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darkthingshappen · 2 years

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Brother's Keeper: The Power of Music

This is a thank you all of my followers. I have now reached 300!!!! I had several requests for Ben fluffy. But I am me, so this fluff is... angsty. It's fluffy angst. Flangst™️.

I can't believe this many of y'all follow me for this. It's so much fun being on this hell site with all of you. I will try to write some actual fluffy fluff for my sweet Ben at some point, but there's so much fun pain in the current arc that I still have to deal with. Hahahahaha

As always, I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to the wonderful @whumpcereal for her amazing job betaing my story and poking and prodding where needed to make me a better writer. This story wouldn't be what it is with out her pushing me to "give" more.

Content warnings: nothing explicit, but a lot of alluded to or implied past trauma including implied past noncon.

Lastly, I have included links to some Youtube music in case you are not familiar with the songs mentioned in this piece or if you just wanna listen along while you read. They can be found at the end of the piece.

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @no-terms-and-conditions-apply (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this)

Ben laid curled up in a ball on his bed in the psychiatric hospital he’d been brought to upon his rescue from Volkov. It hadn’t been what they had all hoped for. The Adkins family had wanted to bring him straight home, but the intensity, frequency, and severity of his flashbacks had made that impossible. So now, he was in an unfamiliar, sterile room in a near catatonic state. He was safe, but he wasn’t home.

Maria Adkins silently wondered if her youngest son would ever fully come home. She sat in the chair next to his bed, but she didn’t reach for him. They had to be so cautious with being near him, let alone touching him. The boy she’d dreamed about wrapping in her arms for the entirety of his captivity couldn’t stand to be touched. His eyes were open most of the day, they seemed to see everything and nothing all at the same time.

There would be long stretches where he stared at the wall and rocked back and forth. Other times his eyes darted around the room seeing terrors only he could see. Ben had always been so bright and joyful, but now his soft brown eyes were haunted. Would he ever come out from behind the walls he’d built around his mind? Yes, he’d survived, but he wasn’t living, not yet anyway. He’d shut himself away in his own head just so that he’d be able to cope with the trauma he’d had to endure.

How long had he spent cooped up in that awful cage that she’d seen pictures of? Her husband had tried to shield her, but she had to know. She’d snuck into his office and flipped through the files. She’d stopped when she saw the chains attached to that monster’s bed frame.

How was she supposed to get through to him after the horror’s he’d been forced to endure? She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him like she did when he was a small child, but it was the one thing she couldn’t do. Her baby was lost. He was here, but he was utterly lost. They needed a lifeline that would help him find his way back home from wherever he was in his head. That’s why she’d asked Zoe to come today. She only hoped it would help.

There was a soft knock at the door. It opened with a click, and Zoe’s bright red head poked in.

Mrs. Adkins smiled at her. “Hey, honey, thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Zoe whispered, coming into the small room, a large black case on her back. “I’m happy to help. How is he doing today?”

Maria smiled at the young woman. Benny and Zoe had been thick as thieves since they were sixteen-years-old. Maria adored Zoe; she was a good match for her boy. They were both academically gifted, but Zoe had spirit, which kept Ben on his toes. He needed that.

“Mostly the same. A lot of rocking today. I wish I knew what he was seeing.”

She smiled sadly at Zoe. They were so young, almost children still. They shouldn’t be dealing with this level of evil. They should be studying and debating the great mysteries of life. They should be figuring out who they were. Zoe was wholly dedicated to Ben. She’d, at a minimum, stopped by at least once a day every day since he’d come home. The first visit had been the hardest. Like they had all accidentally done, she’d reached out and combed her fingers through his hair before anyone could stop her, and he’d devolved into a flashback and full on panic attack. Zoe had left sobbing into Jake’s shoulder while he tried to tell her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault.

Maria half-expected Zoe to be afraid to come back. She’d spoken to Zoe’s mother, and it was evident they thought their daughter should try to move on. But they were good people and would trust their daughter. They didn’t want her to be hurt, and Ben’s disappearance had hurt more deeply than anything else Zoe had ever gone through.

Maria was a mom, she understood. But Zoe was a lover. When she came the next day, there was a fierceness in her eyes that Maria recognized in her own expression. Zoe was in it for the long haul. Ben was hers, and she wasn’t about to let go. Maria approved.

Zoe’s eyes moved to Ben’s curled up form. Her red eyebrows knit together in concern. “Yeah, but I think whatever it is he’s seeing must be pretty scary. Ben was never afraid of much. He was always so protective of me. I can’t imagine how bad things got to make him like this.”

Things had gotten bad. Zoe didn’t know the half of it. Maria hoped she never would, but she had a feeling that the determined little Irish girl in front of her would find out, one way or another. Maria wished to God that she could shield her, shield them both, but despite the fact that she still saw them as children, they weren’t. Not anymore. There was an innocence that that monster had stolen from both of them.

“You brought your cello?” Maria asked.

“Just like you asked. You really think it’ll help?”

“You know how much he loved hearing and watching you play.”

Zoe blushed slightly. “I loved playing for him. He was my biggest cheerleader.” Zoe laughed softly at a memory. “He cheered like he was at a Penguins game. The rest of the audience would be politely applauding and he’d be on the first row, whistling and cheering.” Her expression grew wistful as her eyes darted back to him. “You know I always told him I hated that and that it embarrassed me. But, all it took was one concert without it for me to know I really loved it.” Her voice was suddenly quiet. “I’ve barely played since then. I missed two recitals. I just couldn’t do it without him there. It was too quiet.”

Zoe wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “He was always there for me, since we were sixteen. Maybe this can help me be there for him.”

Mrs. Adkins rubbed Zoe’s back. “If this doesn’t work, it’s okay. It’s not on you, honey, to bring him back. You’ve been hurt through all this too. We all have.” She gave Zoe’s shoulder a squeeze. “It doesn’t change the fact that you love him and he loves you.”

Zoe swallowed and nodded.

“Here. You take the chair, and get set up. I’ll be back in a bit and I’ll see if I can get another chair in here.” She patted Zoe’s shoulder again and stepped out of the room.

*!*!*!*!*

Zoe’s hands shook a little as she set up her cello. She set the endpin in the rest stop and then rosined her bow. She gazed at Ben, curled up in the fetal position and rocking slightly. Most of the time his eyes were open, but every now and then he would squeeze his eyes shut and his body would shake with some horrible memory that he couldn’t cope with. Zoe suspected much about what had happened to him.

Whether this worked or not, she was determined to find out. She couldn’t help him if she didn’t know. She knew Ben’s parents would never tell her. But Jake might be persuaded. Or intimidated. Zoe wasn’t above emotional manipulation if it meant she could help Ben. She loved Jake like a brother, but she wasn’t blind. Jake was the connection to that monster and why Ben had been taken in the first place. He owed her, and Ben.

“Hey, Benny.” She angled her body and cello slightly, so that she was able to see him full on with her back to the door of the room. “I learned a new song that you haven’t heard me play before. It’s the only thing I’ve felt since you’ve been gone. I missed you, bestie. It’s been so quiet without you. So, here we go…”

The mournful strains of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” soon filled the room. The notes were deep to begin with, but on a cello, there was no comparison as the rich tones of the music resounded from the walls. By the time she got to the line, silence like a cancer grows, Zoe’s tears were coursing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin to run down the length of her cello. She poured every ounce of the loss she’d felt during all the time that Ben was gone into that melody.

Zoe had panicked when her small touch had sent Ben spiraling. She worried it was a rejection of her. But Jake had explained that he’d reacted the same to each of them. Touch-averse was the word he said the doctors used. Touch-averse. The man who was always so tender and affectionate with her. The man who held her hand when they walked to the park, the man who was always ready to throw his arms around her. The man that was always her support, physically and mentally, was touch-averse. It had seemed like a cruel cosmic joke at first. Her parents had told her it was okay if she moved on. They told her the Ben from before was most likely gone. They weren’t wrong, Ben would never be the same. But that was true for all of them. Zoe would never be the same either, and she didn’t want to be–she had to move forward with Ben.

Zoe poured everything she had into reading up on touch averse therapies and long term recovery options. It was too soon to tell if this would be lasting. And Zoe loved Ben more than anything in the whole world. And when you love something, you fight for it. So she came back, day after day after day.

When she finished the song, the deafening silence echoed back at her from every corner of the room as last notes fluttered in the air.

Quietly, Mrs. Adkins stepped back into the room, wiping her own tears. The two women understood each other. Zoe took a deep breath and started the next tune. In her head she sang, softly and sweetly, Joyful joyful we adore thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love; Hearts unfold like flow’rs before thee, op’ning to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away. Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.

This was one of Ben’s favorite hymns. He’d always loved the simplicity of it. The tune, the words, the hope. He thought they were beautiful. She’d laughed the first time she’d scrolled through his music and found no less than twelve versions of the same hymn. Fast ones, slow ones, classical versions, a version from a popular 90’s movie. It didn’t seem to matter, Ben loved them all. He was no singer, but as they grew up and grew closer, Zoe loved to hear him frequently humming this sweet melody. If he was feeling silly, he might belt it out at the top of his lungs. It was his go-to happy tune. Zoe suspected his mother had something to do with that.

Zoe played. She sang through every verse. She wasn’t sure exactly when Mrs. Adkins joined in, but her sweet voice filled the room mingling with the lovely chords dancing under Zoe’s fingers. Together, they both sang the final verse of the song, Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife. Joyful music leads us sunward, in the triumph song of life.

Slowly, Zoe finished out the notes, but her eyes weren’t on her cello, they were on Ben’s. They were clear, and he was watching her. At some point, his lips had started moving along with the words of the song. Zoe made a snap decision and kept playing. She’d already played through the whole thing once, but she couldn’t let him retreat. Not when he was here in this moment. She played it over again, the entire glorious hymn.

Mrs. Adkins sat on the floor next to Ben’s bed, her hand resting softly on the sheet beside him. Ben’s hand moved slightly from where it had been curled up under his chin to just next to his mother’s hand. Their fingers brushed slightly, and he didn’t pull away. Zoe watched with tear- filled eyes as Maria moved her fingers over his, slowly and gently, and held his hand. They both held their breath for a second and then released when he made no move to pull away. Zoe could see the tears trickling down her cheeks. Ben didn’t talk, but he looked between the two of them while he mouthed the words. Zoe smiled at him while her fingers sang the tune. When she finally did reach the end of the song, and the gentle notes still hung in the air, she looked at Ben.

“Hi, it’s good to see you again. I’ve really missed you.”

Ben had tears in his eyes, and they spilled down his cheek at her words. His lips started to move, but he didn’t make a sound. Zoe smiled at him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right now. You just rest so you can heal. I’ll keep playing.”

He gave her a weak half-smile.

Zoe’s fingers started to move again, and the delicate notes of “Brahms' Lullaby” filtered through the room. Mrs. Adkins hummed along; Zoe remembered her saying that she used to hum that song to him when he was a baby. Like “Ode to Joy,” she continued to play as she watched Ben grow sleepy, his eyes drooping, but for once not filled with terrors, but soft memories and safety. Soon, he was sleeping, real sleep, a sleep that was deep and natural.

Zoe played long after he’d fallen asleep, in an attempt to ward off the nightmares that so often disturbed his slumber. She played through suites, opuses, odes, and lullabies. It was the longest concert she’d ever performed, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Ben had been home, really home, even if just for a few minutes. It was progress.

She was utterly exhausted when she packed up her cello hours later. But the exhaustion was tempered with satisfaction. It had worked. They’d successfully drawn him out from behind the walls he’d hidden behind.

Mrs. Adkins enfolded her in a mother’s embrace. “Thank you for this, Zoe. I think we can see a little light at the end of the tunnel. Just a bit.”

“I hope so. I’ll come back tomorrow and play some more.”

“That would be great. Get some rest. I’m sure that was tiring.”

“Worth every ache just to see him look at me for real.”

“Yes. Me too.”

Zoe walked over to Ben and dared to touch his shoulder. He was sleeping soundly and did not stir. She started to lean down to kiss him and glanced at his mom for permission. Mrs. Adkins was still sitting next to him, still holding his hand. The older woman smiled warmly at her and nodded.

Zoe leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Ben’s temple. Her fingers grazed the deep scar over his cheekbone where he’d clearly been beaten.

“I love you, Benny Bear,” she whispered into his ear. She stood and gathered her music, stand, and instrument. It took her a few minutes to get everything packed away.

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. Adkins,” Zoe said, with a yawn as she shrugged her cello bag onto her back.

“Yes, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. I know he can’t say it right now, but he loves you very much.”

“I know. But thank you for telling me. I hope you know how much I love him.”

She would have given anything to hear Ben say it, but knowing his mother knew it meant she could wait until he could say it himself again. And he would. She was certain of that. She might not know the timeline, but she would get him back. There was no world in which Maria and Zoe wouldn’t fight with all they had to pull him back from the brink of the nightmare world he was trapped in.

“Oh, I know how you feel,” Mrs. Adkins said. “You’re so good with him. I know it’s hard, but you’re doing great.”

Zoe smiled at this. “So are you.”

They both shared a sad, but hopeful smile with each other before Zoe turned for the door.

*!*!*!*!*

Mrs. Adkins watched the young woman leave.

“Benny, my boy. I know you think you hid that ring where I couldn’t find it.” She delicately ran her thumb along the back of Ben’s hand. “But you picked the perfect girl. She’s amazing, and I truly hope I get to see the two of you married one day.”

Mrs. Adkins settled in a bit more comfortably on the bed and returned to humming Brahms’ Lullaby. She didn't let go of Ben’s hand.

*!*!*!*!*

Ben sighed in his sleep. In his dreams, he drifted back in his memories to a time before Volkov and all the horror. He ran his fingers along the glass countertops of the jewelry store.

That one! That was it. He pointed down to a delicate band of white gold; Zoe didn’t like yellow or rose gold. The band was simple, but the diamond set was ornate. It was surrounded with multiple different types of green gemstones - emerald, peridot, tourmaline, green sapphire, and kiwi topaz. It was perfect. The multiple shades of green reflected the deep clear green of her eyes.

Ben smiled broadly as he made his choice. He was ready, or as ready as he’d ever be, to propose to his girl. He glanced out the window to the bright sunny afternoon and whooshed out a nervous breath. This was it. He was really doing it. He was buying an engagement ring.

He’d known it was Zoe from the minutes he’d seen her. Maybe not literally, but it felt like that. They just fit together - they got each other. As he was handed the ring in its little box, he couldn’t help but hum his favorite hymn. He walked out the door with “Ode to Joy” on his lips.

Somewhere in the air above him as he headed for the park, he heard the notes of Brahms' Lullaby drifting through the air.

Ben sighed contentedly in his sleep, his fingers flexing to grip his mother’s. For once, his dreams were happy and the pain was forgotten, held at bay by the music he knew was just for him.

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

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Never Again, I Promise

AO3 link! y'all, listen, this one was floating around in my head for weeks and I finally had a breakthrough cause of a random tumblr post I made..... anyway, you know what? I finally forced myself to finish it up I hope y'all enjoy it, tell me your thoughts if you'd like to! and as always, sorry for any grammatical errors!

warning: implied abusive parents, clingy reader, and lactation

-----

"Cassie, hi, do you know where your mother is? I've been looking for her all morning." You asked when you ran into Alcina second oldest daughter, Cassandra.

Cassandra scratched her head. "I think she might be in the library or her study or her office. Honestly, Y/ N, Mother is usually all over the castle before a meeting." Cassandra replied.

You nodded your head. "Okay, I'll just check all those places until I find her. Thanks." You replied before heading to the library.

You didn't expect yourself to want to be near the tall vampire lady when you first arrived at the castle, but she was so kind to you that you took to her like a baby animal imprinting on the first thing it saw. The library was a bust, but you did find Daniela, Alcina's youngest, in there studying her French.

"Hey, Dani, do you know where your Mother is? I asked Cassandra and she said that she might be here, her study, or her office." You asked as you walked up to her.

Daniela shrugged. "Well, there's a meeting coming up so those last two choices are good places to look. Unless, no, I can't tell you about that place. Anyway, yeah, her study or her office, check there. If you still can't find her then come back and we'll look for her together." Daniela replied.

You sighed. "Okay. Thanks." You said before heading out of the library.

You checked her study, knocking on the door first and getting no reply so you opened the door slightly and poked your head inside. Sigh, she wasn't in there either. You crossed your fingers and hoped that she was in her office. As you walked in the direction of her study which was on the other side of the castle you ran into Bela, Alcina's oldest.

"Bela, hi! Do you know if your Mother is in her office?" You asked.

Bela nodded her head. "She is! I just came from there, but if you go in there be cautious. There's-"

You cut her off. "A meeting, I know. I'll try to be respectful of her space." You replied. That was going to be a bit hard to do since you just wanted to invade her space as much as you could. You headed to where Alcina's office was and knocked on the door. "Alci?" You called out, your voice slightly muffled through the thick door.

"Come in, little one." Alcina said and you pushed the door opened. "What can I do for you?" Alcina asked as she continued to do her work.

You walked over to the desk. "I was just- can I sit?" You asked. Alcina nodded her head and you wedged yourself between her and her desk much to her surprise.

"Y/N, what are you doing?" Alcina asked as you got comfortable in her lap.

"I asked if I could sit and you said yes. I can, I can mo-" You started to say but Alcina shook her head. "I'll be good, promise." You said quietly as you let her get back to her work. You quickly grew bored just sitting in her lap and started squirming, moving along to a beat that was playing in your head.

Alcina pressed her hand into your side to keep you still. "Y/N, I cannot concentrate if you're going to do that." Alcina said. "Why don't you go bring a chair over and you can sit next to me?" Alcina suggested.

You pouted a bit at the idea, but reluctantly removed yourself from her lap to bring a chair over. She patted the top of your head when you sat down and you smiled to yourself. You didn't want to seem like you were trying to annoy her, but you were still bored so you tapped her arm.

"Yes, Y/N?" Alcina asked, not taking her eyes off her paper.

"Alci, I'm bored." You replied. "Do you have anything I can do?"

Alcina let out a small sigh before nodding her head. "The girls used to come in here all the time. There are pencils, crayons, paper, and colouring books. You can use whatever you want, but please try to keep as quiet as possible. I still have tons of paperwork to do." Alcina said.

You nodded your head. "Okay, Alci." You replied with a small smile before digging into the drawer that Alcina had pointed to. You sat on the floor by the fire after you'd gotten some coloured pencils and a colouring book. As you coloured, you started humming to yourself, catching Alcina's attention.

"Dear," You snapped your head up to look at her, flushing a bit. You gave her an apologetic smile. "Thank you."

It wasn't long before you stopped colouring to look up at Alcina. "Ali?" You called out. She hummed in reply. "Can I sit in your lap again? The floor hurts." You whined. You heard her sigh a bit before she nodded her head, scooting her chair back a bit so you had enough room to get on her lap. "Much better." You said with a small sigh as you sat on her.

It was an hour later before Alcina patted your side to get your attention. "I'm afraid I have to make a call to Mother Miranda, little one." You nodded your head and got up from her lap.

"Can I stay?" You asked. Alcina shook her head. "Please, Ali? I'll be quiet, promise."

"I don't know, Y/N. This is a very important phone call." Alcina said as she headed to the phone. You nodded your head, understanding her decision. "But if you really promise to be quiet then I suppose." You smiled at her and moved to pick up your stuff when she stopped you. "It'd be best if you stayed right here. Things with Mother Miranda can get quite... tense. And I'd hate for you to get caught in the middle of the rage she incites in me. Do you understand, little one?"

"I understand, Ali." You replied, albeit a bit dejectedly. You moved your things up onto Alcina’s desk as she sat down in front of the phone.

Alcina gave you a small smile before she dialled Mother Miranda’s number. You had tuned out most of their conversation, only ever jumping when Alcina would growl and pull you out of your thoughts. You didn’t let it bother you much, but you still closed your eyes and took deep breaths to calm yourself down. It was going well until Alcina had slammed the phone down onto the receiver and threw it at the wall on the other side of the study.

You quickly got up and headed over to where she was seated, your heart beating fast. “Alcina?” You called out, but she ignored you. You called out her name again, attempting to rest your hand on her shoulder, but froze when hers shot out and grabbed yours.

Alcina slowly turned to look at you, her eyes narrow as she stared at you. Her nostrils flared and her chest heaved heavily. You let out a small whimper and tugged on your arm when her grip tightened. “Alcina, please, you’re hurting me.”

“I thought I specifically told you to stay at the desk.” Alcina growled. “But what can I expect from a clingy little mouse? I tell you to do one thing and you don’t listen. Do you need a punishment to help reinforce the rules, is that what you require? Answer me!” Alcina spat at you.

Your lip trembled as she spoke to you. Did she really think you were clingy? Your face flushed as your anger got a hold of you and you ripped your arm from her iron-like grip. “I hate you! I hate you! You’re just like them!” You didn’t realise you were crying until you had run out of the office and to Alcina’s room.

You hid in the closet, terrified of what she’d do if she found you. She wanted to punish you, she wanted to hurt you. You whimpered at the memories of what your parents did to you if you even so much as breathed in their direction. But your Alcina would never hurt you, would she?

You wrapped your arms around yourself, sobbing into your knees. “Clingy. She thinks I’m clingy.” You whisper to yourself. You sniffled and felt yourself tense at the sound of heels, Alcina’s heels. You burrowed yourself further into her closet, grateful for how big it was.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there.” Alcina rasped out. “Please, I’m sorry. Please, just come out.” You could hear the cracking of her voice. “When you said that you… you hated me, my heart broke, draga mea. I never wish to harm you. And when you compared me to those monsters you had to call parents, I felt sick to my stomach. I don’t wish for you to view me as you view them.”

“Alcina?” You replied softly, not moving from your spot. You heard rustling in the room before the closet door opened. “Alcina?” Your lip trembled again as you felt tears build up in your eyes again.

Alcina crouched down in the closet before crawling over to you. “Iubirea mea, I’m so sorry. Forgive me for the way I snapped at you, please?” Alcina asked as you crawled into her lap, burying your head in her neck.

