#IS IT WRONG THAT I WAS ROOTING FOR SWEETHEART NON

[bl-bam-beyond]

LOVE AREA PART 2 (2022, THAILAND)

A BL I've never seen. Reviews are mixed however I firmly believe a person need to make their own decisions while respecting someone else's. So I finally watched part one. Nothing spectacular but not too bad.

I will say I hate the way Non was treated but at the same time, he wasn't forthright with his feelings but yet he was clearly interested in his across the hall neighbor.

However, that neighbor Kaitoon (CHAVITPONG PUSOMJITSAKUL aka PAK) instead fell for the unfortunate Valen (GUN TIEOSUWAN) who began the series trying to rob the hardworking yet naive Kaitoon. As they began working with one another at Valen's sister's restaurant (LOVE AREA) the two grew closer with Valen becoming more and more enamored with Kaitoon. Meanwhile Dr. Non was also feeling something for Kaitoon, feelings he didn't articulate to the somewhat dense Kaitoon.

Kaitoon's closeness to Valen often left him letting Non down whom was always understanding.

Valen confessed his feelings and Kaitoon felt the same so they became (secret) boyfriends.

One evening Kaitoon left his keys in his apartment, locked out he began the evening bunking with Non but later bunking with his boyfriend. His jealous boyfriend. But Valen and Kaitoon grew closer.

One night while staying together after a shower Valen began drying Kaitoon's hair. And it took an intimate turn...they were sure to consummate their relationship until a friend of Valen came knocking at the door.

@pose4photoml @lutawolf Did you see this one? If so, thoughts?

[bvidzsoo]

From people you know, to people you don't

 𝝙 Boyfriend!Yunho 𝝙 

∞ Author: bvidzsoo

∞ Pairing: Jeong Yunho x female reader

∞ Warning: cursing, blood, manhandling ∞ Word count: 3.6k ∞ Genre: non-idol!au, mafia!au, lovers to exes to acquittances!au ∞ Rating: nc-17 ∞ Summary: Yunho wasn't the same man you had once known. What he had turned into, you didn't know. But you did know one thing, you'd do anything to keep your daughter safe and away from him.

∞ A/N: Hello...we don't speak of this. I know I'm supposed to be writing my thesis and Love Me Like A Rockstar (and Beyond The Obscure), but my mind had been plagued with short drabbles for all of our boys so...yeah, I'm writing a mafia drabble for all of them, it seems like it:) Yunho is the first one to start off this new mini-series, and the next members will be posted randomly. I'm not starting a taglist for this one, sorry<3 (you'll have to lurk around) Feedback is much appreciated, I hope you enjoy!

 𝝙 Listen to this before or while reading! ^^

∥ Hongjoong ∥ Seonghwa ∥  Yunho ∥ Yeosang ∥ San ∥ Mingi ∥ Wooyoung ∥ Jongho ∥ 

            It hadn’t always been like this. Yunho hadn’t always been like this. Five years ago when we had met, he was a sweetheart. He was attentive and the kindest man I have ever known, so loving and a safe place. He bought me flowers every third day and took us out on dates every Friday, all throughout those two years that we had been together for. But then…somehow the cracks in his character started showing. His smiles became less genuine and his once protective hold became possessive and painful. There was something about his eyes that didn’t hold any warmth anymore, just scary, icy coldness that kept you rooted to your spot, shaking and praying to a God that he wouldn’t pounce on you and do only God knows what to you. He became a predator ready to hunt his prey…even if his prey was me. The woman he had once claimed to love furiously and ardently, an emotion now turned into constant anger and hatred whenever he looked in my direction.

I have never truly understood what I have done wrong, but after a while, I stopped trying to understand. I stopped trying to decipher who Jeong Yunho truly was, and why he was the way he was. I stopped trying to make it work between us when I found out that a fragile life was growing inside of me. I wasn’t ready to become a mother at the fragile age of twenty-four, but I wasn’t capable of letting the baby go no matter how hard I tried to convince myself. Despite our quickly deteriorating relationship, that baby had been conceived with love, and I knew deep down Yunho was a good man, he had just lost his way in life. And I was scared of him and of whatever he was capable of after that fated night.

A storm was raging outside, lightning illuminating the night sky every few minutes, thunder shaking the ground. I had a bad feeling, a really bad one, as I gripped my warm mug tightly in my hands, staring out the window. Yunho was supposed to be home by now, hours ago, actually, but he wasn’t. And he wasn’t answering my calls nor my texts. A tightness seemed to grip at my throat, prohibiting me from drinking any tea furthermore. The crash of the front door made me jump out of my skin, heart racing as I hurried to the hallway, stopping in my tracks at the sight of my boyfriend. Except that he looked nothing like my boyfriend. Dripping wet from head to toe, black hair falling in his cold eyes menacingly, panting through his open mouth, something red tainting his white t-shirt and seemingly dripping down his forearm. The right sleeve of his leather jacket had been sliced open and I could see a red wound peeking through angrily. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to make sense of the situation, hands slightly trembling as Yunho’s eyes slowly drifted upwards, settling on my form. I had planned on telling him tonight that I was pregnant, that we were expecting a baby, but I wasn’t so enthusiastic about it anymore. I was…scared of the man standing in our hallway, in our, once, safe home.

“Yunho,” I whispered, trying to mask the fear in my voice, “what happened to you?”

Yunho said nothing as he kicked his shoes off, my body stiffening as I finally noticed what he held in his left hand. A knife. A knife coated in red. A bloody knife. My heart started racing as Yunho’s eyes never left my form as he advanced towards me, unknowingly backing me against the living room’s closed door, making me gasp. He smelled…like smoke and like iron, like blood. What had he done? Who was this man standing in front of me?

“I had to take care of some business.” My once beloved boyfriend’s voice was deep, eyes dead as he looked me all over the face, his jaw clenching, “Business you fucked up, apparently.”

“M—me?” I stuttered, avoiding eye contact when Yunho’s eyes sharply found mine. He chuckled, but it wasn’t amused, it sounded sarcastic and irritated.

“Yeah, you.” He hissed, closing the gap between our bodies, reflexively making me hold onto my tummy. I was too early on in the pregnancy to show, yet I was already oh so protective of my little fragile baby, “And it’s the last time this happens, understood?”

“I—I don’t understand—” I stilled when Yunho’s large palm caressed my cheek, just a remnant of how he once used to do it, “I don’t understand what I had done.”

“Of course, you don’t,” Yunho chuckled, sneering, “you are too dumb to understand. How about you change workplaces?”

“What?” I muttered confused, flinching when he gripped my jaw tightly, yanking me forward, “Why?”

“I wouldn’t want the police tracing back anything to me, you know?” Yunho mused, the look on his face anything like him. He looked almost crazed, he looked dangerous.

“Did you kill someone?” My voice was barely above a whisper as we stared into each other’s eyes, my heart almost beating out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe as Yunho remained silent, a small smile stretching onto his lips as if I had said something funny. But instead of an answer, he just pressed his damp lips against mine, almost making me jerk away from him. But he held me in a vice like grip and the door behind me stopped me from going anywhere. When I didn’t kiss back, he bit my bottom lip and forced my lips apart, pinning me against the door as his tongue slipped inside my mouth, bringing tears to my eyes.

Yunho wasn’t the man I had fallen in love with anymore. He was someone else, someone that resembled the devil and was capable of anything. And so I had realized I had to save myself and our baby before it was too late for the two of us, before Yunho did something horrible to us.

            And after that night, I ran away without even as much as glancing back, without having any regrets. I was scared that he’d try to find me, but he never reached out. I left a note on the fridge, in the kitchen, saying that I couldn’t do this anymore and that I was breaking up with him, starting anew. I moved towns, somewhere far away from him, to a city that was filled with life and so many people that even if he looked in every nook and cranny he still wouldn’t be able to find us. Hyeri, our little daughter, and I, that is. Who will be turning three years old today. Life had been…quiet ever since I decided that Hyeri and I would do just fine on our own. Except for my mother, nobody knew where I had moved to. I was too scared that our mutual friends would tell Yunho about our whereabouts, therefore I broke contact with everyone from my old life.

Here, in the big city, I was cautious of who I allowed close to myself and to my daughter, but so far I was lucky enough to only meet genuine and lovely people. Hyeri seemed to like it here too, the little girl growing quicker than I could wrap my mind around it. Soon, she’d be going to daycare. Our day was long due to the little birthday party I had thrown for her, only inviting over my mother, my best friend and colleague from work, Hyeri’s two friends she met at the playground a year ago, and well, the landlord of my previous apartment whom I had become friends with soon after moving here. He was a funny and considerate man, always eager to help me out. My mother kept saying he had a harmless crush on me and that I should give him a chance, but I wasn’t ready to date yet, and besides…my mother somehow missed the fact that he was gay and happily in a relationship.

After having tucked Hyeri in and cleaned the house as best as I could once everyone left, I finally had a moment to myself as I went back to the kitchen and opened the highest cabinet I could reach to grab a glass and my favorite brand of wine. I settled at the table and popped the bottle open, pouring myself an acceptable amount of wine, relaxing into the chair as I placed one leg up on it, hooking my arm around it. I closed my eyes and savored the almost sweet taste of the wine, sighing quietly and being thankful that it was finally the weekend. I could forget for two days about the massive workload I had at my job, papers upon papers pilling up on my desk, a constant reminder of how overworked I was while being underpaid. But I suppose that’s just how things seem to work nowadays. I must be thankful that I make enough to provide for myself and my lovely Hyeri, still.

As I let my head fall forward and rest on my knee, a floorboard seemed to creak in the hallway. Did Hyeri have another nightmare? Or was just the house settling? I listened closely, but I haven’t heard Hyeri’s door opening, so it couldn’t have been her. Suddenly, the hairs on my arms stood and my body froze, sensing danger before I could even see it. I shoot up from the chair when I heard the floorboards creak again, and prayed to God that it was just my best friend coming back, having left something here. She had a key, after all, she was allowed to let herself in without announcing that she was coming. However, the tall and sturdy figure standing in my kitchen’s doorway made my heart drop to my stomach, hand clenching tightly around the glass of wine I was still holding onto for comfort.

Jeong Yunho.

But how—I had escaped him. Forever. I ran away, I did everything, I—my thoughts kicked into overdrive as I realized Hyeri was just a few doors down, sleeping in her bed, unassuming of the monster standing inside our home. I had to protect her. I just had to. Yunho could never know, he could take me, he could kill me, but he would never touch my Hyeri.

“Fancy little house,” Yunho’s voice was just as deep as three years ago, perhaps deeper now, as his eyes scouted the place, “looks like the dream house you always told me about.”

I gulped, unable to respond as Yunho pursed his cherry-red lips, stepping further inside the kitchen. Strangely, his shoes were missing and so was his jacket. Blue jeans clung to his long legs, a little baggy, and a grey sweater warmed his torso, some university’s name printed on the front of it, his silver rosary hanging over it. Yunho looked like—the man I had once loved. Like the dream guy I thought I was lucky to score. But I knew who he was, what he hid underneath that sheep mask of his. There was a wolf underneath, a dangerous predator waiting for you to lower your walls, to let him in, to be vulnerable.

“What are you doing here?” I found my voice at last, when his fingers touched the petals of the flowers I had placed in a vase, in the middle of the round table I had in my kitchen. Those were my favorite flowers; the same ones Yunho would always buy for me.

“I was passing through the city,” Yunho explained, smiling a little as he noticed a picture of my mother and I stamped onto the fridge, “thought I could stop by and say hi.”

“No.” I snapped, eyebrows furrowing as my heart did somersaults against my ribcage, “No, you can’t—you just broke in, Yunho! I’m calling the cops—”

“It’s not called breaking in when you have a key.” I all but blanched as he grabbed some keys out of his pocket and dangled them towards me. My blood froze over, body going numb. How did he have that? Just how?! “And the cops won’t be doing anything, my dear—”

“Don’t call me that,” I all but almost shouted, forgetting for a second that I had a little child in the house, “Don’t—you can’t be here, Yunho. You have to get out, right now.”

The friendliness slipped from his face as his eyes darkened, slowly walking around the table, coming closer. I backed away from him, trying to aim for the door, but before I could make a run for it, his hand had already wrapped around my arm, yanking my body into his. I gasped, his once familiar cologne wafting through my nose as Yunho’s dark eyes focused on my face, the same chocolate color as they used to be. But they were cold again, just like three years ago. He really wasn’t the man I had once loved.

“Oh, Y/N,” He sighed, leaning down and nuzzling his head against my neck, nose pressing into my skin, “I have missed you so much.”

I was shaking, frozen to the spot, trying to come up with an escape plan. I would have to go to the police, I needed help. How did he find me?!

“Get off.” I whispered, hands gripping his arms to the point my nails dug through his sweater, “Yunho, let go of me!”

Yunho groaned, pulling back to grab me by the nape as he lowered his head to be eye-level with me. I glared at him fiercely as I tried to wrestle myself out of his hold, but he grabbed my right arm and flushed it against himself, pinning my arm to his back.

“Did you think I wouldn’t be able to find you?” He sounded amused, yet his expression conveyed annoyance, “Did you think you could hide from me?”

