

Dean clinks down the iron bunker stairs. Three weeks of hunting non-stop has joints creaking, muscles aching. He plans to beeline it to the showers and let the glorious water pressure ease some of the pain. There’s also an 80-year old bottle of Macallan in his bedroom that will ease everything else.

Sam’s out at Eileen’s. The texts back and forth earlier were short and mainly for informational purposes. Sam gave up trying to find out what was going on with Dean two weeks back. As long as he checked in and provided proof of life, Sam didn’t pester for details.

Dean marches through the war room, into the library, weaves the labyrinth of halls to get to his room.

He keeps his head down when he rounds the final corner. He doesn’t want to glimpse the door marked number 16 at the end of the hallway. It’s your bedroom. Well, whenever you crash at the bunker it’s yours.

There’s a twist in his gut when he realizes you might never sleep in that bed or cross the threshold into the Men of Letters homebase again.

He’s been avoiding returning because of all the reminders of you. The wound is as fresh and festering as it was when you left him in New Orleans. He can distract from the pain during moments occupied with cases and bad guys. This, not so much.

He opens his door, good ole number 11.

When he left this room last, you were here with him.

And goddammit. You’re all he can see no matter where his gaze lands.

The duffle drops onto the mattress. Another musty bed in another room in another hallway might be a better alternative tonight.

He considers it. He’ll decide for sure after his shower.

Dean grumbles when he gets back to the room.

It shouldn’t be possible and his mind must be playing tricks on him, but he thinks he catches the scent of you.

Yeah, he can’t sleep in here tonight.

He runs a hand through his towel dried hair and peels off Tad’s robe. He toes out of the slippers and tugs on a pair of sweats and a well-worn henley. The realization he’s donned the shirt inside out takes a backseat to the more important matter of grabbing the bottle of Macallan.

He shuffles over in bare feet and squats by the cabinet under his desk. His mouth is watering in anticipation of that smooth amber-colored nectar coating his throat.

“What the fuck?” he mumbles in confusion.

The bottle is gone.

“Looking for this?”

Dean stills at the question floating over his shoulder.

The voice isn’t something he expected to hear back at the bunker anytime soon. Maybe ever.

He rises, inhales through his nose. Mentally prepares for when he turns and faces you.

When he does rotate on his heels, he purses his lips into a tight line. He can’t let the impulse to smile win out.

You're wearing one of his flannels. It’s the black, white and gray one he hasn’t worn in ages. And the way the sweatpants hang loose and baggy and obscure your feet; well, he’s pretty sure those are his, too. Leaning against the doorsill, you look as if you’re trying way too hard to appear casual about any of this. The bottle of Macallan in your grip is displayed as a peace offering.

There’s the tiniest grin quirking up your lips. You look at the bottle, then to Dean. “I was keeping an eye on it.”

Dean inspects the liquid level of the scotch as a distraction. If he stares at that mouth of yours a second longer, he’ll forgive you for anything. “That’s about four fingers lighter than when I left.”

Your brows raise. Mouth opens. Dean knows you're ready to dispute his measurements. But something else clicks in Dean’s head and he doesn’t give you a chance.

“How long have you been staying here?”

You sigh and enter the bedroom. The bottle rests on the tiny corner table. You collapse into the chair beside it. “This’ll be my third night.”

Dean stands there. Blinks. You settling in is hopefully a good sign.

“Sam gave me a heads up that you were coming back some time tonight.”

“Why didn’t you high tail it out of here when you got wind of me?” Dean asks.

Your mouth tilts into a frown. “I came here to wait for your slow ass to return, Winchester.” You thumb at the bottle. “I may have needed some liquid courage during my stay to, you know, stick around.”

Dean crosses his arms, determined not to give an inch. Doesn’t matter how goddamn sexy you look. How your hair’s mussed from laying in bed. How his oversized shirt is unbuttoned enough at the collar to display the lovely expanse of skin from the column of your neck to the round of your shoulder. He prepares for the flailing you must have been wanting to give him so badly that you camped here for days. He tries not to think about how much he’d love to bend over so you can give him a spanking.

You stare up at him from the chair. “Oookaayyy.” Palms run over cloth-covered thighs. “I wanted to explain myself. Back in New Orleans.”

Dean shrugs, his crossed arms lifting up with the movement.

“We were a mess on that hunt.” You start. “All sorts of wrong. Second guessing. Getting in each other’s way. That Djinn got the upperhand on us because we were sloppy.”

Dean scoffs. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“You tackled it while I was about to kill the fucking thing.” You counter.

“You were getting choked out WHILE it was lighting up like an electric smurf.” Dean’s voice rises.

“I had the silver knife to its throat UNTIL you hip checked and then rolled around with Mr. Sandman doing the horizontal mambo.”

“Who was trying to pull it off me only to get a nasty throat punch?”

You raise both hands. “Look, my point is we were off our game. And I’ve never, ever had to worry about you having my back. Until that hunt.”

Dean rolls his shoulders like he’s ready to take flight. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Do you think I’m a good hunter?” you ask.

“What the hell kind of question is that?”

“A simple one.” A tap on the table precedes your rise. You stroll with purpose towards him. “Do you think I’m a good hunter?” you repeat.

“Of course I do. You might even be the third best hunter on the planet.”

You smile and, dammit, Dean melts a little. You clear your throat and the smile fades. “Then why didn’t you let me do my job?”

Dean stills. He watches your frame relax. The bravado seeps from your posture.

“Things are different between us now.” You sigh. “I hoped that what we did would bring us closer. More in sync on a hunt. But it did the exact opposite.” Another step brings you right up into Dean’s space. You latch onto a forearm. “Your head wasn’t in that hunt with me.”

“It was.”

You shake your head. “No. Your heart was. And so was mine.” Your voice breaks a little. “All I could think about was how I needed to protect you.”

“When do we not think about protecting a hunting partner?”

“That’s gotta go hand in hand with the mission, though; not take over.” The warm fingers drop from Dean’s arm. “I told Sam what happened.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “And what did Mr. Know It All have to say?”

Your shoulder lifts and almost touches your ear. “He said ‘welcome to the club.’”

“Huh?”

“Sam said you must care about me an awful lot if you were constantly undermining my ability to actually get the fucking job done. That sacrificing yourself is part of your DNA.” A full-watt smile - the one that makes Dean’s insides warm up - graces your face. “That you’ll die a hundred times over to prevent the recipient of all that care and concern from even getting a splinter in their thumb.” The snark in your tone is sharp and cutting. “Admit it.”

“Well, that’s just a flat out exaggeration.”

Suddenly, all of the playfulness in your expression is gone. You frown. “You don’t care about me like that?”

“What? No. I mean, yes, of course I care about you like that.”

“Good.” The smile returns. “Because I know for a fact that none of that is an exaggeration where Sam is concerned. You’ve figured out how to make it work with Sam. You and I are going to have to make that happen, too.”

Dean’s grinning back. “Any suggestions?”

“You could follow my lead and do what I say at all times.” You offer.

“I’m all about that in almost every scenario. Except when we’re hunting.”

You nod. “We’re not hunting now.” Dainty fingers clasp over his hand. “I’m sorry I ran away.” You whisper, staring into his eyes.

Your small frame belies your strength and formidable capability when it comes to a hunt. And though Dean’s only had one taste of your dominance in bed, you handled him with care and exerted contained control. But now Dean needs you to know how much he intends on proving his worth to you. He’s more than a deft hand wielding a machete. More than reliable backup. More than a decades long friend who can keep up with the tequila shots. He wants to be more than all of that for you.

He wriggles from under the grip to clutch your face with both hands. “I wanna tough it out with you.”

Your head tilts up and down in his hold. “Me too.”

You raise on tiptoes as he dips his head. Your lips meet in a gentle brush of skin. Dean’s skin tingles all over.

It’s only a peck. Dean pulls back so he can witness the bliss on your face. Eyes closed, mouth parted. You release a sigh. “Can we…” you start to ask.

“Anything,” Dean murmurs.

“Can we go to sleep? Start fresh in the morning? I missed you.”

Dean thinks his face will crack at the force of his smile. “Absolutely.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #spn fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #dean x you #dean x female!reader

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ghoulishsleep · 1 year

Text

The Doctor | Part 2 | The Mandalorian

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

summary: You learn more about the Child and prescribe a remedy; another answer is received.

pairing: eventual Din Djarin x OC afab!reader (no physical descriptions; reader has relatives, a surname, and backstory/personality)

word count: +1.4k

a/n: I wonder if this is overly descriptive and boring, but I'm hoping for the best. I would love feedback regarding Mando! Also, please take this as me sending out an SOS for someone to beta read lmao, because I am so uncertain.

I have Plans™ for this, so do stay tuned. And! I have an idea for a prequel fic to explain exactly how Mando knows the reader and dad. Not sure if I should make a separate work in the same universe, or include it under "The Doctor." Pls share your thoughts.

A huuuge thanks for the love so far, and also to local-fanfic-addict for the name idea on the first installment. Happy reading!

warnings: rated T, descriptions of illness, medical inaccuracies (probably), referenced character death, no y/n

You can’t help the way your eyes bug when the Mandalorian tells you his foundling’s age.

“He’s fifty?”

You regard the dollop of a creature with an air of incredulity, who now sits in a heap of brown robes on your exam table, looking to be a toss-up of misery and curiosity. Tiny, clawed fingers rest atop the bunched fabric while big, dark eyes absorb the new surroundings.

“According to his chain code, yes.”

“Huh. Can’t argue with that, ” you nod, logging the sparse information the Mandalorian proffered into your datapad along with symptoms, height, and weight.

“Any idea what species he is?” you query next, which prompts the helmet to simply shake “no.”

“Mm. So you don’t know whether he has any allergies or intolerances?”

Another shake of the helmet, “No.”

After entering a few further notes, you set your datapad aside and don a pair of exam gloves.

The Mandalorian continues to stand uncomfortably off to one side, seemingly trying to act preoccupied with taupe-hued walls and generic artwork. Part of you wishes he would just sit down and quit hovering – though you’d already offered him such once, to no avail.

You roll your stool over to the exam table, adjusting, so you’re as close to eye level with the Child as possible. Gloved hands extend in an offer for his tiny ones, which wrap around your index and middle fingers. “Hello, sweet baby. What seems to be going on with you?” you murmur, knowing well that he can’t actually tell you. However, the way he meets your eyes makes you believe he wants to.

An elongated coo that ends in another wet cough, like the one you heard earlier from within the bag, has you nodding deeply again, “Mmm, I understand. You must have had a terrible last few days.”

You can feel the Mandalorian watching as you maneuver your side of the room, retrieving items from a few drawers that slide quietly shut behind you. In truth, you feel out of place yourself without 2-1B present. He was the doctor by qualification – always there, your security blanket, your brother-droid – while you were more the shadow of one, indoctrinated by experience rather than schooling or hard-written code.

Returning to the table, you beckon the Child to open his mouth with an exaggerated “ahh” to swab the inside, which you deposit into a small machine integrated into the counter. Then you delicately prod the Child, eliciting a giggle as you listen to his heart and breathing, which pops wetly inside little lungs.

“Good job, ” you praise gently, brushing the Child’s chubby cheek with the backs of your fingers, then step away to peel off your gloves and enter your findings. Results from the machine import with a trill, populating more of the profile, and the Mandalorian shifts his weight in your periphery while you read over it, arms crossed over a broad chest.

“Although I’m sure you already figured as much, ” your hands fold briefly upon your lap. “The Child has significant lung inflammation, most commonly a result of bacterial infection. In addition to an antibiotic, I believe an antihistamine would be ideal, just in case he’s sensitive to it. Does that sound fine with you?”

Perhaps he expected you to simply tell him what he needed rather than ask because the helmet swivels the tiniest bit toward the Child, then back to you. “Yes, that’s fine.”

With a nod and the squeak of new gloves, you adjust your seat back to full height and roll between two mounted cupboards. A clear glass mortar and pestle clink together when you set them down, as do three labeled containers. All the while, the Mandalorian finally seems to relax the tiniest bit: with the Child now in the crux of one arm, he leans against the exam table.

Chalky off-white pills clatter against the glass, and you begin to gradually grind them into a fine dust, enough to eventually incorporate another viscous substance into a cohesive, opaque fluid.

Near the end, the Mandalorian breaks the relative silence, “What are you doing?”

“Compounding an oral suspension.” The pestle moves in one final pass around the bowl before you set them aside to retrieve a glass dropper bottle and funnel the liquid in. “Have you ever tried to get a child to take a pill?” Your eyes flit up to his visor briefly, imploringly. It shakes, and you smile. “It doesn’t really go over well.”

“I see, ” comes a flat reply. When you glance at the Child again, it seems he’s falling asleep resting against the Mandalorian’s cuirass. Big eyes droop shut, peeking open each time one of you speaks.

“You’ll need to give him one dropper full of the antibiotic with food twice a day for seven days, ” you explain, more softly now, then gesture to another pre-dosed bottle of tablets. “These are chewable antihistamines, which can be given once daily.”

“Seems simple enough, ” agrees the Mandalorian, standing fully as you circle the table and toggle the door open.