You sniffled. “You… you called me cli-clingy. Yo-you h-hurt me, Ali.” You whispered into her neck.

“I never should have said that. I was just so frustrated with Mother Miranda and you… I never want you to see me like that again.” Alcina replied, pressing kisses to your forehead. You nodded into her neck, scooting down to lay in the crook of her arm. You were still crying softly as she caressed your cheek. “Shh, shh, little one, I’ve got you.” Alcina said as she brought one of her breasts out of her dress.

You squeezed it in a silent question and Alcina nodded her head. She let out a small sigh when you latched onto the nipple, putting you in a better position to get her milk.

“Never again, my love, I promise. Never again.” Alcina said softly as you drank from her. You felt your eyes start to droop as you suckled at her breast. “Rest now, little one.” Alcina pressed another kiss to your forehead, running her hand down your back as you fell asleep in her arms.

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pinkcoffeecup · 3 years

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independent, spencer reid

Summary: Y/n has a few too many drinks during girls night, causing Spencer to show up to take her home. But Y/n isn’t planning on leaving any time soon.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption

Word count: 1022

Authors note: So, I just saw this tiktok and I think I’m now obsessed with this concept, also I have a taglist now if anyone wants to be tagged in the stuff I post, just click this link :)

I was woken up to the sound of my ringtone, and when I read JJ’s name on the display, I couldn’t help but worry. For a short moment, I thought I was being called in for a case, but then I remembered the Girls Night Garcia and Emily had insisted on, dragging JJ and Y/n with them. “Is everything alright?” I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Yeah, uh, it’s fine. It’s just that we might have let it go a bit far, and Y/n had a few too many drinks,” JJ explained, and I could hear my name being called in the background, “She wants to speak to you,” JJ laughed.

Before I had time to say anything else, Y/n was on the phone, “Hi Spencer,” She giggled, “You should’ve been here! It’s so fun!”

Her words were a mix of confused mumbling and giggles, and despite my worries for the girl on the phone I couldn’t help but smile, “Darling, I can tell,” I said, chuckling slightly, “But I think JJ wants me to come to pick you up now,”

She let out a sigh, “What? Why? That’s not very nice of her!”

“Princess, I’m leaving home now, I’ll be there in a little bit, okay?” I told her, “Be nice to the girls,”

“Yeah, fine,”

The call ended, and I pulled on a hoodie and a pair of jeans before heading out to the car. Y/n had a tendency to drink more than she could handle, and it was a fairly usual occurrence for JJ to call me and ask for some help. Because not only was Y/n loud and eccentric when she was drunk, she was completely insane.

Once I stepped inside the crowded bar I was worried I wouldn’t find them, but my worries only lasted for a second before I felt a pair of arms wrap around my torso, and a body crash into the back of mine. “Hey there,” I chuckled, “Did you miss me that much?”

I could feel her giggling into my hoodie as I turned around in her grip, facing her, “Do you want a drink?” She asked, a hopeful smile resting on her lips.

The way her eyes suddenly seemed so big, and the way she looked up into mine almost made me say yes, just to make her happy. But I decided against it, “Y/n, I’m here to-” I began, but was soon interrupted by Y/n letting out an excited squeal, grabbing my arm as she spoke loudly, “I love this song! Dance with me Spence!”

She pulled me through the crowd towards the others, ignoring my protests about the dance. “Guys! Spencer’s here!” She announced, “We’re going to dance!”

I placed my arms around her shoulders, as to keep her from running away once I told her I wasn’t here to dance, “Actually, I’m here to bring this young lady home, it is way past her bedtime,” I explained, noticing the concerned look from JJ as she watched Y/n try to escape my grip.

“I’m sorry Spence,” JJ said, “I tried to keep her in check this time, but you know how it gets,”

I assured her it was no problem at all, that I gladly came to pick my girlfriend up anywhere at any time of the night, and that as long as she wasn’t hurt, there was no harm done. She had nodded, still looking somewhat guilty as she and the others walked over to the bar again.

“You can’t make me leave!” Y/n had managed to get out of my grip, mad about her party-pooper boyfriend, “No one bosses me around okay! Not even you!”

“Hey princess, sit down,” I said calmly, watching as she followed my instructions and moving to the nearest chair.

“I’m an independent woman Spence, I do what I want when I want!” She ranted, sitting comfortably on the wooden chair.

I suppressed a laugh as I spoke again, “Love, do me a favour, raise your right hand for me,” Once again, my instructions were being followed closely, her right hand raised as she continued, “You know who tells me what to do? Myself!”

“Y/n?” I said, raising my eyebrows slightly as I took a step towards her, “Are you sure about that?” Her face twisted in confusion, “You can put your arm down now princess,”

She let her hand fall to her lap, looking at me with a pout on her lips, “I only did that because I wanted to,” She mumbled bitterly, barely audible over the music around us.

“Of course you did sweetheart,” I grinned, “Now, let’s go home and get you to sleep,” Y/n sighed in annoyance, but stood up and latched onto my arm.

I managed to wave the others goodbye just as we left, barely catching their giggling at the interaction between Y/n and me.

“I’m sorry Spencer,” She said when I had managed to get her in the front seat.

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for princess,” I smiled, watching as she looked at her hands resting in her lap, “I’m glad you had fun, you deserve it,”

She looked up at me for a second, “You’re so nice, I love you,”

For a short moment I was convinced she was about to cry, but the tears stayed at the surface of her eyes, making them glow in under the light from the neon sign in front of her, “I love you too Y/n,” I said, pressing a kiss to her forehead before shutting the door softly and heading to the drivers seat.

“I’m tired Spence,” She mumbled, pulling her legs up to her chest as I started driving.

“I know darling, go to sleep, I’ll carry you inside when we get home,”

She dosed off quickly, looking unbelievably adorable curled up in the seat, her knees tucked under her skirt and her hands hidden in the sleeves of her sweater. She never failed to remind me of why I loved her as much as I did, and why I would continue to love her for as long as she let me.

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dottiechan · 3 years

Text

ICEBREAKER Pt. 1

Read on AO3 (link in bio)

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader x Hunter; Tech x Reader (platonic)

Wordcount: 2389

Summary: Tech watches on helplessly as his brothers' affection for you threaten to ruin the squad.

Warnings: cursing, yearning

You’re just as cold on the inside as the ice is under your boots. It crunches with every step you take, and your heart seems to beat along with the fall of your boots, aching. You feel unsteady, almost enough to miss the tracks running in the snow right in front of you. You pause and crutch down, gloved fingers dipping into the indentations as you grumble to yourself. It’s not even your turn to scope out the area where you’re setting up camp, and besides, there is a literal tracking genius in your squad - it really shouldn’t be you who’s out here in the snow and ice, eyes straining against the blinding white of the planet, fingers freezing off as you set up perimeter alarms. And yet you just volunteered for the less than ideal task without explanation, not understanding your own decision either.

At least Tech offered to tag along, but you suspect he’s simply had enough of his brothers for a while. Not that you can blame him.

“Fascinating.”

You sigh, internally begging him to stop talking as you stand, abandoning the tracks after deciding they most likely belong to a lone whitefang. You have enough on your plate right now, with Hunter still being pissy and Crosshair avoiding you like the plague, and silence would be much more preferable right now to listening to one of Tech’s rambles.

“Did you know that this moon’s surface is almost entirely composed of water?”

“No.”

“Despite the subzero surface temperature, there are subsurface oceans underneath the ice that are warmed by the moon’s internal heat.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I wish we could stay long enough for me to study the subsurface flora and fauna. There might be plants underneath the ice that-”

“Tech.”

“-that use chemosynthesis-”

“Tech!”

“What?”

He has the decency to look flustered, one hand gripping the datapad tightly, the other flying up to adjust his goggles as he peers up at you. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but sometimes you just can’t help it. Sometimes, the confinement of the Marauder is enough to turn you into a ticking time bomb, irritated by the slightest seemingly innocent things. And you’ve had more than just mere sparks to flare your temper as of late.

...

His rifle is spotless, and yet he’s still scrubbing it as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it does, because if he jumps up and lowers his guard for a second, he’s out the ship and off to find you and Tech. Maybe you’re a fool sometimes, a god damn nuisance, a person he still couldn’t grow used to, but you belong with them now, you’re theirs, you’re his, and that means something to him. You frustrate him beyond reason, and he often grows callous and agitated because he refuses to allow himself to feel the emotions you elicit from him whenever you’re near him.

Even now, on an ice planet, the mere thought of you infects him with a sweet, sweet jungle fever that knocks him off his feet.

And he’s supposed to be angry now, Crosshair reminds himself. After all, you almost gotten yourself killed on Bracca, and almost broke him in the process.

“They’ve been gone for too long,” Hunter grumbles as he paces up and down like a caged nexu craving to run free. But lately Crosshair began to suspect that he craves something else, someone else, and the thought has his throat tightening in jealousy. He’s been watching, and he convinced himself that he’d misread the signs until he saw the same agitation reflect in his brother’s eyes that he himself has to wrestle with every day.

If it ever came down to your choice, he knows he wouldn’t be it, and he hates living with this knowledge.

Hunter has all the things you seem to like - unlimited kindness, longing looks, smirks that turn a little too soft when directed at you, broad shoulders he caught you staring at more times than he can count. Deep down, he’s still hoping it will never come to you having to choose, but it’s impossible not to wish to be in the centre of your attention. You drive him insane, but you also make him want to commit and stop fighting and lay down his weapons for once in his god damn life.

“Relax. They’re probably fine.”

The screen to their left lights up, and Hunter rushes across the ship in long strides before exhaling in relief. “The proximity alarms are online. They should be heading back soon.”

Crosshair sucks in a breath, worried about seeing his own emotions sitting behind Hunter’s eyes as well.

...

You were assigned to assist the Bad Batch for an unspecified period of time some months ago. You’re a versatile field agent, specialising in both stealth and combat casualty care, one of the few volunteers who were qualified enough to join the GAR. Oh, and you’re also clearly mistrusted by your new squad as they flip out the very moment you risk yourself in the line of duty. You’re not stupid, you weighed the risks carefully, and you trusted your abilities to see you through the job unharmed.

But ever since the incident on Bracca, you’re given the cold shoulder by most on the squad, and for once, the scenery matches your mood.

And yet Tech deserves better than to be cut off like that. He deserves to be listened to, and appreciated as the good man he is. You’re friends, but in moments like these, you think you don’t deserve his friendship.

“Look, I’m... I’m sorry, okay? But right now, I have too much on my mind to think about, umm, chemo...”

“Chemosynthesis?”

“Yeah, that.”

“I think I understand,” he nods, satisfied with your half-assed apology for the time being as he goes back to scanning the vast icy desert stretching as far as the eye can see. The Marauder’s lights blink in the background, orange against the dark blue of the growing darkness that surrounds you. It’s like a beacon, a sign that promises warmth, and you gaze at it longingly until you remember that you’ll have to go back to Crosshair’s scowl and Hunter’s disapproving frown and Wrecker’s awkward little smiles. Somehow, the ice is preferable once more, and the snow that just began to fall in soft flakes is little more than a mild annoyance.

“Well, aside from a few distant life forms-”

“Whitefangs.��

“Yes, most likely whitefangs - aside from those, we should be quite safe inside the ship for tonight.”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “You might be. I’m not the most popular with the squad right now, remember?”

“You are a valued addition,” Tech declares, and the certainty in his voice releases inside you the emotional equivalent of a sucker punch. All you can do is stand, and fight the sting of tears in your eyes. You’re confident, but you never in your wildest dreams imagined how difficult it would be to live up to the expectations of a special unit. You also know your worth, but it’s hard to keep on believing in yourself steadfastly when the rest of your squad doubts your every move. “Which is why the prospect of losing you elicits a rather severe emotional reaction in us. It is rare for regs to warm up to us as well as you have, let alone volunteers. Aside from the obvious tactical disadvantage losing you would mean, I believe it is a little more personal than that.”

...

Hunter knows something is off even before one of the alarms is triggered - whatever it is, it is within five clicks of the ship, making you and Tech plenty exposed before he could do anything. He was straining his ear simply to keep you all safe - so what if he accidentally heard your muffled voice, or the soft crunch of snow underneath your boots?

But now is not the time to be idle, and he knows it. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his squad. And to you, he corrects himself almost softly as he grabs his helmet and checks his weapons quickly. Despite the fact that he’s still angry about your previous carelessness, he cannot deny the forbidden yearning coiling in his stomach whenever you’re on his mind, making him just as nervous as hopeful. And to be fair, it happens more and more often as of late, which is both alarming and exciting as he never thought he’d ever have the luxury to feel this way about someone else. Sure, he knows love, he loves his brothers with all his heart even if he isn’t very vocal about it, but this is different. New, scary, exciting different, an effervescent and persevering tingling blinding all his senses.

Crosshair is beside him in less than a second, rifle in hand, silent, and they share a nod before lowering the ramp and rushing out into the freezing dusk.

When he picks up on your muffled voice, he seems to ignore everything as he breaks into a sprint towards you, hoping to reach you in time before you’re in danger. He almost misses the way Crosshair’s heartbeat picks up, the usually stoic man reeking with genuine worry as he looks through the scope of his rifle.

He can deal with this later, Hunter promises himself as he pushes down this uncomfortable feeling. But then he sees you and Tech, and he seems to forget about anything and everything - you have that unfortunate and awfully distracting effect on him.

...

“But Hunter yelled at me for being reckless for a solid hour. And Crosshair said he didn’t care if I wanted to get myself killed, but I should do it in a way that didn’t interfere with the mission. Seriously, what an asshole.”

“Nevermind what they actually say,” Tech waves his hand in mild annoyance. “Hunter was worried sick. Crosshair almost went after you. And they’re both too pigheaded to admit the real reason why they’re so worked up.”

“Which is?”

“Obviously they both view you as a potential romantic partner.”

There’s a moment of pause as you two stare back at one another before you snort and chuckle, shaking your head and crossing your arms over your chest as a futile attempt at staying warm. “Tech, you need to work on your sense of humour.”

“And you need to work on your observational skills and situational awareness.”

“My observational skills are exceptional,” you defend yourself, a finger held up in the air defiantly. “And my situational awareness is-”

“Lacking, as you didn’t seem to notice the whitefang return. I suggest we head back to the safety of the Marauder.”

Sure enough, the wild cat is there lurking amongst the ice dunes, its eyes glowing in the dark as they reflect the light of the ship. It shouldn’t pose a threat to you as it is alone, and relatively small, but you still consider wrestling with it instead of returning to the ship and facing the rest of the squad - somehow, even that feels like a fight more fair than the ones that await you upon your return. So you hold its gaze as it curiously inspects you, wishing to swap bodies and run away and avoid any more conflict. Before you can even think of returning to the ship, you hear quiet footsteps catching up to you.

“I thought I heard something.”

“It’s probably more curious than anything.”

Hunter unsheaths his vibroblade and twirls it in his hand so theatrically it makes you roll your eyes. He glances at you, shoulders all tense, ready to pounce at the slightest sign of danger, and even though his face is obscured by his helmet, you can almost see the disappointed frown sitting on his features. “You want to test that theory?”

“My money would be on the whitefang winning.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tech.”

“Any time.”

“Relax.” The distorted rasp of your commlink is not enough to drown out the smugness of the sniper. The stand-off ends when a single well-placed shot right before the big cat sends it sprinting away into the darkness. You all turn to find Crosshair standing by the ship, his rifle still aimed at the retreating form of the whitefang.

“Well, there goes my opportunity to finally have an interesting patrol,” you mutter to yourself as you all make it back to the Marauder.

“Do all of your patrols end in you staring down carnivores?” Crosshair snorts, clearly unamused.

“Only the good ones,” you fire back, deciding not to wait for any of them as you head inside. Crosshair is hot on your heels, another string of mockery sitting on the tip of his tongue, because fuck, you’re stubborn, but he’s not going to cave in and tell you how it makes him feel to see you in danger. He can’t, however, put up with being away from you either.

Hunter lingers a little outside. He has to set himself straight, to contain all the things he wants to say you that have nothing to do with scolding you about Bracca, to kill all the feelings that suddenly demand to be felt so desperately. He clenches and unclenches his fists by his side, pretending to survey the surroundings of the Marauder. Tech moves in the periphery of his vision, but instead of following you and Crosshair, he steps closer to Hunter.

“I believe the threat’s been averted.”

“Yeah. Good job on setting up those alarms, Tech.”

“No problem. Is there anything else you need?”

“No. You should head back inside. The last thing I want is for you to keel over with hypothermia.”

“That’s not how hypothermia works,” Tech mutters, his voice trailing off, eyes uncertain behind his goggles. He suddenly places a gentle hand on Hunter’s shoulder, making the sergeant glance at him.

“Hunter, I’m only asking this because I care about you all, but... how long do you think this can go on before one of you gets hurt?”

Tech’s words echo in his mind long after he’s rejoined the squad on the ship. And Hunter just stands outside in the snowfall, watching the last rays of light disappear on the horizon, wondering which one of you he’ll have to hurt when the push comes to shove.

#dottiechan writes #hunter x reader x crosshair #hunter x reader #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch x you #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #tbb x you #crosshair #tbb hunter #tbb fanfiction #star wars #tbb tech x reader #tech x reader

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freakygirlie · 3 years

Note

New(ish) to J2 fandom, just spent the past god knows how many sleepless nights reading through Speak the Truth, trawling through spn_gossip and rewatching old cons and I👏am👏going👏in👏SANE👏

I considered myself a relatively reasonable person, but when it comes to J2, I have ZERO control. Tinhatting aside, their obvious love for one another makes me want to put myself in a grave.

As an old hat, some questions for you..

1. when did you first fall for the boys and what made you start tinhatting?

2. what the hell is it about them that drives us (j2 fandom) SO insane? (why the hell do I care whether two random people are/are not *really* in love?)

3. any coping mechanisms to deal with this obsession?

hi anon honestly what a wonderful ask <33333 this is gonna be a long one so buckle up !!

WE ARE ALL INSANE LET ME TELL YOU THAT MUCH. ''sleepless nights going through tinhat stuff' BEEN THERE! DONE THAT! I am so in love with their love i have 0 control let me tell you that much. their love for each other TINHATTING ASIDEEEE makes me want to jump off a cliff it's so gorgeous it makes me insane all the time. i mean HOW CAN YOU NOT GO INSANE WHEN YOU SEE ALL THIS:

1. when did you first fall for the boys and what made you start tinhatting?

-when i first started watching supernatural, i was IN LOVE with sam and dean's relationship. it was JUST <3 and i obviously saw the insane and beautiful chemistry the actors had. my friend who got me hooked on the show, used to ramble on about how beautiful j2's friendship was and i was like mmhmm cool cool. i started watching con videos and i was just blown away by their friendship, the easiness they had and the obvious love and affection. i wasn't a tinhat and while i did go 👀👀👀 at many things(only con videos till now) i was like- PLSDJFJG i'm just projecting my wincest fantasies on them ffs. anyways moving on to me venturing into the tumblr world, long before i made an account, i was scrolling through the j2 tag and it was all cute pics vids and stories and i was all aww! when i came across a post(I AM BEGGING ANYONE WHO KNOWS IT LINK IT TO ME PLEASE I CANT FIND IT) which was of a convention clip i had already seen: (x) (starts at 9:15) and it was the SPNMINN 2018 J2 Gold Panel- Jared got a box of cupcakes from a fan and while eating one there was frosting all smeared on him and Jensen took some napkins and cleaned Jared's mouth IT'S THE CUTESTTT and while jen's cleaning up uk he makes those ''ugh'' sounds, grumpy jensen <3333333 but still taking care of his boy <333333

the post was captioned if i remember correctly: ''his mouth is saying ugh but his eyes are saying oh'' (bc jared 's mouth was all shiny and pretty so ehem ;)) AND I JUST FROZE FOR A MINUTE. It took a minute for me to process it but when it finally loaded i was like W H A T. WHAT IN ALL OF ??????? IS THE OP IMPLYING- (be known that i knew the j's were married and had kids so anyone implying or saying that they were romantically involved was like ''are u crazy'' for me, pls i was so naive, also it was the first time i was so blatantly exposed to it, anyways) i was like shooketh. and then i looked at the tags and it was your average: ''jared padalecki'' ''jensen ackles'' and then ''j2 tinhat''. and i was ??? what the hell is a tinhat ???? ehem you can be sure that i clicked on it, it loaded AND THE FIRST POST THAT JUMPED OUT AT ME was this gif of Jared STROKING jensen's neck and the hairs at the back of it and I WAS WTFHJDJHFJFKFJ. ?????????????? THE HELL IS THIS ????????????????????

anyways i spent the entire NIGHT SCROLLING THRU THE TAG and my entire world like everything i knew was just flipped and scrambled and i was just ohmygod what the fuck and i found out there was a whole community of j2 tinhats who believed j2 were involved and the marriages were to cover it up and let me be honest, i thought y'all were crazy. i was like nope nope these are just people with too much time on their hands and too much of an overactive imagination. LIKE NO THERE'S NO WAY-

i spent so long being a fencesitter, scrolling, researching, trudging my way thru spn_g, all the blogs(and i learnt to keep an open mind that's very imp!) but i was still in denial. it was right in front of me BUT STILLLLL. and then. the thing that convinced me wasn't an elaborate theory, a slip up or anything like that. it was a tiny simple collection of gifs of j2 secretly touching each other's hands. and the gif that convinced me was:

it was 3 or 4 am in the morning and i was yet again scrolling through as much tinhattery stuff as i could and i came across it and i was just: ohmygod. they're together. OHMYGOD. THEY'RE IN LOVE. the- they are actually- ohmygod. LIKE JENSEN IS FONDLY CARESSING JARED'S FINGERS HE DELIBERATELY SEEKED THEM OUT WHILE HIS HAND WAS ON THE FAN AND JARED'S NOT EVEN STARTLED HE ALLOWS IT LIKE GOD ???? like idc how bro-y and bestfriendism you are- FRIENDS DON'T DO THAT. PLATONIC BUDDIES DON'T SEEK OUT YOUR HAND LIKE THIS AND CARESS THE FINGERS OF SAID HAND, SMILE ALL LOVE-SICK LIKE AND CURL THEIR FINGERS UNDER YOUR TOUCH AND THEN GO BACK AND DO THE SAME THING ALL OVER AGAIN LIKE SOME SMITTEN HUSBAND OKAY. AND IN SECRET TOO LIKE-

i was like again FLOORED but like seeing THAT just flipped me completely and it slammed into me like a car(and i've been hit by a car irl so I KNOW). i fell so deep into the tinhat hole and after that everything else just made sense. their actions that didn't match up with their stories, the slip-ups, the weirdness(look when i was a non-tinhat, i wasn't an overly eager het stan or whatever but i was so done with jared and gen repeating the same things over and over again and jensen and danneel's interactions were ehem with all due respect boring.) and THEM J2 THEIR LOVE THEIR INTERACTIONS THE LOOKS THE EVERYTHING !!!!! i've been a tinhat since and while i've had my doubts here and there i've never taken my hat off <3

2. what the hell is it about them that drives us (j2 fandom) SO insane? (why the hell do I care whether two random people are/are not *really* in love?)