My chest was rising and falling quickly as my glare bore into his eyes, his glare just as menacing as mine, “Did you think you could end things like that between us?”

“Yes.” I hissed, fed up by always feeling so small and scared of him, “I left you. There’s no us anymore and there’ll never be, Yunho. You’re a—criminal! You’re not the man I fell in love with, and I have nothing to do with you anymore.”

“That’s not how a relationship works, my dear, we take that decision together.” Yunho snapped, his perfectly calm mask finally slipping as he seethed, jaw tense and a fire in his eyes, “I am still the same man you fell in love with, I’m just not afraid to show all sides of myself to you anymore, Y/N.”

“You tricked me.”

“I didn’t.”

Silence fell around us as we both breathed through our mouths, breaths mingling as our faces were close to each other. My cheeks were slowly flushing from the adrenaline that was coursing through my bloodstream, ears ringing as I started feeling helpless. I had to get away, I needed to get Hyeri and flee this place.

“You would’ve ran away if you knew who I truly was so early on, Y/N.” Yunho sounded defeated as he averted his eyes to the floor, finally releasing my arm he had pinned to his back, instead cradling my face with both hands as he walked me backwards towards the table. I gasped as the back of my thighs hit the sturdy surface, and I held onto Yunho’s sides, trying not to fall backwards.

“Yet I still ran away, Yunho.” I shook my head, swallowing the lump in my throat, “You scared me away. I don’t want to see you ever again.”

“That’s a wish I can’t grant you, I’m sorry.” He licked his lips as his thumbs started caressing my cheeks, his chocolate brown eyes falling onto my lips. My heart seemed to stutter when he leaned closer, his eyes fluttering almost shut, and when he was mere centimeters away from my lips, he paused. I gulped, heart hammering in my chest as I gripped his wrists, his hold turning painful, “When were you going to tell me?”

It was merely a whisper, but with how close he was to me, I heard it crystal clear. I went rigid, suddenly fearing for my daughter’s and my own life again, “What are you talking about?”

When Yunho’s eyes shifted to the side, where the fridge was, and I followed with my own, I stopped breathing. We were both looking at the drawing made by Hyeri, a little girl standing in the middle, holding two women’s hands. Mine and my mother’s. They stood in front of a house, smiles on their faces and with a sun that was a little too big for the otherwise cute drawing. I have never felt dread up until that moment consume my whole being, and before I could stop myself, my eyes glassed over and I gripping onto the collar of Yunho’s sweater, trying to breathe regularly.

“Yunho, no—please—you can’t—”

“I can’t what?” He looked beyond furious, hands crushing my cheeks as a few tears rolled down the,, “She’s my daughter too.”

“No, please.” I tried not to sob, scared it would wake Hyeri, “You can’t—I—I won’t let you. You can’t hurt her. I won’t let you, Yunho, she’s mine—”

“She’s ours.” Yunho snapped, shaking me in the process, making me whimper as I grabbed onto his face.

“Please, Yunho, just leave—just leave us alone.” I begged him, flinching as he started wiping my tears away, almost with a fascinated look on his face.

“You were never going to tell me, right?” He asked in a whisper, suddenly looking very sad. My heart stilled and I felt bad, but then I had to remind myself that he had killed someone and that he had probably done so many worse things that I didn’t know about, and didn’t want to know about. I never truly knew who Jeong Yunho was, and I didn’t want to know. I couldn’t let him come back in our lives. He would ruin everything again.

“I—”

“Mommy?” Both Yunho and I froze, our eyes going wide before Yunho was letting me go, stepping back, looking shocked as his eyes quickly fell on his daughter. I quickly wiped my cheeks clear of tears and tried not to sniff as I turned to smile at our daughter, forcing myself to mask my distress.

“My love,” I chuckled, walking around the table to get to her, scared that Yunho would try to do something, “you’re awake?”

“Bad dream.” Hyeri whined as she rubbed at her eyes, giggling when I hastily picked her up. My heart was beating even faster than before as I tucked her head against my neck, shielding her view from Yunho, who was unresponsive as he stared at us wide eyed. I didn’t know how he’d react, and I was terrified. The resemblance between Hyeri and Yunho was unmistakable. She was an exact replica of Yunho with her round cheeks, freckles spreading around it, and pouty lips, even her eyes were the same light color as Yunho’s in the sunlight. Her temperament, too, was similar to Yunho’s. My daughter was a constant reminder of who I once used to love, yet I could never hold that against her. She was everything I have ever wished for, my light, my life.

When Yunho went to take a step towards us, I quickly backed away, walking out of the kitchen altogether, seemingly making him freeze. He gulped, eyes searching my face for something, but I was begging him to stay back and leave us alone. His hands balled up into fists at his side and I feared what would come next.

“Who is man?” Hyeri mumbled against my neck, peaking at Yunho with her eyebrows furrowed. Yunho and her shared a long look, and it broke my heart as Hyeri gave me an even more confused look than before, “Is he uncle?”

I could only hope she was too young to understand reality.

“No,” Hearing Yunho’s soft voice made me jump and caught Hyeri’s attention again, “just someone—who loves mommy and you.”

I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying in front of our daughter and instead forced a smile on my face as Hyeri looked at me wonderingly, “Really?”

“Yes.” I answered her, my own voice sounding unsure and shaky, “Let’s go to sleep while this man leaves, alright?”

“Mommy,” Hyeri mumbled, looking at Yunho again, eyebrows furrowing, “can man tuck me in?”

“What—” I whispered confused, looking at Yeri with furrowed eyebrows, “no, he—”

“Please.” But Yunho’s pleading voice full with regret shut me up quickly as he slowly approached us, very reluctantly reaching his hand out to pet Hyeri’s fluffy hair, “Please.”

And when Yunho’s eyes found mine again, I was alarmed to see the man I had once fallen in love with. Desperate, begging with everything he could, yet reluctant to reach out. Just who was Jeong Yunho?

“Just this once.” I whispered, arms tightening around Hyeri as Yunho’s face lit up, eyes clearing of the tears he was holding back.

“Thank you.” He’s never looked so grateful before, and my eyes widened when he pressed a swift kiss against my lips, making Hyeri giggle in my arms. And before I could interfere, Hyeri was making grabby hands at Yunho, smiling brightly as he carefully took her in his arms, cradling his daughter against his chest like it was his most prized possession. Yunho’s eyes shone like they were the sun and I stood frozen as he walked towards her bedroom, Hyeri muttering things to him that I couldn’t hear.

What was I going to do now?

⚞ Masterlist ⚟

↳Perm. taglist: @orshii @jjoongstar @tinyelfperson @thestarskiller @zuuhaa

@aaa-sia @gong-fourz @a-tinycarat @sooberryworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

@yusalterego @arigakittyo @slowee00 @jaerisdiction @hey-syia

@vnessalau

❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[stobinesque]

@steddie-week day 3: first kiss | 2.1k words | G or T

Steve and Robin were about halfway through a rewatch of Clue when the phone rang, and Steve was across the living room before it was halfway through its second ring. “What’s wrong?” He asked without preamble. His heart was already racing; too anxious to consider the possibility that it could be someone calling for his parents—or even that it might be a non-emergency call. It was past ten already, and most of The Party should have at least been pretending to sleep by then.

“Steve?” The voice on the other end of the line was a bit distant—drowned out by the staticky sound of rain hitting pavement.

“Eddie? Are you alright? Where are you? Did something happen?”

Eddies’ van was out of commission, so he’d been relying on rides from Steve and the rest of the Corroded Coffin crew to get him to and from places for the past few weeks. If he was out somewhere and in trouble, he was stranded there.

“Yeah—I-I mean, no. Nothing—nothing happened. Just—could you come get me?”

“Yeah, of course. Where are you?”

“I’m out at The Hideout.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there in ten—maybe fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I said I’d be there in ten, Eddie.”

“Okay.” 

Steve hung up the receiver and turned to make for the foyer to find Robin standing behind him—jacket on, back slung over one shoulder, and a pair of his shoes in one hand. “Picking Eddie up?”

“Yeah.” Steve took the shoes from her hands gratefully, and started pulling them on.

“Can you drop me off on the way without slowing yourself down?”

“Yeah, I budgeted Robin home-delivery time just in case.”

“Well, hop to it then, dingus.”

~*~*~*~

When Steve pulled up in front of The Hideout after dropping off a surprisingly acquiescent Robin (Eddie needs you more than I do right now, dingus), it was to find Eddie sitting atop one of the wheel stops of The Hideout’s small lot, looking like a drowned rat. 

Eddie was up and yanking open the door to the beamer before Steve could so much as put it in park, and Steve pulled out of the lot as soon as Eddie had his seat belt buckled across him.

“You okay, mann?”

Eddie shrugged.

“What happened?”

“Don’t really wanna talk about it right now.”

Steve nodded. “Okay.”

“Sorry to interrupt movie night with the missus.”

Steve laughed. “She already forgives you. Provided that you were actually having a crisis and not just faking one as a ploy to get me alone with you.”

That startled a laugh out of Eddie in turn, and he turned in his seat to shoot Steve a mischievous grin. “Now, does that sound like something I would do, sweetheart?”

“According to Robin? Yes.”

“Ah, I see who the brains of the operation is, then.”

“Was that in question?”

“Well—whether or not there was a brain behind you and Robin’s whole deal was a little up in the air.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Silence fell between the two of them, and twenty seconds in Eddie started rooting around in Steve’s glove compartment.

“Dude. What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a tape in here that doesn’t suck, man!”

“What are you talking about? We have, like, half the same taste in music!”

“Yeah, but the only thing you keep in your car are mixtapes! And I’m sorry, Steve, but some of the things the kids have made you are—objectively speaking—extremely cursed.”

“You could put in the one Robin made.”

“It’s hilarious that you think there’s only one Robin mixtape in here. But also: I’m not in the mood for Cyndi Lauper.”

“Cyndi Lauper’s not in the mood for you,” Steve snarked under his breath—more because he knew that’s what Robin would say if she was in the car with them than for any other reason. Raising his voice so that Eddie knew it was meant to be heard, he added, “I think there might be one from Jon in there?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Eugh. No thanks. My night’ been shit enough.” He kept rooting around for another minute or two, until— “Aha!” he emerged triumphant, an sparsely labeled tape held aloft in one hand. It looked like one that Steve had made for himself years ago—long before he’d gone knocking on the supernatural’s door. If he was guessing right, it was a mix of Queen, Bowie, and Fleetwood Mac. “How have I never found this one before?” Eddie asked.

“Because in spite of your loud protestations to the contrary, you usually just let whatever music is playing in the car happen to you.”

Eddie gave a considering hum as he stuffed his find into the tape deck. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

The two of them fell silent again as “The Chain” poured from the speakers, and the rest of the ride passed without conversation, the only sounds between them besides the music was the steady beat of rain against the windshield, and Eddie’s fingers drumming along to the beat of the song.

~*~*~*~

Steve killed the engine as he pulled up in front of the Munsons’ trailer. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Eddie said, pulling a strand of hair out to cover his mouth as he did so.

“Yeah—any time, dude.”

Eddie made to get out of the car, but froze in place as he leaned half-in, and half-out. “Could you—wanna come in?” There was a put-upon air of casualness to his tone in a way that made Steve suspect that he was being asked to stay the night. He wasn’t sure why Eddie felt so shy about the request, though—it wasn’t like this would be the first time.

“Oh. Yeah, man. Of course.” All he ever wanted was to be helpful. So Steve took his keys from the ignition, and trailed after Eddie as he led them both inside.

Eddie started peeling out of his soaked clothes before the front door had finished closing behind them, and made a beeline for his bedroom so he could pull on a pair of boxers and a bleach-stained t-shirt, before flopping down onto his bed. Steve followed after him, toeing his shoes off inside the door, and crawling into bed beside Eddie once he was finished changing.

"Wanna talk about it now?" he asked, as Eddie tucked himself up against his side.

Eddie shrugged. He took one of Steve's hands into both of his own and started idly playing with his fingers. "Bad date."

"Oh yeah? People aren't going mad over a metalhead who was only recently cleared of all murder charges?"

Eddie shoved at him. "Low blow, Harrington."

Steve stole his hand back to hold both of them up in surrender. "Sorry, man."

Eddie yanked Steve's hand back and held it covetously in both of his own, and Steve reached down with his own free one to tangle it into Eddie's wild mane of curls, which were still damp from the rain. "Whatever, dude. It wasn't that. He just…he was just kind of an asshole.” Eddie shrugged again, sounding a little resigned. “The regular kind."

Steve was silent, but ruffled his hand through Eddie's hair in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. 

"I just…I don't know. I don't know why I even bother trying to go out on dates at this point.”

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it's like…I don't know. Just feels like I'm chasing after something I'm never gonna find."

"I get that," Steve said, tone soft and understanding.

"Really? Figured you'd have people falling all over you."

Steve snorted. "I don't think I've gone on a date since I went to the championship game with Heidi back in March."

Eddie jerked a little in Steve’s grip. "Why not?" He sounded…genuinely very confused.

Steve shrugged. "I don't know, I just…haven’t really felt like it. Honestly, I’d already felt like I was circling the drain back at that point.”

“...Huh.”