Your lips part soundlessly at first, shutting as a new wave of trepidation washes over you. The Mandalorian breezes past and you catch the soft green of one pointy ear beyond his arm. It feels like a risky offer, but your curiosity gets the better of you, watching his cape shift as he walks back the way you came.

“You’re more than welcome to stay here while he recovers, ” you offer quickly, closing the door and following behind. “I’ve got a guest room with an en-suite refresher, so you don’t need to pay for lodging. If everything’s right, it should be maybe a week, if that.”

You’d hate to be on the business side of that ambiguous visor – when it turns back at you, your stomach drops. Fortunately, he only seems to deliberate for a moment before you receive your next answer:

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

The Mandalorian had left you for the remainder of the afternoon – perhaps to gather items from his ship or peruse the market lining the downtown corridor – returning just as the sun began its slow descent. A short walk beyond the edge of town brought you to your home, largely unchanged by time. With some prodding, you learned the Child preferred bone broth, and anything would do for the Mandalorian.

The Child had been reluctant to take the fruit-flavored antihistamine, so you worried he would too reject a broth laden with bitter medicine. Much to your relief, however, he sucked down the nourishment – deservedly – seeming not to notice anything amiss thanks to the peppery, sweet root you’d grated in.

The Mandalorian lounges in your den, some rigidity seeming to have melted from his frame. An empty porringer sits on the caf table across from him, and the Child dozes in the sling of his arms, full of broth and medicine, button eyes narrowed to slits as he fights a losing battle against his slumber once more.

The near soundless shuffle of heavy boots upon the floor causes you to look up in time to see the Mandalorian stalking down the guest hall. You plate the food and set it on the bar counter, turning to retrieve flatware.

“I didn’t think you were going to school to be a doctor.”

The voice surprises you, its owner’s soundless return causing your hands to jostle the lip of the drawer you were in. Lips press thin to stifle a curse. You grab what you need and turn.

Then, you process what has been said.

Oh.

He remembers you, too.

You aren’t sure whether you flush, but it feels like you do, the notion softening your features somewhat, “I didn’t. I didn’t even finish the degree I was in for.”

“You seem capable enough without it.” It’s spoken matter of factly. “What happened?”

“I attended the University of Alderaan at a satellite campus for botany, and … you know. Halfway through my third year, I came home and started working with my dad, shadowing while doing side work.”

Silence draws out between you – and you’re torn about whether it’s comfortable. The Child’s soft, congested snore traveling down the hall is the only thing to disrupt it.

“My condolences, ” comes his even, modulated reply, and at first, you’re not sure what for.

“It’s fine. It was … a relief.” Your shoulder rolls in a shrug, and you smile. “All things considered, he lived a long life. This was a fun, easy retirement.”

A hum comes in reply.

“You should go eat. Rest, ” you press after another beat. “You can leave your dishes out here; I’ll take care of them tomorrow.”

“Thank you, ” the Mandalorian reiterates. You watch him retreat down the hall, food in tow.

You retire to the opposite hall, ducking your head into 2-1B’s room.

“It is the Mandalorian, ” he says decisively, as though reading your mind.

“I know.”

< Part 1 | Part 3 >

@fatima-marisa @3zae-zae3

Join My Taglist! (google forms)

#still figuring out how to tag #and still slightly embarrassed to share my writing #yeeHAW #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #star wars x reader #mando x reader #din djarin #mando

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bropunzeling · 6 months

Note

⭐star⭐ of any part of linger!!

oh god too much freedom; how do you feel about the brady/quinn relationship reveal? bc i'm gonna do the brady/quinn relationship reveal:

It’s not a great night. Matthew drinks one or two more beers than he should, enough that he’s itchy and heated long past the sun going down. He spends an hour or two swatting at mosquitoes and doing a bad job of ignoring his phone. [he is being such an awful person right now, and he knows it, and he can't stop himself. whomst among us? obvi the main reason is career stress, but i like it also as a subtle hint that heat is coming as well] What makes things worse is there’s seemingly no one to talk to. He’s too old for Taryn and her friends, who are preoccupied by classes and the upcoming field hockey season and incomprehensible friend group drama that Matthew would need a cast of characters to have a hope of figuring out. On the other hand, Brady and Quinn are lost in their own corner of the backyard, chairs angled towards each other as they talk in low voices. No point in trying to break into that conversation. [you can pry "loneliness while in the company of people who love you" as a motif out of my cold dead hands] Matthew barely makes it a few hours before giving up and going to bed.

To add insult to injury, he tosses and turns all night, head full of strange, feverish dreams. The creak of a bed. Low, gasping sounds he can barely hear. The brush of fingers along his spine. Lips pressed against his shoulder. [the way matthew's dreams played out over the course of the fic is one of those things that like, i did it twice and then i realized i was doing a motif lol. like, the way that the dreams are a space where he gets to want things that his conscious self won't allow him to, and how they're tied to his heats but he's not actually in heat at the time? so it's really a like, even when you aren't out of your mind, this is a thing that you want at least subconsciously. and i liked turning it on its head both in the next scene, where it's brady and quinn doing something matthew's so afraid of, and then of course at the end, where the dream leon isn't a dream at all. anyway. i love dreamscapes!]

“Do you want,” Leon says in the dream, almost a question. His eyes are wide and dark, his hair soft in Matthew’s hands. His mouth hovers over the curve of Matthew’s neck, breath hot and wet against Matthew’s skin. So close together that Matthew can’t breathe anything but Leon’s scent, heady and perfect. Matthew tilts his head back, eyes shut, and waits for the scrape of teeth. [it's not just that matthew's horny for leon - he's horny for leon in a specific way that he doesn't want to allow himself to want. he wants leon in the way that means he's falling right into stereotypes about how he as an omega should be, and that's why he finds it so dangerous, because what else does that mean about him? what else does that mean about how he relates to his dynamic?]

He blinks awake with his face pressed into the pillows. They smell like nothing at all.

Normally, Matthew isn’t the first to get up when he’s on vacation. But at 7:09, he has to accept that any chance of another hour of shitty, restless sleep is gone. [i love to make people have a horrible night's sleep. this is because i often have a horrible night's sleep. if i suffer so should my blorbos.] Might as well make some coffee about it.

He’s on his second cup of mediocre drip coffee, staring blankly at his phone as it stubbornly refuses to show him any new messages, [looking at this sentence is making me think about, how i use phones in fic??? v off topic lol but like, it's such a useful device. form of self-distraction. form of self-isolation. a thing you keep looking at because you're hoping someone will talk to you. it's especially useful in matthew/leon fic because like, it's one of the only methods for bridging distance. obvi here matthew is most potently wanting a message about his career (the apparent first priority) but later he's also going to be thinking about leon, too] when a clattering draws his attention.

“Oh shit,” Brady says softly, wincing as he picks up the empty seltzer cans he apparently knocked over and drops them by the overflowing recycling bin. [relatable, brady] All he has on is a ratty pair of basketball shorts, which was clearly the bare minimum to make himself presentable for coming downstairs. “I didn’t know you were up.”

Matthew shrugs and slurps his coffee. It doesn’t help the pounding in his temples. [poor matthew with his heat pms] “Yeah, well,” he says, shrugging. “Didn’t sleep great.”

Brady winces again, scratching at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Matthew says. It’s not like Brady’s responsible for his weird, hazy dreams, or the fact that once they were over he never really drifted off again. [i loved the set up/pay off of these two paragraphs. brady is saying he's sorry by rote/doesn't really think he's the cause, but also he is responsible, because matthew overheard him]

Brady nods, then goes for the cabinets, opening doors until he finds the mugs. He takes down two, pouring coffee into each of them and shoving the empty pot back into the coffeemaker. They’re gonna need some more. Matthew’s about to tell Brady to start brewing another pot when he’s distracted by the shadow of a bruise barely visible under Brady’s jaw. Not just a bruise. A hickey. [i think so far brady and quinn have been relatively careful (relatively) but the thing is, they're young and horny, and they've been talking about telling people, and that makes them be a little less cautious. like leaving marks!] One that Matthew doesn’t remember noticing yesterday. But when would Brady have had the time to—

Matthew shuts his mouth hard enough to accidentally bite his tongue and yelps.

“Dude,” Brady says, staring at him with wide-eyed concern. “Are you okay?”

Matthew blinks away the pain, jiggling his leg under the table until it eases. When it finally ebbs, he manages to gasp out, “Did you and Quinn hook up last night?” [god, this moment was so satisfying to get to. i knew from the start that they were gonna get together mid-fic, but i really wanted the whole brady/quinn relationship evolution to be one of those things where like, it just creeps in really slowly due to matthew's limited perspective. to that effect i was really careful to always make sure i was mentioning quinn in every brady scene, so like, the sense of linkage was there the whole time, but there's still that kind of wham moment when it all comes together. and i think it worked! or at least based on some initial reader comments it worked. hopefully it did :)]

Brady blanches. “What?”

“You have a,” Matthew says, reaching up and poking at the hinge of his jaw until Brady mirrors him. When Brady finds the bruise, his cheeks flush pink. “And—was that you that I heard last night?” The bed creaking, the low murmurs—those weren’t his dream. Those were real. Those were Brady and Quinn, holy shit. [subtle, boys! but again, really loved the like - reality influencing dreams aspect of this (and of course, leading to the payoff of the final dream sequence!)]

“I,” Brady stutters. His face is turning redder and redder. “We were trying to be quiet.”

“Well, you weren’t,” Matthew informs him. His own face is hot. God, how long has this been happening without him knowing? “Since when do you and Quinn hook up?”

“We’re not hooking up,” Brady blurts out. “We’re dating.” [like brady would EVER ~just hook up~, the romantic lil fuck]

Matthew blinks at him. “Dating.” [it's so so so telling that this is the thing matthew is getting stuck on :) hooking up would be understandable, because matthew has done similarly. dating, though,,,]

Brady nods, chin jutting out as he crosses his arms over his bare chest. “Yeah,” he says. “Since April.”

“Oh,” Matthew says. He can’t quite tell what he’s feeling. Relief that he hasn’t missed the obvious for too long. A strange, prickly hurt that it’s apparently been months and Brady hasn’t said a word. [obviously like, brady is gonna end up being mostly in the right in this fight, but every fight is better if both sides are a little bit right, and matthew's right to be hurt! this is a big secret to keep. i wanted matthew's bad reaction to come from an understandable place.] Even though Matthew’s his brother. Even though Matthew’s supposed to know everything Brady’s up to. “But you didn’t—have you told anyone else?”

Brady shakes his head. “Not yet. We were—it was just texting for a while, and phone calls, and stuff. We wanted to make sure we were—you know.” Brady’s as red as a lobster now. “When we were together.” [poor brady unable to think of, let alone say, that they were making sure they were sexually compatible lol]

“I get the picture,” Matthew says, saving Brady before he gets too embarrassed. “But like—you still could’ve said something,” he insists. His voice is strange and wavery and he hates it. [i feel like one of my matthew characterization touchstones is the idea of performance, outer self vs inner self, polished media self vs on the ice self vs self in company of those you trust. and especially in this fic, vulnerability is a big theme - matthew doesn't want to be looked at while he's in heat. matthew doesn't want to be perceived as soft or wanting or needy or upset. he has to be tough, he has to roll with the punches, he can't let other people in! even with the sex positions it comes up! (but if u want more discussion about that u gotta ask about that one :)) ANYWAY all this to say: he is upset here and he knows brady can tell and he hates it.]

Brady rubs his arms. “I wanted to be sure,” he says. “For us to be sure. And I—I don’t know, I wondered if you’d…”

“What?” Matthew asks, when Brady doesn’t keep talking. He would what?

Brady shrugs, an odd, stiff motion. “I dunno. Be weird.”

Matthew’s gut twists. “Why would I be weird?” he asks, voice coming out harder than he means it to. [ohhhhh buddy]

Brady gives another little shrug before looking at Matthew. His expression is familiar, the same pig-headed stubbornness Matthew’s known all his life, except for the flicker in his eyes, the way he licks his lips. [brady is extremely nervous to talk about this (for good reason)] “Well,” he says slowly. “Because I’m an alpha, and Quinn’s…”

“Yeah, I know Quinn’s a beta,” Matthew retorts. [he is trying to be soooo normal and chill about all these revelations and failing completely] He grabs his mug and takes a sip of coffee. Big mistake. The acidity makes his stomach churn even more. [i do love to make a stomach churn. lol. rip to those of us who want to throw up when we're nervous] “Why would I be weird about that?”