-it's them anon *shrugs and cries a little*. them, their love for each other is so out of this world. they've sacrificed so much to be together, they love each other so deeply and are such an integral part of each other's lives and god they fit so fucking well ??? they connected the moment they met and they are each other's other halves!! it's something out of a movie or some shit like godddddd. they drive us insane by just being THEM !!! separately even i have never seen two better men who try so hard to be good, who give us their all and let themselves loose, who love so beautifully. and together they're perfect. their love story is one for the ages and i admire it and cherish it so much. they struggle with it all yet love each other so much and it's not like it's even subtle it's out their for EVERYONE TO SEE. The way they talk about each other, the way they look after each other, the little glimpses we see into them and their relationship. it's something that's so beyond our understanding, it's on a plane of it's own. j2 are WHY i believe so wholly in true love <33 ''why the hell do we care'' that kind of dedication the one they show us and the kind of love they send us, it creates a bond, fans, admirers, and people who are willing to stick with you no matter what. i look up to them so much, they are such a comfort to me and i love love love their relationship. they drive us so insane and how could they not!

there's 15003878398449 moments i could talk about but god i'm just so fucking insane for them and the love they share, we all are !!! and also think about it where did sam and dean get their insane-ness from ??? <333

(x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) (x) - linking to a few <333(ok more than a few)

they're soulmates ❤️

3. any coping mechanisms to deal with this obsession? -believe me anon if i knew, i would tell you.

#anon ask #j2 tinhat #long post !!#one otp to rule them all #<3

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alpacaparkaseok · 3 years

Text

Ivy

➣ Pairing: apprentice!Jungkook x reader, art curator!Hoseok x reader

➣ Premise: You’ve been promised to Jung Hoseok for twelve years. You’ve never wanted anything else. Until now. (inspired by the song “Ivy” by Taylor Swift)

➣ Genre: arranged marriage au, angsty with some fluff, SFW

➣ warnings/tags: it’s a bit angsty, the reader is technically promised to someone else so it’s a little messy, general EmOTioNS, a bit intense/stalkerish but not too bad?? some fun fluff and banter as well, but Hoseok might kill a man and Jungkook will go down fighting

➣ word count: 12.2k *yeah, I know. this sucker is like 3 times longer than it was meant to be*

➣ a/n: this was a commission by @delacyrose224 for Army for AAPI! Thank you so much for requesting this awesome prompt, I literally had too much fun writing this. I swear, I could’ve made a whole series out of this. You guys, check out ways to get involved in this awesome cause by clicking the link!

The person staring back at you in the mirror is not you. Of that, you are certain. There’s no way you could ever pull this off – the silken layers, ivory making your skin glow with a dew-like complexion…

You voice as much. “I don’t even recognize myself.”

“Isn’t that kind of the point?”

Whirling around in a flurry of skirts and soft-to-the-touch fabric, you spot your betrothed lingering in the doorway.

“Hoseok!”

He chuckles, the sound making the corners of your lips tug upward. Taking in the sight before him, you can’t help but notice the way he chews on the inside of his cheek. Hoseok takes one hesitant step forward, crossing his arms.

“You should’ve seen me earlier,” he croons, voice always sounding like he’s a breath away from laughter. “I thought my dad had somehow teleported into the mirror.”

You wince. “Does this mean we’ve grown up?”

“Unfortunately.”

Twelve years of waiting for this. How have they already passed?

“You know,” Hoseok begins, dropping your gaze in favor of stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t even properly proposed to you, yet.”

“You should probably get on it.”

“Mmm.”

“Aren’t we getting married in April?”

He frowns. “Yeah, mid-April I think. It’s barely November, though. So there’s no pressure, right?”

You almost burst out laughing at his simple question. No pressure? Pressure has been your constant companion these past twelve years.

What else were you supposed to feel? Trying telling a thirteen year old that they’re already promised to somebody and then tell them “Oh, but no pressure.” Of course, they made sure to drop that little piece of pointless comfort after they mentioned who you had been promised to.

Jung Hoseok.

Three years your senior, he had seemed larger-than-life when you first met less than a year after learning of your pre-determined commitment to him. He’d been kind, that was your first thought. A little strange, a little loud at times. For your teenage self, that was fine.

Then things began to change. It was a rare occasion that you ever saw Hoseok; the two of you lived in different cities. However you distinctly remember one occasion in which you had unintentionally bumped into him while in search of your parents at their giant headquarters located in Busan.

It was easy to get lost in that building – you still can picture all the different nooks and crannies where different works of art were stored. The more valuable ones were of course under lock and key, however there were plenty of show rooms that you managed to get lost in.

You had done just that, taking a detour through the preservation room where several workers could be seen on the other side of the glass cleaning a timeless piece that had just been flown in from Austria. Once you realized where you were, you turned to leave. However, something caught your eye that made you hesitate.

There was Hoseok, perched on the edge of a stool as he leaned over the artwork. There was nothing particularly flashy about him that day, something you weren’t used to. In all your time of knowing him (four years at that point), you had never seen him in something other than formal wear. If it wasn’t some sort of suit or dress shirt, it was a sweater vest that he somehow managed to pull off.

This time, he was disguised in a white lab coat, holding a Loup to his eye in an effort to analyze the fine details of the painting. His brown hair was a little mussed, his knee bouncing up and down in the only outward show of excitement he portrayed.

One of the workers began speaking, the details of their conversation muted to your ears due to the glass separating you from them. However, you watched as Hoseok listened with almost terrifying focus before turning back to the painting and delicately taking a brush to the frame. No doubt dusting off some invisible smudge.

You had been frozen for a long moment, completely unfamiliar with this man. The Hoseok you knew was jovial and quick to laughter. He made you smile and roll your eyes. He put you at ease.

This man, with his precise flicks of the wrist and unwavering focus, was a force of nature.

You realized then, at the age of seventeen that while you were promised to this man, you did not know him at all. There was so much more hiding behind that heart-shaped smile.

And now, at twenty-five, you are no closer to knowing him than you were before. You’ve never known anyone else quite so talented at wielding smiles with the same deftness as a sniper hiding on a rooftop.

“No pressure?” You scoff, wiggling an eyebrow at your intended sniper. “That means I can’t gain any weight from here to April! That’s impossible with the holidays coming up!”

Hoseok bursts out laughing, clapping at your comment as though you’ve just completed a stand-up routine. “That’s a good point,” he sighs, making a contented sound. “I’ll have to ask my tailor to let out my suit a bit in the spring.”

You fidget on the pedestal, glancing back at the mirror over your shoulder. Your gown is breathtaking, there’s no denying it. It’s just…overwhelming.

“Well,” Hoseok begins to back out of the room, “You look beautiful. Sorry for snooping around, but I couldn’t resist.”

You straighten up at his comment, preening a bit. Over the years, you’ve come to realize that Hoseok’s compliments are not given lightly.

“Thank you.”

He shrugs. “It’s true.” He turns on his heel and strides out the door, calling over his shoulder, “We’ll fly out first thing in the morning.”

Piano Concerto No. 4 in G, from Beethoven’s Opera 58 echoes off the domed ceiling, bouncing through the air and enveloping you in a cocoon of music. Without your realizing, your right foot bounces out the rhythm as you crane your neck to get a better look at your work.

“C’mon, David,” you groan, sparing the renowned sculpture a glare. “You’re not making this easy on me.”

“I wasn’t aware that sculptures got vasectomies.”

You jolt, nearly tipping off of your step stool before two warm hands grasp your shoulders. Sputtering and spewing, you spin around to see just who you need to direct your cursing at.

“Who are you?” You fume as the person in question removes their hands from you and takes a timid step back.

“Jeon Jungkook, m-ma’am.”

“Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen even more, something you didn’t think he was capable of doing. Chowing down on his bottom lip, he gives you a small shake of his head.

“Then tell me who you are to me, not your name.” You inwardly grimace at your snappy tone, but you’ll apologize later.

“Oh, I…uh, I’m the apprentice?” When you don’t immediately get a look of understanding on your face, Jungkook presses on. “Mr. Jung’s apprentice, ma’am.”

Ah, that checks out.

Hoseok’s father would be stepping down as the East-Asia representative on the international board of Art and Artifacts (basically the equivalent of the U.N. in art terms), leaving a spot open for Hoseok to ascend the ranks.

“Why haven’t I met you before? Haven’t you been around for a while?”

In order to complete the apprenticeship, Jungkook would need at least three years of working alongside Hoseok. Learning the ins and outs of being the curator of some of the biggest art collections and galleries in the world.

“Yes ma’am, I have.”

“Ok, Jungkook,” you stand up and stretch, gaining some sort of sick satisfaction from the way he scampers back a bit more to give you space. “Two things. First, I’m not ‘ma’am’. Just speak to me casually, ok?”

There’s a flash of surprise in his eyes, but he nods. “And the second thing?”

Turning point to the David in all his glory, you smirk over your shoulder. “Don’t sneak up on me when I’m working. David here nearly lost his balls because you startled me.”

Cheeks flushed pink, Jungkook sputters out something resembling a “y-yes, I won’t do it again” before dropping his gaze to the floor. Chuckling to yourself, you resume your position before the sculpture, meticulously layering on a protective substance to the David’s nether regions.

You and Hoseok had been called over to Italy in order to make preparations for the upcoming art show. It was to be the first of its kind --- never before had these timeless artworks been on display like this. Royalty, presidents, dignitaries of every kind mixed with world-class celebrities would be present.

As a precaution you were going through and applying a protective but clear substance to more fragile parts of the artworks. Today, the David was the lucky one.

“So, Jungkook,” you hum, completely undeterred by the strange position you were in at the moment. “What brings you over to my side of the museum today? Shouldn’t you be off with Hoseok, planning for the event?”

“Ah, well…Mr. Jung said you might need a hand. I volunteered to assist you with whatever you need.”

You blink. Hoseok had always been completely content to leave you to your work. It was a silent agreement you have: you let him do his thing, and he doesn’t interfere with your stuff.

“Huh.” You smooth out the final touches, leaning back a bit. “Interesting. So what, you’re just hanging out with me for the rest of the day?”

“Yep. For the rest of the week, actually.”

David stares off into the distance, ever stoic. You swear you can see a bit of a confused glint in his eye as the sculpture listens in on your conversation. It’s always just been you and the artwork. So what’s this with Hoseok sending Jungkook over? Is he just trying to be kind and help you out?

Probably. There’s no need to assume anything else. You just think…

Well, despite trusting you, you would think he’d send someone less attractive to help you with your work. Is this some sort of trust exercise he’s pulling on you before he proposes? Or does he just not care enough to think about the possible repercussions of his actions?

“Doesn’t he care at least a little bit?” You think aloud, frowning up at David.

“What was that?”

“Oh,” you swivel around to give Jungkook an apologetic smile. “Nothing. Do me a favor?” Jungkook nods. “Take a look at this for me, see if the extra layer is noticeable at all.”

Getting up to move out of his way, you can’t help the grin that breaks out as Jungkook flushes a bit when he gets up close and personal with the David. Despite his obvious embarrassment though, he meticulously checks ever angle.

“I can’t tell at all,” he finally responds, straightening up. “You’re amazing.”

You blink. “Oh. Er…thanks.”

“So, where to next?”

“We look like those ancient plague doctors,” Jungkook jokes, hanging you a bottle of clear liquid before you can even ask for it. “You know, like with the big beaks and stuff?”

You snort, which in turn fogs up the inside of your suit. Waiting a moment for it to clear up, you glance back at Hoseok’s apprentice.

He has a point. The two of you look slightly ridiculous, in your full body Hazmat suits that are necessary to inspect these ancient papyrus scrolls. They’re falling apart already, no need for you to contaminate them with something as feeble as a sigh. Once you’re finished working on them, they’ll be placed in thick Plexiglas cases which will keep them safe from the outside world.

“We’re missing the beaks, though.”

Jungkook hums, watching you carefully as you smooth out the scroll. “I bet we could roll these up and use them as beaks.”

“Not funny.”

“Worth a shot.”

Rolling your eyes again; something you’ve become prone to doing in the past 24 hours you’ve known Jungkook, you set to work.

It’s only quiet for so long before Jungkook speaks up again. He does so quietly, making good on his promise not to startle you anymore. “No Beethoven today?”

You give a slight shake of your head, hardly daring to blink while applying the syrupy liquid to the bottom corner of the document. The slightest mess up would result in having to scrape it off before it dries, which is something you don’t want to have to try. Not when a single nick to the papyrus equals game over.

Letting out a sigh of relief once you’ve completed that section, you sit back and stretch. “No,” you groan out mid-yawn. “It felt like a Tchaikovsky kind of day. Don’t know why.”

“Hmm.”

“Ok, we need to wait…” you glance at the clock on the wall. “About an hour to let that completely set in before flipping it and working on the other side.”

“Great, let’s grab some lunch.”

You blink, watching Jungkook as he shoots to his feet and heads toward the door. “I was going to suggest we get started on the next exhibit-”

“Food first,” Jungkook chimes, leaving no room for argument as your stomach rumbles at the thought of lunch. “We’re literally in Italy, food always comes first.”

Well, he has a point.

You make a point of locating Hoseok before heading out for food, eventually finding him in a grand corridor surrounded by staff. Wherever Hoseok is, there’s constant motion. People flitting about, running errands and trying to keep everything moving in a timely fashion.

As the two of you became closer work partners over the past few years, it’s become a familiar sight. It helps, finding Hoseok is usually fairly easy. Today proves no different.

“Hoseok!” You wave him down, offering a smile to the surrounding staff that recognize you. The man in question is nudged by his assistant, Joshua.

“Hey!” Hoseok breaks away from the group and jogs over to where you stand beside a column. He nods at Jungkook, smiling warmly. “What’re you two up to? I thought you were working the papyrus today.”

“We have an hour before we can move on to the next thing, so we’re grabbing lunch. Wanna come?”

“Oh,” the look of surprise on his face gives you cause to wonder when the last time you invited him to do something with you was. “That sounds…really nice, actually. Give me a minute?”

Your heart stumbles as it pick up in speed, something you weren’t anticipating. “Yeah, sure. We’ll wait right here.”

“Great, thanks.”

With that, he scurries back over to the throng. Jungkook leans over to you, elbow nudging your arm.

“What?”

“How long do you think they’ll last before calling him?” Jungkook muses, an amused smile on his face.

You can’t help but laugh, knowing full well that it won’t be long. “I’d say…thirty minutes?”

“Really? I’ll give them forty.”

“You’re too generous.”

“Aren’t you being too hard on them?”

Your eyes slide over to Jungkook, arching a brow. “No. So what are we betting?”

Jungkook breathes through his teeth, taking in your determined expression. “Hmmm…money or something else?”

“Not money, that’s too boring.”

“Ok, ok.” Crossing his arms, Jungkook sways from side to side as he thinks. Slowly, his eyes drag across your face, trying to see something that’s beneath the surface. “If you lose, you have to be my date to the gala.”

“W-what?!” You choke on your spit, staring up at Jungkook like he just grew a second head. “I can’t- why would you-”

He tilts his head to one side, clearly enjoying your shock. “Hurry, make your bet. What happens if you win?”

“Jungkook, I’m literally marrying Hoseok in a few months, I can’t just go as someone else’s date!”

“Don’t worry,” he winks, only furthering your embarrassment, “I’ve it all planned out. Now, hurry up. He’s heading back.”

Indeed, Hoseok is clapping Joshua on the shoulder and turning this way. Chewing furiously on the inside of your cheek, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Ok, well if I win then you have to leave me alone for the rest of the week!”

There’s a hint of worry that streaks across Jungkook’s features, but it’s covered up a few seconds later as he thrusts out his hand to shake on it. “Deal.”

With the way he grins down at you, you can’t help but feel like this was a stupid thing to bet on.

You’re wedged into a booth not long after, sitting shoulder to shoulder with Hoseok. Jungkook takes the spot across from you two, never missing a beat in his conversation with your betrothed.

“The guest list has been finalized,” Hoseok is saying, smiling warmly at the server that drops off some menus. You don’t miss the way she ogles your companions, shrugging it off. It’s become a common occurrence. You’re not blind to their looks.

“It wasn’t finished before?” You ask, frowning. Hoseok passes a menu to you, leaning in a bit closer. It’s unnecessary, but the way he lets his leg rest against yours has a rush shooting through you.

So…this is a new development.

“No,” Jungkook answers for him. “Well, we thought it was, but then the curator here wanted to invite some more political officials. Has it been a mess trying to rearrange?”

“Yeah, but everyone pulled their weight.”

“That’s good to hear.”

It’s relatively quiet as you all look over your menus, bouncing ideas off of each other for what they should get. After you’ve placed your orders, Hoseok nudges you.

“Your mother called me last night.”

Your eyes widen. “She did?”

Both men chuckle at your obvious worry. “Yes, she did. We had a nice chat. Why do you look so concerned?”

Perhaps it has something to do with the last conversation you had with your mother. It took place about three weeks ago, when she’d come up to Seoul for a visit. The visit had been pleasant enough; you’d gone to dinner and talked about things back home. She’d actually approved of your apartment, despite the eclectic feel to it.

It has almost been too normal. You should’ve known that it was only a matter of time before something happened.

You were busy putting your leftovers from the restaurant in the fridge, your mother hovering in the doorway to the kitchen with a pensive look on her face.

“Have you ever had…doubts?”

“Doubts?” Your voice was muffled from the odd angle, but you peeked out around the door of the fridge with a questioning look. “About what?”

Your mother shrugged, keeping her eyes trained on the door of the fridge and its decorative magnets. “About Hoseok.”

You immediately stood, closing the door with a dull thud. “What?”

“I just…your wedding is coming up, he’s probably going to propose within the next couple of months – for heaven’s sake, you have your dress fitting coming up in just a couple of weeks, isn’t that right?”

“Mom,” you voice was stern. “What is this about? You’re scaring me.”

At your confession your mother finally met your eyes. “Oh, sweetie, I didn’t mean to worry you so much. But I can’t help but wonder, you know? We’ve never really talked about it-”

“There was never anything to talk about!” You sigh, exasperated. “All I’ve known is that I’m going to end up with Hoseok, and that’s that! He’s a nice man, hardworking, and we make a good team.”

“I know, darling. I know.” She hesitated before stepping forward, coming to place a loving hand on your cheek. “I just want you to know that you get to make this decision. Even though it may not have always felt like it. There is…more. Out there, for you.”

More?

“Just, uh…” you shake your head, trying to clear your mind of those thoughts rolling around your head. “Wanted to make sure she didn’t share any embarrassing information about me.”

This makes both men chuckle, Jungkook leaning forward with eager eyes. “Like what? Do tell.”

You blush at his undivided attention, groaning and slipping down further in your seat. Hopefully neither of them notice your pink cheeks, something tells you that Jungkook would never let you live it down.

The fact that you don’t know how Hoseok would react has you even more on edge.

Hoseok grins at you as you sit up again, reaching around your shoulders to pull you close. “Aw, you probably don’t have any embarrassing stories. We all already know that you’re perfect.”

You blink, staring up at your betrothed as his smile softens. He’s never spoken to you like this. First sending extra help in the form of Jungkook, then dropping everything to go to lunch, now this?

Before your mind can run with the idea blooming in your chest, your server appears with your food. Her eyes instantly zone in on you and Hoseok, something registering in her eyes as she offers you a warm smile. Then, she turns her full attention on Jungkook. Practically eating him alive as she sets his food down in front of him.

“Your hair is so long,” she muses. “I’ve never seen anyone able to pull off hair like that…what’s your secret?”

Jungkook, who you assumed would preen in the attention, hardly glances the girl’s way. His eyes rest on where Hoseok’s hand ghosts over your shoulder, slow in its retreat. Jungkook keeps a neutral expression, although his eyes shoot up to yours in a way that has you pinned to the back of the booth.

It’s over just as quickly as it began, Jungkook grinning down at his food and mumbling, “No secret. Just good genes.” He doesn’t wait another second before diving into his food. You snort at his reply, Hoseok just shaking his head before beginning to eat in a more meticulous manner. If he noticed the strange exchange that just passed between you and Jungkook, he doesn’t say anything.

Or maybe it was all in your head. Maybe that protective coating you applied to the papyrus earlier today has gone straight to your head, addling your brain.

The food is delicious, as expected. The three of you fall into an easy conversation, revolving mainly around work. You notice that Jungkook keeps checking his phone, but you ignore it.

That is, until he offers you a smug smile before focusing his attention on Hoseok.

“So, for this gala…we’re meant to bring a plus one, right?”

Hoseok nods. “Yep.”

“Who’re you taking?”

Hoseok laughs, taking a long sip of his drink. “Who? I don’t know, I feel like I should maybe take the woman I’m marrying in a few months.” He shoots you a friendly wink, but you can’t completely return his light-hearted nature. Has it already been forty minutes? But still, there’s been no call…

“Oh,” a familiar ringtone cuts through the air, and Hoseok grabs his phone from his pocket, frowning at the screen. “It’s Joshua. I’ll just step outside for a moment.”