They both went quiet, Steve still running one hand through Eddie’s hair, and Eddie still tangled his fingers through those of Steve’s other hand. 

“So, how do you…?” Steve trailed off with a frown, unsure of how or whether he should finish his question.

“How do I…?”

“How do you, y’know, find guys? To go out with? Who you aren’t scared of knocking your lights out, that is.”

Eddie shifted in Steve’s arms to get a better look at him. “Wait, wait. Have you not been on a date with another guy yet, Harrington?”

“No…?”

“Then how did you—?”

“How did I, what?” Steve felt a little on edge; a little on the defensive. Like there was some unseen standard he wasn’t living up to.

“How’d you figure out you were into them, then?” Eddie sounded a little bewildered. A lot incredulous. “Figured you were the victim of a drunken make-out discovery or something.”

Steve laughed, because that did sound like him, but— “Nope. Never been kissed.” He tilted his head toward Eddie with a little smirk. “By a guy, that is.”

Eddie propped himself up on one arm and stared at Steve like he was a puzzle to be solved, and there was a glint in his eye that made the hair along the back of Steve’s neck stand on end. “D’you wanna be?”

Steve’s heart skipped a bit, and his hand stilled in Eddie’s hair. “Uh…what do you mean?”

“Do you wanna be kissed? By a guy?”

Steve laughed, feeling awkward. “Are you offering?”

Eddie shrugged, just a touch too casual. “Sure, why not?”

“I don’t know. Wouldn't it be weird?”

“Doesn’t have to be weird if you don’t make it weird, man.”

Steve turned that over. It’s not like he and Eddie didn’t already spend most of the time they spent alone together tangled up in one another. There was a quasi-romantic edge to their friendship that Steve wasn’t really used to—well. Except for with Robin. But that was different, for obvious reasons. And, granted, the dynamic between him and Tommy had been…intense, but it still hadn’t felt like this. 

Regardless—kissing Eddie wouldn’t change anything about their friendship if they didn’t want it to. “I guess you’re right.”

Eddie half-turned in Steve’s arms. “Yeah?”

Steve repositioned himself so that they were facing each other, hitching one shoulder up in a nonchalant little shrug. “Sure, why not?” he parroted back.

Eddie smiled, and it made his whole face go soft and gentle in a way that had Steve’s stomach twisting up in knots. Oh, he’s beautiful.

Eddie reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind Steve’s ear, and then let his hand drift along the line of Steve’s jaw until he was gently gripping his chin between two fingers. Steve’s lips parted in anticipation, and the two of them breathed into the silent space they’d created between them. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, and his arms breaking out in goosebumps.

It didn’t make any sense though. It wasn’t like it was his real first kiss. And he’d known he was attracted to men for ages, even if he’d never acted on it. It wasn’t even exactly news to him that he found Eddie attractive. But…none of their interactions had been this charged before.

Eddie closed the space between them, and pressed a gentle, but firm kiss to Steve’s lips, grinding the trajectory of Steve’s thoughts to a halt. It was a simple kiss. And it could have remained like that—soft, sweet, and almost chaste—except that Steve couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp in response, as his breath hitched in his throat. 

He should pull back. He knew he should pull back—but he’d always been greedy, and Eddie was making no move to put any distance between the two of them either. So Steve surged forward, capturing Eddie’s lips into a more passionate kiss, and savoring the small whine it elicited. Eddie gave as good as he got, winding an arm around Steve’s waist, and slotting a thigh between both of Steve’s legs with a force that startled a little “Mmpf!” from him. 

All in all, the kiss probably lasted little more than a few moments. But for all Steve knew, whole civilizations could have risen and fallen in that soft, gray space of time he and Eddie had their lips pressed together. 

He wasn’t sure who finally broke away, but once they did, both of their breaths came short and heavy.

“That was…really good?” Steve said, a high-pitched note of giddiness and wonder in his tone. 

Eddie smiled with cheshire-style grin, eyelids heavy and low. “Yeah? Wanna make it even better?”

Steve smiled right back. “I think I might.”

[mediaevalmusereads]

The Duke Who Didn't. By Courtney Milan. 2020.

Rating: 4.5/5 stars

Genre: historical romance

Series: Wedgeford Trials #1

Summary: Miss Chloe Fong has plans for her life, lists for her days, and absolutely no time for nonsense. Three years ago, she told her childhood sweetheart that he could talk to her once he planned to be serious. He disappeared that very night.

Except now he’s back. Jeremy Wentworth, the Duke of Lansing, has returned to the tiny village he once visited with the hope of wooing Chloe. In his defense, it took him years of attempting to be serious to realize that the endeavor was incompatible with his personality.

All he has to do is convince Chloe to make room for a mischievous trickster in her life, then disclose that in all the years they’ve known each other, he’s failed to mention his real name, his title… and the minor fact that he owns her entire village.

Only one thing can go wrong: Everything.

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: graphic sexual content, microaggressions

OVERVIEW: I was so excited when I saw this book at my local bookstore. I love Courtney Milan's work, and I was excited to get my hands on a hard copy of The Duke Who Didn't. It was wonderful to read more from Milan - and even more wonderful to read a historical romance that centered East Asian (particularly Chinese) characters. While there are little things here and there that I could nitpick, I found this book to be overall very charming, so it gets 4.5 stars from me.

WRITING: I don't think I have anything to say about Milan's prose that I haven't already said before. I love the way Milan makes her writing seem so effortless; it's quick, it's descriptive, it's full of emotion, and it balances showing and telling well. It's also full of heartfelt speeches that I've come to associate with her stories, and it had a tendency to grip my heart at the most unexpected times.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows Chloe Fong, the daughter of a Chinese immigrant living in a small village in 19th century Kent, as she helps her father start a commercial business selling sauce. Chloe plans to sell jars of sauce during the Wedgeford Trials - an annual event that draws visitors from all over the UK. If everything goes according to plan, her father's sauce will become popular enough that they can have a more comfortable income. The trouble is that the sudden appearance of Jeremy Wentworth, the Duke of Lansing after a 3 year absence threatens to throw a wrench in Chloe's plans, especially since the two have a powerful attraction to one another.

I really loved the story of Chloe and her father trying to get their sauce business off the ground. Not only did it show the two working together and butting heads in ways that clearly betrayed their affection for one another, but it also provided a nice commentary on what it meant to be "from" a place.

And perhaps this is an easy thing to like, but: I did appreciate the fact that this was a historical romance that focused on non-white characters. The genre is overrun with white characters, and though things are changing, I feel like anything I read by Milan (or various others like Beverly Jenkins or Alyssa Cole) is a breath of fresh air.

CHARACTERS: Chloe, our heroine, is easy to like and root for because of her dedication to her father and his business. Chloe is stubborn and determined but also over-works herself and refuses to accept help; these qualities make her relatable without making her perfect, and I liked that her arc involved learning to accept help.

Jeremy, our hero, is also easy to like because of his teasing and laid-back manner. I enjoyed the way he pestered Chloe without being mean-spirited and I liked that is arc involved not only learning to be "serious" ("earnest" might be more accurate?), but also accepting that maybe what's best for him can't be found in white British society.

Chloe's father is an effective supporting character in that he challenges both Chloe and Jeremy to grow. I liked that he and Chloe shared some of the same faults (overworking and refusing to accept help) while also having clear affection for one another. Descriptions of his cooking skills also made my mouth water on more than one occasion, and I laughed whenever he made his food overly spicy in order to mess with Jeremy.

Most other supporting characters are only minimally involved in the story, so a thorough analysis isn't really necessary. All of them served their purpose, so I didn't really feel like any were dead weight or distracted from the story.

TL;DR: The Duke Who Didn't is a delightful, heartfelt romance that really shines when showcasing the father-daughter relationship and the contrast between the two protagonists' personalities. If you're a fan of historical romance but are getting tired of Regencies about rich white people, you might want to give this one a try.

ROMANCE: Chloe and Jeremy's relationship was fun to read about in part because the character personalities contrasted nicely. Chloe is a planner and is always making to-do lists while Jeremy is more laid back and impulsive. Despite this difference, they played off each other well, and I liked that their disagreements were good-natured while also challenged each other to think and grow.

I also very much liked how their arc involved supporting one another. Jeremy fills an emotional need in Chloe's life by helping her learn to share her burdens, while Chloe helps Jeremy feel worthy after being rejected by a lot of people for being half Chinese. Their individual arcs and growth as a couple complemented each other well, so on the whole, the romance was very emotionally satisfying.

[tsotc]

may i ask what the great experiment of biology referred to in tags was? - 🩰

hi hello this is easy enough to answer whilst im working on stuff i prommy ill get to your other questions soon but

because charon is old as fuck and should be dead, when it was in the seat of halmarut there was a lot less regulation in place to stop the autistic girlies from fixating so hard on their work that they accidentally end the world. This Obviously Didn't Get Fixed Either But It Was Worse back then i think.

Charon is a botanist and has been since it emerged from the star. One of its old passion projects was an attempt at preserving the life of a concept it had made for as long as possible, essentially voiding the natural order of death and rebirth and creating something that was "immortal" so to speak. It was an apple tree, mostly as reference to my non xiv oc verse malus and also as a reference to "original sin" or some shit. it was deemed a success by both charon and the other words of halmarut as neither the tree itself or the fruit it bore would decay or rot. Cracks started to show in the veneer of the project so to speak and over time, as the tree should have died (which would have been long after most of the original hands charon had had on the project had either returned to the star or left the department through other means) it became evident that it was leeching aether from everything around it to survive.

The exent to which it had been syphoning aether was initially thought to be extremely low and harmless but as more and more time progressed this "harmless" amount turned into the greenhouse the tree and its roots were housed in turning to ash from the sheer weight and strain it was placing on its surroundings. It eventually got to the point where in no living body could safely enter the building for threat of being completely consumed.

Charon's final act as seat of Halmarut was to seal the greenhouse behind Multiple extremely potent wards and to destroy all of the research that had lead to the creation of the tree in the first place. When the final ward was in place and the final papers burnt (which involved A LOT of string pulling at multiple beareus but ahgh charon has its fingers in many, many pots and a lot of people owe it favours because of its habit of lending a hand wherever possible) it actively resigned whilst not really telling anyone of why. The other convocation members very much knew something was wrong but didn't ask nor prod because Charon tended to get Very Quiet when the topic was mentioned or just hand waved it with "ahhh i just needed a change of pace, i've been in that stuffy old place for far too long you know?" or something along those lines.

Charon itself vanished from public eye after its proposed return to the star failed as it were and its soul was repurposed unwillingly into a puppet of the aetherial sea to keep her company, its research and passion project being burnt and destroyed for the most part doing nothing but aid the idea of it being quietly forgetten.

Eros, however, found one of the few remaining scraps of knowledge about the tree in extremely old corners of the words of Halmarut's archives and became transfixed on the idea of cheating death. Hy worked hys way up the ranks until eventually becoming trusted enough to learn about the mysterious wards left in the deepest darkest area of the building and slowly put the pieces together hymself. Up until the final days hy worked tirelessly to attempt to crack Charon's magicks and see the tree for hymself, to repurpose and "fix" its attempts at attaining immortality through any means nessecary - ultimately the end of the world came before hy could even breach the first ward.

Asmodeus Lovewright (legally known as Allister Meadows of the Meadows family) is at present a prolific doctor and sweetheart who lives in Ishgard and works to heal the sick of many diseases. Sspecialising in diseases of Aether, hys ultimate end goal is defeating death itself. Hy's an outwardly sweet and caring man with a great reputation of helping the poor and the sickly regardless of their material circimstances. An Archon too (graduated the studium at a remarkably young age, hys father works as a teacher there) but it's very much a front. If asmo doesn't find you interesting from a scientific perspective hy often pretends you don't exist in private settings, incredibly dedicated to hys work to the point of self mutilation and experimentation to further hys goals. Famously helped to curb and cure a very, very dangerous disease that ran rampant through the brume during the Dragonsong war, was subsequently the one who created and released it in the first place. Cruel and sadistic, taking a lot of glee in the suffering of others ESPECIALLY if it's something hy can use to further hys own goals. Get a bit yandere with it or something (I HAVE BPD. I CAN DO THIS I PROMISE.) Hys a fucking freak and i want to throw hym against a wall so hard.

[lilkermit14]

Lavender & Mint

Fem!reader x Pero Tovar 

Synposis: In the conventional village of Cullfield lived an unconventional woman who served as an apothecary for the townsfolk. Stubborn and set in her ways, the woman of three tens remains unmarried and childless and plans to continue as such for the rest of her life, much to the horror and confusion of the village. But this unconventional woman has some surprises in store for her when an unconventional man named Pero Tovar rides into town, an event that will change both her and his plans forever—and may flip Cullfield upside down too.

Notes: Idk why I kept mentioning poop complications this chapter but I’m sorry and enjoy. It’s been a while but the CHAPTER is here. Please reblog!!!!

General Warnings: minor injuries, slow-burn, eventual smut, blood, childbirth

For this chapter: Non-sexual references to poop, mention pregnancy, murder, implicit brief reference to infanticide or child abandonment, pre-marital pregnancy and it’s complications in the 1400s, religious “morals”. 