“I don’t know, because you’ve always been weird about that shit?” [it's always the people who know you best who can cut you down the fastest, isn't it. and brady basically has matthew's psychological profile memorized]

Matthew recoils, stung. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you fucking are,” Brady snaps back. Now his shoulders are set, feet planted far apart, ready to take up the whole kitchen. Matthew can catch Brady’s scent now, too, the sticky malt and yeast of a spilled beer that always grows stronger when he’s upset. [trying to come up with a scent profile for literally anyone other than leon (whose i knew at the outset) was like pulling teeth. for someone who does not think about smells at all, i sure picked a poor subject matter. anyway for brady i was like, wouldn't it be funny if he smelled kind of like a frat house when he's upset, and then i went for it. he smells much better when he's happy, more like fresh bread. also quinn's a beta so it doesn't matter in any case. it takes all sorts!] “You may act like dynamics don’t matter to you, like it’s all bullshit, but you’re the one who always thought that I—that every alpha wants to find a nice omega to court. That everyone wants a bond. That everyone wants to be traditional.” [i was musing on twitter the other day that i don't always write on a ~sentence~ level - when i'm writing, i'm really thinking about where i want the scene to go or what beat i want to hit and the particulars of any given sentence isn't that big a deal (though obviously i want things to have rhythm, flow, etc - it's a very "i know it when i write it" thing). that said, with every long fic i often have a dialogue exchange that i want to get in there that i've thought about a lot, and this was one of them. i knew i wanted someone calling matthew on his bullshit - how he acts like he's tough and somehow different from other omegas (which is very internalized something of him!) but he falls into the same traps that he's trying to avoid, stereotyping alphas the way he would hate to be stereotyped - and i knew it was gonna be brady.]

Matthew blinks at him, feeling oddly off-balance. He’s not used to this version of Brady, angry and bowling him over in a way that’s nothing like wrestling for an Xbox controller or blocking each other out playing basketball in the driveway. Saying that Matthew’s the one who cares too much, when it’s not even caring, not really. It’s just knowing how the world works. [i looooove this little beat, because he thinks that! he really does! despite all the evidence that brady and leon and johnny & sean and his own parents have provided to show that there's no one way to be with other people] “I don’t think—”

Brady cuts him off. “Yeah, you do. But you know what? I don’t want to have a bond by twenty-five. I don’t want to do any of that shit. It doesn’t fucking matter.”

“You sure about that?” [this is such a older sibling way to fuck up. as in i have done this myself in arguments with my younger sibling! there is no better way to piss them off than to doubt they know what they want.]

It’s the wrong thing to say. He knows as soon as the words leave his mouth. But there’s no chance of walking them back. Not when Brady’s lips are pressed together so hard they’ve gone white.

“I know what I want,” Brady says after a moment. His voice is choked up, and Matthew can’t tell if it’s because he’s angry or because he’s about to cry. Fuck, he hopes it’s not the latter, but he thinks that it is. [it is :(] “I’ve known for years. I’m not gonna change my mind.” [the brady/quinn backstory and specifically brady longing for quinn for literal years is some of my favorite shit to contemplate and work in, it was so nice and wholesome compared to rat boy's mess.. he was just a gangly little guy, getting used to a whole new world of smells and instincts, and here he is falling ass over teakettle for his best friend!]

“Brady—”

“I’m not,” Brady says, glaring back at Matthew. “Just because you want to be like Dad doesn’t mean I do.” [another line i always knew i wanted in here. matthew wants to be like his dad and can't. brady could be like his dad and doesn't want to. :)]

And with that, Brady grabs the coffee mugs and walks away.

“Brady,” Matthew says, standing halfway up, banging his thighs into the kitchen table. “Brady.” He doesn’t know what to say next, how to fix this, but it doesn’t matter. Brady’s already gone. [sorry to rat boy for making you fuck up so much. i will again.]

#ask meme #omega matthew

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a-world-with0ut-dr34ms · 1 year

Text

Your Telepathic Hold On Me

From Control - Full Story in Progress on AO3!

Ghost x Shadow!Reader x Soap

mentions of past Graves x Reader

Love Triangle, Fluff, Rom/Com-like, Slow Burn, Romance, Drama, Melodrama, Character Study, Multi-POV, Semi Explicit, Slight Angst, Wet Dreams, Friendzoning, Steamy (but more teasing than actual smut), Masturbastion, Military Inaccuracies, Canon-Compliant (hopefully), Pining, Angsty with random rom-com moments, A Roller-Coaster, Dark, A bit edgy, Grown men with crushes

tw: // violence, blood

Word Count: 11.5k

This took me 5,000 years to conjure up and type, but I finally finished it and I enjoyed typing it so that's all that matters. I just wanted this to read like a messy soap opera for the eyes. I've been away for a while too so I figured I'd make this long. It's messy, but I'm trying to keep every in character. This is basically a love triangle. Please enjoy (っ˘ڡ˘ς)

Hope it's not boring and stupid, I'm rusty as hell (ʃᵕ̩̩ ᵕ̩̩)

Masterlist

There are many parts of life that Ghost has grown used to.

He's used to waking up every morning and having nothing but his work to look forward to. That familiar solitude waiting for him at the end of every shift was as much a part of his life as anything else.

He's used to his usual streak of bad luck too. It wouldn’t be a regular day for the man if some inconveniences and setbacks weren’t sprinkled in here and there. Dealing with bad luck was a hidden talent of Ghost that life had a funny way of testing. He’s been on edge waiting to see what’s in store for him next.

He's used to doing little things to occupy his free time, which has lately been a lot of journaling and late-night jogging. It helps to have something to preoccupy himself with, rather than turning to the bottle for comfort; yet another qualm inherited to him by his father. Ghost would never allow himself to succumb to such vices as easily as his old man had though. That’s a cautionary tale the lieutenant didn’t need to live through a second time.

He's used to dealing with strangers and all their odd comments and tantalizing stares. When you're as mountainous in appearance and intimidating to talk to as he is, you learn to grow thick skin and not take things so personally. And by now he’s grown used to keeping people at a distance.

At the start, it had been deliberate, knowing he was in no place to be thinking of building relationships with anyone outside of his team. And even that was with the bare minimum effort.

Everyone must have just finally gotten the memo. Almost everyone. Eventually, Ghost got so good at keeping people away that he hardly had to try anymore. They just stopped approaching him. Stopped asking him personal questions. Stopped trying.

He's used to that feeling he gets when he sees couples in public. That twinge which knots at the pit of his gut and wrinkles his nose beneath his mask. As someone known to stare, PDA was definitely a head-turner for the lieutenant, and rather nauseating to look at. That's how he'd put it.

What many would take for disdain, however, was really only a faint longing for something he's only ever been a passive observer to. Love. He isn't used to that feeling, though he is used to being the one always on the outside of it. Any other kind of love has only ever been taken from him all too soon. Always out of his hands, and always just out of reach. That's a lot more familiar to him.

But that feeling would come, and then it would pass, because it's what Ghost is used to. Moving. Working. Surviving.

Living.

It's safe to say Ghost can handle a few contrivances throughout his day. However, today seemed especially adamant on testing his patience, in all new ways he never thought of before. Both petty, pointless, and far too sweet.

Even his dreams had been out to get him this morning, which did not surprise him, as bad dreams stuck to him like a bad habit. Still, it didn't make them any less welcome. And looking back, it may have been best to have taken the dreams as a heads-up for the kind of day he was in for.

Ghost didn't remember passing out the night before, only that he had entered his room later than he should have, leaving you and Soap to yourselves. While he wouldn't say the night was terrible, it left him with more to think about than he'd wanted when deciding to tag along.

That would be the case, as his mind would tell him so the moment he finally managed to pass out.

Contrary to popular belief, Ghost could be a surprisingly creative thinker. He's always been very imaginative, even as a boy. Had he a better childhood, perhaps it could have taken him places. But life's never had much in store for him it seems, so his creative talents felt best suited to his nightmares instead.

It had been a simple dream, a near recap of the night before.

You've left the cafe in a fluster of emotions, soon to be followed by Soap. Ghost remained inside, standing off in the distance as he watched you both run off. Waiting.

The cafe would grow emptier as the minutes crawled by endlessly. The music would slowly fade, and the ambiance would die out. The lights would grow so dim that it made the building feel cold, and before long not a soul lingered around Ghost, who was now alone. Still waiting.

It wasn't until he heard the sounds of you both screaming that Ghost finally sprung from his spot and out the cafe doors.

Outside had been no different. All the traffic and crowds had all but vanished, a dense fog settling across the city streets that even the streetlights struggled to break through. And it was quiet.

Ghost quickly found you standing off a ways from the cafe, your back turned to him, and Soap nowhere in sight.

In the waking world, Ghost was a man who modeled himself on control and discipline. He could not afford to be someone who let his emotions get the better of him, especially if his behaviors in his dreams were a reflection of who that man would be.

In his dreams, where all that structure and discipline he's built around himself could no longer follow, lie a man untamed by demons and darker whims he felt powerless to take control over.

He demanded to know where Soap had gone. When you couldn’t answer him, he felt a violent urge take over. As though some demon suddenly possessed him. Ghost lunges towards you, his large hands over-compassing the small frame of your neck with ease, as he pins you to the cafe walls behind you, his dark eyes seething.

You look up at him, stricken with fear as your frail hands pull at him, gasping in shock as you whimper in his grasp. You plead to him, trying to reason with him, even now.

Your words would only fall on deaf ears, as Ghost's grip tightened around your neck, the muscles in your throat bending to his grasp. His body moved with a mind of its own, blacking out everything else. Waiting to see in your eyes the fears he's harbored for you. Wanting to hear you curse him. Wanting you to affirm to him what he only waits for you to realize in reality. That he’s no good.

But even so, you hold no resentment in your gaze, nor pity. Your hands release from his wrist, slowly trailing up, until he's felt your warm touch rest against the sides of his face. Gently caressing him.

"Ghost..."

Ghost isn't sure when it was that his grip had loosened on your neck after that, only that his hands began to tremble soon after. You take a step closer, your hands still holding him, as his jawline all but sinks into your palms. All the while, Ghost's hands linger around your neck, having grown accustomed to its shape.

Your thumb gently rubs against his cheek, soothing his tense body. "Isn't this what you want?"

"I..." Ghost's head dips, no longer able to look you in your eyes. It shamed him to admit that he did want this. To be touched, to be held, to be taken in and for that not to go away. Not so soon at least. He didn’t want to need those things, to long for them. He’s gotten this far in life without them now, he knows he can keep it up. And yet… “...You're not gettin' in my head. I won't let you. I can't…"

"You can..." You lift yourself up on your tip-toes, the crown on your head just barely meeting his forehead, your eyes locked on his. "...I already am."

Despite your persistence, Ghost somehow manages to keep himself from succumbing to your urges, though it takes everything in him to. He needn't act out on these whims, even in his dreams.

However, your tenacity was a foe unmatched even as a figment of his darker imagination.

Your hands stop just at the end of his mask, and you begin to tug. The sensation is as if you’d begun to pull Ghost’s soul from him. He wishes it would have woken him, but the night’s hold was heavy.

You stop pulling his mask up just shy of the bridge of his nose, revealing the light stubble that painted the lower half of his face, alongside the light purse of his lips. With your hands still lightly gripping the side of his mask, you bring him down to you.

You press your lips to him, and Ghost' powerless to contain himself, kisses you back, feeling a wave of ecstasy wash through him. Ghost grips your neck tightly again, catching the air in your throat as you gasp into his mouth. His lips overpower your own, his sheer size having you pressed harshly against the wall.

Ghost only parts from your mouth for the smallest moment, only to come back in again, his hands using your neck to crane your head so that he could hold you in place. Keep you with him. Wanting nothing more than to feel you... only he is unable to.

Your neck in his grasp, your lips against his, your breath that fogged the air around him -- he couldn't feel a thing. Ghost had only the faintest idea of what that sensation could feel like, having felt it so long ago now. And yet he craved it. Yearning it. Because even his dreams could not replicate that smallest of feelings you once gave him.

But before he can truly ascend onto cloud 9, a sharp pain enters his abdomen, breaking through his sternum and piercing straight into his heart. The one thing he could feel. His lips part from yours, and his eyes drag down to where you had stabbed him.

Ghost stumbles back, his body convulsing with pain as the blood began to pool from his chest and mouth. All the while he can hear your insane laughter filling his ears, a twisted glint to your gaze, before he's finally pulled himself out of his sleep and into a panicked wake.

Once he realized he was no longer dreaming, the stiff cold air of his room finally calmed him, Ghost wasn't sure what he found most embarrassing about what just happened, however -- The fact that he had that dream at all, or the fact that only seconds later, he’s noticed the throbbing hard-on he’d gotten from it.

Ghost groans to himself and sinks his head back against his pillow. “Fuckin’ hell…”

He would have left himself alone, had the arousal not been so painfully uncomfortable to leave be. Weakly succumbing, Ghost brings a hand down to himself to finish the job, sliding his fingers beneath the waistband of his sweatpants to take hold.

He makes quick work with his urges, moving his hand at a fast pace as he kept his eyes closed, trying to picture something to help get it done quicker.

With no one else who really came to mind, Ghost couldn't help but think back to you. How your lips moved over him in his dream, how his hands fit perfectly around your neck, and how your own hands felt like chains around him.

He escalates the scenario in his mind, picturing you ridding yourself of your clothes. Your body bare for his perusal. Ghost thinks about you climbing over him now, your legs straddling him to the bed and his hands tightly holding onto your hips. The sweet moans you'd make with him in you would haunt him for the rest of his life, as he’s watching your body vibrate with pleasure, your gaze wanting him evermore.

Ghost buries his face into his pillow just as he climaxes, that uncontrollable lust he felt quickly being replaced by guilt and shame.