Hoseok is too busy sliding out of the booth to notice the way your jaw drops. The second he’s out of sight, you turn an accusatory glare toward Jungkook. “What was that? Did you seriously tell them to call-”

“Before you castrate me, I’d like to defend myself. Can I do that?”

“And then I can castrate you?”

Jungkook visibly swallows. “I only meant it hypothetically, but…just listen.” When you angrily wave for him to continue, the smug smile from earlier reappears on his face. “I have this all under control. But, from where I’m sitting, I won our little bet. So I have a question for you.”

“I’m not going with you, Hoseok is taking me!”

Pushing his tongue against his cheek, Jungkook sits back and observes you for a moment. “Don’t be so sure about that, sweetheart. Now, what color of dress are you wearing to this thing?”

You do your best to ignore Jungkook for the rest of the day. Hoseok chats happily with you on the walk back to the museum, occasionally finding a way to let his hand graze yours. It’s enough to keep you distracted from Jungkook’s complacent expression which is usually directed in your direction.

Parting from Hoseok is like parting with a security blanket, and he looks to be particularly pleased with the way you run your hand down his arm before bidding him goodbye. Jungkook huffs a breath, which goes unnoticed by your betrothed as he heads into the building where countless workers wait for him.

“I’m still waiting on an answer,” Jungkook chides a few moments later. You’re desperately trying to outpace him, annoyed when he easily keeps up.

“You’re not getting one and we’re not going together.”

“Didn’t I tell you that I’d take care of it? Everything. Even Hoseok.” You stop in your tracks when Jungkook jumps in front of the doors, opening one up with a flourish.

“Jungkook.”

“Yes, darling?” It’s infuriating how much you react to the pet name, your reddening cheeks giving you away instantly.

“Stop.”

Jungkook blinks, straightening up a bit as you sweep past him and head inside. When he’s silent the entire walk to the papyrus lab, you let out a sigh of relief. Never mind the fact that there’s a dull disappointment blooming in your chest. For a moment, it was nice to think of what a night at Jungkook’s side could be like.

It would certainly be different than what you’re used to with Hoseok. Not that you two often spend occasions like this together, it’s more of a formality than anything. The first few minutes are always a dream: Hoseok can’t take his eyes off of you and gets flustered. He’s a perfect gentleman, and even goes so far as to hold you close to him when entering the event.

However, it only takes a few minutes before he’s swept off in one direction and you the other. Collogues, board members, and possible buyers of the rare artwork on display keep you two busy and apart for the entirety of the night.

You make to step into the prep room, ready to get back into your hazmat suit and start on the other side of the papyrus scrolls. The moment you step in, however, the thought of being stuck in such a small space with Jungkook nearly makes your lightheaded. Focus is paramount in your line of work, and Jungkook counts as a distraction.

“Would you go around to the sculptures we worked on yesterday and make sure they’re doing ok?” You glance over your shoulder to see Jungkook freeze in the doorway. “I, uh…I never know how they’re going to respond to the added layer.”

Jungkook has lost all of his previous swagger, simply giving you a curt nod before turning to walk away. You can’t help but watch as he briskly heads down the hallways, running his hands through his hair before fisting them at the nape.

You jump a little as the door closes, lost in your thoughts. Rushing back to you are your mother’s words.

“There is…more. Out there, for you.”

The words settle for a moment before you snort, chuckling to yourself before putting one leg in the hazmat suit. “They’re both hot. So what?”

Two more days pass in a similar fashion. Jungkook is always waiting for you at the entrance to the museum, resembling an eager puppy before you shut him down with a stern look.

Last night you spent a ridiculous amount of time coming up with errands you could send him on that wouldn’t seem too suspicious. For the most part it’s worked; you’ve been working alone for most of the day, and Jungkook hasn’t seemed too keen to intrude.

A part of you feels a bit bad for shutting him out so much, but you really have no reason to let him in. Especially not when he was so set on taking you to the gala when you’re very clearly promised to another.

“Does he have something against Hoseok?”

Your question is directed to your current project, The Incoronation of the Virgin, by Jacopo di Cione. Of course, the virgin humbly sitting with a crown on her head pays you no mind, but you carry on anyway.

“But then again, why would he? He’s getting his job, isn’t he?” You sit back, lightly dusting at the finer details of the mural. “Oh, maybe he’s angry at me.”

“Why would I be angry at you?”

You gasp as you stumble back, losing your footing from where you were on a stepping stool. You gasp louder (if that’s possible) when two sturdy hands grab your waist, firmly keeping you in place.

“Steady?”

“Why do you keep sneaking up on me?” You seethe, stepping down and out of Jungkook’s grasp. “Did I ask you to finish cleaning the bottles we used yesterday?”

“I finished that.”

“And what about sweeping the work area?”

“Done.”

“What about-”

“Done,” Jungkook looks like he’s considering taking another step, but stays put. “I finished everything. Now would you quit sending me away?”

You give him a long look, noting the way his cheeks burn under your gaze. After a moment you sigh. “Yeah, fine.”

Jungkook perks up instantly, and a second later you find him glued to your side. He gazes up at the panel you’ve been working on, his mouth dropping of its own accord.

“Wow, it’s beautiful.”

“Mmhm.” You head back up the step stool, getting back to work while Jungkook holds it steady. He admires the artwork, leaving you in relative peace.

“How did you get into this stuff?” He asks from the other end of the painting. You arch a brow before furrowing it, trying to come up with a reasonable answer.

“I…well, this is what my family does.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, I guess they tend to lean more toward the buying and selling of artwork. From my teen years I’ve always gravitated more toward the conservation of artwork.”

“Why’s that?” The fact that he sounds genuinely interested throws you off, making you pause as you meet his curious gaze. There’s no malice in his eyes, not a hint of the annoying pride from two days prior. Just genuine interest.

It gives you a falling sensation, which has you clinging to the stool until it passes.

“It’s quiet. Peaceful, for the most part.”

“But it’s stressful, too?”

The beginnings of a smile curl at your lips. “Yes, that too.”

A companionable silence falls between the two of you after that, allowing for you to work quickly and efficiently. Once you’re satisfied with the panel, you find Jungkook ready to hold the stool steady while you get down.

“What about you?” The question falls from your lips before you really understand what you’re asking.

“Me?”

“Yeah. Why did you decide to become an apprentice? It’s a long apprenticeship. And last I checked, curating isn’t exactly a hot trend.”

Jungkook scrunches his nose in a way that has you wondering if what you just said was somehow absolutely adorable. He certainly thinks it was.

“Well, there are a number of reasons.” He glances sidelong at you as you gather your things to head back to the storage space. “But mainly because it felt right.”

You frown. “That’s your reason?” Jungkook nods, amusement glittering in his eyes. “What happens when you wake up and it doesn’t feel right anymore?”

“Why? Do you know the feeling?”

Suddenly you know that you’re no longer talking about career choices. It’s only confirmed when Jungkook slows to a stop, hoisting up the bucket of supplies and facing you.

“I- no, I love my job-”

“Haven’t you ever wondered, though?” Now it’s practically impossible to decipher what exactly is going on behind Jungkook’s bright eyes, his long brown hair falling into his face. “There’s more out there, you know. Why do you stay?”

For some reason, you’re frozen in place. A deer in the headlights, probably reading way too much into this conversation.

“S-stay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook takes a small step forward, as though afraid of scaring you off. “After all this time, you’re still here. Why?”

Your breath is caught in your throat. “I…” The world stops spinning as Jungkook tilts his head to one side, eyes swallowing you whole as they trace the outline of your lips. Despite not laying a single finger on you, your skin blazes as though he were physically reaching out.

With a step back, you glare at the floor before taking a steeling breath. “The retirement plan’s great. Hard to pass up on.”

The sound of your footsteps echo off the walls, listening for Jungkook to follow after you.

He doesn’t.

“So, about the gala.” Hoseok stands in the doorway to your hotel room, tie long gone and top button loosed. It’s a rare sight, and yet it never fails to be one of your favorites. “I have a weird proposition for you.”

You kick off your shoes, not bothering with decency as you fall back on your bed with a groan. “Shoot.”

“Jungkook has this really prestigious cousin that’s connected to the royal family-”

“Royal family?” You sit up, frowning at Hoseok.

“Yeah, like the British one? I think so, at least. Anyway, I don’t remember how she’s connected but it’s a big deal. And apparently she asked for me to escort her at the gala.”

If blood could run cold, yours is pushing freezing. “Huh. Is that so.”

Hoseok gives you an apologetic smile. “I know it’s weird and that’s why I came to you, I don’t want to hurt you-”

“I’ll just go by myself, it’s fine.”

“No, no. You’re not going alone. Jungkook already offered to take you.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, resolve withering at the sight of Hoseok’s tentative hope. You wonder if he would really back down if you asked to go with him. To let Jungkook’s schmoozing cousin find a different date.

“Just say the word,” Hoseok offers with a fading smile. “I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”

For some reason, your ears expect to hear the word darling at the end of that sentence. But they don’t, and you know exactly where you can go for that.

More, huh?

“That’s fine, Hoseok. Really. What’s one night?”

Hoseok rushes forward with glee, wrapping you in his arms for a second before backing away and heading toward the door. “You’re amazing, you know that? Absolutely amazing. The guests are going to be in awe of your work.”

The guests are, unsurprisingly, oblivious to your meticulous work.

You’re not complaining, they’re not meant to notice it. Your work is behind the scenes, whereas Hoseok’s work is visible everywhere.

His handywork acts as a constant reminder of him, keeping you on edge as you trail up the flower-studded stairs that are already overflowing with guests. A few give you odd looks as you walk alone, but most are too preoccupied with their own problems to care much for yours.

You don’t know how he did it, but Jungkook managed to get you all to himself after all. The thought had left an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach all day yesterday at work, hardly bothering to exchange more than a few words with the man in question. It seemed like he had almost anticipated this, content to leave you be. It was when he asked what time he should pick you up that you looked at him, angry at the fact that you immediately admired his outfit of choice. It suited him, which shouldn’t have come as such a surprise.

“I’ll meet you there,” you had responded firmly, hopefully leaving no room for argument. “Wait for me beside the entrance.”

It was bad enough that you were going without your betrothed; that another woman was going to be hanging off his arm all night. The last thing you wanted was to create an equally flashy arrival with his apprentice. You were by no means the most popular guests in attendance tonight, but the guarantee of countless cameras had you refraining from taking any chances.

Now, as you make your way to the entrance, you try to not look too eager. Jungkook is nowhere to be found yet, making you frown, but movement catches your attention in the corner of your eye.

Stepping from the shadows is Jungkook, looking like he was made for this event. The first thing you notice about him is the wistful smile he gives you, which you return before your mind catches up with what’s going on.

He looks…immaculate. Not over-the-top, he’s wearing a fairly standard black suit with a thin black tie. Nothing too flashy, but it might as well be an original piece with the way he wears it. His hair has been carefully styled, so unlike the careless mop you’ve seen throughout this week.

Jungkook moves toward you like a man on a mission while you remain at the top of the stairs, hardly daring to breathe.

“Hello,” he mutters, coming to a stop before you. “You look…stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, perhaps already knowing that your tongue has turned leaden in his presence. Jungkook offers you his arm, which you graciously take. Hopefully he doesn’t pay too much attention to the way you’re gripping his forearm for dear life.

The two of you sweep inside, gaining easy access as you’re well acquainted with the staff. As you pass a long, tall mirror that’s flanked by sphinxes, you can’t help but glance over.

You do look stunning.

The red gown you wear isn’t too revealing, not too flashy, but calls attention to you just the same. No matter where you are tonight, Hoseok will be able to find you with ease. The thought fills you with a sick sort of satisfaction. He’ll see you, but he’ll see who’s arm you’re on, as well.

With Jungkook by your side, you’re a force of nature. The two of you are no longer walking, rather prowling the premises as you make your way toward the ballroom. A few stragglers that are trying to get a peek at the closed off exhibits notice your keen eye and scamper off.

It’s a new sensation to you, watching those people flee from before you as though you were an enemy soldier on a mission. Perhaps it has something to do with the way Jungkook appears to be smoldering beside you, emitting a dangerous aura that you never realized he could give off. For a brief moment, the silly boy you’ve been actively avoiding this week has vanished. In his wake stands a man with a purpose, the successor to the famed Jung Hoseok, and a legitimate contender amongst art dealers.

“I’m not used to this,” you mutter as Jungkook continues in his path. His steps are timed perfectly to your own, and you wonder if that’s a mere coincidence or if he’s currently keeping count in his head.

“Used to what?” Even his voice has turned to a dangerous rasp, smoky eyes sliding over to observe you.

“People respecting personal space. Usual they all flock to Hoseok the second he walks in the door.”

The corner of his lips pull up in a smirk. “And which do you prefer?”

You sigh. “Are you seriously turning this into a competition?”

You’re almost to the ballroom, but you let out a surprised sound when you veer off course into a deserted corridor just above the stairs that lead down into the ballroom. You realize that he’s taking you across a small overlook which shows the ballroom, a flurry of suits and dresses writhing before you on the level below. It’s a mesmerizing sight, and upon instinct you seek out Hoseok.

Jungkook notices your search, pausing to allow you to look around a bit more. He studies your side profile carefully. “Is that such a bad thing?” It takes you a moment to realize that he’s referring to the competition.

There’s Hoseok, sure enough he’s weaving in and out of the crowd. People smile and clap him on the back, making space for him and his companion to get through.

Jungkook’s cousin, Margaret, stays close behind your betrothed. She even goes so far as to hold onto his hand, offering him a shy smile when he looks back at her questioningly. However, he does nothing to shake her off.

“Yes,” you answer. Then, “He never took me along with him.”

“You mean at events like these?” Jungkook stands beside you at the railing, eyes instantly finding the “he” you’re referring to. “I know. You two usually go your separate ways.”

The nonchalant manner with which he comments this has you turning to face him, confusion clear on your face. “How could you know that?”

Jungkook frowns, popping his knuckles as he refuses to look at you. “Isn’t it pretty common knowledge? You two are both prominent members of the art community that hardly have time for each other. The rest is fairly simple to figure out.”

You step to the side, granting yourself enough space to glare up at the man.

“Fairly simple? Jungkook, I don’t know why you think you can make assumptions about my relationship with Hoseok, but there’s no need to do so. You’re right, we’re both busy. But we’re happy. Why do you seem so intent on making me second guess that? Why is everything a competition with you?”

You’re surprised when Jungkook doesn’t step down like he usually does. Instead he straightens up, leaning in a bit closer while his eyes bore into your own. You swallow, pressing your nails into the palm of your hand when his gaze tracks the movement of your throat.

“Calling it a competition might be a bit crass,” Jungkook mutters, voice coming out much softer than you anticipated. “But I guess you can say that. Sure, it’s a competition. As of right now, there are no clear winners.”

“But what are you two competing for?” You ask, exasperated. “There’s no need to go after Hoseok, Jungkook. You’re getting his position in just a few months, you’ll have the same influence he does now. I don’t understand. Why go to such great lengths? Are you trying to usurp him or something?”

Jungkook finds a way to step impossibly closer, one hand gripping the railing while the other finds your hand. “Which would you deem more valuable: your hand in marriage or your heart?”

Dangerous, this is dangerous, your heart chides. Despite the warning, you can’t help but sneer and step impossibly closer. There’s a spark of anger deep within you, and if it wasn’t for your current predicament you would stop for a moment and wonder when the last time you felt such an intense emotion was, but you press on.

“I wasn’t aware that I had to choose,” you seethe. You swallow a gasp as Jungkook leans in, nose nearly bumping against yours.

You can see whole galaxies in those eyes of his. Glinting and shining under the light of the chandelier, stars begging for you to come dance. What would happen if you danced under his stars? Something tells you that you don’t want to find out.

“That’s not an answer,” Jungkook breathes out.

“I’m sorry, what that not good enough for you?”

He blinks, an amused smirk painting his features. “You’re angry. Good.”

“Good?” You sputter out, taking a small step back and finding it infinitely easier to breathe now that there’s some distance between you two. “You wanted me to be angry?”

Shrugging, Jungkook rolls his neck from side to side, looking casual as ever. As though you weren’t just about to bite his nose off if he were to say one more stupid thing.

“Anger is an emotion. I count that as a win. Now,” he extends his hand out with a flourish, “shall we dance?”

“No.”

“I’d rethink that answer if I were you, darling.” Jungkook makes a point of looking out over the railing, and your eyes unwillingly follow his line of sight.

There’s Hoseok, spinning Margaret around and around. His smile is wide, and you can hear his laughter from up here.

He has no idea that you’re up here fighting for your marriage, does he?

Again, that anger is stoked until it’s steadily consuming you. With a huff that sounds more akin to a grown, you take Jungkook’s hand.

“One. Dance.”

One turns into two, and two turns to four. The music lilts and does almost all the work, Jungkook picking up the slack as he moves your through the songs. You can hardly tell where one ends and another begins, all you know is two things.

1. You’re still angry, however it’s being steadily replaced by confusion.

2. Hoseok and Margaret stopped dancing a while ago, and they currently stand off to the side trying to make it look like they’re not watching you.

“Your cousin appears to be very concerned about you,” you pant, the dancing finally taking its toll. Jungkook glances sidelong, chuckling darkly.

“That’s probably because she’s not my cousin and I told her she would only have to stay for an hour or so.”

If Jungkook’s hand at your back wasn’t propelling you forward, you’re sure you would’ve stopped dead in your tracks.

“What?”

There’s a twinkle of amusement in those galaxy-filled eyes of his. “She is connected to the royal family; I’ll give her that much. But she’s not my cousin. Just an old friend helping out with a favor.”

You’re not sure if you should laugh or cry.

After a moment, you settle for easing out of Jungkook’s grasp with the excuse to use the restroom. The sound of your heels on the marble floor is drowned out as the live band pick up a lively tune, causing a new rush of people to the dance floor. Somehow you manage to weave your way toward the hallway where you think you remember seeing a restroom sign, unaware of someone hot on your heels.

You’re reaching out for the door when you feel a hand at your elbow. It stops you mid-step, pulling you in an entirely different direction. Gasping, you whirl about to see Hoseok with a grim expression. He doesn’t utter a word, marching the two of you toward a dark corner.

“Hoseok, you scared me!” You whisper-shout, entirely unsure of why you’re whispering in the first place. Perhaps it has something to do with the secluded area he’s led you to, not a single soul in sight.

Once you’ve turned the corner, Hoseok presses your back against the wall, peeking around the corner toward the faint light of the festivities. The sound of trombones and cellos echo around the corridor, making you feel like you’re experiencing a memory rather than living this moment in real time.

When Hoseok turns back to face you, you note the way his hair is mussed. You immediately begin to smooth it out with a frown. He’s usually so meticulous about his hair during events like this.

His eyes soften a bit at your ministrations, but his face is still flushed. “Are you enjoying yourself tonight?”

“I- no…?”

“That’s odd,” Hoseok tilts his head to one side, eyes pinning you to the wall better than his hands. “You certainly look like you are.”

You blink. “I do?”

He lets out a choked laugh, the sound seeming so at odds with his typical demeanor. “Are you that oblivious? The way you’ve been staring at him all night certainly makes it seem like you’re drinking in every moment.”

“S-staring? At who?”

“Jungkook!” You flinch a little when Hoseok raises his voice, but he doesn’t notice as he pinches his eyes shut. “Just…be a little more cautious, ok?”

“I…”

When you’re silent, Hoseok opens his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath, head bobbing to one side in a habit which you’d always found endearing. Now, though, it’s as good as a death sentence as he steps a little closer. Slowly, so slowly you want to scream, his eyes dip down to your lips.

“No,” he mutters to himself, so quietly that you wonder if he doesn’t realize that he’s speaking his thoughts aloud. “Not here.”

Pushing back from the wall, Hoseok steps away and leaves you with a lingering stare before he’s disappearing around the corner. Your ears strain to listen to his retreating steps, but they’re quickly overtaken by the music and chatter of the crowd.

“What just happened?” You whisper to yourself. After a moment, you ease out of the corridor, scurrying toward the bathroom. Flinging open the stall, you stare down at the toilet wondering if you’re about to retch. With the way your stomach is churning, it’s definitely a possibility.

You emerge from the stall a moment later, feeling no better than when you went in. If only you could splash some water on your face, that would probably help clear up your head. However, you’ve still got a few hours ahead of you. The event is nowhere near ending.

The door swings open as you brace yourself against the sink, and you look up in the mirror to see who just walked in behind you. Margaret pauses for a second as she meets your eyes, the door drifting shut at her back.

“I was hoping you were still in here,” she drawls, her posh accent instantly making you want to stand up straight.

“Well, here I am.”

You wince; your voice sounds horrible. Like you’ve been screaming for hours, when you haven’t hardly said a word in the past hour. No, according to Hoseok you’ve been too busy staring.

Margaret chuckles, coming to the sink beside you and running the faucet. “Look, I’ll make this quick. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough, and to be frank I’m sick of hearing about it. If I were you, I’d make up my mind sooner rather than later.”

You’re sick of asking questions, but it appears that that’s all you have for tonight. “What?” You stare at Margaret, who looks almost other-worldly in her deep blue gown. “I just met Jungkook this week, I think you’re mistaken.”

“You just- what?”

It’s nice to see that someone else looks a little confused for once. You thought you were the only one out of the loop, but judging by the look on Margaret’s face, she’s just joined the club.

“Like I said,” you say, leaning one hip against the sink. “I just met Jungkook a few days ago. Hoseok sent him over to assist me in getting everything ready for the gala.”

“But he said…” Margaret shakes her head, focusing in on you once again. “Don’t tell him I said anything to you, alright?”

Before you even have a chance to answer, Margaret is sweeping out the door and leaving you behind in a stunned stupor. Slowly, you turn to face the mirror again. Then, to your eternal horror, a toilet flushes.

Out ambles Scarlett Johansson, who shoots you a grin before promptly washing her hands. “Trouble in paradise?”