Chapter 5: Garlic 

Last chapter // Next chapter

“When was the last time you passed bowels, Mister Ashdown?” you inquire, pressing on the old man’s stomach knowing you have found the root cause of his stomach issues. He blinks for a moment thinking as he lays on your observation table, before telling you, “quite some time I’m afraid.”

“I see,” you move your hands away putting your hands on your hips, “well, it seems that you just have a case of constipation––burdensome but not something hard to fix or that will have you laying on your deathbed.”

“You sure?” he asks, almost confused, moving to rise up from the table by himself only for you to come to his assistance. You clarify yourself, “Yes, you have many signs that point to it. It can be caused by a lack of competitive foods in your diet and is more likely with old age.”

“I’m not that old,” He interjects, but you compete, “Yes, but you're old enough for a blockage sir––you’ll be glad to know you’ll live to be truly old as long the burden is treated.”

He huffs now in a sitting position with legs dangling from the table, “so what do you have so i’ll shit.”

You huff at his language, “standard garlic will help move the process along, and I’m suggesting you make sure to eat more greens and berries to clear your system.”

You always assumed that you were let free to discuss any matters with your patients when they were the only ones in the shop, as no one else resided in your residence besides you. But that arrangement had changed and you were not the only one that resided in your home, “If my cock and bowels stop working just have someone put me out of my misery.”

You turn rigid and scandalized to see the face of Pero Tovar standing in your back entrance of the shop—entered unbeknownst to you through quiet steps and a lack of clear view. Mister Ashdown has no qualms defending himself, “I’m only five tens and if my cock doesn’t work how is my wife pregnant?”

You want to scream having to hear this conversation and did certainly not want to be reminded of the conversations you were subjected to by Farrah Ashdown. When the woman at four tens and five found out she was pregnant she spared no expense in telling you how it happened. You opted to rush him along before you could get his account of what he does with his wife, “okay sir here’s your supply get going now.”

“Enjoy the shit,” you hear Pero say and before mister ashdown can respond he is out your door. You turn to Pero fury and rage evident on your face as you are prepared to let the flames of hell loose on him. All he has is a stupid look on his face as he lets out the word, “what?”

“You bastard,” you begin pointing your finger at him moving towards him with menace in your voice towards a man that stands unbothered, “you do not talk to ANY of my clients in such manner especially in my shop.”

“Why is that hermosa? I would be rude to that man outside of your business, what makes your apothecary different?” He queries again with that name, only increasing your anger and distaste for him at the moment. With clenched teeth, you answer him, “I don’t care what you say to Mister Ashdown in town, but my shop is a place of respect––a place where anyone can come for health problems even if they are embarrassing. I want people to know they won’t be judged here because if they feel like they will be, they will come when it’s too late and I can’t do anything for them.”

Pero raises his brow at you, but lets you continue your rant uninterrupted, “When my mother was still alive, a young woman at ten and six came to us complaining of diarrhea, something she was embarrassed to talk about because it was gross and she did not want suitors to find out. Turns out she had sickness from a miasma––we took one look down the town well and discovered a deer had fallen in and died overnight.”

“That was lucky,” he comments, still invested in your story despite the vile nature of talking about excretion. You continue, “Yes, and we may not have caught it so soon if she didn’t come to us. The sickness is fast acting, in hours many more villagers could have been sick, but it was only her––and she lived.”

“Lived?” you smile at his question feeling pride at the healing powers your mom had and hope you live up to, “Yes, the sickness causes dehydration quickly but if you keep the person well hydrated and area clean to prevent reinfection––they will live. This summer she gave birth to her third child at my aid.”

“So their trust is important to you?” you give him a simple nod, glad he is understanding what you were asking of him. You turn to clean up the materials you had brought out to examine Mister Ashdown, not realizing that Pero was not done with questions, “Like how that woman came to you the other day crying in distress?”

You freeze––you had really thought the interest in Mariam had ended when William had first asked you about her the day after asking if she was okay. You nodded and told him it was just feminine needs and didn’t serve much interest in men, something that usually turned men away from asking questions. Well not Pero Tovar I guess, “Why was she crying?”

“It’s a complicated matt––”

“Things of safety are something I have to worry about you know,” He interjects, and you turn your head looking at him to see something serious cross his face, “I have to keep everyone in this village safe––you in particular hermosa––and I want to know if theres something you need to tell me.”

“Part of gaining trust is not telling personal information,” you counter, pulling together to formulate a lie, “It’s nothing of safety she was upset about something––she’s a friend of sorts to me.”

You can tell he doesn’t buy it––he can probably pull the full story together even though you doubt he’s heard a single thing about Mariam’s husband beating her––but he accepts, slouching and learning against a table in thought, “William and I may go for a short hunt––there's not much action in this town I’m afraid and we could use some fresh game.”

You nod, “If you catch any pigeon, I know how to handle it so it's not gamey.”

He huffs, “We're not very good hunters I’m afraid, so you’ll probably only get that or rabbit.”

–––––––––––––––––––

Pero Tovar had useful traits to him––like getting you pigeons––but he was mostly an annoyance. His mere presence always had you on edge, as you waited for something, something from him. It was usually something he said but if not it was his scent or stench rather of pine and something that was him. It was also his sloppy manner, the way he seemed raised with no table manners as he ate all your meals. He spoiled Mite, petting him and feeding him table scraps much to your despair. He was also too loud, his boots filling up the cottage and shop with noise, something that never usually happened.

You lent some time today to make more bread for the household, settling at your dining table and working the necessary ingredients for dough together. Mite lays in the corner, not doing his job as per usual and watching you with some sort of interest in the mannerisms of bread making, but he was likely just hoping for more food in the future. Kneading dough you begin to imagine the dough is Pero kneading your frustration into it. You press and it is his stupid broad shoulders that take up too much space. You pull, it’s the curls on the nape of his neck that are too unruly and untidy. You slam it down, it’s that stupid smile that appears on his face when you have entertained him. God you hate Pero Tovar.

“You may want to stop before you overwork the dough sweetheart,” You stop and see Mildred Becker staring at you with an amused look on her face. You huff Jesus, what does she want, “Sorry for my state, I didn’t hear you enter.”

“Don’t worry I understand too well––I always work out my anger into the dough,” you chuckle a little thinking about how a woman with too many children works out anger the same way as you––you definitely hate Pero Tovar, “I just stopped by because I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

You perk up, “Is Cateline suffering from baby blues again.”

“No, No thank the lord––we’ve been watching over her better this time,” Mildred rounds off, and you remember despite the grievances she gives you, she is a good mother to her children. She was the first to notice that something was wrong with her daughter after the birth and came to you to talk about it. From there Cateline was able to recover and enjoy motherhood, “Something with your house guest Pero Tovar has come to my attention.”

“What did he do,” You ask, prepared to beat Pero Tovar with your broom, but Mildred settles you, “nothing he did, just something someone is doing around him.”

You raise your brow at her beckoning her to continue, “You know Stanislava Rolfe?”

“Of course,” you affirm, surprised she is asking you such a question when you have treated everyone in Cullfield five times over. Mildred continues, “Yes well, She has begun to work at the Inn as a barmaid––she did well with charming Balthasar I guess.”

You were wondering why a poor farmer's daughter’s career path interested you, but you didn’t interject, “I happened to take a quick ale there with my husband, when I noticed something with her and Pero Tovar. You see she appeared extra flirtatious with him––and although barmaids usually are flirty with men in hopes for extra coin, it was more intentional.”

You frown, how could such a beautiful young girl be interested in such a disgusting brute, “Why is she interested in him?”

“Who knows? Many of the girls around Cullfield were excited to see unfamiliar battle-hardened men I supposed,” She ponders for a moment, “all we do know is that she is likely interested in him.”

“I don’t think he is interested in taking a wife,” You contest, brushing aside that Pero would have feelings for the young girl of two tens. Mildred just gives you a hardened stare, “He doesn’t have to be interested in matrimony to want something from her.”

Oh

“Was he showing interest back?” you dig trying to figure out the full extent of what you are formulating must be a whirlwind romance. Mildred hums, “no I suppose not, but sometimes men take persistent interest as a way to have a good time.”

You bite your lip remembering that Pero did not fornicate with prostitutes but barmaids, and feel a ball of ache and pain in your stomach at the thought. Mildred instates, “I came to you about this because I want you to try to stop it.”

“Stop it?”

“Yes, make it clear he is to not have such guests,” Mildred explains, and you can tell by her tone and expression you are in for some sort of story, “You know well enough that things go arigh when an unmarried woman gets pregnant, right.”

“Of course,” you remember the chaos that erupted in families when one of their daughters ended up pregnant, and the hasty weddings that came from it. But Mildred had a different story, “although most of the time it gets swept under the rug with a quick marriage and everyone just chooses to ignore it––horrid things can happen when there's not one.”

Mildred sits down at the nearby table, in clear thought of something dark and you go to sit down at a nearby chair, “When I was about ten and eight, and old enough to understand these things, a girl was taken advantage of by a soldier in our village. She was ten and six, and him far older so he should have had the wisdom not to mess with her. What mattered was after it happened, he left with his troop and was never seen in my home village again. She got pregnant, and tried to hide it at first––her mom was dead and she had no older sisters or aunts to go to, so she was afraid to go to her father. When it became too obvious, hate inspired awful things in the leaders of the village, and by the time she gave birth it accumulated.”

Mildred takes a moment to pause, emotions brewing inside her and you feel yourself frozen in place, “she tried to talk to them, pleading, saying he pressured her––persuaded her, but they all pointed and said witch and condemned her son too. She was burn’t at the stake, and her son––well he was never seen again.”

A pause fills the air as you sit in shock, digesting what Mildred has told you, “I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

Mildred huffs, “I’m sorry too, I made sure to get a husband that would get me out of that village and landed a good one on the way––I had seen what that village did to women and children for the sake of moral value and did not intend to stay so my daughters could see too. Adultery is a two person crime that only one party, the feminine one, receives punishment for.”

“So that's why Pero and Stanislava are of such concern to you?” You assume, and Mildred nods, “Although I think Cullfield is of better standing, I don’t desire to find out what they would do if such a case erupted. The girl may be doing this because she intends to capture a man with a better job, but mercenaries rest for a few women and not those of ten and eight.”

“I can understand her intentions I suppose,” you contemplate, believing that she doesn’t hold much true interest in him, but for a better life. Mildred hums, “so is there a chance you can talk to Pero about it?”

“I already established that he is to not bring guests into my home, and I doubt they would find a secluded enough place otherwise,” you reassure, standing up, “I can even remind him today if you would like.”

“That would be good,” Mildred agrees, joining you in standing and allowing you to guide her to the door, “be on the lookout too if you see her come preying––even though he lacks true interest.”

“I will,” you say, and somewhere in your heart you feel prepared to beat Stanislava Rolfe with your broom instead of Pero.

________________

Gardening was no easy task but it was the most necessary task the runner of an apothecary and a household had. Today your tending to crops was more focused on your food supply rather than collecting the necessary ingredients to keep your shop running. You're pleased to see that the last of your harvest grew well, and know that your winter stock will last even with your house guest. You had already pulled out all the carrots, and beets, and had shucked the vines wounding your house of beans and brussel sprouts. You were now left to work at the tough vines of the gourds and squash, planning on leaving the single pumpkin for Pero to handle––who should be on his way home from helping Balthasar with something at his inn.

Standing up with the final gourd in hand––you see something that fills you with immediate displeasure and sickens you to your core. Pero is walking up to your house pursued by Stanislava. You don’t quite know why you feel this angry at him; maybe it’s because you gave him explicit reminders on conduct or maybe––something else. Seeing the near, and well hearing Stanislava, you attempt to think fast to try to get her to leave. Greeting them both in an unnatural kind manner, “Pero, Stanislava, greetings.”

Pero gives you an immediate strange look while his shadow is oblivious and greets you back, “I was just telling Pero this wonderful stor––”

“Oh I must ask how is your rash healing up,” You feel like clapping your hands over your lips the moment the words fly out of your mouth. Stanislava stops in her tracks staring at you blankly, “what?”

“The one I gave you the ointment for––on your groin,” Oh my God what were you doing.

Stanislava turns bright red, “Good thank you––I––I have things to tend to at home, good evening you two.”

Stanislava hurries off, and an amused smile erupts on Pero’s face, “thank you for finally scaring that crow off––she’s been yapping my ear off with nonsense for weeks––I guess you're my scarecrow.”

“Excuse me?” scarecrow, you were going to kill this man. He smiles, a genuine smile, “Yes you scared off my crow––like a scarecrow would. Plus you're covered in leaves right now.”

“Do not call me that”

“Fine mi espantapájaros”

“I swear I’ll smother you in your sleep”

“Is that a true promise for you? Like how you promised not to tell customers private information yet just shouted about the crow’s crotch rash,” at that your body works on it’s own, taking the gourd in your hand and flinging it at Pero’s chest. It was a magnificent shot, and caused the vegetable to break and splatter it’s internal organs onto Pero’s chest and neck. Pero steps back from the impact and looks down on the goop he’s now covered in, “Now, no good espantapájaros does that.”

You press your palm to your face, “Just cut the pumpkin for me and bring it inside, you could use a good bath anyway, your stench is disgusting.”