The way you had Ghost so wound up, you'd think he were a virgin. Though that wasn't true; it had been well over three years since Ghost has actually laid with another person, and even then that last time had just been transactional. Some stranger at a bar back home he didn't mind expelling some of himself into for the night. It hadn't meant anything.

Intimacy hasn't meant anything to him for a long time now.

Yet the way you plagued his mind would have him thinking he's never known the meaning of lust and intimacy before, until now. Like he’s been missing out or something.

While Ghost has dreamed of you before, never has it been so... graphic. Certainly nothing like this. And for a moment, it worried the man. He's used to his typical nightmares, and knows how to combat those by now. But how was he supposed to tackle this one? What even was this?

Ghost had given up trying to find the purpose of that dream the minute it grew easier to settle for the obvious answer, the one that pained him to admit: Perhaps he did have a crush on you after all.

He finds you attractive, clearly. But a crush? It felt so beneath him, being unable to stop something as silly as that from forming. Still, this stupid little crush has somehow caused him more inner turmoil than any of the recent ops he’s last run, and it was mighty embarrassing.

It's safe to say, having to see you later today would feel more awkward than Ghost would have liked. Especially since it would technically be your first official day on the team. But he hadn't planned on treating you any differently than anyone else, and a single dream wasn't going to change that now.

That was the plan at least.

…

"You know Halloween ain't 'til the end of the month, right?"

Ghost stood in front of the register at one of the corner stores within walking distance from the barracks. The only one open this early in the morning.

The lieutenant damn near towered over the counter space, tired eyes watching unenthusiastically as the cashier -- some scrawny little woman who looked like she'd seen a few street fights in her day -- scanned and bagged his box of tea. She's been giving Ghost the side-eye since she stepped in, shadowing him in every aisle.

Ghost didn't blame her much, seeing as he's shown up in a hoodie and a ski mask. But honestly, the man really did just want to pick up some tea. While this had not been his first choice for tea, Ghost has come to learn how little Americans really care for the drink.

Had Ghost been back home, or not stationed here, he'd have forgone the mask and just gone later in the day. However, seeing as that wasn't the case, going early in the morning to pick up some tea at least meant he wouldn't bump into too many wide-eyed pedestrians ready to gawk at him for wearing a bloody mask.

Ghost still could not tell for the life of him what fascinated people so much about it. It's only a mask. Though this is coming from a man who also, very often, forgets his sheer size and presence. The mask was only the cherry on top, really. Perhaps in their shoes, he'd do the same.

But even so, unprovoked comments from strangers were the lieutenant’s bread and butter.

"Just bein' festive, Luv."

Ghost hands the woman cash for the tea, watching her take her time counting it. "And you went with that?" she asks, rather mockingly too.

"Weren't much to choose from, I'm afraid," Ghost says dryly.

The cashier hands Ghost his bag and gives him a learned smile. "Well, hey, you've got time." And then she waves him goodbye.

Ghost merely catalogs this as yet another awkward interaction he's had with the locals since being stationed here.

The awkward occasion before this one had been with some other woman two days ago. Poor thing just popping by her nearest gas station for a drink, when Ghost all but gave her a stroke. The last thing she expected to bump into when she hastily opened the gas station doors was this ugly mug. She screamed so loud that Ghost was sure the entire block heard her.

It's safe to say nothing has been quite as awkward as that. Who knew Americans could be so jumpy?

Ghost's walk back to his room had been a sunny one, on a sidewalk busier than this Wednesday morning called for. The air, once warm for the summer, was finally beginning to cool, as early signs of fall showed themselves in the tree's leaves.

As Ghost drew near his building, he passed by a floral shop that someone recently set up at the park. He'd taken a gander or two at the flowers his first time walking past them earlier.

Whoever set it up made sure to have the most vibrant flower arrangements decorating the area. Baskets sat displayed both high and low, filled to the brim with a rainbow of different petals and plants. It grabbed a lot of attention from the bystanders, people stopping to look or even buy a bouquet for their significant other. At times it was like watching a movie.

The last time Ghost bought flowers it had been for his mother. She always liked her lavenders and tulips, and Ghost always enjoyed the smile on her face when he'd show up to her home with them. He nearly sighs out loud just thinking back to that time. It feels so long ago now.

Ghost wouldn't say he had a Green Thumb, though he did always enjoy planting new flowers every Spring with his mother. Whenever she'd find the time to and his old man was away on another one of his benders long enough.

He remembers enjoying how colorful their front lawn would look when they finished, compared to the rest of the gray they lived around in Manchester. Everything around him when he was younger always felt so sad and lifeless, it was nice to just be with himself and the Earth, giving back to it in a peaceful way for a change.

A small part of him thought of buying some flowers for his room, just to lighten the place up some. But then he thought, what would be the point of that? Buying flowers for his room just so when it was late at night he could look at them and be sad all over again. Always the self-destructive sort he was.

A woman approached the shop suddenly, dressed in a white sundress and a light straw hat. She pauses when she sees the sunflowers, nearly matching her in height, as her hair wisps gently in the breeze.

For a split second, Ghost thought that may have been you; she was your spitting image. It caught the man off guard so much that a cold chill shivered down his spine. Had the little details not tipped him off that it wasn’t you, Ghost would have thought you were stalking him. But it seems you only did so in his mind; anything else was more on him than you, he begrudgingly knew that much.

Ghost watched the woman longer than he should have, seeing her speak to the vendors with such vigor and excitement. She’d take another eyeful of all the flowers, and find herself in another state of awe before she was back on her tangent once more. She feels the petals, smells their scent, then smiles. And when her eyes turn back for only a split second, she sees Ghost standing a few feet away… and then she frowns.

Ghost stares back coldly, wanting to send her gaze away from him. Though when she does look away, it only makes the man feel rather silly. What, had he expected her to smile when she saw him? She's not you, he thought. No one was like you, and that's what made this so damn annoying to deal with.

The faint illusion of you was shattered once the woman’s husband stepped into view. Some short, skinny man who looked nothing like Ghost at all. He curved around her, his arm wrapping around her waist, as she looked up at him with a warm smile. The kind of look a woman gave to someone she loved. Ghost has seen it from others enough times to recognize it.

"Watch out!"

Ghost's head snaps over to the sound of someone shouting at him on the sidewalk. When he looks over, he sees a man on his bike, recklessly speeding straight toward him.

With quick reflexes he's had time to fine-tune, Ghost quickly sidesteps the cyclist. However, it's not fast enough to keep the cyclist's handlebar from clipping his arm a little, knocking the box of tea out of Ghost's hands and into a large, growing puddle on the side of the road.

Once Ghost sees his tea completely submerged in the murky water, the man prepares himself for the worst-case scenario. He just stands over it for a moment, not even phased by the sheer luck of it all. When he kneels down to retrieve it, of course, the sealant wrapped around it was punctured, letting all the water get into each and every tea bag inside its box.

Though on the outside Ghost was calm and composed, there was a little man inside his brain, completely raging out about not having his tea right now.

Ghost stands to his feet and sighs, already knowing he wouldn't have time to go back and get more before this morning's briefing. He knew he should have just stayed in bed that morning.

He looks back off to the floral shop, for no particular reason. That woman in the sundress had gone by now, taking a basket of trimmed sunflowers with her.

Ghost couldn't help thinking about you one last time.

…

Ghost was surprised to find Soap already waiting in the briefing room this morning, though the man looked as though he were seconds away from passing out dead in his seat. He sits hunched over his arms, dressed in his fatigues, though he's removed his coat and rolled the sleeves to his shirt up, his arms naturally flexing beneath the fabric. His eyes light up the minute he sees the lieutenant, though it's quickly followed by a short yawn.

"Mornin' L.T." he greets.

"MacTavish." Ghost takes a seat a few chairs from Soap, settling into his seat with a sigh. "You're up early."

"Aye," Soap rubs his hands over his face, attempting to further wake himself. "I'm as shocked as you, L.T."

"Were you two up long after I left?" asks Ghost. He'd been wondering that this morning more than he cared to admit. What was it you two could have been up to last night, all alone with nothing to do? Ghost wanted to imagine it had been nothing.

To his dismay, he hadn't been prepared for Soap's answer.

"No, but..." Soap grins to himself, looking off into the room. Recalling the night before, and letting his cheeks begin to blush. Johnny didn't have to finish that sentence, Ghost already knew. "Man, what a woman..."

"Good grief, Johnny," bemoans Ghost. Good grief was right. He knew Soap had been into you as well, and you both make it more than obvious that you enjoyed flirting. It figures sparks would fly the minute you two could find the time to be alone together.

Ghost wasn't happy to hear the news, regardless.

But before he can finish that thought, the door opens, and in comes both you and Kate Laswell.

Both 141 men haven't seen Laswell in a while, not in person at least. She's been busy running ops on the other side of the globe with their Captain Price. Soap's been moaning and groaning about getting back to working as a full team again; Ghost hadn't really cared either way. Just as long as there was something to do. And when you see Laswell in person, you know that time was nigh.

Both Ghost and Soap stand at attention before being dismissed by Laswell. She both liked and appreciated the professionalism from her boys in the Task Force, though she never had a problem with being casual with those she worked with for long enough.

Once Laswell was at the front of the room with you, she began with the point of this whole meeting -- to formally announce your transfer to the team.

Beyond that, Soap seemed too busy looking at you to really give a damn about much of anything else at the moment. Ghost could pass that off as normal behavior by the Sergeant. However, it's when Ghost looks over at you when it urks him. Because you're giving Soap the same googly eyes back, only your much more sly about it. Just not sly enough for the lieutenant.

"I know introductions aren't really necessary this time around," Laswell mentions. "But I figured we shouldn't skip the formalities. Commander Graves and his Shadow Company were kind enough to spare their second-in-command to help assist with our investigation. With her expertise in reconnaissance and data retrieval, and her background knowledge on the investigation already, both General Shepherd and I felt she'd be a valuable asset to the team."

"Well, well," Soap begins to quip. "Movin' up in the world, aye Canary?"

"It's the only way to go," you joke back, which in turn makes you both chuckle bashfully.

It only took a few more seconds of awkward eye contact to pass before Ghost knew that something was up. It wasn’t just some little thing last night between you, he knew. It was something he no doubt would rather have not noticed.

"For now you'll be on standby," Laswell comments. "We have a few more preparations to make before your next assignment, but it should be soon. In the meantime, we've set up training courses and team-building exercises to keep you all fresh for when we need you. Today's should be fun if I'm not mistaken."

"Aw sweet," Soap whoops dorkishly. "Are ye joinin' us then, Kate?"

Laswell smiles to herself, already preparing to leave the meeting. "I, unfortunately, have a flight to catch in the next hour," she says. "I'm assisting Shepherd with another lead. Along with Commander Graves, funny enough."

Laswell looks to you now, but to Ghost's surprise, you don't appear all that happy to be hearing your commander's name be mentioned. Not like you usually have been in the past. You instead roll your eyes jokingly, some thought irritating you for a moment before you've buried it.

"Good luck," you tell her.

Ghost can't help but wonder what you could mean by that. The last time he saw you two, you both seemed rather close to one another. Though you seem pretty close to Soap now as well; perhaps that's just how you are with people. It piques his interest nonetheless.

Laswell adjourns the meeting soon after giving you all more details about what's been planned for you today. While today's training was dressed up as a way to keep you all from getting rusty, Ghost knew there was more to this than meets the eye.

When getting transferred, you've just essentially jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Task Force has you beneath a magnifying glass right now, ready to watch your every move and place it side-by-side with their own. A mix of friendly competition, and equal parts a deadly game.

Because you were transferred here for a reason, Ghost thought. If you can't keep up even in the courses, the abnormality of your arrival surely wouldn't benefit from it.

You must know this, because something felt a bit off about you this morning. Like there was a lot on your mind suddenly and it was wearing you down.

You let out a sigh once Kate has left, letting your hands fall back to your sides as you try and mentally pep yourself up for the courses. You didn't look all that thrilled.

"So, marksmanship trainin', eh?" Soap starts speaking first. "I'm lookin' forward to seein' what you got, lil' bird."

You scoff. "Little bird?"

"Oi, if you won't tell me your name, then I've gotta call you somethin' else then, don't I?"

You laugh at his comment, though only softly. Admittedly, "Little bird" felt rather close to "Songbird", a nickname you're sure Graves has dumped by now. You'd much prefer something new anyway. And it did help that the Scotsman's accent made the words sweet like candy for your ears when he said it. "Fair enough."

"So are you a good shot?" the Sergeant asks.

"I'd say so," you brag.

"We'll see soon enough, won't we?" Ghost finally speaks.

Your eyes fall on his, and while he can see a fire light up in them suddenly, he can also see that flame being dulled by something else. Something that had you look more worn than you probably were aware of.

"I can feel the pressure already," you say sarcastically.

"Aw, I'm sure you'll do fine," says Soap.

You look down at your feet almost shyly. But then you catch yourself, smirking and looking back up at the two men. Putting on an act, no doubt.

"I bet you I'll get the top score today," you boast.

This makes Soap sit up in his seat now, laughing to himself charmingly. "Oh is that right?"