You snort, in disbelief. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”

It takes a while to find Jungkook, but then again that may be because you aren’t actually looking for him. No, you’re just floating around the venue in a daze when you hear his voice coming from a parlor to your right. Only a couple of dim lamps illuminate the interior, but you don’t bother to get a closer look as you recognize the other voice.

Margaret.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Jungkook? You just met her this week? You made it sound like you’ve been pining over her for years-”

“That’s because I have!” Jungkook hisses, the sound slithering out into the hallway. “I have, but she’s always just out of reach…”

“And what, you thought tonight would do the trick? Kook…look, you know I love you, but this is idiocy. She’s practically engaged to Jung Hoseok-”

“Jung Hoseok doesn’t know what he has, he’s never understood! I am the only one that really gets it, Margaret.”

“Yeah, well just because you get it Jungkook doesn’t mean you get her.”

There’s shuffling inside the room, causing you to back away into a dark corner to remain unseen. After a moment, Jungkook’s voice rings out again. This time, it’s a bit ragged, almost letting you taste the desperation in his tone.

“Margaret, please. I just- I just need time. Please, just give me more time.”

A pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Fine. I hate you.”

“Love you, too.”

You’ve just managed to scamper around the corner when the door open and a little light floods out into the dim hallway. The sound of heels walking in the opposite direction of your hiding spot alerts you to Margaret’s retreat, making you wonder what exactly she has planned in order to allot Jungkook more time.

Once a couple of minutes that feel like eternity pass, you sneak out around the corner. Heart pounding and palms sweaty, you stare up at the ceiling as though you’ll find an answer there.

What are you even doing?

Before the answer comes you’re schooling your features into cool indifference and walking slowly toward the open door. It’s easy enough to spot Jungkook in the parlor, sitting with his head in his hands on the chaise.

You rap on the door, leaning against the doorframe as Jungkook’s head shoots up. The panic at your appearance doesn’t go unnoticed by you, but you pretend you haven’t noticed.

“I leave for two seconds and suddenly you’re sulking in an abandoned room?” You chide. “You much be more attached to me than I thought.”

Jungkook’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart. I was just taking a breather. We danced a lot, didn’t we?”

“True.” You stare at him from across the room, thinking back on Margaret’s words. Jungkook has been waiting around for you for long enough. “Tell me, Jungkook,” you stride inside, taking up the seat opposite him. “How come I never ran into you before this week? You’ve been around Hoseok for nearly three years at this point, haven’t you?”

Jungkook nods, his wide eyes completely disintegrating the dangerous persona he radiated earlier. “Yeah, almost three years. We’ve…crossed paths a few times, I think.”

You frown. “We have?”

“Only a handful of times,” Jungkook quickly reassures you, and the fact that he doesn’t want you to feel bad about not remembering him has you only growing more confused. Didn’t you just hate him half an hour ago? “We never spoke much.”

“Oh.”

Words – none of which amount to full sentences – rattle around your brain as you strive to come up with something more to say. Your brain is breaking down, information overload finally getting the best of you.

“Should we go back?” Jungkook asks in a small voice. Who even is the man, to change demeanors so quickly? “There’s still a lot of dancing left to do.” He adds a wink in at the end, regaining a bit of his swagger with every word.

Suddenly the memory of Hoseok’s conflicted face comes back to you, and you scramble to your feet. “No! Uh, I mean…” you look around the room but find nothing to help you. “I need to be more careful. I’ve been careless enough tonight.”

Jungkook frowns, almost getting on his feet. “What’s wrong? Did…did Hoseok say something to you?” When you don’t respond, Jungkook lets out a dry laugh. “Of course he did. Let me guess, he grabbed you as soon as you left my side, right? Jealous little-”

“Jungkook!” You gasp, stalking out of the room as he follows close behind. “He just wanted to protect our image, that’s all.”

“Ha! Really, that’s all? Sweetheart, has anyone ever told you just how oblivious you can be?”

“Ugh, just when I was starting to hate you less.”

“I’m serious! Sure, he might have said something about being careful, for your reputations. But that’s all just a cover-up! Can’t you see?”

The ballroom is just up ahead, and you make a beeline for it. “I see just fine, thank you very much. However, I wish I could’ve seen just how horrible tonight would be with you! I would have never agreed to that stupid bet!”

Speeding up, Jungkook jogs up in front of you to block your path. You step to your right, which he mimics. To the left, and again, he’s there to stop you.

“Let me through!”

Jungkook glares down at you, a fire blazing in his eyes. It reminds you of a dying star, some sort of supernova exploding in those galaxy irises. “No.”

“No?” You push against his chest, scowling when he doesn’t budge. “Jungkook, I’m too tired to play this game. Move aside.”

“Dance with me.”

He says it with such seriousness that you almost agree. “I already said that I can’t.”

“Please.” Bottom lip disappearing between his teeth, Jungkook’s shoulders slump. “C’mon, we’ll go where no one can see us.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea.”

Chuckling half-heartedly, Jungkook extends a hand. “I have plenty of them, trust me.”

What started as one bad idea has turned into multiple.

Jungkook took you outside to some lonely balcony that wraps around the building. The doors are thrust open, allowing for some light as he takes you in his arms.

The music drifts up to where you sway, and you wonder how Jungkook even found this spot. It’s not far from the ballroom, but certainly not a common spot for people to wander off to. You ask him as much.

“I stumbled upon it when you sent me on all those dumb errands,” he explains, smiling lazily at you.

You chuckle, stifling a gasp as Jungkook spins you around. Once you’re nestled safely in his arms, you grin up at him. “I knew those would come in handy.”

It feels like whiplash, going through so many emotions tonight. You were set on loathing Jungkook for the rest of eternity until he managed to snag one of the chocolate fountains from the kitchens and bring it out here. A platter of strawberries sits off to the side, begging to be dipped and eaten.

“Strawberry?” Jungkook questions quietly, already reaching for one. You hum in confirmation.

A second later Jungkook is dipping it with an absurd amount of chocolate and bringing it to your lips. Your cheeks flush, but you tentatively open your mouth, awaiting the delicious-

“Hey!” You swat at Jungkook when he bops your nose with the strawberry, covering you in chocolate. He laughs merrily, throwing his head back at the stars before focusing on you.

“You look adorable,” he coos. “Here, eat.” Again he prods the strawberry at your lips, catching your hand in his as you go to clean off your nose. “Eat, I’ll get the chocolate off your nose in just a second. Patience.”

You roll your eyes, but allow him to feed the strawberry to you. At the first crunch and flood of sweet flavor, you close your eyes and ball up your fists into his suit jacket.

“Ah, so good.”

When you open your eyes again, Jungkook is frozen before you. His eyes alight on your lips, tongue wetting his own, following the way you lick up the extra chocolate. Then he looks at your nose, a forgotten smile on his face.

“Here,” he mumbles, reaching out to swipe the bit of chocolate from your nose. Without a second’s hesitation he brings it to his lips and devours it.

All is quiet. The music sounds more distant that ever, the dull chatter of tonight’s guests hardly registering in your brain as Jungkook’s eyes never leave your own.

Something stirs deep within you, something that goes much deeper than attraction or desire. Something stronger than the anger you felt earlier sparks in the pit of your chest, making you shiver.

The spot where Jungkook touched your nose tingles, and you wonder for a moment if it somehow looks different now. His touch lingers, the feeling sprouting something entirely new.

Jungkook continues to sway with you, the movement as singular as breathing. When he opens his mouth to whisper something to you, you can’t help but listen to every syllable that falls from his lips.

“I…I want you to feel when you’re with me,” he whispers. “I’m not picky. It can be any emotion. But I’ve seen you, how you are with him.” You flinch at the mention of Hoseok, but Jungkook holds you tighter and pushes through. “You’re empty around him. You play the game easily enough, but there’s nothing behind those words. I want you to feel.”

“Jungkook…”

“I know. I know how I sound. But this is all I have to give you, and I thought that if I could just get you to feel something again, it might be worth it.”

You find yourself drawing closer to him, some sort of unknown gravity pulling you together like a moon caught in his orbit. That’s what you are, aren’t you? Completely helpless, thrown into someone’s orbit and hoping that they notice you. Hasn’t that the way it’s always been, ever since you first laid eyes on Hoseok?

But Jungkook notices you. You know, just from the way his eyes widen as though trying to take more of you in, you know that you’re all he sees. He’s blinded, for some reason or another. Blinded by you, enthralled by your silent suffering and digging ceaselessly for a way out. There’s no doubt in your mind at this moment that he’d carry you far away from here if you just said the word.

How your hands wound up clinging to the nape of his neck, you’re not sure. Just as surprising is the painful tone of your voice as you cry out, "Jungkook, this is no way to live."

His hands are at your back, pressing you closer and closer. "I will live like this for as long as you want, darling.”

“Like what?” Are those tears rushing to your eyes? Too many emotions in such a short amount of time, you can’t keep up. It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything so intense. When was the last time? Perhaps there never was a time such as this. “Hiding away from everyone? Looking over your shoulder every second of every day, wondering when it’ll all fall apart?”

“I can live off of these stolen moments,” Jungkook whispers in awe, gently wiping away your tears. “I’ve been doing that for years. But I don’t know what you want, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Jungkook,” you wriggle in his grasp, suddenly needing to get away, to breathe, “Jungkook, he’ll find out- we can’t do this. What even is this? I can’t…I don’t even know you!”

He lets you go, allowing you walk toward the edge of the balcony as you greedily gulp down air. After a moment, he speaks up.

“You’re feeling again, aren’t you?”

It’s a silly question. It sounds like he’s addressing a child, but it hits a little too close to home.

Feelings, thoughts, desperation and something deep and exciting courses through you. Yes. Yes, you’re feeling. “Yes. But who says I can’t feel with him?”

Jungkook is silent for a moment. “Who says it can’t be me, instead?” He strides toward you, your heart hammering as he gently cups your cheeks. Stars must cry because his eyes are shiny with tears. Gently, so gently your knees nearly buckle, he caresses your cheek with his thumb.

Smiling sadly, Jungkook whispers, “I love you.” He takes a shaky breath. “I always have. From afar, so I don’t know if that counts in your book. I loved you before we shared a conversation. I loved you the second I first overheard you talking to that unnamed painting on the third floor of the gallery back home. You know the one, don’t you?”

You’re not sure he fully expects an answer as he leans closer, which is all the better as you’re completely unable to provide him with one.

“I love you,” he repeats, wide eyes dropping to your lips. “I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I wake up to you every morning.”

As his lips first graze your own, you remember him.

Countless times, that how often you’ve seen him. Passed him in the hallway of the gallery, trailing behind a busy Hoseok. Offering you a shy, sweet smile which you immediately assumed was meant for someone else.

He seemed to good, too kind for you.

But here he is, lips pressed gently to yours with a promise hanging in the air.

He asks for nothing in return.

When he finally pulls away, you gaze up at him with teary eyes. “Why?”

He knows what you’re asking. Why would he bare his heart and soul to you when he knows you’re promised to another? When you’ve never acknowledged his existence before?

Jungkook shrugs, then leans in for a short peck. He pulls back, allowing you to see the stars in his eyes.

“You deserved to hear it, at least once.”

Two Months Later

You have not heard those three words since, and you wonder if you ever will again. Glancing at Hoseok who peers down into the glass case, you don’t think you will. Hoseok will never love you.

He has you. He always has, you’ve been a constant in his life. What’s there to love about convenience?

He’s saying something to the jeweler, but the words are muffled. That’s how it’s been recently. People talk so much, but you hardly hear a thing. They so rarely say anything that matters.

Jungkook has been gone, still working to replace Hoseok, but off on business trips that you know aren’t necessary. Last you heard, Hoseok had sent him off to Mongolia on a wild goose chase for some long-lost painting. Chances are he wouldn’t be back for months.

Staring at the rings below you, you know that by then, it’ll be too late.

Hoseok is planning on proposing soon. You’re not exactly sure when, but it’ll be within a few weeks now. Perhaps sooner, you can’t tell.

When you leave the jeweler’s, Hoseok’s hand finds yours. He gives it a soft squeeze, but you can’t find quite enough strength to reciprocate the feeling.

He doesn’t comment on it.

In fact, the two of you hardly exchange two words until much later that evening when you dine together. It’s in his parent’s mansion, one of several. This is the one you’re meant to inherit upon getting married. The dining room is a bit too dark for your liking, but under the current circumstances, you bask in the shadows.

Hoseok is late to dinner. An uncommon thing, but you brush it off, quietly greeting him as he takes up his place across from you. When he doesn’t respond, you look up.

He’s already staring at you, but that’s not what sends a chill through your bones.

He’s looking at you with that sniper-like concentration that you only saw once before. It’s terrifying to be on the other side of that gaze; something you had hoped to never encounter.

“What’s wrong?” You mean to sound more caring, but the question comes out flat. Hoseok chews on his lip before releasing it.

He’s kissed you since the gala. He did as soon as the two of you boarded the plane, away from prying eyes.

It had been rushed and desperate, and you’d been shocked into stepping back, breaking the kiss sooner than he intended.

You’d stepped back and bumped into Jungkook, who gently caught you. Hoseok merely smiled warmly and explained that he thought you two were alone. Jungkook didn’t say a word.

Hoseok holds up a letter, unfolding it. “You received a letter today,” he responds. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

You frown, reaching out a hand but he’s too far away. “No, I’ll read it later-”

“My darling, I only just now found a post office that sends international letters. I apologize from the bottom of my heart, I hope you didn’t think I’d forgotten you.” Hoseok peeks at you from over the letter, arching an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell me you enjoyed pet names. Let’s see what else my apprentice has to say, shall we?”

“Hoseok-”

“Hold that thought,” Hoseok pulls a candle that burns in the center of the table closer to him, hovering the letter just above the flame. “Let’s continue. Something tells me that we’re just getting to the good part.”

“I hope this letter finds you before the wedding, although I can’t be sure. This post office looks a little sketchy, but it’s my best bet. Love, I told you once that I could live off of stolen moments. I can, I do. But I’m tired of begged and borrowed time at your side. Once was not enough.”

“How sweet. I never realized he had such a way with words.” Hoseok sighs wistfully, making you shudder.

“Run away with me, darling. Meet me in Italy, at the gallery. Come up with any excuse you possibly can – just find me. I’ll try to do my best to find a way out of this place, and I’ll wait for you every day. From open to close, I’ll be there. If you don’t come by the end of April, I’ll know that you decided to go forward with the marriage and I wish you all the happiness in the world. Just don’t forget: I love you. Wow, that was beautiful, wasn’t it? Who knew Jungkook was such a poet?”

Hoseok sighs again, meeting your horrified gaze. In one swift movement, he lets the bottom corner of the letter catch the flame. Smoke curls into the air, and you scramble to your feet.

“Hoseok!” You lunge for the letter, knocking over the candle in the process. With a shriek, you watch as the candle drops to the rug and catches fire. Rushing over, you begin to stomp out the flames.

“Let it burn,” Hoseok mumbles, still staring at the burning letter in his hands. “I always wanted to burn this house to the ground. It seems fitting to do so now.”

“You’ve lost your mind!” You shout, turning toward him once the rug is extinguished and snapping the letter from his hands. The flames bite as your fingertips, the letter unsalvageable. Hissing, you throw it into the fireplace.

“You know what?” Hoseok rises to his feet. “I think I will burn it down. Maybe move into one of those cramped apartments in the city. What do you think?”

“Hoseok, you’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk about this.”

His smile is melancholy, but for a moment his eyes clear up and you catch a glimpse of the Hoseok you’ve known for twelve years.

“Don’t you have packing to do?” With a shrug he adds, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“I-“ you stop mid-step. A series of choices flash before your eyes, but all you can see if Hoseok and the out he’s offering you.

Perhaps he wants to get out of this as much as you do.

As you pound up the stairs and begin to throw anything you can find into your bag, you realize that you may never know. You never did get to know the real Hoseok. His thoughts and inner feelings have remained a mystery to you.

When you rush out the door a few minutes later, Hoseok is already leaning against his car. There’s another car parked beside it, and he tosses you the keys. There are no parting words, no longing stares as he marches forward and strikes a match against the side of the house. Without fanfare, he tosses the flame inside the mansion. You watch with unabashed awe as he strides back to his car and hops in. There’s a small bag in the back, certainly not enough to hold his precious belongings.

Hoseok gives you a curt nod, tearing out of the driveway.

You’re gone before the sound of sirens cuts through the air.

The Accademia Gallery is packed today, more so than you’ve ever seen it before. Of course, the main attraction is The David. Tourists crowd around, trying to find the best angle to take a photo, grinning widely.

All of them except for one, who stares up at the sculpture with a keen eye. His dark brown hair is shorter than it was a few months ago when he stood in a similar position.

“Jungkook!”

Somehow, amidst the din of the crowd, he hears you. The stars in his eyes are bright as he turns around, acting as a beacon as you push through the crowd. They gleam and sparkle, rivaled only by the wide smile that overtakes his features. Those eyes, so dangerous yet so lovely. They invite you to get lost in them, to dance under Jungkook’s galaxy.

This time, you think you will.

main masterlist || Help support me? ko-fi

this was a wild ride, lemme tell ya

taglist: @baepsaetay @dreamcatcherjiah @kookie-vuitton @thecaffeinatedscribbles @moon-write @fangirl125reader @heishichoulevi @knjkitten @sacha-cff @vik7797 @eusticenatalie @hesmyphenominiall @miriamxsworld @kayahay @secretlycrazyhummingbird @marianeamine @hqtetsurou @protontippens @beginwithamin @limiworld @jeonyoongi-jimin @buttvi

#bts arranged marriage au #jungkook arranged marriage au #Hoseok arranged marriage au #jungkook x reader #hobi x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts oneshot #jungkook oneshot #hobi oneshot #hyunglinenetwork #armywriterssupport #armyadvocatesaapi #bts x y/n #jungkook x y/n #hobi x y/n

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shutupanddance · 3 years

Text

Master Post

If you’re looking for my Master List, check out this link:

https://shutupanddance.tumblr.com/masterlist

Okay cool cats and kittens, I’m creating this master post to help you navigate my page and stay updated :) It will be pinned to my blog, and it will have my fandom list, my prompt list, my to-do list, any current events, and a few frequently asked questions. So, looking for information about requesting? Suggestions for requests? Or wondering what I’m currently working on? Don’t know if I’ve received your request? This is the place to look! Just keep on reading <3

Current Events

None!

Fandoms

Here are the fandoms I write for!!

+ Marvel (MCU)

+ DC (DCU)

+ Sherlock

+ Star Wars (trilogies, Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian)

+ Star Trek (reboots, original series)*

+ Pacific Rim

+ Knives Out

+ Night at the Museum

+ LOTR / The Hobbit

+ Jurassic Park/World

+ The West Wing*

+ NCIS*

*fandoms that you will see the most of on my blog.

Prompt List

(Does not include prompts from any current events) Here are some prompts that you can use for your request, or for your own writing! As a reminder, not all of these prompts are properly credited. Please let me know if you have the original creator’s @!

#1: “I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

#2: “Should I ask why you have a knife in your purse?”

”It’s a dagger, actually, and no you shouldn’t.”

#3: “Close your eyes and listen. And trust me.”

#4: Rosemary, broken glass, and an old gun.

#5: “Do you remember when I loved you?”

”No.”

”Good, because I never did.”

#6: “He saw the notice in the paper.”

”Why would you let him see the paper?”

”What was I supposed to do, eat it?”

#7: “I didn’t catch your name!”

”I didn’t throw it.”

#8: “I’m not better than you, but at least I’m not you. And right now, that’s worth a whole lot.”

#9: Romantic dinner, but something is wrong.

#10: Forehead kisses during an apocalypse

#11: “This isn’t BBC Sherlock! You can’t just run around administering justice as you see fit!

#12: Trying to get a smoke detector to shut up

#13: Falling out of a closet during Hide N Seek

#14: Revealing a dark secret, but it turns out that they already know

#15: Once upon a midnight dreary

#16: The odds were never in our favor

#17: If I should die, think only this of me

#18: Attack hugs

#19: Afraid of ladybugs

#20: The dumb*ss God couldn’t stop

#21: “There’s a rumor going around that you’re the one to ask if someone needs to acquire rare and dangerous objects.”

”There’s a rumor going around that you’re an undercover cop.”

#22: A parking lot, a coroner, and snails

#23: “You’re the only person I know who calls me that.”

#24: This is not a drill.

#25: It’s the price we pay to feel

#26: A character is cleaning/sweeping the floor when someone walks by with dirty shoes (via @writingprompts365 )

#27: “I’m back from my mission!”

““You failed it.”

““How’d you know?”

They point at the TV.

#28: A character is pushed into some bushes/plants/flowers (via @writingprompts365 )

#29: A character picks up a very shiny rock (same @)

#30: A character combs another character’s hair (same)

#31: A character is forced to have a conversation with someone they don’t like (same)

#32: Laughing hysterically at their own joke

#33: Stuck under the same umbrella

#34: ““Well, this is a nice change of scenery!”

““It’s a jail cell.”

““I was being sarcastic.”

#35: ““Let me just be perfectly clear that this was not my fault.”

#36: ““Can I buy you coffee? For old times sake?”

#37: Fake dating

#38: Huddling for warmth

#39: Being high on painkillers and confessing undying love to everyone

#40: “That’s starting to get annoying.”

#41: “I fell asleep on the bus and woke up here.”

#42: “It’s freaking cold.”

#43: “You’re not exactly known for your great ideas.”

#44: ““Can you keep a secret?”

#45: Character A lives above character B, and always drives B insane with how much stomping they do. One day, A’s foot goes right through the floor, into B’s apartment.

#45: Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party.

#46: you’re a security guard at an art gallery and you held the door for me so I left you a note in the door where we met I hope you read it

#47: Person A and Person B both trying to break into the same place on the same night by accident, only to be chased by the police upon meeting and having to hide in a closet/cupboard/safe together until they leave.

#48: the first and the last word they said to each other

#49: your kid hates my kid

#50: ‘picking them up’ hugs

#51: an incredibly loud and painful high-five

#52: "Let me fix that for you."