“I do not smell,” he retorts, and you ignore him, bringing inside your harvest. You really do hate Pero Tovar.

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

Apothecary’s feelings––hate or nah yall?

Garlic is use to treat a lot of ailments in Arab traditional medicine, including  heart disease, high blood pressure, arthritis, toothache, infections, and––as seen in this fic––constipation. Listen, I know the constipation part is true because I ate a pesto made with raw garlic and LORD did I shit. Anything else, not quite sure but hey worth a shot if you are desperate. 

It is also seen as an immune booster for colds and coughs––in fact if you are congested from a cold putting a clove of garlic in each nostril can clear that shit OUT.  

Garlic is also believed to help asthma symptoms. IDK if it actually is true but that’d be iconic because my mom loves garlic and she has asthma. 

Garlic is my favorite seasoning. I put it in my soup. I put it in my eggs. I put it in my ramen. I put it in my burgers. I put it in my cooch––

taglist:

@poenariuniverse @harleyamidala @yespolkadotkitty @storiesofthefandomlovers @babybelou @legally-a-bastard @computeringturtle @clydesducktape @sixties-loser @buckysalefty @april-14-blog @prettylittlegoldfish @softpedropascal @maybege

[libraryofnesta]

Tied to Ruin

ao3 link

Summary:

Cassian and Nesta were lovers, partners in crime. They did everything together. That is until tragedy strikes, causing Nesta to run away, far from everything she once knew.

Over five years later, Nesta is living life to as full as it can get. It’s not until an incident occurs that drags her into far more than she bargained for.

Notes:

thanks so much for reading. i'm a huge hoe for exes to lovers, so i have like 20 ideas in my head, and this is one of them. It's multichapter. i'm not sure how long this is gonna be, but definitely over ten chapter. this fic has two timelines. One will show them from when they're kids to teens, and one while they're adults. Both will occur at the same time, so things will start to unravel as you read.btw! velaris is gonna be like a super small town in new york. like no one knows about it.

TW: implied domestic violence, nothing graphic.

Chapter 1: lonely beds, different cities

Words, how little they mean

When you're a little too late

I stood right by the tracks

Your face in a locket

Good girls, hopeful they'll be and long they will wait

-

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Taylor Swift

2016, Small Town Velaris

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse. Nesta is practically begging at this point, but she has nothing else to relent to. “We can get out of here.” She swallows hard when he doesn’t reply. “We’re still young Cassian, we can still-”

“Nesta.” He says. It's one word, but it makes her pause. He rarely calls her Nesta. It’s always ‘Nes’ or ‘Sweetheart.’

“I can’t.”

Their lives have changed so drastically over the past few weeks. Nesta’s whole childhood is here. Everything she’s ever known. She’s not sure how much more of it she can handle now.

She’s well aware of the tears streaming down her face. Nesta doesn’t know what she can say to convince him, so she says the one thing that she’s been repeating over and over.

“You can…”

Cassian’s face seems to harden. The look he gives her makes her take a step back. He hasn’t looked at her like that in years. “Go ahead and leave Nesta.”, he says, voice rising. “Go live that picture perfect you always wanted. I won’t stop you.”

“Not everyone wants what you do.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Something about leaving Valkyrians still makes her feel at odds. She’s not as resistant to the sight of blood anymore, and she’s not sure if she can ride a motorcycle as well as she used to. There are still parts that linger though. She still remembers how to throw a punch. A damn good one too. She still feels uneasy when someone walks in the same direction for too long though. It might be the worst part of it all.

Nesta doesn’t do much for fun.  She doesn’t dance as much as she likes. The amount of books she reads has decreased. Her days consist of work and eating, even though she skips more meals than she should. But she’s free. That’s what really matters, doesn’t it?

The muscles in Nesta’s body ache. She just finished a seven hour shift, and got a promotion that pays much better. Nesta wants to celebrate. She wants to talk to someone. It’s been so long since she’s talked to anyone. The fear of someone finding out about her past is lodged so deep in her head it caused her to isolate. The simple way of putting it is she has no friends.

Coworkers are the only source of non-work related conversation she engages in. It’s always small talk too. Just as Nesta is about to fall asleep, she rubs her eyes and forces herself to stay awake. Getting up from the lumpy couch, Nesta walks to her cabinet, grabbing a random mug and pouring wine into it. Once she gets a better look at the mug, she can’t help but scoff.

It’s ironic. Complaining about being lonely. It’s almost like she chose loneliness. She loves the quiet. When she was younger, all she wanted was alone time. She dreads it now. Nesta gets up after finishing her glass.  She’s a bit drowsy, and is way too tired to walk all the way to her room. Instead Nesta walks back over to her couch. She lies horizontally, staring into the abyss until she eventually falls asleep.

She dreams of seeing him that night. It’s a regular occurrence. It’s lessened over the years, but never fully disappeared. The image of him is blurry. It’s not as precise as it used to be. She hates still thinking of him. It doesn’t stop her from reminiscing a little though.

Her being upset makes sense of course. They’d known each other for over ten years, hating one another at first. Eventually, he began to grow on her. Their bickering had become playful, before they once again became estranged.

“Cassian?”

The figure turns around, and he knocks the wind out of her. His hair is out of it’s usual bun.  He gives her that familiar boyish smile, walking towards her and putting an arm on her.

“Missed me Sweetheart?”, he says, ruffling her hair a bit. Nesta scrunches her nose in response.

“You wish.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah yeah whatever.” He talks for a while. Nesta’s barely paying attention. It’s just nice to hear his voice again. He asks her what she’s reading, and she replies the same every time. It’s silent after a while. They’ve talked themselves out. It’s a nice silence though. Her favorite silence.

Cassian stares at her for a few seconds, giving her a soft smile and pushing a loose hair behind her ear.

“Come back,” he whispers.

Her breath stutters. “It’s been five years, Cass,” she mutters, breaking eye contact. Her eyes flicker between the ground and his face, gauging his reaction.

He doesn’t stop looking at her.

“I didn’t want to leave,” said Nesta. There’s a lump in her throat.

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Yet here we are.”

“You know why I left.”

Her eyes feel like they’re beginning to water. “I asked you to come with me. You’re the one who didn’t.”

Cassian looks to the side. He looks impassive, yet also emotionless. “You’re the one who ran away, Nesta.”

“I didn’t run away.”

He scoffs in response. “Keep telling yourself that.” Cassian starts walking away. It’s cloudy and has no solid ground or sky. At that moment she remembers where she really is. Nesta stands there, waiting until he fully fades away. It always feels too real.

The dreams always end like that.

Nesta can barely pry her eyes open when she wakes up. She has the next two weeks off. Her boss, Helion, had insisted she take a week or two off, since the bar was under a small renovation. She checks her phone and it reads 12:03. Jesus, she really had overslept.

In all honesty Nesta had no idea what to do with her free time. Maybe she’ll finally finish that book she started months ago. But in reality Nesta knows all she’ll do is go to a bar and let a stranger fuck her into oblivion until she kicks them out or leaves.

By the time Nesta leaves her house it’s around 3:00.  She goes to the coffee shop next door. She orders a coffee and sits in the corner of the room. Nesta somehow feels like the center of attention. It’s an empty shop, but it feels like all eyes on her. The room feels too cold.

The feeling follows her when she goes to the local bookstore. It’s crowded, but the area is quiet. Nesta browses through the shelves, sticking to the romance section. She holds a few books. It’s not until Nesta drops one, people begin to look at her. It makes a loud thump hitting the floor. Several pairs of eyes turn to her. The cover is of a shirtless man too.

Fuck , she thinks, This is embarrassing. Nesta purses her lips, hand curling into a fist as she puts the book back on it’s shelf.

It’s around 5:00 when she takes the train home. Nesta spent the rest of her day at the park, not wanting to stay at home. It doesn’t feel like home as much as she’d like it to though. Finally, Nesta makes it home.

She’s in an empty parking lot. The area she lives in is pretty small.  Nesta knows basically everyone in her apartment complex. It’s a tiny place. She never talks to anyone, but they do acknowledge each other. Barely anyone has a car either, herself included. So it is a bit weird to see an unrecognizable car. It’s odd, but Nesta thinks nothing of it. It’s probably just someone visiting.

Nesta goes into her apartment, before leaving once more to go to the bar that’s the second closest to her apartment. She’s usually working at this time, flirting with customers and taking them home when her shift ends.

The bar is crowded and loud. Lights are flashing, voices yelling, bodies moving. It’s out of her comfort zone. She’s been doing this for years and is still isn’t used to it. She sits on one of the stools where the drinks are served. A girl approaches her. Nesta never approaches anyone. She can’t see clearly in the light. The girl’s hair is brunette, though her roots are dark. Her brown skin illuminates in the flickering light.

“Hey”, she says “I’m Nora” Nora extends her hand to her. Nesta smirks in response, resting her elbow on the counter grasping her hand with the other.

“I’m Mila,” she says. No matter what she does, Nesta will never use her real name. Nora’s eyebrows raise. Nesta can see her lick tongue move as it pushes on her skin.

“Pretty name.”

They talk for around five minutes. It’s all small talk. They drink while they talk. Most of the things she responds with are lies anyways. Nora grasp’s her arm with her hand. “Wanna get out of here?” she asks. Her words are slurred, and Nesta has to restrain herself from flinching.

Something in her head tells her not to let anyone in her house though. Something is wrong, but she can’t put her mind on it. The idea of letting a stranger in her house sends goosebumps across her arms. Before, she’d never question it twice. Now that she thinks of it, doing this practically screams stranger danger. Especially with her past, this person could be anyone. Nesta slowly probes herself from the girl.

“I’ve gotta go”, she says. “Sorry, but there's something I need to do.” The girl doesn't seem to mind, either too drunk to care, or only looking for a one night stand. She nods, before introducing herself to someone else. Nesta feels her chest lighten, exiting the crowded bar to call an uber.

Whenever it’s quiet, she always reminisces.

2006, Small Town Velaris

Nesta wakes up and finds herself stranded. She has no idea where she is. She’s lying in a bed inside a mostly empty room. There’s only a few pieces of furniture, a stool and a drawer. It’s relatively small.  The last thing she remembers is being in a car with her sisters and parents. She hears voices outside of the room yelling.

“You expect me to leave-”

“Her father is-”

“She’s nine what would she-”

“So what if she’s young!”

“-s innocent so what if-”

She hears a loud smack. The silence after is deafening. The voices are quiet after, whispers. Afterwards, Nesta hears footsteps approaching. She scrunches her eyes shut, trying to pretend to be asleep. Nesta hears the door open and close. A hand lays on her forehead. As the person removes it, a calming voice talks. “Are you awake?” Nesta slowly looks at the person, opening only one eye, then another. She sees a woman with black hair and tan skin. Her cheeks are flushed and she has a small smile on her face.

The woman squats down so she’s the same height as the bed Nesta is laying on. “Hi,” the woman whispers, voice solemn and comforting. “My names Aurora,” she says. Nesta squishes her lips together. She’s confused and feels like crying. Nesta doesn’t cry though. She’s pretty sure her eyes water though, because Aurora strokes her hair and whispers, “It’s okay to cry.”

Nesta gasps and shakes her head. “Mommy says I’m not supposed to cry.” Aurora seems to be shocked silent. The silence makes Nesta become aware of everything that is happening. She slowly sits up. Once her feet are off the bed, Nesta quickly sprints to the door, opening it and running out. She has no idea where she’s going.

Suddenly, Nesta is hit with a hard impact, and falls down on her butt. She looks up and sees two boys. They’re both around the same height. They have the same dark hair too, except one is longer than the other. Nesta gets up and brushes off the dust on her leggings.

She notices it then. The leggings. She’s never worn pants before.

It’s also when she notices the juice smeared across one of the boy's shirts. It’s the long haired one’s. He drops the red cup to the ground and makes an angry noise. “That was my favorite shirt.”

Nesta feels sheepish as she whispers a quiet, “Sorry.”

The one with longer hair whispers to the other boy, obviously meaning for her to hear too. “She’s probably not even double digits.” The other boy is quiet, looking at the ground. He seems nervous and shy.

Nesta feels a sense of outrage course through her. She pouts, crossing her arms. “I’m almost ten. I’m nine and a half” The boy crosses his arms too.

“Well I’m ten and a half,” he says.

“Cassian,” Aurora scolds. “Play nice.” She puts a hand on Nesta’s shoulder and bends down. “I need to talk to…” She doesn’t continue.

Nesta turns towards her, and realizes she needs her name. “Nesta,” she says.

Aurora smiles, “That’s a wonderful name.”

Cassian still seems angry. “I think it’s stupid.” Aurora sighs and gets up. “Azriel”, she says to the other boy. He hadn’t talked the whole time, Nesta almost forgot he was there. “Make sure he stays out of trouble. And Cassian, please change your shirt.” The two (stupid) boys walk away. Once they’re from a far enough distance, Aurora looks back down at her. “I have to talk to you about something.”

2021 New York, Manhattan

Nesta walks into her apartment tired and half asleep. Once inside her apartment, she changes into more comfortable clothes, sweatpants and a grey t-shirt.

Nesta’s about to go to bed, until she hears the sound of glass shattering and liquid spilling. She freezes, thinking about the mug of wine she left out.  