"Damn straight." You begin to make your way to the exit, settled with preparing yourself for the course. "I'll see you boys on the course."

You leave them with a wink, and Ghost catches Soap smiling like a moron.

Ghost gives Soap a few seconds to re-gather his wits about him before speaking. "Bloody hell, Johnny," he says. "'Have you gone mad?"

"I'm sorry, sir?"

"You and her," Ghost gestures with his fingers. When Soap tries to play dumb momentarily, it only seems to further tick the lieutenant off. "Didn’t I just get through with tellin’ you last night to keep your head on straight, Sergeant?”

"Oi, relax mate," Soap puts his hands up defensively. He quickly chuckles to alleviate any tension between the two men. "Nothin' major's goin' on. We're just… oh, I don't know. We're just havin’ fun while we can."

"We have a job to do, MacTavish," Ghost scolds.

"You know it's OK to lighten up and live a lil', yeah, L.T.?"

Ghost doesn't respond to the Sergeant's comment immediately, only because he began to ponder them. Lightin' up and live a little? He thought. Lightin' up and live a little…

"That is what I'm doing," Ghost says. He knows he doesn't sound all that convincing, but he wasn't about to elaborate further; he hoped it was enough to take the topic off himself. Soap always had a knack for doing that.

Soap chuckles at Ghost's comment, shaking his head at him. "Sure it is, mate."

Ghost rolls his eyes and stands from his seat. "Just don't let this get in the way of things, yeah?"

"We’re grown. I know what I‘m doin’."

"So you say now."

Nothing major going on. Even hearing that seemed to strike a hidden nerve in Ghost he hadn't felt before. So something did happen last night after he left. Of course it did. This was Johnny we were talking about here. The man could win just about anyone over if given the chance. It's why Ghost hasn't allowed him many opportunities to. But it seems in doing so with both Soap and you, it's only seemed to bring you two together instead.

Why didn't that feel like a good thing to Ghost?

…

Apparently, time no longer has any real meaning. Not in any way that you've found to be helpful. Because it seems you can spend half a year in bed with someone -- giving them everything, always being there -- and in a matter of seconds, watch all that time not mean a damn thing anymore.

I can't deal with this right now.

That's what Graves decided to text you last night after hearing your distraught voicemail. He can't deal with this right now. With you.

It was almost embarrassing how gut-wrenching it had felt to read that, even as you'd thought you'd been prepared for it. Though before long that hurt turned to bitterness, as you slowly grew disgusted with your previous feelings.

You spend nearly a year with the man and that’s how he chooses to respond to you in a time of need. Talk about ripping off the band-aid. Alas, your commander was always just a step ahead of you all along, both in mind and feeling.

“Over” really does mean over.

But did it have to mean losing him completely? You felt it didn't have to be this way, but maybe it was selfish of you to have thought he'd want anything to do with you once you both cut romantic ties. After all, at the end of the day, you're only his subordinate.

Well then fine. If that's how Graves wants it, then that's how he'll get it. You felt ready enough to get back to focusing on yourself anyway. And from the way Ghost has been hounding you over this "training" course, you could use the work.

"You're off your mark!" Ghost's voice comes booming over the intercoms inside the course, though at this point you couldn't really tell him apart from your own inner thoughts. Beyond that iconic gruffness Ghost's voice possessed. At this point, you'd about heard enough of it.

This was meant to be a simple marksmanship course. Same shit, different day. The base had a whole thing set up for the team, the course being inside a large, sanctioned-off building. By now the rest of the team has gone; to no one's surprise, Ghost scored the highest, with Soap being a rather close second.

That's only left you with the boulder size responsibility of having to prove your worth to the team by beating at least one of their scores. Easier said than done, as this was now your fourth attempt running through now.

You needed to score above the Sharpshooter level. Everyone else on the Task Force could do it, and you knew you could too. Yet every time you rounded the bend and the clocks were stopped, Ghost had the same result to share with you time and time again. "Sharpshooter."

And like that, you were asking to run the course again, reloading your rifle and waiting for Ghost to buzz you in for another go. Even he was starting to side-eye your performance.

On a different day, you may have breezed through this. It's not like you're not a good shot in your own right, and you've always been competitive. However, you hadn't realized how much of a funk you were in until now, and it was really taking a toll on your speed.

You wouldn't give up so readily, however.

You knew this was silly. You knew you didn't have to prove to anyone what skills you had. You were transferred here for a reason and anyone who had something to say about that could argue with the wall about it. But it meant something to you to tell yourself that you could do this. Because you know you can. And if Ghost is OK with continuing to supervise you, then you're OK with running the course for a fifth time.

You reach the course exit nearly out of breath, stray strands of hair now escaping your bun and sticking to the sweat of your cheeks. You lower your rifle and slouch over in exhaustion. That has to be it. "What did I get?"

Ghost steps over to you from where he's been monitoring your progress, having multiple cameras set up towards the lobby area just outside the course. His eyes lazily dip down to his clipboard, before sluggishly returning to you again.

"Sharpshooter."

You groan to yourself, annoyed, as you stepped over to the lieutenant so you could review your results. As you expected, you're only four seconds shy of Soap's top score. You haven't been able to get any closer than that.

"You keep hesitatin' when you pull the trigger," Ghost chided suddenly. "Think less with your feelings, more with your gut. Otherwise, you keep this up and it'll get you killed one of these days. I mean they teach that in basic, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," you jab, which clearly does not humor the lieutenant in the slightest. Though nothing seemed to humor him much today. In fact, he's seemed almost annoyed with you. Not that you know what it is you might have done. You had more pressing issues to deal with as is.

"I'm not talkin' for my own benefit here," Ghost remarks. "What good is havin' you with us if you can't keep up? This needs work."

"I get it, Ghost, I do," you straighten up, trying not to take his words to heart.

"Then start acting like you do," he said.

You know that in some way he just wanted to be sure you were ready for what you've gotten yourself into. He didn't want you holding them back, and you shared the sentiment. Even now, he's only run one mission with you in the past, and you'd say your performance then was less than satisfactory that night also.

However, the lieutenant's harping could be rather grating. And he had no problem with continuing, however long you continued to stand in front of him.

"You'd 'ave been dead already, had I not been there on our last op," he says suddenly, a fact you needn't any reminding of. It's part of the reason why you haven't just called it a day yet. "Hesitation, Canary. That's your problem. Fix it."

"Yes sir," you nod.

"Now," Ghost ushers for you to get back to it. "Show me what all this fuss is over you Shadows. I'm still waiting to see for myself."

"In due time, Lieutenant," you say.

"Clock’s tickin'."

You rush back over to the course entrance, waiting at the doorway with your rifle hugged to your chest for Ghost to buzz you in. As you prepare yourself, you don't notice Soap entering the building only seconds later. Before he'd had time to say anything though, Ghost buzzed the door open, as you rushed into the course, the timer beginning.

By now you had most of the course memorized: Around this corner is a narrow corridor with six rooms on either side. Each room is filled with a mix of targets and civilians made out of metal posts that swing up once you've entered the room. The objective at this point was simple enough -- clear out all hostiles as fast as possible with as few casualties as possible.

As far as you're concerned, your precision more than matches Ghost's and Soap's, and if they couldn't see that at this point then they were deliberately giving you a hard time. When you shoot, you don't miss. It's something you've prided yourself on. However, your speed seemed to be more of a crutch than you'd noticed.

From the monitors outside the course, Ghost and Soap watch as you swiftly infiltrate the first two rooms, taking out the first couple of targets in a matter of seconds.

Soap watches intently, not having had the chance to really see you run the course yet. He has to keep himself from grinning; watching you was damn impressive. "How many times has she gone now?" he asks.

"Four. Excluding this one," Ghost answers.

"Steamin’ Jesus," Soap huffs. "How's she scorin'?"

"Just two seconds shy of Expert," Ghost says. "She's nearly got you beat, Johnny."

"Wow, OK," Soap says rather proudly. "She's passed then technically, no?"

"That's right," says Ghost. "She's runnin' this by her own request. Says she can beat one of our scores."

"And she might beat mine?" Soap whines, though Ghost can't tell if it's out of competition or genuine adoration. Though the man's next comment would leave little to the imagination. "Woof. What a woman."

"She's got it down, mostly." Ghost continues to monitor the cams, seeing you reach the final two rooms of the corridor. "Apart from this one bit ‘ere..."

Ghost watches you enter the room, your rifle raised and ready to fire. The targets spring up as displayed: two hostiles and a civilian woman. The hostile cutouts appear as cliche as possible, dressed in dark tactical gear and expressing themselves rather angrily. The woman was rather comical as well, drawn out to look as though she were screaming and crying.

You reach this room and it takes you a good three seconds to fire, and soon after your performance from this room to the next slows down drastically. Just as it has done the last four times.

Ghost presses down on the intercoms again. "Pick it up, Canary," he barks out. "You tellin' me you got in with that aim?"

"A bit harsh, eh L.T.?" Soap comments.

"Some tough love never hurts," Ghost retorts.

You barge back through the course exit once more, reapproaching the lieutenant as you eagerly await your score.

Ghost reviews everything, and looks back at you plainly. "Sharpshooter."

"Fuck!" You throw your head back in defeat, groaning to yourself loudly.

"Fuckin' hell, Canary," Ghost crosses his large arms over his chest, cocking his head at you rather disappointedly. "We haven't got all day. Maybe it's time to call it quits-"

"No," you immediately protest. "I can do this, I know I can..."

Despite the vigor in your voice, your eyes betray you when they fall from the lieutenant's. You didn't want the doubt to start settling in, but it had been a tough battle for it not to. Both Soap and Ghost scored Expert with ease, and here you are now struggling to even make it that far. Even if you get it now, what good would it do?

Having sensed the sudden change in your demeanor, Ghost sighs to himself suddenly, relaxing his posture. "Don't doubt yourself then," he starts. "You've got the right idea; you can do this. I'll be here 'til you do, lieutenant."

Don't doubt yourself. You can do this. I'll be here 'til you do… You want to believe Ghost when he says that. Don't doubt yourself. You're here now, aren't you?

Ghost can see in your eyes that he's said just what you needed to hear, and a small smile forms. You can't see it, but the softness of his gaze made you like to believe it so.

You give the lieutenant an affirming nod, before rushing back over to your starting position, waiting for him to buzz you in for a sixth time. You should have stopped being embarrassed about it three tries ago honestly.

Ghost calls to you suddenly. "Canary."

You look back at him.

"Remember," he said. "Don't hesitate. You can do this."

"You've got this, Canary!" Soap cheers you on from the sidelines. You wondered if they both could hear your heart skip a beat. You give them a final nod, before turning back to the obstacle, and seeing the lieutenant buzz you in.

Ghost watches you from the monitors, seeing you move unlike any way you have before. You sweep each room with ease, being stopped by nothing and quickly making your way to the next like a shadow in the night. Your performance is so beautiful, neither men can even bring themselves to make a comment on it. They were too busy watching.

"There she goes," Ghost says under his breath, not even aware that he had begun to. Though you can't see Ghost, you can feel him cheering you on from the other side of the wall.

You reach that final room that's been tripping you up this whole time, watching as the cutouts pop up. You remember not to hesitate, and really allow your mind to let go of itself and your finger to move over the trigger naturally. You pull the trigger and drop your targets, and move out in a flash, finishing the last room with ease and making a dash to the course exit.

You barge through the doors for your sixth and hopefully final time, eagerly waiting for Ghost to give you your score, turning the safety to your rifle and placing it on the rack with the rest of them. This had to be it. You could feel it.

Ghost goes over the score, and even he can't hide how impressed he is. You just scored higher than he did.

"Expert."

You let out the girliest squeal imaginable, and it damn near startles both men, as your arms shoot above your head with excitement. You did it. You did it! Not only did you do it, but you beat both Soap and Ghost's scores on top of it. Even though it took you damn near half the day, you didn't care, because you did it.

And then you do something you probably shouldn't have.

Being a habitual hugger in most instances that called for it, your first instinct was to hug someone. Soap wasn't immediately by you, however, Ghost was. And you weren't really thinking when you leaped over to him joyously, your small arms barely managing to wrap around his large frame, as you pulled him in for a hug.

Immediately you feel the lieutenant's body tense up, the man feeling like a statue to hold as a small gasp escapes his lips. Suddenly the man forgot everything he was previously thinking.

It's a good thing he could keep himself together, however, because had you truly surprised him, he may have accidentally pushed you away from him. Or worse. If only out of instinct. And if you knew the kind of morning he'd had, you might have thought twice about coming in so casually.

Still, your arms felt as good to be wrapped in as they had that night nearly a month ago. You squeeze him as tightly as you can, your face buried in his chest and your smile lying against him. Warm and true. Just like he remembered it.

Just as he's thought of wrapping his arms around you and finally returning the hug, you let go of him, noticing how stiff he is no doubt. His cold and guarded behavior doesn't dampen your mood, as you look up at him and smile. He gets lost in the way your eyes glisten with joy, not wanting to break from its hold just yet.

But alas, Soap has come in before Ghost can say anything further. You see the Sergeant approach you with a huge smile on his face, his arms already out for you to jump into. Which you happily obliged.