#53: “Can’t we listen to something else? We’ve been listening to this CD for three hours now.”

“You know, I would but the CD slot is broken so it’s either this or talk to each other.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking.”

“[turns up the music louder]”

#54: "My kiss quota for the day hasn't been filled. I need a thousand more."

#55: Person A making fun of Person B's bed head

#56: Squeeze three times for “I love you”

#57: writing a love letter but keeping it to themselves

#58: Messing around in IKEA

#59: “Hey - what’re you hiding behind your back?”

#60: going to a bookshop and selecting books for each other

#61: smiling at each other from across the room

#62: arms wrapping around your waist from behind while you’re on a phone call

#63: “ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

#64: message in a bottle

#65: becoming the parents of the friend group as soon as they start dating

#66: “I love you.”

“Ouch.”

#67: “We...we did it. We did it! Oh my God, I could kiss you.”

“Well, don’t be shy.”

My To-Do List

Here is everything that I’m currently working on! If you’ve sent a request in, and I see it, it should pop up here!

REQUEST SLOTS: FULL

+ Sherlock / Reader (not requested) undetermined topic

+ Rusty Ryan / Reader (not requested) #4

+ Sam Seaborn / Reader (requested) slow dancing

*anything with an asterisks has already been started.

Tag List

@girloncorneliastreet for The West Wing

@wolviesbabes for Gibbs / Reader

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I submit a request? When you look at my blog, there is a link titled “Asks/Requests”. Click that, and submit something!

How specific does my request have to be? More detail is always better if you’re looking for something specific, but if you’re not picky, it’s no big deal! Even if you just say “could I have some more Spock content please?” I’ll answer it!

Do you write smut? Nope! Not for me.

Are your requests open? Not at the moment! They will be soon, though.

What do I do if your requests are closed? Send it later, when they’re open again!

Do you have a master list? I do! I also have a tag called #masterlist, which all of my work is under. You can access the master list itself by navigating to the page on my blog, or just clicking the link at the top of this post!

What’s your name? You can call me C :)

Why didn’t you reblog my post about social justice? In order to avoid burnout for myself and my followers, I am doing my best to keep this blog free of anything other than fan content. This does not mean that I disagree or agree with you, it just means that I’m not commenting. I do not need to participate in internet social justice activity when I am already an activist on other platforms, including real life.

What can I send asks or messages about? Anything!! Life updates, random questions, whatever! I love to hear from you <3

That’s all, folks!

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bill-y · 4 years

Text

𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐑𝐄

Peeta Mellark x male reader

We all know who Katniss Everdeen is, but what if Primrose hadn’t been chosen but another boy from another unfortunate family? YOUR family.

Info: This is basically a reader insert and I’ve changed a few rules, not ground breaking though. The reader is a bit bland for now but I plan for his actions to be different. Because he has different moral grounds from Katniss and such. Would appreciate feedback! FEEL FREE TO POINT OUT TYPOS. GRAMMARLY SOMETIMES DOESN’T DO MY DYSLEXIC ASS JUSTICE

Part two: Click here, bomburino tortilla pony horse.

Part three: You're here, my guy.

Part four: Click here, amigo

Wattpad acc: L0calxDumbass

It didn't take long before I came home, my mother and brother was already dressed, and I was right, Kunal has been crying.

He immediately lightened up when he saw the bread, pushing the sleeves of my first reaping outfit (which was now his) back in order to munch on it.

"Don't worry, you only have your name once in the pile, you're safe," I reassured him, as I've done many times before.

I smiled, patting his head. My mother glanced at me, but I pretended to not notice. It's been long since we've talked, the last time was a disagreement, a petty one at that. About two years or so?

I honestly surpised myself, how can I go without talking to her for so long. . .?

Another trait my father passed on to me was a short temper, though I never lose my head and scream, but something about her words made me yell. Her face was full of shock when I did that, almost as if I've betrayed her.

"Don't be stupid like your father!" She told me.

My father isn't a stupid man, he was smart. Lady luck just wasn't on his side that day.

I took a bath, scrubbing the dirt and soot off myself. When I saw my clothing my heart stopped. It was my Father's.

It was simple, just as he liked. A white button up tunic, the hems made of elegant gold lace. The pants were loose, with garters securing on the hip and the hems, he never liked tight clothing, just like me.

My eyes went towards my mother, who simply nodded, "After you get dressed, sit down, won't you? Let me fix your hair," she said.

My mouth opened to protest, only to shut itself when she whispered a small, "please," My eyes softened, her voice sounded so guilty, she regretted her words, just as I did. She knew I could get chosen.

But I'm a coward, I don't like apologizing, something I inherited from her.

I nodded, and got dressed before I sat down, just as she told me. She began to braid tiny sections of my hair. I've never been good at it, really, It would always look messy when I did it. So I just looked messy everyday.

But her hands can do magic, it was like she was weaving silk, her hands full of grace and utmost care as she intertwined every strand of hair. I could feel her hand shake a little, as if scared with one wrong touch, I'd shatter like glass.

She used to sew clothing, make various artworks with whatever was in the house. Her hand was naturally delicate, soft to anything she makes contact with.

I bit my lip, none of us wanted to say it. We we're both thinking the same thing, though.

I never really liked cutting my hair, always kept it atleast neck length at best. I don't think short hair suits me at all, though it does get in the way while hunting from time to time.

Once she finished, without a word she pressed her chapped lips onto my forehead, she then walked away, leaving me with a pit of guilt in my stomach.

Such simple words, why can't I just say it?

I sighed, fixing my tunic and tucking it in, the garter snapping back, making me wince a little. It was stupid of me to let go.

I took a deep breath in, mustering all the courage I had to walk towards my brother, who has devoured the entire loaf. "Good?" I asked.

He nodded, a smile on his face, the crumbs falling down. I chuckled, wiping his mouth with my hand.

"You're like a bird, aren't you, little mocking jay?" I said, patting his head again.

He hummed, nodding aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down. I snickered, holding his head still with both my hands. I squished his cheeks together, making his lips form into a duck beak-shape. "Hey, Y/n,"

I rose my brows, humming. "I won't get chosen, won't I?" he asked. I sniffed, shaking my head as I linked our foreheads. "No, no you wont, Nal," I said. "If they call you, I won't let you go, alright?"

"You promise?"

"Of course,"

Soon it hit one in the afternoon, it was mandatory to attend this "festival", unless you're at death's door, that is. I found myself beside Gale, who patted my shoulder for reassurance.

Maybe it was obvious I'm stressed, tense. I'm not worried about myself, I'm more worried of them, especially Kunal. He's only twelve, yet he can still get chosen.

Some kind of festival this is.

I clenched my fists tighter, palms started to go white as I also clenched my jaw.

On the temporary stage stationed in front of the justice building was a podium, three chairs and two large bowls. The district is divided into two sections, jumbled across those two glass bowls, waiting to be picked up.

Twenty of them contained 'Y/n Greyback', one of them contained 'Kunal Greyback'.

There were also bright banners hung up, though I'm sure it was just there to taunt us, it sure worked for me. Everytime I look at it I start feel sick, hatred bubbling in my stomach.

The feeling of claustrophobia began to settle in as people piled into the square, the late comers having to just watch from a monitor instead.

"You alright?" Gale asked, nudging me. I gulped, sighing, "Course, I just —" I turned back, looking at my brother. "Worry of him,"

He gave me a sympathetic look, "He only has one entry, I'm sure he won't be picked," He said. Something I've been saying for such a long time, it didn't help settle my nerves.

"I know," I answered plainly.

We looked towards Katniss' place, beside her was Mardge, who gave me a curt smile and a wave. Out of politeness, I simply nodded back before turning back to the stage.

My hands grew colder each second, by two, when the mayor finally reached the stage, my hands were as cold as a corpse's.

Beside the mayor was Effie Trinket, District 12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin, pinkish hair, and spring green suit. It looked quite ghastly.

Everyone murmured in worry, for whom was the empty third seat for?

The mayor stepped in front of the podium, beginning to tell the tale of Panem, how the twelve districts lost in the rebellion and now have to face punishment.

The Hunger games.

It was simple, each district would pick two "tributes" to this little game, and then they either kill like a hungry wolf or die like lost cattle.

I gulped, sweat forming on my forehead as I instinctively reached for the end of Gale's shirt. He held my hand, patting it a few times to let me know it would be alright.

He then began to read the victors in every hunger games. In the past seventy-four years, we have had exactly two.

Only one is still alive. Haymitch Abernathy, a paunchy, middle-aged man, who at this moment appears hollering something unintelligible, staggers onto the stage, and falls into the third chair.

To say he's drunk would be an understatement.

The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she barely manages to fend off.

The mayor looks distressed. Since all of this is being televised, right now District 12 is the laughingstock of Panem, and he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.

Bright and bubbly as ever, she began to talk. I could feel my blood boiling upon hearing her obnoxious, Capitol accent. I tuned her out, gulping as my hands somehow grew even colder.

Please don't let it be my brother, anyone but him.

"Let's have the first pick, shall we?" She said, her voice at the end of the sentence practically sky rocketing up. She pulled a piece of paper from one of the Glass bowls.

My heart pounded, as if trying to escape my chest. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths in.

"Kunal Greyback,"

My heart stopped. Why couldn't it have been me? I had twenty, TWENTY entries.

I watched as my brother walked past me, his lip quivering, eyes glossy. Oh sweet, sweet Kunal, as delicate as a Lotus.

Kunal, the boy who gathers flowers every morning just for me.

Kunal, the boy who loves pulling on my braids.

Kunal, my dear innocent brother. Afraid of his own shadow.

I felt my own body move, launching myself forward. Gale called for my name, but I didn't care, no. I needed to get to my brother, I made a promise.

"NAL! NAL! NO!" I yelled, desperation evident in my voice as I pushed through the other people. "Y/n!" He screamed back.

Most of then gave me and my brother looks of sympathy, some gossiped. "Greyback," they'd whisper. "Another one bites the dust," they'd continue.

The peace keepers pushed me back, preventing me from reaching my brother.

No, not like this. He's still so young, he still wants to gather lilys by the front of our house, he still wants to create flower crowns for me to wear.

He still wants to breath, to live.

The mayor looked at me, recignizing me almost immediately. He didn't know me, no. Rather, he knew my father, the man he put under the execution block.

Oh mother, I'm sorry it had to be this way. It seems another one of your family members will die at the hands of the Capitol.

"I volunteer!" I gasped, gulping down nothing. My mouth was dry.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Word count: 1.6k

Tags:

@nin3s

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x male reader #peetamellark #male x male reader #x male reader #male reader #hunger games x reader #hunger games x male reader #hunger games ff #hunger games #katniss everdeen #gale hawthorne #peeta mellark #why are tags so difficult to fucking write #hello person looking at tags you should really get other hobbies #male reader insert #reader insert #long read #male reader series

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

Inspired partially by the twitter trend of The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It and just in time for Valentine’s Day!

Gender Neutral Reader Insert.

Enjoy my masterlist!

Support me on KoFi!

__________________________

While sitting in the car, you watch out the window. Folks buzz around you--some folks looking content, strolling about their day. Others are flitting around, a bit of crease in their forehead. And you feel for them. You know those days where there’s just not enough hours in the day to get it all done. Or it’s when one thing sets off a spiral of all terrible things. Or when you just don’t wake up on the right side of the bed. You know that crease all too well because currently you were having a bad sleeping week.

You were getting tired when you were supposed to but the second you put your head on the pillow your brain was hot wired--keeping you up with all the things you needed to do, hadn’t done, all the appointments you had kept pushing off. It was finding the littlest things to find that anxiety and keep you staring up at the ceiling. Calum noticed the tossing and turning and tried his best to lull you to sleep this week, fixing you tea in the evening, getting you off your phone or laptop a couple hours before bed. He even started reading to you, but your ears picked up on the white noise of everything in the house. Your brain picked up the embarrassing memory that you hadn’t even considered in decades and now holding it in front of your mind’s eye for hours on end during the week.

Like right now, you should’ve been at home sleeping. Your work was giving you a long weekend and you really could’ve used the time to catch some extra Z’s, but you were, admittedly, a little scared to stay home. Sure maybe you did fall asleep cuddled up next to Duke. But you worried that you’d stay up, worry yourself sick some more so when Calum told you he had some errands to run you immediately tagged along. The time running around would hopefully tire you out enough that when you got home you could actually fall asleep.

So after Calum’s personal training session in the morning, which you sort of tagged along for, but mostly went through your own routine and getting a solid breakfast, you two were now buzzing around from store to store. Calum had gotten most of the grocery the other day, but he forgot a couple things so your first objective was to grab those and bring them back up. He then had to go to the post office to mail out his mother’s birthday cards and a few other things.

While in the line at the post office, your head tucked into his back, Calum got a phone call from a guitar shop on the other side of time about a new model that had just come in. Calum had been eying it for ages, but he didn’t want to be reckless with his money especially after getting some work on his teeth and to the house. So he asked the guitar shop to keep an eye out for when more stock arrived in case it sold out before Calum felt comfortable spending a large sum of money like that again.

The store agreed to set one off to the side for him and could keep it on hold until the end of the day. Which was perfect--still gave the two of you time to get lunch. You didn’t need to get anything, didn’t need to do anything. But even after lunch, Calum made one more pit stop. Here now at the gas station, you sit peering through the windshield and can see a mother with her two sons walking from the doors. They boys hold brightly colored icees in their hand, each clutching a bag field with goodies.

You aren’t entirely sure whey Calum needed to stop here for anything. It’s not like he needed stamps, since he got those at the post office. He hadn’t pulled in to get gas. Lunch had been filling, though you tried not to stuff yourself too much just because you knew that on a long car ride, the last thing you wanted to do was be uncomfortably full.

The door opens again, Calum strutting through with his glasses covering his eyes and resting comfortably atop the chubby cheeks. Barely hanging from the crook of his fingers is a brown plastic bag. The doors click open and he climbs into the driver seat. The guitar shop wasn’t that far, but today seemed to be a busy day on the road. Took you all too long just to get to the grocery store this morning.

“Snacks?”

“Was craving something sweet after lunch.”

You peer into the bag as he hands it over to you. Some gummy bears, gum, a bar or two of chocolate you can’t quite tell. You set it onto the floor at your feet. “Let me know when you want something.” But he’s already tearing into a Twix bar when you glance at him. “Or not,” you laugh.

“The other stuff is for you--if you want to indulge. Can’t forget ya,” he pushes the glasses down for just a moment to wink at you and then looks into the rearview mirror.

“Do you think you’re going to get this one?” you asks as the SUV rolls out from the parking lot and onto the asphalt of the highway.

“Hmm, maybe. Gotta see how it feels first.”

You nod at his question, resting your head into the cushion of the seat. And it goes quiet for a while. The radio plays softly in the background, and every so often the packaging crinkles as Calum downs more of the chocolate and caramel treat.

“Valentine’s Day is coming up soon,” Calum states, while paused in a bit of traffic. “Got any ideas on what you want to do for it?”

You think for a moment. Valentine’s Day has never been your thing--being perpetually single does that to a person. “Restaurants are going to be a nightmare.”

“Yeah, they will be.” Another crinkle comes from the right side of the car and then his arm reaches behind your seat, finding the small bag of trash you stash there--though you have to be careful when Duke sits in the backseat. Generally though, he doesn’t mess with too much. “My mom sent me a recipe of hers. It’s really good.”

“I’d be down for cooking.”

“Nothing else? Don’t wanna go sky diving? Give me another heart attack?”

You laugh thinking about the first birthday you spent with Calum together as a couple. “You didn’t die.”

“But I did almost shit myself.”

“You can play on stage to thousands of people, but no, jumping from a plane is a no-go.”

“Yes, because I am a sane human.”

You huff out a small tuft of laughter and turn to look at him. One hand on the wheel with the stainless steel linked chain dangling from his wrist. His other arm is resting against the door, gently tapping out a beat with his long slender fingers. “Do you want to do anything?”

“Valentine’s Day,” he scoffs. “How long have we been dating? When have I ever been dying to do anything on some random day in February.” His statement doesn’t fall venomously from his mouth. He even looks over to you with a smile. “I don’t need one day out of 365 to declare my love for someone.”

And it’s true. While Calum wasn’t super accepting of love from new people, while it took you months to show Calum that you were trustworthy and not someone to keep at an arm’s length, once he cracked open, he oozed adoration and love for people. And you knew it was a defense mechanism. You knew that when someone did care as hard as Calum did it wouldn’t always be an easy thing to win over.

Calum, when he finally let someone one, loved hard. It could be a random Tuesday in July or a Sunday in February, and he would make sure his love was known. He never needed a special occasion to send flowers, to cook dinner, to offer to drive you to doctors appointments because he knew that sometimes you got too nervous or flustered by them to drive but did manage to push through if absolutely necessary. He’d easily pick up some gloves and an extra sponge if he saw you wiping down the walls in the kitchen or wiping through the counter. He kept fridge cleaning days marked on the calendar. And when you added reminders to wash bed sheets to the shared one, he also include rest breaks for you too.

Calum had never needed someone to force him to show appreciation.

“I mean, there is the option to literally do nothing on Valentine’s Day. Like treat it as any other day.”

“That’s still something,” he countered, turning on his signal and switching out from the middle lane. His exit was approaching in another mile and a half.

“Oh fuck off,” you laugh. “We can’t cease to exist that day. Bare minimum we need to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide.”

Calum laughs softly, showing some of his teeth too. “Fair, fair. There’s another Netflix documentary coming out, true crime one. I forget what it’s fully about, but I think it’s about a serial killer if you’d be down to start it then?”

“When would I ever turn down the opportunity to be a detective with you?”

“You haven’t yet,” he states with laughter in his voice.

“And I never will.” The ramp takes the two of you down and down and soon you’re winding through streets and not too far you can see the shopping center coming into view. He pulls into the lot of the shop and the two of you step out in unison.

The bell above the door chimes as he opens it for you and you smile often in your thanks. “Hey, Calum!” one of the guys at the register calls out. The store is fairly empty. But you’re not shocked on a Tuesday afternoon.

“Hey, Derek. How’s it going?” Calum heads directly over to the counter and you look up to the left wall, at the records on display.

“Let me know if you need anything,” the second guy states to you, “or if you want to see anything.” He’s younger than Derek, both look to be equally tattooed from the pieces that peek out from the short sleeve work shirts, but his face is significantly brighter.

“Thanks,” you return and go back to the displays. You can hear Calum and Derek chatting but slowly tune it out, make it background noise to the music playing through the speakers.

You turn to walk towards the back where more instruments sit and you can see Calum leaning into the glass display of the counter. The palms of his hand pressed into the metal edge. The sunglasses sit on top of his head and you notice the younger guy glancing over at you again.

He nods again and then goes back to his computer. Nothing else is said. And you look over the stringed instruments, ukuleles, some violins and then you spin around again, done with that lap and go to head up to Calum. “See anything?” he asks.

You shake your head. “You’re the musically talented one. I just nod and smile when you talk about it.”

Derek returns, a case in hand. He comes out from the hinged doors that separate the sales floor from the registers and back of the store. You scoot a little closer to the display as the case is transferred over. Calum takes it easily heading to the corner you just abandoned to sit and check out the instrument. It’s a beautiful deep green, almost reminds you of the thick Washington forest. The body is slender.

“That’s a pretty cool color,” you note, watching Calum work his fingers over the frets.

He grins up at you. “Think so?” You give another nod. He doesn’t inspect it long before you can see the desire to give in crosses his face.

Derek’s standing close by and you turn to him and keep your voice as close to a whisper as you can while still being heard. “What’s a bass like that cost?”

He rattles off the price, one eyebrow slightly raised over the other. You know Calum will riot--he’ll pitch a fucking fit. But you reach into your wallet and slide out your card. You had been saving--for a year. You wanted to do something big for Calum. You just didn’t know what it was yet specifically though you had some ideas, a bass was top of the list. But you didn’t want to try and go out and buy a bass without consulting him, without getting an understanding of what he liked. You thought about maybe a really good leather jacket and some more boots. He loved the ones he had, wore them as much as he could.

And when you mentioned possibly getting him more, he told you the ones he had were still in good shape. Calum wasn’t the type to just buy clothes to buy them. He indulged here and there, but always made a point to wear something he had down before replacing it. You’d tease the subject a couple more times after that, but he never took the bait and you weren’t going to force him into a thing he didn’t want or need.

But it’s clear to you that this is something he wants. But he’ll tussle with himself and never give in on it. It’s pricer than you thought it would be. But you too were being smart, having finally paid off the last of your car, you start moving those payments to savings and it helped a great deal. You were fine. You get insurance and the whole deal as Derek advises. By the time you slide the receipt back across the counter, Calum comes back to the registers. “I appreciate you holding it for me, man. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Derek looks at you and you look down into the glass. “It’s--it’s yours, dude.”

“What?” Calum breathes behind you.

“They-uh, they paid for it,” Derek says, nodding at you.

You can feel the heat in your body now and spin around to face Calum in a rush. “Consider it a not Valentine’s Day gift.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“Ever since I finished paying off my car, I saved the payments to do something nice for you. Didn’t know what it was going to be for sure. But I know you, Calum. You’d want something and tell yourself no. I mean you can treat yourself sometimes.”

“You-you didn’t?” His eyes are rapidly blinking, head shaking like he doesn’t want to believe you. Like he can’t believe you as his mouth mumbles out, “No,” repeatedly.

“It’s yours,” you nod. “It’s really yours.”

If it weren’t for the weight of the bass, you’re sure Calum would’ve tipped over, maybe even rushed to Derek to hand the case back over, but instead he’s weighed down, chained to this spot in the blue speckled carpet of the store, still repeating, “No,” softly.

“‘I hate to break it to you, but you’re gonna have to find space in your office for it now. Because I refuse to return it.” You step forward, find the handle and slip your hands around it taking it from Calum. A small grunt leaves you and then you start to the door, throwing a thanks to Derek.

The lights to the SUV blink and you can hear the locks clicking open as you push open the door to the store. “Wait--what are you doing?” Calum asks.