No.

Nesta scrambles towards the kitchen and grabs a flashlight from a cabinet, flashing the light to the ground. The mug is shattered to pieces, and she can still see little droplets of wine. The words aren’t visible anymore, letters broken and unreadable.

There’s no way it could’ve fallen on its own. It was in the middle of her counter. Unless...

Suddenly it all makes sense. The unrecognizable car in the parking lot. The uneasy feeling in her stomach. The constant nagging in her head, telling her that something is wrong.

She thinks about calling the police but goes against it. Years in a fucking biker gang taught her better then to trust those scumbags.

She always kept a gun in her house. Just in case. She really hates how no matter what she does. she’ll always be connected to this.

The person inside her apartment most definitely knows where she is. Nesta grabs a broom, sweeping the glass shards into an empty bag. She can fix it later. Tying it up, Nesta leaves it on her counter.

There's a wall blocking the entrance to her bathroom. She walks towards it, opening and closing the door so it seems she went inside. Grabbing her gun from the small drawer, Nesta lays her back against the wall, barely peeking out the wall, but just enough so she can see them as they crawl out from behind her couch.

The figure moves stealthily, back turned towards her. If she weren’t directly staring at it, there would be no way of knowing it was there. The moves look familiar, but she can’t put her mind on it. The moonlight shines on them so she can see the most obvious features. It’s not until the floor creaks the figure turns towards her direction. Nesta turns back to face her bathroom door, hands drawn to tight fists. There’s no way they hadn’t seen her. She moved too slow. Nesta peeks her head out to look again.

It’s not until she sees a familiar pair of scarred hands in the moonlight, it all comes together.

“Azriel Night?”

In dreams

I meet you in warm conversation

We both wake

In lonely beds

In different cities

And time

Is taking its sweet time erasing you

And you've got your demons

And darlin' they all look like me

PSA!! go to ask’s to be added to tag list

[sequinsmile-x]

Exhaustion

Part of the Full House series

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and non-graphic descriptions of a traumatic birth

Read on A03 or under the cut

Let me know what you think!

There was something wrong with her. That was the only thought that was circling around her brain on repeat. Emily was exhausted. Bone deep exhaustion that she had never experienced before, not during all her years working at the BAU, or those early days with Ian Doyle when she thought she would be caught out any second. Even when she’d had Ivy, those endless early days of motherhood with her first ever baby, she hadn’t felt like this.

Aaon kept telling her it was normal, that a new baby combined with just how traumatic Audrey’s birth had been would make her recovery drawn out. That on top of that Ivy, who had always typically been a Daddy’s Girl, was suddenly obsessed with Emily, the jealousy of having a new sibling who took so much of her mother’s attention making her cling to her. Tears and tantrums ran high whenever Emily was out of her sight, all but glued to her side at every waking hour.

She knew he was right. She had been there too when the doctor explained that it would take her weeks, potentially months, to completely recover from the birth. It had only been three weeks, still so recent that she sometimes caught Aaron looking at her like she might disappear, like he might lose her.

Emily knows he almost did.

Knowing all of that didn’t help. It didn’t stop the feeling of shame that would crawl up her spine at the frustration she would feel at never having a second alone, despite her own hesitance to ever let the girls or Jack out of her sight. She knew her own anxieties were born out of having her baby ripped off her chest only seconds after she had been placed there, things getting hazier by the second.

She felt over touched. Every nerve on edge whenever tiny hands reached out for her skin. And she was so angry at herself for it.

There was something wrong with her,

Aaron had been hesitant to go back to work, his understanding of how she felt despite her never putting it into words as clear as ever. Emily had encouraged him, knowing that they would have to go back to normal as soon as they could. When he immediately got sent away on a case, one he was now finally on the way back home from a week later, she almost regretted it.

It had been a long week. Audrey had barely been sleeping and was cluster feeding throughout the night, and Ivy wanted to be with her at every possible second. Jack was a saint, helping Emily where he could in distracting Ivy and playing with his sister. He’d even brought Emily a cup of tea at one point a couple days ago when she must have looked particularly drained. He hadn’t done it since, spooked by the way she had almost immediately burst into tears despite her assurances that it was a lovely thing to do.

Jessica had popped round the day before, sympathy on her face and a casserole in hand. Emily knew that Aaron had asked her to check in, and she was grateful for it. Jack was with Jessica today, the boy excited to spend an evening with his aunt. She had offered to take Ivy too, but the way the little girl had gripped Emily’s shirt at the suggestion had made her decline, knowing ultimately it would be worse for everyone if she had accepted.

“Mama.”

Emily turns to look at Ivy. The toddler was sitting next to her on the couch as Audrey slept in the bouncer chair just to the left of them. It was the only place she could get the baby to drift off for any period of time during the day.

“Yes, sweetheart?” She smiles at her daughter, discreetly checking the clock on the wall behind her. Aaron would be home soon, and she was almost more excited to have someone, anyone, else here with the girls than she was to see him.

“Snowman?”

Emily has to stop herself from sighing. Frozen was Ivy’s favourite movie and she had already lost track of how many times she had watched it in the last week.

“Are you sure? We could watch something else.” Emily tries to reason, her usual rule of limiting screen time very much out of the window. She knows it was fruitless when Ivy furrows her brow at her in a way Aaron always insisted was all her.

Ivy shakes her head, her dark brown and unruly curls moving as she did. “Snowman.”

“Ok. Snowman.” She grabs the remote and turns on the tv, not even remembering the last time they had a different DVD in the player.

They get part way through, Emily plotting the death of Olaf in her head as she watches, before Audrey starts to gristle. Emily reaches down to get her, wincing at the sudden movement, still healing from giving birth, as she unbuckles her and pulls her into her arms.

“You’re ok, baby.” She whispers, kissing the top of Audreys head, her dark hair matching her sisters. The newborn almost immediately starts rooting at Emily’s chest and she adjusts her shirt so she can start to feed her.

As soon as Audrey is in her arms Ivy is up against her, standing on the couch as she tries to get as close to Emily as possible.

“Ivy, Mommy just needs a bit of room ok?” She smiles at her eldest daughter, trying to maintain the gentle approach she had always taken with her. “I can cuddle you after I’ve fed her.”

“No.” Ivy says, leaning into her side. “My Mama.”

She has to stop herself from flinching as Ivy’s little hand tangles in her hair.

There was something wrong with her. _______________________

He doesn’t think he has ever been so excited to get home. He had spoken to Emily as often as possible, quick phone calls and texts exchanged to check in on his family. The moment Penelope had told him that they had a case on his first day back after Audrey’s birth his heart had dropped to his stomach.

Emily was more than capable of looking after the kids alone, he knew that, but he was worried about her. He had been worried about her since the second he was left alone in a room holding his minutes old little girl as his wife was rushed away, an emergency taking over what should have been a joyous moment. He could tell something was off, that some part of her was doubting her abilities, but she wouldn’t talk about it, smiling wryly at him whenever he told her how fantastic a mother she was.

As Aaron walks into the living room he sees his wife sitting on the couch. Their three week old in her arms as she feeds her, their 3 year old standing on the couch cushion pressed up against Emily’s side, her tiny hand wrapped in her mother’s hair as she watches her baby sister eat.

Frozen, Ivy’s favourite movie, is playing on the TV, and Aaron winces as the song about summer floats around the room, making him briefly wonder to himself if the murder of a animated snowman would be considered justifable homicide, given that their toddler demanded they watch it on repeat.

Then Emily looks up and catches his eye, exhaustion rolling off of her in waves, and he pushes any other thoughts to the back of his head.

“Hi sweetheart.”

Her response is a trembling smile, and before she can speak Ivy turns, a wide smile on her face as she looks at him.

“Daddy!”

She doesn’t run to him like she would have only weeks ago, instead staying next to Emily. He scoops her up anyway, kissing the side of his daughter's head repeatedly as she giggles.

“Daddy, stop.”

He does, laughing as he leans down to kiss the top of Emily’s head. He frowns as she flinches, readjusting Audrey as she finishes eating.

“How are my girls?” He asks, settling Ivy on his hip. “I missed you.”

“Missed, Daddy.” Ivy says, eyes focused back on the tv.

‘Oh, Frozen. Mommy’s favourite.” Aaron says, any laugh from his own joke dying in his throat when he sees the very real glare Emily throws his way as she stands with Audrey against her chest, gently rubbing the little girl's back to burp her.

“I’m going to go change her.” She says, attempting to throw him a smile before she heads upstairs.

“Mommy seems grumpy.” Aaron says turning to Ivy, bouncing the little girl slightly to make her laugh, the concern on her own face too much for him to bear.

“Drey cry lots.” Ivy explains, her expression serious.

Aaron nods and kisses his daughter's forehead, settling her back down on the couch. “You stay here ok? I’ll be back in a minute.”

He heads upstairs, following the sound of his wife’s gentle words to their baby to their bedroom.

“Em?”

She turns to look at him briefly, tears shining in her eyes that set him on edge immediately, before she looks back at Audrey in her arms, the baby settling down. Emily flinches when he touches her shoulder, pulling herself away from him and the movement makes Audrey cry again, any progress Emily had made her to calm down gone in a second.

“Damn it.”

“Sweetheart?”

“I’m ok.” She says, sounding anything but. “I just need five minutes where someone isn’t touching me.” Emily says, desperation laced through her voice. He stops himself from walking towards her, from pulling her into his arms and providing the comfort he is itching to give her. “I’m either feeding Audrey, or Ivy is clinging to me like she’ll never see me again. I love them more than I can possibly explain but...” A sob escapes her and she wipes her cheeks. “I am so tired, Aaron. I just need five minutes.”

For a second Aaron isn’t sure what to do. His fingers twitch at his sides, his natural instinct to reach out for her almost overwhelming. Emily and Audrey both crying the only sound in the room.

“Pass her over.” He says eventually, hands reaching out towards her.

“Aaron-”

He smiles at her in an attempt to reassure her. “Come on, sweetheart. You need a break.”

“I can look after my own children.” She says, accusation in her voice.

“I know you can, love.” He steps towards her, careful not to reach out for her like he so desperately wanted to. “But you need some time to yourself, you need to get some rest.”

She nods, albeit reluctantly, passing the baby over as she does, kissing the top of her head as she lets go.

“You only just got home.” She says, wiping tears from her face now that her hands were free. “I didn’t even say hi.”

Aaron holds Audrey to his chest, smiling at his wife. “That’s ok. We’ll be downstairs.” He walks out the room, gently closing the door behind him. He looks at his youngest curled up on his chest and kisses the side of her head. “Let's go see what your sister is up to.” _______________________

When Ivy suggests putting Frozen back on almost as soon as it is finished he manages to distract her. He asks her what they could do instead with only a limited amount of time left before bedtime. Her eyes light up immediately, running off to the room that used to be their den but was now a playroom. The sound of her dragging her dress up box, almost entirely stocked by Penelope, into the living room wakes up Audrey. He picks her up from her bouncer before she can cry loudly enough to disturb Emily, hoping he could give her as much time as possible.

Ivy already has her Elsa wig on, and Aaron already knows where this is going when she pulls out the Anna wig.

“Daddy Anna.”

“I think my head is a bit big.”

Ivy, not put off by her father’s logic, places the wig on top of his head anyway before grabbing some reindeer antlers he had never seen before from the box. She goes to place them on Audrey’s head. He stops her, unable to suppress a smile when she frowns. Emily’s frown.

“Sweetie, no. Audrey can’t be Sven.”

“Drey play.”

“She’s too little.” He says, putting the antlers back down. “But we can play. Just you and me.”

She has Emily’s smile too. _________________

Emily wakes up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at the clock on the nightstand, seeing she’d had about an hour's sleep. That, combined with the time to herself and the quick shower she had managed to fit in had calmed her nerves somewhat. Nowhere near all the way repaired, but enough to settle her back down.

As she sits up in bed she feels an all too familiar ache in her breasts, a sign that Audrey would need feeding again soon, and she runs her hands over her face before she gets up in search of her family.

She can hear laughter floating up the stairs, her husbands mixed in with Ivy’s, her precious giggle warming Emily’s heart as much as it did the very first time she heard it. She pads down the stairs quietly, the socks she had stolen from Aaron dulling the sound of her footsteps. Love blooms in her chest, spreading through her body at the sight that greets her.

Aaron is sitting with a childs wig on his head, one she knows Penelope bought Ivy when she offhandedly mentioned one day how much her daughter loved Frozen. It looks absurd. Tiny in comparison to his size. His sleeves are rolled up and his tie is off, the top couple of buttons of his shirt undone and she can see his jacket folded over the armchair.

She observes him for a moment as he sits patiently listening to Ivy mostly babble to herself, interest in whatever she was saying all over his face. He had Audrey against his chest, the baby looking impossibly tiny up against him, only one hand securing her to him. He was a little thicker now than he was when they first got together, something Derek gently teased him for and called his ‘dad bod’.

Emily loved it and told him frequently. She loved that his embrace engulfed her. That it made her feel safe and secure whenever she was in his arms. She knows he does the same for their children. Has watched as he has soothed nightmares and scraped knees with the calming presence only their family are truly privy to.