You practically bolt to him, feeling him completely envelop you, as you nuzzle your head into his chest, smiling into him, squealing. Soap reciprocates your hug tenfold, embracing you so tightly it nearly takes the air from your lungs. But there was no better sensation than the feeling he gave while having you in his arms. He could take the oxygen from your lips as he wishes.

"I knew you could do it!" Soap boasted, his voice vibrating inside your chest. Had Ghost not begun to speak, you would have nearly forgotten he was there. Only momentarily.

"Alright," he says rather gruffly. "That'll do, you two."

You and Soap pull yourselves away from each other, awkwardly straightening yourselves up before looking back over at Ghost. He seems more interested in looking at you than Soap, however. His eyes peered into you like daggers suddenly, and it nearly sucked the excitement straight from you.

Have you overstepped?

"I say we celebrate with some drinks, aye?" Soap says suddenly, doing his best to alleviate the sudden tension that had grown between you and Ghost, as even he noticed it now. It nearly works.

"I need at least 48 hours between my nights out I'm afraid," you laugh.

Soap shrugs. "Eh, suit yourselves then. I'll see if the others want to."

"No rest for the wicked, right Johnny?" Ghost quips.

"Right you are, L.T." Soap clicks his tongue.

The two of you watch as Soap exits the building, leaving you two alone. Suddenly the room felt empty of all its oxygen and incredibly small.

Ghost looked down at you like he had something to say but wouldn't. It's how he's been looking at you all day. You tried your best to not let it get to you, but you couldn't help but worry that last night may have rubbed him the wrong way.

Quickly, you think back on what it was that you may have done to suddenly to provoke him.

"Hey," you turn to Ghost, meeting his eyes bravely, though you admit his gaze felt more chilling than usual. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable just now. I didn't mean-"

"Just keep things professional, alright?" Ghost scolds. "You’d do good rememberin' that, lieutenant."

Right, you understand where the man's coming from. You're here to do a job, not mess around with them. Though they do make that a challenge not to do.

"Right," you nod, looking down at your feet rather defeatedly. "I'm sorry."

You weren't used to feeling this presence from Ghost. Like the sight of you suddenly brought him some sort of displeasure. You've heard stories of that famous, disinterested gaze of his, and how being next to him could make you feel puny in more ways than one. Maybe your were just hoping you'd been a special case with him. What were you thinking anyway?

But then Ghost goes and does something that makes you think maybe you aren't stupid for thinking you're something special. You hear Ghost sigh, and to your sudden surprise, you feel his hand rest firmly on the top of your head, as he began to pat you like a dog.

"Good job today, Canary."

When your eyes meet his again, you smile. And oh, how quickly are you reminded of what it was that kept you so interested in wanting to get close to the lieutenant. These small, little moments he scarcely let out.

You remember how encapsulating his eyes were, holding many years of experiences and stories that only he could tell. Every time you caught them, you couldn't help but wonder what could be going on behind that mask of his. What could be on the mind of a man like him?

Would you ever know?

"I had a good coach," you smile.

"Don't take 'em for granted," Ghost says dryly.

"I won't," you smile. "Thank you. Really. You were just the motivation I needed, it seems. Thank you."

Ghost leaving you with his approval was enough to drown out any other negative feelings you felt a moment ago. At least for now, which was enough.

Despite the mask, from how his jaw shifted momentarily, you could tell he was about to say something to you. Though he decides not to. You'll spend all night wondering what it was he wanted to say, instead of what he opted for instead.

"Don't mention it."

…

Inevitably, the day comes to yet another end.

After leaving the course, Ghost made sure not to be anywhere near you, needing the chance to recuperate with himself badly. He was beginning to learn how incredibly difficult it would be to block you out of his mind.

If you weren't such a treat to talk to at times, he's sure he would have no troubles whatsoever with keeping you at distance. But it seems if you're given even the smallest chance to talk to him, the man couldn't help but cave in and be nice back to you.

So he would need to go to plan B now if he wished to squash this little crush and get back to working with you professionally -- avoiding you.

At the very least, Ghost knew he could escape you once the night came, and there was no better distraction than the man's own hobbies.

Ghost waited until it was well past a reasonable hour to be out, before changing into some gym attire (mask included) and heading out for his nightly jog. The one thing he'd actually had left to look forward to today.

Ghost arrived at an open track just 3 miles or so from the barracks, the field shrouded behind trees and shrubbery, as the clouds began to break and divide amongst a cool, night sky. No one else seemed to be around, a part from the occasional vehicle driving by. It almost excited the man to finally have a place to run that was all to himself.

Most people would be in bed at this hour, however, Ghost liked to use these hours to run errands and work out, seeing as it was the best way to avoid the crowd. He'd scouted out the area around the base the moment he got the name of where he was moving to.

So you can imagine Ghost's shock and utter dismay when he arrived at the track field and saw that not only was he not alone, but you had been there as well.

Wonderful.

Ghost looks up to the sky for a moment, like a camera was looking down at him, with some distant audience laughing at him. Certainly, the universe was having a go at him. He was prepared to turn back around for the night, or even find another place to do his run. However, you see him in the distance before he can escape.

"Ghost?"

You call to him, jogging over to where the man stands a little ways off from the track. You were changed into some tracksuit which fit you like a model on the cover of a magazine. Ghost looks you up and down, and then quickly hopes you hadn't just noticed that.

From the sweat that painted your brow, you'd already been out here for a while. Out of breath, you begin to tease the lieutenant. "Can't stay away, huh? You followin' me now?"

"Not in the slightest," Ghost responds. "I wasn't expecting any company."

"Oh, well... surprise," you grin at him. "I’ve only got three more laps if you want to be alone.”

Ghost could work with that.

“I’ll work around you," he said. "Don’t worry about it.”

...

You swear you were going to leave Ghost alone on the track.

You were coming up on your last lap now; Ghost had gone ahead and started his way around, sporting his usual hoodie and sweatpants get-up. It made him look like a hulking, shadowy mass on the track, calmly jogging his way along by. Paying no mind to you.

When he'd run by you, he'd make no acknowledgement of your presence, his mind fully focused on jogging. After he'd passed you a third time when you'd not even finished your second lap around, your impulses got the better of you.

Playfully, you wait for Ghost to run by you again before picking up your own speed. Though it's dark, and Ghost, as usual, is wearing a mask, the look on his eyes when he glanced over and saw you jogging side-by-side with him couldn't be more bemusing.

Ghost doesn't say anything though, merely rolling his eyes as he turns his focus back to the track ahead of him. And then, the bastard actually started to run a little faster. Just fast enough to not be next to you anymore.

Asshole. You pout to yourself, before it's turned to a cheeky smirk. You wouldn't be done just yet.

You pick up your speed now, matching with the lieutenant's again until you're running alongside him once more. When the lieutenant looks over at you again, you smile sarcastically and wave at him.

Ghost runs ahead of you again. But he wouldn't get away from you that easily.

You catch up to Ghost again. And he runs away again. You keep picking up the speed, and every time you've matched it Ghost goes faster. Pretty soon, you both are practically bolting down the track after each other.

You start laughing to yourself, Ghost's stubbornness to let you jog beside him growing borderline comedic to you at this point. Of course you felt equally childish chasing after him, but it also made you feel kind of happy too. It was childish and it was sweet, and you were just having fun.

"Give it up already!" Ghost huffs out suddenly. His tone would lead you to believe he's annoyed, but it's so out of breath you find it goofy.

You laugh out loud. "You first!"

You're just about to be at Ghost's side again, when the universe suddenly feels the need to make you eat your own words. Your foot catches onto the ground wrong, as the tip of your toe trips you, causing you to topple over at top speed.

You yelp.

The suddenness of it causes Ghost to turn and look your way, as he sees you about to fall. Instinctively, he turns, ready to catch you, just as you subconsciously reach out to grab hold of him. As a result, you both go crashing onto the ground.

Ghost falls onto his back, his head bouncing off the ground with a heavy thud. Meanwhile, you fall on top of the man, who right now feels more akin to a pile of bricks than anything remotely comfortable. As you crash onto him, you feel your weight shoot all the air out of his lungs, as you both fall down with a heavy oof.

"Fuckin' hell, that hurt!" Ghost groans, shooting a hand to the back of his throbbing head.

You adjust yourself on top of him, trying to catch your own breath. "Are you OK?"

"It's nothin'," Ghost says.

"I'm sorry…"

Ghost pauses, lifting his head up slightly so that his eyes could meet yours. You watch the way his mud-color eyes twinkle in the night, observing how the dark of his irises took in every bit of you. It was hard to look away from.

"Like I said, it's nothin', Luv."

Ghost rests his head back on the ground with a sigh, staring up at the starry sky above instead. The whole time you remain in place on top of him, feeling the rising and falling of his chest beneath you, as it carried your tiny frame with it.

Had his hands not still been firmly clasped over your arms, you would have removed yourself from being on top of him. You're not even sure he's noticed himself still holding you.

"You're a stubborn bloody woman,” he comments suddenly.

"I almost had you, though," you tease.

"No."

"You're a lot slower than I remember, Ghost."

"You're a lot clumsier than I remember, Canary."

"Good thing I have you here to catch me then,” you giggle. “Helps you stay on your feet, lieutenant."

"They didn't mention that bein’ part of the job."

"It's under the same section that says not to hesitate."

"I'm surprised you read it then," Ghost teases.

"Oh fuck you."

You laugh and jokingly nudge at him, but almost pause when you feel something suddenly. For the first time since you've known the man, you feel his chest bubble in a light chuckle. He actually chuckled. Of course it's barely audible, and only last for about a second. But he did. And suddenly your heart was racing.

"Does this make me a winner then?" he sarcastically asks.

"For now anyway."

You laugh at his joke, subconsciously resting your head back down on his chest as you did. In the meantime, Ghost was doing everything in his power right now not to focus on the fact that your body was shifting and moving and vibrating on top of him, your whole being so close to him that he felt he could go to sleep right here.

Though Ghost doesn't speak, you can feel his heartbeat begin to pick up in his chest as well. It makes you pause, you can't lie.

You notice his eyes have been locked on yours for a rather long time now since you’ve looked back at him. Well over a minute. His gaze is softer than anything you’ve seen before, and he’s lost in you from the looks of things. Lost in your eyes, lost by your touch, not even fully aware of just how long you’ve been on top of him, your heart thumping with his.

His hand gently trails up your arm, and it freezes you in place, your breath catching in your lungs. Wondering if you should stand or speak before something happened. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to what it was Ghost might be planning. Surely he wouldn’t do anything drastic, would he? No, not Ghost. Not the man who prided himself off on his discipline and formality.

Suddenly you’re noticing just how close you are to him too; you’re on top of the man for crying out loud. A position you never thought in a million years you’d be in, let alone today. And his eyes looked so much prettier up close, when they weren’t glinted with their usual tired disdain. No, the look he gave you was now something more… delicate. As delicate as his hands were against you.

Ghost’s voice is so faint you almost miss him speak to you. “Y/N…”

You didn’t think he’d do anything, however, his hand keeps sliding up your arm, and it's making goosebumps dance down your skin like a ballroom dance. His fingers trace up to your neck, as cold as they were gentle, and you feel as though you’re seconds away from fainting. What is he doing? What in the world is going on right now?

"Ghost..?”

It’s as though the sound of your voice brought him back to the reality of what he was doing, because the second you speak, his hand pauses. His eyes grow wide, before a fire starts to burn behind them, and he takes his hand away from you, shifting himself up instead.

You take the hint, finally climbing off of him as you both fixed yourself, an awkward silence having now fallen in the air. You weren’t sure if you should comment on it. If that was an accident then… that’s what it was, right? Still, accident or not, your heartrate had doubled since that moment, and it hasn’t ceased to stop yet.

You look over at Ghost, wondering what the man might be thinking right now. His hood has fallen off, giving you a better view of his masked-covered head. He stands there, looking off into the field bashfully. Perhaps waiting for you to speak as well. His sudden shyness is not lost upon you.

Habitually, you say to him, “I’m sorry.”

Ghost shakes his head, roughly slipping his hands into his pockets as he shuffled around a bit in his stance. “Don’t be...” he says. “You know, you say that a lot.”

“I can’t help it,” you admit.

“Why?”

You’re unsure where it comes from, but you start to speak more from your heart than from anywhere tactical. “...I just really want you to like me.”

“I fail to see how that matters,” Ghost argues.

“Can’t we be friends?”

“Wha’, like you and Johnny?”

That one catches you off guard.

Of course, he suspected something. That only explains why he had been acting so awkward and cold with you all day. More than he normally was that is. Still, knowing that he knew you and Soap had something going on didn't make that news any better to hear.

“It can be anything you want it to be,” you tell him. “There’s nothing wrong with having people in your life, Ghost.”

He almost looked irritated with your answer. But you knew where that kind of irritation stemmed from. He was as mad at himself as he wanted to be at you. Mad enough to leave in fact, as right after, the man’s turned heel and started walking away from you.