“Open the trunk please,” you ask.

“Let me do it,” he demands, stepping in close to take the case with the bass now. “What the fuck did you do? Baby, this is expensive.”

“It’s not a Valentine’s Day gift,” you answer again. “Because I love you. On a random Tuesday.”

He gets the instrument safely into the trunk and then closes it, watching dumbly as you climb into the passenger side. He walks to the driver seat and climbs in, taking you gently by the chin. “That was absolutely reckless and unnecessary-- ”

“I am just absolutely reckless and unnecessary then,” you counter, “because I’m not returning it.”

“--but thank you. Thank you so much,” he continues as if you hadn’t interrupted him. “I love you.”

“I love you.” Then it’s silent, as the two of your gaze at each other, watching what could almost be tears well in his eyes, but they don’t fall.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve a person like you, but whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

“I’m glad you did it too.” The two of you return home, Duke rushing to the front door as the two of you step through it. Calum safely places the bass in his music room/office and returns shortly after to help you decide on what to order for dinner.

As the two of you settle onto the couch, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to teach knuckle. “I’m gonna teach you how to play.”

“You know we’ve done this before.”

“And you were good at it.”

“I was alright at it.”

“It’ll be your bass,” he whispers.

“I bought it for you,” you return tossing your head back to look at him.

He kisses your lips. “Yeah, but it’ll be the one that I teach you to play for real one and it’ll be yours--just as much as it is mine.”

“A true sap,” you laugh, but nod and return your focus back to the TV.

In the week that follows, Calum makes sure to take an hour in the evenings to set you down and pick up on the lessons. They fizzled out as work for the both of you picked up. But now things are a bit more calm. He sits next to you, assessing what you remember from last time and correcting finger placements as needed, but they go smoothly.

When Valentine’s Day does come, Calum pulls you back into bed for just five more minutes of sleep. And five minutes turns into half an hour. But finally you two pull yourself out from the sheets, figure out what to do in the midmorning that results in food being consumed and then you slowly gravitate towards different sections of the house.

There’s still a bit of laundry to be done and Calum takes Duke out for just a little bit. The two of you migrate back together by mid afternoon. He finds you making a quick lunch and presses a kiss to your cheek. You turn to face him, squeezing at his. “I bought some face masks,” he offers. “Care to join me in doing the bare minimum of converting oxygen into carbon dioxide after your lunch?”

“Don’t see how I could pass up such a wonderful offer? You want anything?” He shakes head, mentioning grubbing on some of the leftovers earlier while you took a nap.

With your lunch done and the plates cleaned, you find Calum in the bedroom and let him know you’re ready for the face masks. He shuffles to the bathroom. “I hope I got the right one for you,” he mutters. “I got them forever ago it feels, so who the hell knows what I got.” His laughter is soft as he rummages through the bins under the skin.

“I’ll be in the office,” you tell him and he nods, still pulling bins out. You settle into the couch and spy the green bass still on the stand from yesterday. You pull it into your lap and sling your arm over it. The amp next to you is off, you know but you still pluck away at it as if it were on.

Calum shuffles in a few minutes later. “Um, babe. It’s off.”

You don’t reply but do look up. He holds up three different packages. ��Here’s to hoping one of these is worthwhile.” You place your bass back to the stand and take one that sounds like one you’re okay with using. Calum hands you a towel so you can wipe your fingers off after you get it placed onto your face. He helps get it right and then you help him with his and the two of you slip onto the couch, legs entangled and leaning into opposite ends of the couch.

You laugh at Calum’s story as you scroll mindless through app after app. In the boredom you snap a picture of Calum with the face masks on and don’t think too much of it, saving it to the album with all the silly and cute photos of him are--there are tons.

“I mean the sun is a star. Though the ones we see have been dead for a long time.”

Calum taps your leg with his foot. “It was a simple question--to be the sun or the stars. I didn’t ask for this philosophical crisis.”

“Why would it not weigh in your decision! If you’re a star like the ones we see at night, you’re technically already dead. You wanna be dead?” You huff, sitting up.

“I mean, no, but c’mon.”

“It’s a valid thing to consider, that’s all I’m saying!”

He laughs. “Okay, sun or the moon?”

“You first,” you return and just then your alarm on your phone goes off. The two of you shuffle back to the bathroom and take off the masks.

“Moon, maybe,” he counters.

You nod. “Fitting. When should we get started on that recipe of your moms? Is it super involved?”

“Nah, it’s pretty easy. Normal time should be good. I’m going to read outside if you want to join.”

“Maybe in a bit.”

Calum nods, grabbing his book as he passes through the bedroom and the patter of Duke’s claws follow behind him. You go back to the music room, turn on the amp and then actually play a little something. It’s nothing fancy--just the arrangement you put together with Calum as a practice exercise once. You play it for a bit, adding a little flair. When you phone rings, you pause to answer it. You wouldn’t normally, but the number looks semi recognizable so you answer it.

It’s just a scam call and you hang up but then notice some other notifications. Before you realize it, you’re deep into Twitter. You’ve run across the trend of people posting pictures of themselves and their significant others with the caption, The Face Vs The Face Sitting On It. It made you laugh just a little bit at first. And then you kept going down the rabbit hole. Some are silly, most are good pictures.

While it’s not exactly secret that you and Calum are dating, you two don’t post too much. Calum isn’t incline to post on social media in the first place and while you use it a bit more than him, you try not to post too much about him out of respect. However, as you look tap on quote retweet and bring up your photos you think maybe one silly post wouldn’t hurt. So you grab the one of him recently with the face masks and then one of yourself--it’s silly too, a little blurry too in the darkness that it was taken in.

You hit post and watch the likes come in. Then keep scrolling. Eventually you have to put the bass away and peel yourself from the couch to find Calum and see if he’s hungry enough for dinner. Just as you round the corner to the office, you spy him stepping through the glass sliding backdoor. “Hungry?” you ask.

He nods, “Yeah.”

The two of you, with Duke trotting ahead, make your way down the hallway and into the kitchen. “You’re funny,” he states, washing his hands first.

“Thank you. I’ll be here until you kick me out.”

He laughs. “No, the pictures you posted. On Twitter.”

You’re shocked that he noticed it that fast. Normally it took him a bit longer to see silly stuff like that. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Nah. What I hope you don’t mind is my reply.”

At first you’re nervous. Calum could’ve gone one of two ways--super silly and broke out even worse photos of you possibly not sober or he went super on trend with it and pulled out a photo of you done up for a date night. Not that you preferred one over the other, but sometimes you liked to keep your relationship light on social media. It was easier that way. There wasn’t any real pressure that way. Though the fans seemed to have enjoyed it when you posted more posed and serious content.

You liked to keep it a bit more real. You and Calum didn’t do the whole nine yards a lot--you two were normal people who hated getting out of bed some days and went as well into the afternoon before showering at times and walked Duke and went to doctor’s appointments like everyone does. So you always opted for a bit of a joke, a silly Tweet or photo whenever you could.

“What did you post?” you ask.

He shrugs, taking up the knife to dice the onion. “I’m not telling you.”

You glance at the printed out recipe and get a pan on the aisle over medium heat before pulling out your phone. As you load the app, you listen to the snap of the knife fitting the wooden cutting board. You type Calum’s name and tap onto his profile.

While there’s is silly--I do want to take a moment to show off my favorite person in the world. So here we go, The Face Vs. The Face Sitting On It. Below is attached a picture of him--you snapped while you two were out for lunch one day. The black t-shirt tight around his biceps as he slyly grins into the camera. The lights in the background are just barely in focus of the resturant and Calum’s glancing out of the window next to him. You remember that you were recording him, or at least you thought you were, and told him that he was handsome. Not the first time, but everytime he did, he blushed and turn away. And you captured it here too.

The photo of you is actually one with him in it. The guys got together and did a big family dinner and the two of you posed at Crystal’s request in the slightly matching outfits. You hadn’t intended to match--though black was a staple in both your wardrobes. You were a bit different thanks to the pop of color in your shoes, but in the lighting of the street lamp, you had to admit that you did look hot. The first couple of buttons on your shirt you were undone and with your hands tucked into the pockets, you looked like you owned shit.

“While I hoped that you’d go with something more silly, I will take this,” you finally say.

“That picture is literally my background for a reason,” he returns.

You kiss his cheek and then trace over the stubble with your teeth to his ear. “Can I make a reservation for tonight?”

“The table is reserved for you literally at all times,” he returns in a breathe.

“Good,” you laugh and then glance back to the recipe.

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood x reader #calum hood x reader insert #calum hood imagine #calum hood smut #Calum Hood smut adjacent #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer imagine #gender netural reader

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ladydimitrescuspet · 3 years

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Make Me Feel Better Chapter 4

AO3 Link! wow, long time no update! welcome to a filler chapter that's not really a filler chapter but is definitely a filler chapter! I hope y'all enjoy it and tell me your thoughts if you'd like! and as always, sorry for any and every grammatical error!

disclaimer: as it is in 'What About What I Want?', Victoria is the oldest, Elise is the youngest, and Daniela is the middle child. this was started before information about the daughters was released so until I finish this fic up and the other one, that's how it's gonna be. okay?? okay!! enjoy!

Tag List (click here to join): @lord-dimitrescu, @alwaysgoodnight, @paint-it-periwinkle, @lightspica, @ultimatebottom69, @sexyheisenbeast, @crazy-obsessed, @squid3, @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu, @the-obscurity, @sapphicalciee, @ladydimitresculove, @solemnnova, @itsyourgirlmalise, @the-little-shadow, @marvelwomen-simp, @rachelthefanfictionwriter, @d14n4ol, @peachesandlesbians, @celina1221, @theuselesslezbian｜Anna, @Gansito83, @Followingmyheartledmetoyou, (won’t tag, idk why)

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Two weeks. You’d been down in your cell for two whole weeks. Alcina hadn’t even come down to see you, only sending either Elise or Victoria to check on you and bring you your meals. You stayed facing the wall, your back to the cell as it opened.

“Y/N?” That voice didn’t belong to Elise or Victoria, it belonged to Daniela. You felt yourself tense when your name fell from her lips. “I’m… I’m not here to hurt you. I actually shouldn’t even be down here.” Daniela explained.

You still hadn’t made an effort to turn and face her. You felt the bed dip as Daniela sat down. “What do you want?” You asked, your voice soft.

Daniela sighed. “I’m sorry.” She glanced over at you before continuing. “I’m not expecting you to forgive me for what I said, but I am sorry.” Daniela said, reiterating her two worded apology. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “Mother Miranda said that the way I acted reflected badly on her and my family, I… she was disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself, if you can believe that.”

“I don’t.” You replied, still staring at the wall. You wanted her to leave, you wanted to be left alone. In all honesty, you wish you hadn’t run into Heisenberg that night you’d been travelling after escaping your kidnappers.

Daniela stood up from the bed. “Mother Miranda wanted me to give you these. Mother says that Mother Miranda will be visiting in a few days and she wants you to know what the high priestess looks like and how to act when she gets here. You’re to write a report and Elise or Victoria will pick it up tomorrow evening.” Daniela’s tone was now firm as opposed to earlier tone when she was apologising.

Daniela left after that, the cell door closing with a loud thud. You looked over your shoulder and found the room empty, she was really gone. When you sat up in the bed, you looked over at the table and your eyes widened before you let out a scream. The face in the photograph, you knew that face. You stood up from the bed and slowly made your way over to the picture, your hands shaking as you picked up. That was Mother Miranda? You shook your head, no no no, it couldn’t be. You dropped the picture and went over to the door. You were about to bang on it and scream for Alcina when the door creaked open a bit, Daniela hadn’t locked it, strange.

“Hello? Daniela?” You called out into the dungeon. You gulped as you took a step out of the cell, looking around to see if there were any of those ghouls lurking around, you didn’t know what they were called. You tried to remember how Lady Dimitrescu had brought you down here, but it was dark so you could barely see. You’d almost given up and was on your way back to your cell when you heard something. “Hello? Is anybody there?”

You heard a growl in response and a shiver ran down your spine. You could hear a scraping noise, it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. “Please, can you help me?” You asked the surrounding darkness.

“Run!” Was suddenly screamed into your ear and it was all you needed to set you off.

You ran until you rounded a corner and found yourself face to face with those ghouls. There was little light in this part of the cellar, but you could see that some of them had swords and you gulped. You let out a scream as one of them moved toward you swinging the swords, others trying to claw at you with their sickles. One of their sickles caught your upper arm, tearing the sleeve of your shirt. You pushed past them, managing to find your way to a set of stairs that led to the kitchen area. You grimaced at all of the dead animals hanging up, looking away as you came upon a hallway that led you to a hallway where you saw a door. A door that leads to… the dining room? That was good, right? You knew the door to the right led to main hall. Mostly because you could hear voices, but you’d been through the dining room plenty of times to get to the courtyard. You opened the door slowly, seeing the Lady and her daughters talking and you gulped. You could easily sneak out the courtyard door, go to the gardens, make your way into the woods and leave, but would that really fix everything? Running away again?

“Darling, are you going to stay behind the door or would you like to join us?” A voice asked, you recognised it as Alcina’s. “And how, pray tell, did you get out of your cell?” Alcina asked, but she was looking at Daniela.

Daniela shrugged. “I locked the door, but the key must be faulty.” Daniela replied.

Alcina sighed. “I will deal with you later, Daniela. For now, go find something to do while I talk with Y/N.” Alcina ordered. The girls half swarmed away upstairs and you caught Daniela running her thumb across her neck and mouthing, “You’re dead.”, causing your eyes to widen a bit. “Did you learn your lesson?” Alcina asked.

You frowned. “You left me down there for two weeks, Alcina.” You replied. “Two whole fucking weeks and you didn’t even check on me. And then you send Daniela down there and she fucking gives me a picture of Mother Miranda.” Her name left a bitter taste in your mouth.

“And what about Mother Miranda, dearest?” Alcina asked with a raised eyebrow.

You let out a small sigh. “She’s the one… that was holding me captive. I escaped from her.” You replied.

Alcina hummed. “Impossible. You said you’d been walking for days before you go to the village and Mother Miranda resides here so you must be mistaken.” Alcina said.

“I’m not mistaken, Alcina! She’s the one that I escaped from and I had been walking for days before I ran into Heisenberg.” You argued. You shook your head. “I don’t feel safe here anymore, Alcina.” You said quietly.

“Come here,” Alcina commanded and you went to stand in front of her. “I told you, you are safe here, not anywhere else. Do you understand?” You nodded your head. “Despite your words, you will remain in this Castle, under my protection. I won’t let anyone harm you, and I definitely won’t let Mother Miranda get her hands on you again. Is that clear?” You nodded your head again. “You poor dear, you were down there for an awfully long time. I suppose I should explain why.”

You looked up at her. “Explain why?” You questioned. ”I thought you didn’t…” Your sentence trailed off.

“Didn’t what? Didn’t care?” You chewed on your lip. “Of course I care, darling, that’s why I had you down there. To put it simple, there was… an incident that needed to be tended to and it was best for you to be down there than up here.” Alcina explained.

“What happened?” You asked.

Alcina shook her head. “Nothing to concern that beautiful brain of yours with. Now, why don’t we get you all cleaned up and fed, yes?” She suggested and you nodded your head. You let out a small yelp when she picked you up. “I’m terribly sorry that you had to be down there for so long, perhaps it was a bit cruel of me to subject you to that part of your punishment.” Alcina said as she carried you to the bathroom in her chambers.

“The report?” You asked, suddenly remembering what Daniela told you. Alcina hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t say anything. “Daniela said-“

Alcina cut you off. “Just because Daniela claims that I said something doesn’t mean it’s true. She may have learned her lesson with how she treated you, but it doesn’t mean you’re automatically off her bad side.” Alcina said. “Now, you take your time in here, and I will have Natalie bring you something to eat, I’m sure the two of you have much to catch up on, dear.” Alcina didn’t leave room for you to reply as she exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

You didn’t know how long you stayed in the bath for, but by the time you opened your eyes, the water was cold. Stepping out and drying yourself off, you made your way into the bedroom to find Natalie tidying the room up while a tray of food sat on a nearby table.

“Y/N, I’m so glad you’re alright!” Natalie exclaimed. You smiled at her and sat in front of the tray to eat. “So much happened while you were down there. Did the Lady tell you about it?” Natalie asked. You shook your head. “Oh. Well then, I better not speak on it, she might have my head for it.” Natalie said with a small laugh. “The Lady wanted me to tell you to meet her in her study after you’re done eating.”

You nodded your head. “Yeah, okay.” You replied. The two of you sat in silence while you mostly played with your food before deciding that you’d had enough. “I’ll um, I’ll see you around, Nat.” You said as she took the tray from the room.

“Try not to get put in the cellar again. It was very lonely without you around to nag at me.” Natalie said before leaving the bedroom.

You dressed before making your way down a few hallways before coming to Alcina’s study, knocking and only entering when she told you you could. “Natalie sa-“ She put a finger to her lips to quiet you before gesturing for you to sit down.

“Yes, Heisenberg, I am well aware of that now.” Alcina replied before sighing. “If you could just… Heisenberg, listen carefully, whatever you have planned, just keep it under wraps.” Alcina said. “Yes, I know. She did? Mother told you? Well, what about me?” Alcina questioned. Her brows furrowed. “Heisenberg we will continue this discussion another time.” Alcina replied. “Yes, you may come over, but if you bring any of your disgusting mutts here, I will not hesitate to turn them into skewers, do you understand?”Alcina threatened. “Good.” Was all she said before hanging up.

“What did he say?” You asked, shifting a bit in your seat.

Alcina shook her head. “Not now, darling. You’ll know what’s going on in due time.” Alcina replied. “I need you in here be-“ Alcina found herself being cut off by the arrival of her daughter, Daniela. “Because of her.” Alcina said, gesturing toward Daniela.

Daniela crossed her arms. “What is that rat doing here, Mother?” Alcina raised her eyebrow. “Sorry, Mother.”

“You two will be… getting better acquainted before the arrival of Mother Miranda.” Alcina said. “I won’t hear any excuses as to why you don’t want, Daniela. Besides, you’re to make sure Y/N feels safe here in our Castle. This is a much their home as it is yours.” Alcina explained. “And with some new information I received, you and your sisters will remain with Y/N at all times until I feel as if you don’t need to. You all may take turns watching them, but do try to give them as much space as possible.”

“At all times?” You asked.

Alcina nodded her head. “Yes. Excluding when you’re sleeping as you’ll be with me.” Alcina replied. “Any other questions?”

“Why do we have to babysit Y/N?” Daniela asked.

“Because Daniela, it is for their own safety.” Alcina answered. “If you wish to know more about the situation then ask Y/N about it. Until then, you both will need to write letters to each apologising for your actions. You’re dismissed.” Daniela opened her mouth to protest but closed it immediately because of the look her Mother gave her. “Deliver the news to your sisters, thank you. And take Y/N with you. You two can work in the library and I will be by later to check on what you have written so far.” Alcina said before fussing over her paperwork.

“Alcina?” She hummed. “Thank you.” You said quietly before rounding the table and kissing her on the cheek. “I really appreciate you making the effort to make sure that I feel safer in the Castle and hopefully with time I can gain Daniela’s trust.” You gave her a small smile and wave before exiting the study, running to catch up with Daniela who had left you behind.

Alcina let out a sigh, rubbing her temples. She couldn’t necessarily overpower Mother Miranda on her own, but if she could make you feel safer, protect you, and have you be grateful for that then she could accept that until she could take down Mother Miranda for the hell she put you through.

#lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu's daughters #daniela dimitrescu

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queenlilith43 · 3 years

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Reasons Why Post Plus is a Terrible Idea

Tumblr has recently unveiled their new "Post Plus" feature. It allows people to put a paywall around their blogs, allowing them to charge up to $9.99 a month, with Tumblr taking a 5% cut of the creator's earnings. In this post, I will explain why this is a horrible idea.

@staff: You better listen up. I took a few hours away from my day for this. I had to have my friend Ashley help me with this, and that took time from her day too. (Thank you @patalliumapples) I'm explaining everything under the cut because this is long.

1. We Don't Have the Money

First of all, Tumblr is a social media site. This means in countries like the US, people as young as 13 can sign up and have an account. Most teenagers do not have the money to keep up with their favorite blogs for the low, low price of $9.99!

Second of all, a lot of adults on the site already are having trouble paying their bills, and don't have any content they would be willing to charge people on. As explained in this post, people are already struggling. (They also explain how to support creators better, which I will go onto later.) They don't have the money to spend on this. I, as a teenager myself, don't have enough money to spend to unlock Tumblr blogs. I don't know if I even can, I don't have a credit card or anything, and I don't want debt before I'm out of high school. Oh, and that leads me right next into the next point.

2. You could fix other things

Tumblr is called a Hellsite for many reasons, and how it breaks a lot is one of them. One problem are the Ray-Bans sunglasses bots that hack the site every so often. I have gotten one, Ashley has gotten three.

You can also barely even search on this website. Searching for tags brings up the randomest things. You can barely even search your own blog, this is how bad it is. Fixing those issues before we give you our credit card number would be a great thing.

3. People don't want it

The consensus so far is NO. In some cases, "FUCK NO" This is valid, people don't want it. We can't pay for it, and we really don't need it. Everyone hates it.

And you bet that the Tumblr-famous will try this out.

I, as of writing this, have 416 followers. I bet all of them would leave me if I tried to do a paid post. (Not like I can, I'm a broke teenager, but still.) That would limit the market.

And other people have expressed they would leave anyone who put their posts behind a paywall, such as in this newly-viral post.

4. Monetization of fanfic

Alright. *Cracks fingers* I get to show off my knowledge of copyright law.

Fair use that covers fanfiction does not cover having to pay for it. Monetization of fanfiction is not legal, and if someone tries, the original content creator can issue a DMCA takedown order. The person who posted and monetized the fanfiction will be forced to take down their post, hurting their earnings. This will affect Tumblr.