She smiles as Ivy passes him a stuffed animal, a dog that she was obsessed with, that had reindeer antlers secured to its head. It’s almost bigger than Audrey, and as Emily watches him with a baby and a stuffed dog in his arms, their toddler excitedly talking at him, she doesn’t think she has ever loved him more. _______________________

They settle Ivy into her bed, both knowing she will likely make it into theirs at some point in the night, and eat dinner together.

Aaron has a quick shower as Emily feeds and rocks Audrey to sleep. She had just laid her into the bassinet on her side of the bed when the door to their ensuite opened, her husband making his way out already dressed in his pajamas. Emily yawns as she climbs into bed, him quickly following. He keeps his distance from her, space between them that they don’t usually allow and she smiles tiredly at him, her words from earlier clearly still on his mind.

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” He asks, his concern for her clear.

“I’m ok, I promise.” She reaches out for his hand, linking their fingers between them. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

He squeezes her hand. “Em, you have nothing to apologise for.”

“I just…” She trails off, shaking her head at herself as tears fill her eyes. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t love them. That I don’t want this.”

“Baby, of course I don’t think that.” He says, his other hand cupping her cheek, thumbing away the tears that have escaped. “I know you love them. I’ve never doubted that for a single second.”

“I’m just so tired, Aaron.”

He finally pulls her into his arms, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when she relaxes into his embrace, her face tucked into his neck.

“You’re being hard on yourself, my love.” He kisses the side of her head. “You had a baby 3 weeks ago. You almost died having her, remember?”

“I know.” She says, sniffing. “I know that. I was there.”

“Then give yourself a break.” He pulls back to tuck some hair behind her ear. He wants to say so much more, to assure her how good a mother she is, how much all of their kids love her, but he knows now isn’t the time. Knows her well enough to know she will assume he is simply just saying it. “We should get some sleep.” He kisses her softly. “She’ll be awake soon enough demanding your attention.” He says, tilting his head towards the bassinet.

They settle down, her facing the bassinet with her back to him. Aaron wraps his arm around her, pulling her closer so her back is pressed against his chest.

“You make a good Anna.” She quips as the image of him earlier with Ivy making her smile and it makes him laugh.

“Ivy gets more and more like you every day.” He says, pressing his lips to her temple. “I just hope she uses her attitude to run a company or something, and not a gang in prison.”

Emily reaches behind her to smack his shoulder in mock offence. “That’s rude.” She sniffs. “She’d run an excellent gang.”

She can feel herself falling asleep, the ever present exhaustion taking over.

“Em?”

She hums her response, turning her head just enough for his lips to land on her cheek.

“If you could kill Olaf how would you do it?”

She laughs. “I love you so much.”

The last thing she hears before she drifts off is him how much he loves her, how much he loves their family. _______________________

When she wakes the bed is empty, as is the bassinet and she immediately panics, fear lancing through her as she sits up quickly. She shakes off the lightheadedness caused by her sudden movement and takes a deep breath, logic taking over as she calms herself.

Emily pulls a robe on and walks downstairs, the light from the living room illuminating the hallway. She smiles when she sees Aaron sitting and holding Audrey in the crook of his arm, a bottle she had pumped earlier in the day in his hand as he fed her.

“Did I not get an invite to this party?” She asks quietly, not wanting to wake up Ivy upstairs.

Aaron turns to her and grins before looking back down at the baby. “Is Mommy allowed to join us?”

Audrey makes a small noise that makes them laugh and Emily walks over to join them on the couch.

“You could have woken me up.” She says, leaning forward to stroke a finger over Audrey’s dark hair.

“I know.” He leans forward to kiss her head. “You needed the sleep.” She opens her mouth to say something but is interrupted by a door opening upstairs, and the sound of little feet down the hallway and stairs.

Emily groans slightly. “It’s like she has a radar for where I am.”

Aaron only has time to laugh in reply for Ivy is downstairs, climbing onto the couch with them and into Emily’s lap.

“What are you doing up, little miss?” Emily says, tapping the toddler on the nose, making her giggle. “You should be sleeping.”

“Snowman?”

Emily shakes her head. “No, Ivy. It’s too late to watch it now.” She pauses, and bites her lip as she suppresses a smirk. “Daddy said he’d watch it with you tomorrow though.”

The look Aaron throws at her over their daughter's head makes her laugh, and for the first time in over a week, probably since Audrey was born if she was honest with herself, she knows everything is going to be just fine.

[retrogeekgal]

Captain’s Orders - Dark! Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Summary: After the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., Steve assumes his role as Hydra’s new leader and takes what he’s been promised- you. Whether you want him or not.

Warnings: Dark!Steve, Restraints, Non-Con, Gagged Reader, Dirty talk, Choking, Rough Sex, Fear, Threats of Imprisonment, Threats of Murder, Crying, Mind Fuckery, Slapping

This gets real dark folks, you’ve been warned. 18+. Otherwise, enjoy ;) “Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes!” You call out from the kitchen. Shutting off the burner on the stove, you turn around and see Steve leaning against the island. He gives you a brief smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Hey,” You say brightly, admiring the way his broad shoulders fill out his button down shirt. “You have perfect timing.” You smile back at him and point up to one of the cabinets. “I can’t reach the bowls, would you mind?” 

“Sure thing, Princess.” Steve shrugs, pushing himself off the counter. He reaches above you as you stare at him. Princess? 

You raise your eyebrows in confusion. “Princess? Why on earth would you -.”

The words have barely left your lips when the back of his hand connects with your cheek. You tumble to the floor and scoot yourself back against the lower cabinets. Pressing your palm to the heated skin on your face, you turn your gaze upwards. “Steve, what’s gotten into you?” 

“You don't talk back to your Captain.” He crosses his arms, eyes narrowing as they meet yours. “Obviously you need to be reminded of your place.” 

Scrambling to your feet, you reach for the butcher block, but Steve is too quick. Your fingers barely graze the handle of a chef’s knife before you're pulled away. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He harshly grabs your wrist, pulling you close to him. 

“Stop, please. You’re scaring me.” You try to push yourself away but he tightens his grip, now locking both wrists in his fist. “Why are you acting like this, Steve? This isn’t like you.” 

Steve lets out a low chuckle that makes you shiver. “You’re right, but I’m tired of doing what’s expected of me, doll. Being the dutiful soldier, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s poster boy? That was all I cared about. Until I was shown a different path."

A different path? What is he talking about?

"After S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, I wanted to be more than just Captain America. If I led Hydra in this new century, they'd give me what I wanted most. That's you, doll. Everything I'm going to do to you? There’s a part of me that’s wanted to since I met you. This is what I’m owed; what Hydra’s promised me.”

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.?!” You call out frantically, panic lancing through you. “Get Tony or Sergeant Barnes down here, please!”

“I’m sorry.” The A.I. responds immediately. “But you do not have authorization. Your request is denied.” 

He lets out another laugh, shaking his head. “No one’s coming to save you, doll. If they didn’t fall in line with the new order, I had them killed.” Your eyes widen in mounting terror at his words. “Tony understood what’s expected of him; locked you out of the system days ago.”   

Before you can say anything, he shoves a dish towel into your mouth, gagging you. With his free hand, he undoes his belt, causing panic to rise in your chest. You struggle against him and without hesitation, Steve whirls you around, trapping your wrists behind your back with his belt.

 The way you’ve been gagged and the roughness of the leather on your skin is a horrifying feeling and no matter how much you twist and pull at it, the belt refuses to loosen. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Struggle for me, I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” He shoves you towards the kitchen island and you can’t help but stumble. His fingers knot into your hair, pulling at the root, to steady you. 

“You’ve been such a bad girl. I need to remind you what happens when you make your Captain angry.” You can hear the smirk in his tone as he pushes your chest down against the cold marble. 

Closing your eyes tightly, you fight back the tears and try to beg him to stop through the towel. The words come out muffled and unclear. “Oh, doll, did you say something? I couldn’t hear you. Maybe try speaking up?” Steve laughs, reaching forward for the gag. 

He’s pulling it out, thank - Your thoughts scatter as he pushes the towel further into your mouth and you struggle not to choke on it. 

As his hand snakes up the back of your dress, you hear another voice from the doorway of the kitchen. “What’s going on here?” Your eyes shoot open and lock on Tony’s face. His brown eyes squint in confusion as you attempt to spit out the gag. When it doesn’t move, you struggle further and shake your head. 

Steve tugs you off the counter by your hair, locking his arm around your restrained ones. “What the fuck do you think is going on?” He shoves you forward slightly and you whimper in fear.

“Cap, she doesn’t seem to be okay with this.” Tony inclines his head in your direction and steps further into the kitchen. Thank goodness, Tony will put a stop to this. Once you’re safe, you can both figure out what to do next. Obviously something is wrong with Steve, what he was saying didn’t make any sense. 

You frantically shake your head, only stopping when Steve yanks your head back further, forcing you to look up. “Don’t you fucking move.” He growls low in your ear. “Obviously she isn’t, Stark. But that’s half the fun, isn’t it? She struggles so nicely for me.” 

“Mmm, it does make it better if they try to fight you.” Tony agrees as he closes the distance between you. He reaches up, roughly caressing your swollen cheek. “Oh honey, I gotta tell ya, you look so much prettier when you’re trussed up like this.” Dread settles in your stomach as you look up into his cold eyes. 

His hand travels down your neck and settles on the buttons of your dress. Once you realize what Tony’s going to do, you try to struggle away from him frantically. Steve’s fingers move from your hair to wrap tightly around your throat. “What did I just fucking say?”

You freeze when he further tightens his grip in warning. You squeeze your eyes shut as Tony’s fingers deftly unbutton the top of your dress. “Open your eyes, honey, I want you to look at me when I’m touching you.” 

Sniffling, you do as he says and he smirks, eyes flickering up to Steve. “Did you not teach her manners? You said you wanted her for your own, I figured you’d get her in line.”

“She doesn’t understand how it’s going to be around here from now on.” Steve chuckles. “But I plan to make sure she obeys me.” 

“Guess you’re gonna have to beat it into her.” Tony chuckles, running his fingers along the curve of your breasts. “Hydra, Cap, won’t put up with your disobedience.”

Steve tightens his grip around your neck as he lifts you off the ground, cutting off your air. “He’s right, we won’t.” He flexes his fingers against your throat and your eyes flutter when your toes try to touch the floor. Through the gag, you try to beg him to stop. The choking sound you make elicits a wide grin from the man in front of you.

“My god, she’s terrified. That’s so fucking hot.” Adjusting his pants, Tony clears his throat and looks over to Steve with a smirk. “You’re gonna turn her into such a good girl for you.” 

“I plan to.” Steve laughs dangerously. He lowers you back to the floor but doesn’t quite loosen his grip. You greedily suck in as much air through your nose as you can.

“I’ve done everything you’ve asked, Cap. I disposed of Romanov and Barton. Helped you get Fury.” Tony looks down at you with lust in his eyes and you shiver without meaning to. “I want a turn.” He moves to unbutton his own pants and then reaches for the gag in your mouth. “You think she’s a beggar or a screamer?”

Steve backs away, holding you tight to his chest. “As entertaining as it would be to watch her get used by you Stark, I don’t share my toys.” 

Disappointment in his eyes, Tony crosses his arms and makes a face. “Not even once? Come on Rogers, I’ll let you break her. I just want to see why you’ve kept her around.” Steve growls in response, possessively moving his arm from behind your back to your chest. 

“Fine.” Tony huffs in annoyance. “What are you planning to do with her when you’re done?” 

“You know exactly what I’m going to do.” At Steve’s words, you shake your head, silently begging one of them to come to their senses. You can feel tears prick your eyes and desperately will them not to fall.

“What a waste.” Tony sighs heavily, buttoning his pants while looking you over. “Just do it in here. I don’t want to have to hire someone to get that much blood out of the carpet.”

Your eyes widen in terror. Surely Tony doesn’t mean... You know you should try to fight but it’s completely useless. With your hands bound behind your back and Steve’s hand around your throat, you know there is nothing that can be done. Squeezing your eyes shut once again, you let out a sob that makes both men laugh. 

“Have fun. I can’t wait to watch F.R.I.D.A.Y. 's security footage later.” He grins over his shoulder as he walks away. “Make her scream for me.” 

“See, doll?” Steve whispers in your ear as he walks you back towards the island. “I told you no one cares about you.” He pushes you back down onto the marble, hand returning to its place up your dress. “Now, where were we?” 

 You can hear his jeans unzipping and you can’t help but try to twist away from him. It’s a futile effort, you know you won’t be able to stop him, but you have to try. “Go ahead, struggle all you want. I promise you aren’t going anywhere.” 

You can hear the sound of a kitchen knife being unsheathed from the block and can’t stop the tears from flowing freely. You’re expecting pain but instead, you feel your panties being ripped away from your body. Your sobs come out muffled from the towel stuffed in your mouth; your body tenses, knowing what he’s about to do. 

“Please, please give me a reason to hurt you.” He threatens and the calmness in his voice is so out of place given the situation you're in. "Because, honestly, I’d love nothing more.” Without warning, he slams into you and you choke back the muffled scream. “I mean, how do you think this is going to end for you? You aren’t walking away from this.”