Ghost wouldn't let you in close. He wouldn't allow it. Not you, not Soap, not anyone. He saw it as doing you all a favor, really. Neither of you wouldn't want anything to do with a man like him if you knew any better. Bad things always seem to come his way, one way or another. It's best not to mix others up in that.

You watch him go, ready to let him leave. But not really wanting him to go so soon.

"Where are you going?" you ask him.

"Away,” he says.

Away. You were beginning to see a pattern.

"You don’t have to,” you call out suddenly.

Ghost stops in his tracks, his back still facing you, and his head cocked back to look up at the night sky. You continue speaking, determined to get to the bottom of this. You might as well, before you’re out in the field and it gets in the way of things.

“I know you don’t trust me, and I don’t blame you” you say. “I also know we haven’t known each other for very long either but… I would never hurt you, Ghost. I hope you know that.”

Ghost looks to you with a doubtful gaze. "Even if it weren't your choice to make?"

You nod. "Even so."

Ghost shakes his head disappointedly, chuckling to himself even. It finally manages to urk you. “Ghost-”

“Look,” he cuts in. “Just stay away from me, alright? I can't make that same promise to you."

"Why can't you?" you press.

"Canary, I'm telling you to leave me the fuck alone if you know what's good for you,” Ghost growls out.

You don’t listen, even going as far as to take a few steps closer to him. You pause when you see him take a step back however, not wanting to further overstep his boundaries.

"If that choice was out of your hands as well,” you ask again. “Would you hurt me?"

"I' don’t want to find out…” Ghost admits.

You stand a few feet from the lieutenant, taking his words in and letting them marinate in your mind. While even now Ghost remained as guarded and closed off as he could be, what he said to you was probably the most honest thing he’s ever said to you -- That he isn’t sure what he’d do if he was forced to hurt you. If you ever gave him a reason to.

In due time, you feared that question would really be answered. You didn’t look forward to that day, should it come.

"Let's hope we don't then, lieutenant,” you say.

Ghost nods. “I will.”

Ghost turns to leave again, and this time you don’t stop him. You remain where you are, reminding yourself to not forget what brought you here.

You hadn’t wanted Ghost’s words to make you sad after hearing them, but they did. His words made you sad, because with it came fear. If Ghost or Soap were to ever hear of Shadow Company’s criminal operations with the General, it would surely be the end to any feelings you've built up over the past month. They'd probably never want you around again. And that’s if you even survived the encounter.

You're not so sure what point it was that you stopped pretending. That you kept talking and wanting to be around 141, not because it was your mission to stay close, but because you wanted to. You wanted their approval. And it upset you, just as much as it kept you going all these weeks.

But how much have you let the lines blur between yourself and work lately? Where was it that your lies ended and your true self began? It was pivotal that 141 liked you, but that hadn't been the only reason why you'd gotten so drawn in by them.

You hadn’t realized how deep into things you’d been until now, because at this point, them finding out the truth would be more than a problem. It would be a complete betrayal of their trust.

No, if you wanted to make it out of here with your life and relationships in tact, the Task Force couldn’t find out about Al Mazrah.

You couldn’t allow it.

...Chapter Twenty Here!

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #ghost x reader #soap x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish x reader #soap mw2 #ghost mwii #soap mwii #cod mwii #Spotify #control

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ssahotstuff · 2 years

Text

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

Push by Matchbox 20 here

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angry Hotch, some cursing, alcohol use. Not smut in this part. That comes in PART 2

Unlike the others in this series, this will have a second part published tomorrow! I’ll tag this part with it so they can be read together when they’re both completed.

“He hates me.”

You had came to the shocking realization during brunch with JJ and Emily. Your Unit Chief despised you, giving you more hell than any one person should ever have to endure. Granted, you were new, much younger, and he was intimidated by your ability to see the things he couldn't. You'd been right one too many times, and he was infuriated by it.

"He doesn't. He's just..." Emily struggled with the words to say to you, because there was no good explanation. Hotch just couldn't stand you.

"He hates me, Em. It's okay. I've come to terms with it," it was an unfortunate circumstance, because you felt the exact opposite. You wanted his attention, you were absolutely smitten with the man who despised you.

"I'm sorry. I wish we could help," JJ tried to cheer you up, because she knew how you felt about Hotch, but it was no use. You were in constant turmoil, because he'd laugh in your face if you told him how you felt.

"It's fine. I'll be okay." You weren't convinced, but you wanted to change the subject. After two years of listening to him be short, rude and disrespectful to you, it had made you debate transferring out of the BAU. He was nice, even friendly with everyone else, but he never had a kind word to say to you.

"At least we don't have to see him for a day or two," Emily said, excited to have a break from work. You dreaded the day you had to go back and hear Hotch jump on you for breathing the wrong way, or taking a little too long to answer his questions. He'd snap at any little thing you did, for no good reason other than the fact that he was in charge and there was nothing you could do about it.

JJ's phone began to ring, which made all of your moods turn sour. It was most like Hotch, calling you all back into work because there was a case.

"Looks like brunch is over, ladies."

✨✨✨

You were in the conference room in half an hour, ready to be briefed like everyone else. Hotch paid you no mind as he went over the details of the case. A local politician was missing, and you all were in charge of finding him.

"Y/n, you and Reid check out the Senator's office. See if there's anything that could give us a clue about his whereabouts and who he might be with," you were breathing a sigh of relief at being paired up with Reid instead of Hotch, because normally, he sent you with him so he could criticize you to the harshest extent about your work.

You stood up, following Reid to the car. Once you were in the drivers seat, he spoke up.

"That was the first time Hotch has sent you with someone other than him. Are you two getting along now?"

You sighed heavily, because nothing had changed.

"No. He still hates me."

Spencer nodded in understanding as you drove in the direction of downtown. The senator's office wasn't a far drive, and Spencer was good company.

"Maybe not. He was nice today."

"You're confusing acting like a human being with being nice. He wasn't being nice. He was getting me out of his way. He sent me with you so I wouldn't get on his nerves," you explained, Spencer's lips pulled in a tight line across his face. You two were the closest in age, so it made sense that you got along well. He was brilliant, always offering his help whenever you needed it.

"Have you considered asking him why he acts like that?"

You pulled into the parking lot, your hands tightly gripping the steering wheel.

"And risk his wrath? Absolutely not."

By the time you were cleared to search the Senator's office, you were mentally preoccupied with trying to figure out Hotch's emotions and the reasoning as to why he treated you so badly. You searched absentmindedly as Spencer went through files, the two of you working quietly together. It was a pleasant change from Hotch breathing down your neck, barking orders and demanding your compliance.

"Woah. I've got something, Spence."

It was a box of Polaroids, all different women, in a hotel that you recognized just by the art on the wall. There were names and dates on the back, ranging from 5 years ago to as recent as a week prior.

"This is The Golden Palace, that hotel in the city." You'd been there once before, and it had been impossible to forget. It was on the fancier end of hotels, and one weekend free of the BAU, you'd taken a small vacation there to unwind.

"We should call Hotch."

"Yeah, you do that," you scoffed, because you'd rather let Spencer take credit for the discovery than talk to him on the phone.

Spencer rolled his eyes before dialing Hotch's number, explaining what the two of you had discovered about the Senator. Hotch told you to bring the photos back so they could be processed as evidence and catalogued, so you headed back towards the academy.

"Just tell Hotch you found the box. He'll just question me if he thinks I did anything worth a fuck," Spencer couldn't hide his surprise at your vulgar words as you rode back in silence. You knew even if Hotch knew that you'd figured out where and what the Senator may be doing, he'd never trust your judgement.

"He's been having an affair. There was a box filled with numerous photos of different women, all as early as last week," Spencer told the team as you poured a cup of coffee. You could feel the icy glare of your boss even with your back turned.

"Anything to contribute, Y/L/N?"

"No sir. Dr. Reid covered it all," you said into your mug as you sat down, JJ watching you cautiously. You already knew you were about to catch his fury because he thought you were incompetent.

"Nice work, Reid."

Hotch's sarcastic comment was enough to have your face burning up and your anger towards him grew by the second. You just couldn't win with him. Reid shocked you by speaking out against Hotch.

"I didn't find the box. Y/n did."

Hotch blinked at you, before directing his attention back towards Reid.

"JJ, you and Reid go back to his office and see what details Y/n may have missed. We can't be sure of anything."

Your mouth fell open, because seconds earlier, he'd been convinced Reid had solved the entire case. You looked between JJ and Reid, who could only give you a solemn look in return as they trudged out the door. Hotch pointed his finger at you, narrowing his eyes.

"You're with me. We're going to check the hotel."

You followed him, trying to steady your breathing as you climbed into the SUV. You even went as far as to shut your door as quietly as possible, so you didn't accidentally piss him off.

"For the record, I think you're missing something, but we're going anyway. If anything, it'll just prove you wrong," his eyes never left the road and you tried to disguise the hurt by staring blankly out the window until you'd made it to The Golden Palace. Hotch introduced the two of you to reception before showing them a photo of Roy Marcus, the man you'd been looking for.

"He's in room 212. Is he in trouble?" The receptionist gave you a key card, and you followed Hotch up the stairs without a word. He was angry that you'd been right, and it dripped from his side eyed glances and his body language. He knocked on the door, face to face with the Senator himself. After Hotch explained briefly that his wife was worried when he never came home, and that you'd been looking for him, you were able to call the rest of the team and tell them that he'd been located. The ride back was awkward, completely silent.

"You were right," Reid said as soon as you stepped out of the elevator, putting his hand up for you to fist bump.

"She got lucky. She found clues that a kindergartner could've spotted. That hardly warrants a celebration."

Spencer put his hand down like a scalded dog, his eyes sad as he scanned your face for his reaction.

"What's your problem?"

The words felt like venom spewing from your lips, all of the rage you'd been feeling for months bubbling up to the surface. Emily and JJ simply watched you confront him in silence, Reid backing away the first chance he got.

"Excuse me?"

"You treat me like some sort of idiot. I don't deserve this. I contribute just as much as anyone else in this room," it was more than bold, it was a bullet to your career, and you knew it. There was no way he'd let you continue to work in the BAU.

He turned to meet your face, his eyes dark and menacing. You'd never been afraid of him before, but you were now, trembling as you took a step back. You crossed your arms over your chest as a shield, waiting on the backlash.

"You are replaceable, just like every mediocre human your age who thinks they deserve special treatment."

His words cut through you, but you tried not to let it show. You didn't want special treatment, you just wanted to feel accepted, and Hotch made you feel less than that. He made you feel inferior, like every move you made was the wrong one.

"Special treatment? You don't even treat me like a human being!"

He was in your face faster than you could track his movements, your legs failing you as you tried to back away from him.

His own voice boomed over yours, terror and panic quickly replacing your anger. His finger was in your face as he told you how insignificant you were, how you'd never be a part of his team, no matter how hard you tried.

"Get out of my sight!" He raised his hand to point his finger towards the door, but by the time you realized he was pointing, you'd already misjudged his actions, stumbling backwards as you fell to the floor, your arms up to protect you from Hotch's fist. You hadn't had time to process the rapid beating in your chest, your eyes were shut tight as you prepared for the worst. Seconds later, JJ's hand was grabbing your arm to help you up out of the floor.

"You're okay. Come on, let me help you," your face was hot and wet with tears as JJ helped you to your feet, trying to help you calm down. Hotch's entire demeanor had changed; his face had softened dramatically from his earlier grimace as he watched the exchange. You refused to give him the satisfaction of looking in his eyes.

"I—I'm sorry, Y/n. I shouldn't have yelled at you," his hands reached out for you but you flinched away, putting JJ between the two of you before he had an opportunity to come towards you. Your mind was made up, however, because you were done taking his less than decent behavior.

"I quit."

You tossed your badge to the floor and made a beeline for the elevator, Spencer quick on your heels. You pushed the button frantically to separate yourself from the rest of them, wiping your face to try to restore what dignity you had left. You were in the parking garage and speeding away before anyone had a chance to follow you.

✨✨✨

"Another, please," the bartender poured you another shot as you fanned the cigarette smoke coming from all directions. Once you had your drink in tow, you made your way outside to the patio to get some fresh air. The music still played softly as you recapped the events from the day to make sure they'd actually happened. Your phone had rang so much after you left that you'd turned it off, not wanting to deal with anyone from the BAU. You had no doubts that Hotch was livid with the way you spoke to him, calling repeatedly to reprimand you for your actions. Even though you'd quit before you left, you were certain he wasn't finished with you, and the thought of having to deal with confrontation again made you drain your glass.

You were halfway drunk, crying into your hands alone at a bar because your boss's ego was too large to treat you normally. You were an outsider to him, and always would be. Everyone inside seemed to be having a blast, but you stood flat against a wall in the dark, tucked in the corner, jobless and embarrassed. Hotch had not only scared you, but his words had killed your spirit, your drive to make a difference in your field. You never wanted to look at another case file again.

You looked to the sky, as if the answers were hidden dotted amongst the stars, with no such luck. It only had partial clouds and twinkling stars, neither of which did anything for your mood. The moon was a semicircle in the sky, hidden mostly by cloud coverage. You'd been expecting rain all day, because it would pair nicely with your shitty mood. You wondered if Hotch had any sort of conscience, if he felt like he'd made all the right decisions in screaming at you. You tried not to let him ruin your night, but you were hurting.