Also, as we saw recently with a Loki T-shirt on Etsy, big corporations are known for taking down anything they consider infringement, even if it falls under fair use. There was a scare a while back on Ao3 (Archive of Our Own) that Disney would take down their fanfiction, but Ao3 had a legal time that can fight for them. Tumblr probably does not, and would probably lose a legal battle against Disney.

In fact, Ao3 does not allow any sort of links to other monetizable websites, like Pateron and Ko-fi, on their platform to avoid potential legal trouble. It's included in their terms of service, which you can read here. I would recommend it, and to check out some other links. They explain legal issues quite well.

And as satirized in this post, trying to find posts on Tumblr for a DMCA takedown is pretty damn hard.

5. You can get around paying for a post through the reblogs.

Despite the fact that is something you're technically not supposed to do, people can just copy and paste the content. The fact is if anyone has a Post Plus post, you bet the entirety of Tumblr is going to get around that. After all "you can share a teaser of +Post Content through the reblog function on the Services" (From the Tumblr TOS)

6. We've had mirror sites that could probably get around the paywall

In the past, we have had many mirror sites. They are the exact mirror of our Tumblr, tracking everything right down to our reblogs. Last I heard they were all shut down, though Tumbex sounded like it was going to come back. If these mirror sites are smart enough, they would be another way around the paywall.

7. You can't block people who are paying for your content

This is a problem. People can harass you, and sometimes, this Hellsite won't take them off. The block button is an important tool. I, for one, currently have 11 people blocked for various reasons. Some of them were messing with me in the reblogs of a post (it wasn't even their place to do so) and I didn't think Tumblr would count this as harassment.

If you can't block people, and even with the risk of it hurting your earnings, it's not good. Even remotely.

8. There are other ways to support creators that are much better.

As said in the very first reason, creators hate this Post Plus. They prefer being supported in other ways. People also don’t always want to be paid for the content (not even counting legal issues) And if they want to there are already platforms set up for them to use. For example, Pateron has tiers you can set up for membership, ranging up to $100. There, you know what you walked into. You’re not expecting free content, like on Tumblr, you’re building a relationship with the people in your community. Ko-fi lets people donate directly to their content creators, and won’t take any of their donations, unlike the 5% cut Tumblr is planning on taking. Both platforms also offer features that would not be available on Tumblr. Creators are also more likely to already have one of these set up, and keep Tumblr for their free content.

9. Tumblr could make money through better ads

Tumblr ads are famously . . . what’s the word? Ah, yes, “batshit” is the word I’m looking for. I’ve gotten ads for tattoo aftercare, signs of heart disease (the picture provided was someone with their nails painted blue), maps of the USA, celebrities that has passed away, lists of bad cities in my state, graphics of chickens with Hindi (note: I am American), and apparently now I should be worried if my dog licks their paws. (?) As I went to check my dash while writing this post, I saw a small air cooler that was apparently more powerful than A/C being advertised.

No one clicks on them except for a laugh, or if they accidentally thought it was something that was actually interesting. Most of the time, it is not. Tumblr could do something like Instagram and actually have good ads and make more money off of it. It may not be as much as they thought they were going to make, but it’s better than what they have now. (It’s a low bar.)

10. This is the same website that spearheaded DashCon

You remember DashCon, don’t you?

This seems to illustrate the website's stupidity in one picture and this is why you shouldn't trust us with money.

If you have any other reasons why this is bad reason, reblog the post with your reasons. I'd like to hear them, and don't forget to tag the staff.

There is a survey Tumblr wants you to fill out here, it's a step you can take. You can also listen to the protest @postplus-protest which should help. It starts August 6th, it's going to be a great time.

#tumblr #tw caps #tw cursing #posts plus #this is screwed

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paper-n-ashes · 3 years

Text

sparks and embers - chapter 3

Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character

Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron

Chapter 3 - The Return

Words: 4k

Chapter Tags/Warnings: medical descriptions and procedures, some sexual themes - mainly in the form of OC being thirsty AF

Read on AO3 or Start from the beginning

On the way back from the East village, filled with the Gossams, humans and other alien species who had similarly escaped to a simpler life, I couldn’t help but curse at myself for giving in so easily to the pleas of a good-looking stranger.

Aiding someone merely for their physical appearance? How horribly unprofessional.

The voice in the back of my mind was loud. And curiously judgemental.

It had been over a full day cycle since I’d departed the clinic, making Poe vow to remain within the confines of his bed until I had returned. I’d left him with enough food for two days of my travelling, hygiene supplies, a drip running slowly for some pain relief and range of tools for him to attempt getting BB-8 up and running, hoping he wouldn’t have any reason to struggle getting out of bed.

The thought of his still fragile femur bone breaking and splitting the artery I’d spent all my energy on mending was beyond frightening. I worried about him every minute I was awake, imagining any number of complications that would leave me a corpse to find when I arrived back.

Bleeding, clots, stroke, infection, sepsis.

It wasn’t easy to slip those thoughts from my mind in the lone starkness of the Raxus countryside. There wasn’t really anything to look at except grass and sky, nothing to distract me from the worst case scenarios.

I’d convinced some of my old patients to join my cause, promising them better medicine and equipment if I was only able to have a comm-tower to order everything I needed. It didn’t seem like lying. The comm-tower really was my only link to the rest of the galaxy, and I would have needed it fixed anyway. Only now, time seemed to be more of the essence.

After spending the night amongst the locals I had grown to be familiar with over the last few years, I’d begun the trek back with the knowledge at least one problem had been solved. Some promised spare parts, others were going to follow my path within the next day cycle to get my comm-link back online. I hadn’t divulged all the story, at least not the part about this repair job apparently being a determining factor in the fate of the galaxy.

I hadn’t pressed Poe about what that meant exactly. I was used to the Resistance and their soldiers having somewhat of a flair for the dramatic when it came to war, after healing many of their battle wounds in years past. I knew how fervently they believed in their cause - that they were the only thing standing between galaxy wide harmony and First Order dictatorship.

I understood their hope of peace in our lifetime, but I’d lost mine a long time ago. Good, bad, they were just two sides of a coin that would flip for eternity, desperately chasing power for their own reasons.

In truth, I didn’t particularly care. I just hoped to live my life somewhat free from the burden of picking a side.

Before unlocking the clinic door, my feet aching from hiking for 6 straight hours, I drew in a long breath with a silent prayer I wouldn’t be walking in to find a dead body. With a fluid motion I turned the handle and pushed the door open, my head popping in first around the entryway to where Poe’s hospital bed stood. He immediately heard the latch clicking and shot his head up to meet with my eyes.

“You’re back,” he smiled, as I noted how much colour had returned to his face during my absence.

He looked so much better.

For the first time, I found myself studying his face, my stare tracing from his strong angular jawline to his high cheekbones, the prominence of his nose, the whiskey colour of his large cheerful eyes, his tousled deep brown hair. Then I took in his wide grin, shapely pink lips curled upwards to show perfectly set white teeth.

Stars, he’s so handsome.

In the muddle of memories I’d conceived from the night of his crash I’d not recognised, at least not during the time I was struggling to keep him alive, how attractive he was. And now with his health a far better picture than the last time I’d seen him, it was all I could notice. My heart quivered through a beat as he beamed at me, soon realising his smile was more a reflection of the prospective good news I brought with my return, making it settle back into a normal rhythm.

“Hi,” I breathed, walking closer and setting my pack down at the foot of the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he answered, “The smaller burns are almost gone, and my chest wound is closed, look!” He pulled up the grey hospital shirt I’d managed to change him into before I had to leave. This time when I saw the nakedness of his chest and abdomen I couldn’t help but stare at his softly defined muscles, all tensing during his movement. He was right, the hole below his rib now sealed, a newly-formed, pink scar in its place. The chest tube was still secured above it, now redundant.

“Gotta love bacta,” I hummed. “I can take that drain out now if you like.”

He looked at me incredulously. “You’ve just done a 30 hour round trip for me, not even sat down, and you want to dive head first into more treatment?”

“I... uh... I mean... I just wanted to help you feel better,” I stammered.

Poe shook his head, smirking. “It’s okay, I appreciate it. Really, I do. But I’m alright, the tube can wait. How about you rest for a second and tell me how the mission- I mean, trip, went?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Two days ago you were begging me to get going so I couldn’t waste any time, now you’re telling me I can take a load off?”

"Uh, yeah… Sorry about that,” he grimaced. “Having some time to think while you were gone... It made me realise everything you’d done and were doing for me - a stranger you had no reason to help." Poe took a long exhale before speaking again, his tone serious. "I was in a lot of pain, just woken up in a strange place. It’s still imperative to get a message back to the Resistance as soon as possible but... that’s not your burden to bear. I can't thank you enough for your help, but I'll try not to ask too much more of you.”

It seemed not only had his physical health improved, but logical thought and patience had returned.

I took my cue to sit on one of the opposite hospital beds, letting my feet dangle over the edge to kick my shoes off, feet pulsing with gratitude at their release. “There’s some villagers coming tomorrow,” I started. “They will hopefully have a new comm-tower up and running within the next couple of days. I told them about your droid too. There’s some spare parts in that bag.” I pointed my hand out to the satchel at Poe’s feet, glancing at the L shaped table beside his bed I’d set up. BB-8 was sitting on top of it, head and body still separated and now unbolted at separate points, wires haphazardly sticking out in different directions. Falling back into the mattress, I let out an exhausted sigh, relishing the feel of the squeaky mattress under my body.

“I really owe you. The Resistance owes you,” Poe praised after a few moments of silence, as I heard him begin to rummage through the satchel. I held back a frown, even when I knew he wouldn’t be able to catch sight of my face.

I didn’t do any of this for the Resistance.

It occurred to me then I wasn’t really sure why I’d done it at all. I had always been a sucker for those in poor predicaments, hence why I became a doctor in the first place. But the trek had nothing to do with treatment or medicine. It was purely at the behest of this pilot, who’s charming appearance in the dimmed orange light of the evening made my skin feel hot.

“So, how did a girl like you find herself in the middle of nowhere on the Outer Rim?” Poe questioned, fiddling with some of the parts.

I sat back up. “I’m not a girl. I’m 28. That’s a little too old to be called girl anymore.”

Poe chuckled, the sound of his laugh both warming and positively thrilling. “I apologise. How did a woman like you end up here?”

“I used to work on Coruscant, that’s where I started my medical training,” I explained, remembering the glittering planet I’d spent much of my young life on. “Then moved into the war relief efforts on medical frigates scattered throughout the galaxy. Treating wounded soldiers day in day out took its toll, having people constantly injured and almost dying for a war they didn’t start.” I glanced to Poe's expression, seeing a glow of understanding behind his eyes before I continued. “Plus, there were more than a few times I felt a little redundant. The medical droids they have kind of... made my treatment obsolete. I wanted to practice medicine in a place where adequate health care was rare or non-existent. I wanted to help those who were most desperate, who otherwise couldn’t afford it, those who would actually value the care of a live human doctor. So I picked a planet at random, and settled here."

The random part was an utter lie. No one had cared about Raxus since the Clone Wars, and the First Order wouldn’t make it their priority to conquer Outer Rim worlds for a while yet. It was a quiet, calm planet with countless refugees fleeing here to make peaceful new lives. They wouldn’t be concerned about old, rusty equipment, lower quality bacta or no medical droids. They would simply be happy at having a doctor within a day’s trek.

And no one would think of looking here for a Force user.

Poe studied me in quiet thought for a moment, taking in what I’d divulged. “Well, they're damn lucky, with how nicely you patched me up. You’d run circles around some of the doctors and medical droids at the Resistance base.” He grinned at me again, earnestly, another attempt to thank me for my work. I felt the pit of my stomach tense, and it wouldn’t retreat, the thought of his smile lingering in my mind even after he’d gone back to his tinkering.

It had to be because I’d been in isolation for so long, why I was reacting so strongly to the innocent smiles and compliments of a man I barely knew. I definitely wasn’t used to conversing with men so close in age to my own. Most of the local humans were older, married with children, and I rarely made conversation around any other topic than their illnesses.

“What... uh... Why were you flying over Raxus?” I asked awkwardly.

His eyebrows creased together as he looked back at me. “Raxus wasn’t my destination, but I... can’t tell you any more than that.”

“Oh…”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he urged. “It’s just, you know, highly confidential.” He seemed apologetic, like he owed me more of an explanation.

I nodded, agreeing the less I knew about the Resistance and their missions the better. “Well, you’ll be able to get back to it in a couple of days,” I insisted, breaking the awkward silence that had lingered. “Some time and a little bit more bacta and you’ll be like new again.”

“Actually, speaking of that,” he started, an uneasy expression now settling in his features. “I was wondering when you were thinking of letting me get out of this bed.”

“Depends on the reason Poe. I’d recommend starting your formal rehab tomorrow at the absolute earliest, otherwise we can get you up and walking if you need to do something… uh… specific.” There was no hiding the waver in my voice.

He laughed, louder than he had before, the sound making it difficult for me not to blush. “Aren’t you a doctor? Why are you embarrassed for me to use the bathroom?”

“Hey!” I frowned. “I was trying to save you from being embarrassed.”

He shook his head, still chuckling. “I’m alright on that front for now. I was actually hoping to use your refresher. It’s been a few days…”

“Oh of course!” I’d cleaned him up as much as I could before I’d left, getting rid of his obliterated flight suit and helping change into the bland hospital outfit I reserved for overnighters, but even to myself the idea of a shower was enticing.

A thought flashed into my mind of steaming water hitting Poe’s sun darkened skin, trickling down his toned body as he lathered himself in soap suds.

Woah.

Okay.

That was new.

It had been such a long time since I’d felt the fire of blood rushing to the lower portion of my abdomen, insides clenching at the heat so suddenly ignited.

Poe was looking at me expectantly, waiting for me to continue. I internally shook away the incriminating thoughts before they could be conveyed on my face. “How about I get that chest tube out first? Then I can help you to the ‘fresher?”

He breathed out in relief. “That would be fantastic.”

I stepped lightly off the hospital bed, walking shoe-less over to my medical trolley to drag it back to Poe’s side. And immediately, without me asking, he sat up and began a haphazard attempt to pull off his shirt, left arm bandaged and stiff, right arm enveloped in the cast I’d made and evidently still painful to move.

In a wordless reply, I helped him pull the fabric over his head, confronted with the image of a half-naked, strikingly handsome man in front of me.

I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognised any of his raw allure when he’d been almost stripped completely bare by my own hands on the night of his crash. It seemed bizarre I wouldn’t have noted the strong, broadness of his shoulders, his armoured chest littered deliciously with dark hair, carved abdominal muscles tensed in waiting.

I swallowed hard, hoping Poe wouldn’t register my shaking hands as I prepared the tube removal kit. Snipping the sutures around the plastic, unsteady gloved fingers pulled out the tube as smoothly as I could manage, Poe flinching slightly at the sensation. He continued to look away as I injected some bacta gel into the wound, sealing it closed with a few new sutures and placing a waterproof dressing over the site.

“All done,” I settled. “Like nothing happened at all.”

Poe looked back to me and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was obvious he remained troubled by the memories of his crash, and understandably so. I’d seen the same look in many other military personnel, the attempt to put on a brave face when images of fire, blood and terror pierced their thoughts. I desperately wanted to take his mind to a brighter place. “So, ready to try walking?”

“Absolutely! Lead the way doc.”

Ugh. Eventually I would have to correct him on that.

I stepped back from the side of the bed, arms stretched in readiness for when he inevitably stumbled. “Please take it slowly. Your muscles aren’t going to be pleased with what you’re doing after over two days of bed rest.”

“Sure thing,” Poe scoffed.

Typical male.

Initially he seemed to take my direction, moving his legs slowly from under the blanket, pain now registering on his features. He swivelled himself sluggishly to let his legs fall over the side of the mattress, breathing slightly heavier to push through the discomfort.

He was leaning more on his left side, right arm hovering over his thigh. Tentatively, he slipped his left foot onto the floor and shifted his weight onto it, pushing his hand into the mattress to help himself up.

Soon he was standing in front of me for the first time since we’d met, and even amongst all the burns, bruises, dressings and bandages, he looked impossibly strong, toned muscles wrapping his form.

He noticed the timid smile form on my lips.

“Hey don’t start laughing at me. I don’t think I could handle my ego being bruised along with the rest of me.”

“Oh... I wasn’t-,” I stumbled, quietly relieved he’d misread the reason behind my smirk.

He held his hand up in protest, grinning. “I was kidding. You’re welcome to laugh at the adult sized toddler learning to walk again.”

It was difficult not to snicker at his words. “Come on,” I encouraged. “Just think of how nice that hot water will feel.”

He sighed in agreement and moved, taking a hesitant step onto the previously fractured leg. I swiftly froze with anxiety, even when the logical side of my brain told me both the break and the artery would have stabilised exponentially by now. But the emotional side, the part that remembered the rush of blood that had exploded from the wound site, nagged incessantly at me, insisting that this was a very bad idea.

My eyes were glued to Poe’s figure as he shifted his weight deliberately, muscles tensing at the trigger of pain he was likely feeling, before he made a delicate hop to move back onto his left leg.

Even that one haggard step appeared to take a lot out of him, but he seemed determined, eyebrows already wrinkled in concentration. He continued the process a few times over, my arms still poised in waiting for the foreseeable stumble as I walked backwards. I couldn’t help but hold my breath as he limped, following me out of the clinic room into the hallway that lead to my office, the ‘fresher, and my living quarters all the way at the end.

His steps became faster, more confident, when all of a sudden, his balance wavered.

Reacting quickly, I stepped forward to catch him, arms circling under his own and around his torso, hands now gripping the muscles on his back as he crashed into me. I would have stayed there for a moment, my fingertips registering the warmth radiating off his skin, until I became fully aware where his face had fallen into.

I felt Poe’s heated exhale through the cotton of my white shirt after his face had collided into my chest, directly between my breasts. The twinge in my lower abdomen occurred again, breath hitching in my throat.

He scrambled to push himself back into a standing position, my arms releasing from around him, his hands clamping around my biceps as he fought to reclaim his steadiness again.

“I am so sorry!” he blurted, his face dangerously close to mine, only a small touch of redness visible under his caramel skinned cheeks. I knew my blushing would be much more pronounced.

“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I was waiting for that to happen.”

His eyes widened.

“Not that!” I yelped. “I meant you falling! I was waiting for you to fall!”

Poe’s face illuminated into a beaming grin. “Sure you did.”

I frowned in protest, but couldn’t stop the chuckle escaping. I shifted to face the same way as him, an arm curling around his torso, angling my body under his own. “How about I help you the rest of the way?”

His hand gripped onto my shoulder, the hardened squeeze making the tensing inside me ripple even faster.

Focus Alex.

Poe let me support him as he limped down the hallway, and I desperately tried to distance myself from the thoughts that swirled in my mind at being connected so closely.

Eventually we made it into the ‘fresher, a white and grey tiled room with the large, frameless shower enclosure taking up most of the space, the only privacy a plastic curtain that could be pulled across the entire spans of the room. I’d designed it with the idea there would be enough space to assist overnighter patient’s in washing themselves, since I didn’t have a nurse to do it for me. Yet, it still gave me the ability to provide some discretion by stepping out past the other side of the curtain, ready to swoop in if I was needed.

And that’s what I’d planned for Poe, knowing he was hardly the type of patient that was going to let me do anything for him if he could help it. Guiding him to the backless shower chair, I released him to his own devices and quickly pulled the curtain across. It was more for my own concealment at this point, needing to take a moment to settle myself down, the memory of his hold still lingering on my skin.

“I’ll be right here if you need any help okay? Everything you need will be on the shelf under the shower start button.”

“Thanks Alex,” he answered, his voice huffing out as I could hear he’d already started to shimmy down his pants.

Stop imagining it Alex. Stop thinking about him naked, a metre away, behind that thin curtain.

The sound of water rushing into the tile floor pulled me back into some impression of reality. I busied myself with organising my own hygienic supplies in the mirrored cupboard, desperately trying to think of anything other than the man hidden from my view, steam swirling around his figure, water dribbling down his bare skin. From behind the screen I heard a pleasant moan leave him, obviously enjoying the hot water battering into his aching muscles for the first time in days.

And with that sound I felt a twinge between my legs, heat swelling and rippling outwards through my body.

Stars, that was... hot.

It felt so unprofessional, to be tantalized by the thought of a man, a patient, in the middle of such a basic act of human hygiene. But I couldn’t deny he was more attractive than any patient I’d ever had in my life, and the thought of ripping open the curtain so I could join him was suddenly the most tempting thing in the galaxy.

I locked my hands onto the basin that stood in front of me, trying not to be overwhelmed by the sound of Poe lathering soap between his hands, then sliding over an unseen portion of his body.

It was then I started to pace, hoping the repetitive movement would stop me ruminating over the indecent notions my mind was conjuring. Minutes ticked by too slowly as I waited for him to finish his routine, begging for the irresistible pull of craving to be released from me.

“Hey Alex?” Poe suddenly called.

“What's wrong?” I squeaked, cursing at myself for sounding so startled.

“I actually need some help.”

Oh maker, why do you do this to me?

I swallowed hard. “Y-yeah. Sure. Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he began, voice sounding a little forced. “It’s just... with my left arm still bandaged, and my right arm still in the cast, I can’t wash my hair. I know it’s a little strange, but could you help me out?”

My heart ricocheted inside my rib cage, frolicking at the thought of seeing him soaked in water, fingers raking through his dampened hair.

Come on Alex, try to keep at least one shred of professionalism.

“Sure,” I agreed, a more competent tone saturating my voice as I withheld my internal fluttering. “Make yourself… uh… decent, and I’ll open the curtain.”

I heard Poe’s movement as he reached for one of the towels hanging on the rail nearby and wrapped it around his lower body. The flowing water soon came to a stop, the sudden silence making me feel uneasy.

“Ready.”

I placed myself in front of the curtain between us, his stature only barely visible through the clouded screen. My jaw was locked as I took a deep breath through my nose, meditating in thought, frantically clawing at a sense of calm.

Then I reached towards the plastic, clenched my hand around it, and pulled.

Next Chapter

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