"Y/n? The bartender told me you were out here," you would recognize JJ's voice anywhere, so you stepped out of the shadows, revealing your tear stained face as she brought you in for a hug.

"I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now," it was impossible to describe. It was like shame, only worse. He'd tried to degrade you in front of all of your friends.

"I'm so glad I don't have to come back. You know, maybe if he knew I had a crush on him, he'd be a little nicer. Now I just feel like an idiot for liking someone who had no second thoughts about embarrassing me like that," JJ had known about your feelings for a while, but it was an unspoken rule between the two of you that you'd never mention it to anyone else.

"You're really not coming back? Hotch asked me to come talk to you. He doesn't want you leaving," her voice was laced with concern as you shook your head. You'd never work for him again; you weren't sure you'd even be able to stomach being around him any longer than absolutely necessary.

"There's no way, JJ. It's time to step away from the BAU."

✨✨✨

By the time you left the bar, it was well after midnight. You had no sooner walked out the door and Hotch was stepping out of his car, making his way to where you were waiting for a cab. Your anxiety reached new heights as you braced yourself, taking a proactive step back each time he came closer.

"Can we talk?"

"No. You have no authority over me anymore, and I'm drunk, so I probably won't be very nice to you."

You were as hammered as you could get, trying to wash down thoughts of him screaming at you, with little luck.

"You have every reason not to be nice to me. I haven't been very nice to you," he shot back, watching your feet to make sure you didn't take another step backwards. You kept a couple feet of space between the two of you, just in case.

"No shit. Go home, Hotch. Leave me alone," your voice was already quivering, because on any normal occasion, you would've been happy to see him, bad mood and all. The more he rejected you, the harder you'd worked, and the more you tried to win his affection. You'd realized at the bar that you'd never get his approval, so you set your sights on hating him.

"Please, Y/n. Just let me drive you home. You'll never catch a cab this late," the streets were empty, so you weighed your options before following him to his car, keeping a safe distance between you both. He was volatile, and you never knew when he'd erupt.

Once you were in the car, the tension was heavy. His hand lingered on the keys as he took a deep breath and turned to you.

"I don't like the way I made you feel today. You were afraid of me, and despite what you may think, I don't want that."

You couldn't help but laugh at how nice he was being, his actions and words constantly contradicting one another.

"You just want me to hate you? Is that why you treat me like I'm garbage? Seriously, you don't have to explain anything to me. I really just want to go home. You ruined my day, don't ruin the rest of my night too."

You let him sit with the weight of your words as you travelled wordlessly through the city, Hotch coming to a halt in your driveway.

"Would you consider coming back?"

Your hand was already opening the door, and you stepped out without giving him the satisfaction of an answer. He was following you though, right up to your door as you struggled to unlock it.

"Please just go. You made it really clear that your team doesn't need me."

You got the key in the door, but just as quickly, Hotch was closing it, forcing you to talk to him.

"Please let me explain myself. If you don't want to come back, that's fine too, but at least let me apologize to you."

You couldn't hold it in anymore; between the alcohol and your inability to think straight, you unleashed havoc, telling him exactly how you felt.

"You know, when I started at the BAU, I actually liked you! I wanted to be just like you! I couldn't see your shitty behavior because I was too busy trying to get you to like me back. Now I realize that the only person you like is yourself. I cannot believe I wasted my time having a crush on someone like you—someone who would rather rip another person's self esteem to shreds than admit their own faults. Go home, Hotch." You were able to get inside and slam the door behind you with no protests; in fact, things outside were quieter than ever. You watched through the blinds as he went back to his car and drove away.

The next morning, you woke with a hangover like hell. You'd left your car at the bar, so the first order of business was to get a cab to retrieve it. You'd almost forgotten about the horrible events from the day before, showering and brushing your teeth like normal. It was Sunday, so you planned to take it as easy as possible and look for another job.

You turned your phone on and watched the messages flood in, mostly from Hotch. He'd even asked you to grab breakfast together so he could apologize, but you weren't done being angry with him, and you weren't sure if you ever would be.

Your phone was already ringing, buzzing nonstop as you answered it blindly.

"You answered," Hotch sounded relieved to hear your voice, although he was the last person you were expecting to talk to.

"By accident. What do you want?"

"Can we start over? I'll come get you," you were hardly able to comprehend his offer, but you agreed to talk to him over breakfast because you were starving.

"Fine. Let me get dressed."

"You're serious?"

"Unless you've already changed your mind, which wouldn't surprise me," the sarcasm dripped from your words and he chuckled under his breath at you.

"I'll be there in twenty minutes."

He offered no further details, so you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and waited, rehearsing how your farewell speech to the BAU's fearless leader. You'd give him his turn to talk, but you'd never have to obey his orders again. That was the one thing you were certain of.

By the time he'd arrived, you were pacing nervously, regretting your decision to eat with him as soon as you stepped out the door. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you, his navy blue t-shirt clinging to his chest. You cursed yourself for letting yourself admire him, but you just couldn't help it. He was impossible to resist.

He offered a small wave, walking around to the passengers side of his car to open the door for you. He closed it behind you and you held your breath, anxious that he was still mad about the day before.

"Can I apologize now?" His arm rested on the console but you offered him no reply. You simply stared back at him and waited on what he had to say.

"You were really drunk last night," he began, and you rolled your eyes, because nothing that he was saying sounded like an apology.

"But you were more honest than you've ever been. I went home last night and tried to remember at least one good thing I've said to you in the last two years, and I couldn't think of anything."

He'd been too busy yelling at you, but you weren't going to interrupt him.

"My behavior has been unnecessarily difficult for you to deal with. If you still want to quit, I'd understand. But I am sorry for everything I've put you through. I know it means nothing now, but you're an exceptional member of our team, and it would be a shame to lose you."

You couldn't look at him, because if you did, you'd break down. The tears were already welling in your eyes, because you'd felt like a failure for months prior. Hotch never praised you, if anything, he went out of his way to do the opposite. It was weird hearing his guard down, hearing him be nice to you.

"I wish I could believe you. You've done nothing but belittle me since I started. You never wanted me around. You don't listen to anything I say, but when I don't have anything to say, you ostracize me for it and call me incompetent. You really hurt me. I don't think I can work for you anymore."

He was disappointed that you hadn't changed your mind, and it was evident by the way his shoulders slumped over in defeat. He started the car, but chose to stay quiet for the first half of the ride.

"What are you hungry for?"

You shrugged and told him to choose, because you were too busy trying not to cry. You'd waited months on him to be nice to you, and it had taken him scaring you for him to realize he was in the wrong. He pulled into a small diner and climbed out, coming to the passengers side to wait for you.

"I come here all the time," you told him, and he let you choose your favorite booth as he slid in opposite of you, his eyes watching you carefully as you scanned the menu.

"Hey, y/n! Good to see you again," Pat, your favorite waitress already knew your order by heart, she didn't even have to ask.

"Hi Pat. Your hair looks really good," she'd gotten a trim since the last time you'd seen her.

"You're the first person to notice. Thank you," she blushed before she went to grab coffee for the two of you, and when Hotch caught your eye, he was smiling behind his menu.

"Smiling suits you," he sat the menu down, his legs touching yours beneath the table. You pretended not to notice.

"I'll keep that in mind," if things hadn't been so tense, you almost would've enjoyed having breakfast with him. It felt strange, but it was something you could've gotten used to under different circumstances. A year ago, you would've been giddy at the thought of being alone with him. Now, you weren't sure how to feel.

"Will you do me a favor?"

He was definitely in no position to be asking you, but you nodded your head anyway, curious as to what he had to say.

"Spend the day with me, and if you still want to go at the end of the day, I'll write a letter recommending you anywhere you want to go. If you enjoy yourself, even a little bit, you'll stay."

"If I decide to stay, I need a lot more from you than one good day."

Pat was back with your coffee, taking your order before Hotch could answer you. Once she left, he was clarifying for you, so you'd know what to expect if you stayed in the BAU.

"I promise to be a changed man. You won't catch any more hell from me."

It sounded entirely too good to be true, but you took his hand and shook it anyway, because he definitely seemed serious. You were willing to give him a chance to turn things around.

"We'll see. I hope you mean that."

Things were quiet but comfortable as you ate. Occasionally he'd comment on breakfast, or say something just to fill the space, but you were starting to feel like he was really trying to make things better.

"This is nice."

You nodded in agreement, happy to finally be getting along with him. He was showing you the side of him that you'd liked all along; the gentler, more easygoing man that enjoyed simple things, like breakfast dates.

"A lot better than arguing."

✨✨✨

She was smiling.

It was brief, but it happened nonetheless. I let her control the radio as I brought her back to my home. I wanted to spend the day doing what I'd been avoiding all along: getting to know her. I'd never even given her a chance; I saw her peppy spirit and desire to excel and tried my hardest to hate her so she didn't draw me in. She'd done it anyway, and through a series of unfortunate events, it became my duty to make her happy again. I'd felt horrible after our exchange in the office, and even worse after I dropped her off the night before.

She liked me, despite the way I made her feel. I'd shut her out, shot her down and put out her spark before she even had an opportunity to shine. Things were okay now; she agreed to come spend the day with me, so it was a start. All night long I couldn't stop thinking about how she'd said she had a crush on me. I thought she might've just been drunk, until I realized she was just being completely transparent with me because she had nothing else to lose. She'd felt hopeless, and I'd planned to spend the day trying to reverse that.

"We can do whatever you want today," I told her, putting the car in park and shutting off the ignition. I stepped around to help with her door, and pretended not to see her blushing. It was cute; the root of all my shitty behavior had been her unnaturally good looks, and irresistible charm. She was the brightest person in the room, and I knew I was doomed the minute she walked in the door.

"I'm kind of hungover so maybe we could be lazy? I had a lot of tequila," she giggled, following me inside as she scanned the place over.

"Even your house is perfect," she mused, and although it took me a second to absorb what she'd said, my breath got caught in my throat, and my palms went clammy. Even now, she thought I was someone worth caring about, and even though I didn't deserve it, I desperately wanted to know more about how she felt towards me.

"I'm glad you like it. You get full control of the tv," I told her, but instead of taking her to the couch, I figured we'd hang out in my room, and she could get comfortable in my bed.

"You always watch tv in bed?"

"Only if you're here. I never let anyone come in my room, so this is me trusting you."

She made a satisfied hum before she kicked off her shoes and climbed in, leaning against the headboard as she flipped through the channels. I mimicked her actions and tried to keep a bit of space between us so she wasn't uncomfortable.

"Something tells me you don't watch a lot of tv," her eyes never left the screen, the remote still in her hand.

"It just depends. I mostly use it for background noise," I admitted, and she told me she did the same thing.

"Tell me something else," she finally turned to look at me, happily chatting away her morning with me. We talked about everything; I told her that she was the first woman to lay in my bed, and the pink rose to her cheeks, her lips curled up in a smile that was more than contagious. She was just as funny and witty as I knew she'd be if I would've given her a chance to show me.

Before I knew it, my head was propped up on my hand as I listened to her tell me about her family, and why she chose the BAU. It became an exchange of secrets that none of the team knew, just the two of us. It felt intimate and I couldn't shake the thought of having her so close out of my mind. It was all I could focus on as we talked, cozy in my bed. It had been ages since I just hung out with another person, and I'd certainly not spent any time with a woman since my marriage ended. It was an unexpected yet pleasant morning as we learned the things about each other that no one else knew.

"This has been an interesting change," even she couldn't help but have a nice time, despite the way she'd felt when the day started.

"See? I'm not so bad," she teased, and I'd known all along what a good person she'd be, I was just afraid of letting her in, so I kept her at a more than considerable distance.

"I feel the need to mention that I never thought you were bad. I was afraid of you, Y/n, afraid of the way you might make me feel something. It was never you."

She simply stared back at me, trying to wrap her head around my confession. It felt like weights being lifted from my body, not carrying around the fear of falling anymore. If it was meant to happen, I'd let it gladly. She was so much more wonderful than I'd ever given her credit for.

"What am I making you feel now?" She had always been bold, but it left me winded anyway.

"Honestly I'm not sure what I was so afraid of. You just make everything better."

"Stop, you don't mean that." She laid flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling.

"I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. I've had a great morning with you. I'm hoping it doesn't end for a while," she peered up at me, rolling back to her side so we could face each other.

"You know, I meant what I said last night. About having a crush on you. I was drunk, but I remember."

It was the moment of truth. My heart began to beat rapidly when I remembered I had to produce some sort of answer to her and I had no clue what to say.

"What do you think we should do about that?"

"We can start by being like this all the time. I understand you have to be strict at work, but if I come back, it would be really nice to get along with you."

I nodded, because she deserved to be able to come to work and not have to worry if I'd snap at her. It would make both of our lives easier to just admit the obvious and work things out together.

"I promise you, things will be completely different. You're a vital member of the team, and I'm sorry that I've made your life so difficult up to this point. I was serious too, about starting over."

"I'm trusting you, Hotch. Please don't let me down."

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