He pulls out fully and before you can catch your breath, he slams into you again. You try to kick out your legs, hoping to connect with him. Instead, he chuckles and pushes you further up onto the counter, causing your feet to dangle inches above the floor.

 "You’re still trying to defend yourself? That’s cute, I don’t know if you’re brave or just stupid." Not stopping his relentless motion, he slaps you hard across your upper thigh. The stinging coupled with Steve’s tight grip on your wrists only makes you sob harder. “You can’t fight me doll, you’re just making it worse for yourself.”

Tears fall from your eyes and pool on the marble countertop as he forces his way inside you over and over. You keep your eyes squeezed shut and try to keep breathing evenly through your nose. Every snap of his hips is designed to hurt you, punish you for whatever wrongdoing Steve seems convinced you’ve committed. 

His fingers find their way into your hair and he tugs at your scalp while letting out a deep groan. He finishes as suddenly as he started, tilting his hips as far into you as he’s able. 

Still buried in you, Steve leans forward and brushes your hair from your face. The gesture should be sweet but comes off foreign given what’s just happened between you. “So tight for me, doll.” He whispers next to your ear before taking a step back. 

You hear him shuffle behind you before he grabs your shoulder and flips you around. Your hands are now trapped between you and the counter as Steve leans back down to run his hands along your collarbones and the curve of your breasts. He tilts his head as you shudder from his unwanted touch. 

As you watch him uneasily, his fingers move to caress your cheek. “You’ll do exactly as I say from now on. When I want you, I’ll take you. Anywhere, anytime.” You sob through the gag at his words. Why was he doing this to you? 

Steve reaches for the towel and roughly pulls it from your mouth. Tossing it to the side, he examines you with contempt. “But as much I love this sweet little pussy of yours, if you don’t obey me, I’ll make you disappear.”

“You don’t mean that.” You whisper softly, voice trembling with fear. “Steve, you’re a good man. You can’t really think that leading Hydra is what’s going to make you happy.” Steve smiles in a way that sends a shiver down your spine and you close your eyes expecting to be slapped again. 

What you don't expect is the sound of metal scraping against the marble counter. Your eyes fly open and wildly connect with his. Steve stands a few feet back from you, holding the large knife. “Not happy, huh?” He grins again, casually flipping the knife in his hand. “You have a ten second head start doll, and you better pray that I don’t catch you.” 

Shaking your head in disbelief, you stare at him for a moment. “What are you -” 

Steve flips the knife once more and starts counting down from ten. When he hits seven, you push yourself up with your shoulders and try to bolt out of the kitchen. You get through the doorway and turn back to see if he’s still standing where he was. Seeing nothing, you turn back around and slam into his chest. 

Without your hands to steady you, the force of it knocks you to the ground. Before you can scramble backward, Steve is on top of you, straddling your hips. “One.”  

You open your mouth to scream but stop when he leans forward, pressing the blade to your throat. “I’d think carefully about your next words, they might be your last.” 

“Why?” You whisper, closing your eyes to stop the tears. 

“Because I saw the way you looked at me. Until now, I wouldn’t have had the balls to make a move and do to you what I really want.” Steve sneers, laughing when your eyes open and stare up at him through your tears. “I have the power now.” He tosses the knife to the side and your eyes follow the movement before looking back up at him in confusion. 

When he wraps both hands around your throat, you thrash frantically beneath him as fresh panic sets in. “Steve, please don’t do this -” You can only wheeze out the words before he tightens his grip, cutting your air off completely.

“This is your life now, doll.” He leans down, his face inches from yours. You struggle to get air into your lungs as he presses down harder on your throat. “Over and over I’m gonna use you, even after you pass out. I’m not going to stop.” He continues squeezing, watching your useless struggling with dark amused eyes. 

As your vision starts to blur, you can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks. You feel yourself going limp, your body too weak from the lack of oxygen to fight him any longer.

With a shuddering breath, you feel yourself grey out, only to be startled awake by Steve’s hands on your shoulders. “Sweetheart! You’re having a bad dream!” You push yourself up with wild eyes, too terrified to speak. “Are you ok?” He asks softly, pushing the covers back from your shared bed. 

“No,” you whisper, meeting the kind blue eyes of the man you love. “I just need a minute.” You slide out of bed and walk toward your closet to grab a robe that you hope will chase away the lingering chill in your heart. When you slide open the door and flip the light, your eyes scan the row of clothes for what you're looking for.

You tilt your head when the sleeve of Steve’s uniform catches your eyes. Stepping closer, you run your fingers over the material, confused by the crimson and black of the tactical suit in your hands. 

“Oh doll,” Steve chastises from behind you, his voice taking on a vicious, mocking tone. “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

[megahwn]

Smitten

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: arranged marriage!au, strangers to lovers

Word Count: 16,902

Rating: 18+

Warnings: alcohol mentions/consumption; menstruation mention; description of a panic attack; explicit language; biting/marking; fondling over clothes; a sort-of handjob; a single piercing; vaginal fingering; finger sucking; unprotected vaginal intercourse; almost simultaneous orgasms; creampie

Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

A/N: Part of BTS Writers’ Corner’s Amor Fabula Project. Thank u to @joopiterjoon @kitsutaes @spicykoreantatertots @staerrylights​ for beta-reading parts of this fic for me, I appreciate you all!

The elders are relatively mysterious to you. You don’t know how many of them there are, what they do with their time, what they look like. All you really know about them is how powerful they are. They are the entity that decides which people will marry in order to produce the healthiest offspring and to keep the economy strong. Most people accept their pairing and then live their lives married to someone they don’t know. Others, however few there may be, reject their pairing and go out looking for true love on their own.

~~~

You and Jungkook tumble through the door of your new apartment, exhausted from the day’s events but giddy from the wine. Today had gone much more smoothly than you had anticipated it would. The kiss at the altar was far from awkward, your families seemed to get along well, and your conversation with Jungkook at your sweetheart table left nothing to be desired (thank you, white zinfandel). It was almost as if your wedding was based on something more than genetics and finances. Almost.

In all honesty, you want nothing more in this moment than to get out of this obnoxious outfit, get into some sweats and keep binging This Is Us. While today went as ideally as it could have, it won't hurt to get lost in the Pearsons' love story for a few hours instead of having to face your non-love story as soon as you arrive home from your own wedding.

It won't hurt. Not one bit.

You are already out of one shoe and hobbling down the hallway to your shared bedroom when you realize that it is, in fact, a shared bedroom, and you can't just throw all your clothes everywhere on your quest to get naked and comfortable. Your eyes immediately begin darting around the almost-familiar space for a spot to use to go through your nightly routine without Jungkook seeing... well, any of it. As capable as you are of being outgoing when the situation demands it, you are, by nature, a pretty shy person, and you don’t yet feel ready to let someone else be aware of your bedtime habits. Even if that someone is your new husband.

While you’re in the middle of scouring the room for a suitable place to hide, you hear the distinct sound of someone’s throat clearing a few feet behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, not realizing you had stopped in the doorway and blocked the only route into the bedroom. You take in the sight now before you and your eyes, if possible, grow even wider.

Jungkook looks good. His cheeks are still a little rosy from the alcohol, and his hair is swept off his forehead and parted on one side. His tie is loosened and the top few buttons of his dress shirt are undone. He managed to shed his suit jacket somewhere between the front door and the bedroom, and his shirt sleeves are now rolled up his forearms. There is an obvious vein running from his hand up his arm and under his sleeve. He is fiddling with the wedding band on his other hand. While he does look good, he also looks nervous.

Damn him.

Before you even have the chance to begin lusting after Jungkook, even for a moment, anxious thoughts begin flooding your brain in powerful waves. Why does he look nervous? Did you do something to upset him in the time it took to get from the apartment threshold to this spot? You probably did and now he hates you and you’re going to have to share an apartment and a bed with someone who can’t stand you and you’re going to –

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asks. “Is it the Iron Man poster? The Cooky plushie? I can get rid of them if you want. Man, I knew I shouldn’t have brought them here with me. God, this is embarrassing.” You notice he sounds slightly panicked.

Wait, what? You manage to get out of your own head for a second to focus on what Jungkook is saying. He’s embarrassed. Why is he embarrassed?

You turn back around to look into the bedroom once more, and your eyes immediately find the poster and the plushie he mentioned. Instead of saying anything, you walk towards the bed as well as you can in your dress, and you pick up the plushie from Jungkook’s side of the mattress. You look at it closely and then you rotate once more to look at Jungkook, who looks positively terrified. You consider teasing him, but decide against it almost immediately, as you think it might actually kill him.

You choose to walk back over to the doorway instead, holding the plushie as you move. Jungkook looks like he wants to back away, but he seems rooted to the spot. You take a breath and hope that what you’re about to say doesn’t ruin the day you’ve had with him and make everything (even more) awkward between you.

“Do you have any of the others or just Cooky?”

Jungkook’s eyes go as wide as you felt yours did earlier. You immediately think you’ve said the wrong thing, but then he smiles, showing off his bunny-like teeth.

“You know about the others?” he says shyly, referring to the rest of the popular plushie brand. He is still turning his wedding ring around on his finger, but not as intensely as he had been before. You take that as a good sign.

“Yeah, of course I do,” you respond without missing a beat. A smile creeps up onto your face as well. “I actually have Koya packed away in one of these boxes somewhere.” You gesture to the boxes you have yet to unpack, laying in the living room unopened and sort of sad-looking compared to all of the stuff Jungkook has already placed around the apartment.

Jungkook’s smile grows at your words. He lets go of his wedding ring and flexes his hands at his sides in excitement. You try not to stare as he steps closer to you, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He looks like he’s trying to hold back how happy he really is to have learned this information about you. You barely register his emotions, though, as you’re now intently focused on his proximity to you. He smells mild, like soap. It’s nice.

“Do you really have Koya?” Jungkook practically whispers at you. You hold back a giggle and respond with a soft, “Yes. I wouldn’t lie about something like that.” The truth is that you wouldn’t lie about anything, but you figure now isn’t really the time to be sharing such things. Now is the time for talking about plushies.

Jungkook seems to debate with himself for a moment, and you wait patiently for him to come to a decision, whatever it is. You take the moment to look at his face more closely while he’s looking away from you. His skin is beautiful, milky. His eyebrows fit his face nicely, with just the right amount of arch to them. His eyes are a deep brown, and he has a small scar underneath his left one. You have the urge to reach out and touch it, but you hold yourself back by holding tighter to the Cooky plushie in your hands. You don’t want to interrupt his thought process. Or worse, freak him out and end whatever moment you might be having.

You don’t get the chance to study the bottom half of his face because he begins speaking again, although he does so without making eye contact. He seems to be looking at your lips instead when he says, “Can I see him?”

You take a moment to recall what you had been talking about, and upon remembering you light up and respond with a nod. You begin walking into the living room before you remember that you are still in your wedding dress and it’s beginning to get uncomfortable. You stop moving and tilt your head back with a sigh before saying, “Can I actually get this dress off first? It’s starting to dig into my ribs.”

Jungkook looks like he doesn’t understand why you just asked him for permission to change your clothes. He responds with a confused-sounding “Yes?” and steps out of the way so you can make your way back to the bedroom once more. You make it inside, toss Cooky onto the bed, and begin rummaging through your dresser drawers before finding a suitable t-shirt and the most comfortable pair of sweatpants you own. You then head straight for the bathroom when you see Jungkook looking through his own dresser, presumably to do the same.

You make it into the bathroom, close the door behind you, and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You drop the clothes onto the floor next to you and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. Your makeup held up well throughout the day, and you realize you need to take it off. You search the countertop and the cabinet behind you for makeup remover but find none. You suppose it’s actually a good thing that Jungkook wants to see your Koya plushie after all, as it will motivate you to unpack the rest of your things. Maybe he’ll help you.

You push that thought aside as soon as you think it, and you kick off your remaining heel (how were you walking around with one shoe on for so long?). You flex your feet to get some feeling back in them, and then you begin to remove your dress.

Or, at least, you attempt to begin removing your dress.

The intricate ties in the back of the garment combined with the restricting bodice don’t allow you to move your arms very far behind you, and you soon realize that the dress is not going to come off without some help. You think about how the only person who can possibly assist you in this situation is just outside the door, but for some reason you are unwilling to remove that barrier and ask for his help.

You end up spending a good fifteen minutes in the bathroom alone, silently struggling to undo the knots you have managed to make behind you. It’s only when you hear an apprehensive knock on the door that you let out a little squeak, then clear your throat and respond, “Yeah?”

You hear Jungkook’s muffled voice behind the door. “Hey, I don’t want to rush you or anything, but I really have to pee.”

You would chuckle if you weren’t in such a predicament. You go over your options one more time before deciding that you really do need Jungkook’s help if you ever want to breathe properly again. You slowly turn toward the door and open it, revealing a concerned-looking Jungkook behind it. He is now wearing boxers and what is possibly the most form-fitting shirt you have ever seen another human wear in your entire life. You can see his biceps and his abs through the shirt, and his thick thighs are on full display. You remind yourself not to drool.

Jungkook breaks the silence by asking, “Aren’t you supposed to be changing?”

You sheepishly nod and then turn around to reveal the absolute mess you have made of your bodice ties. You hear a quiet chuckle behind you and then you feel hands at your back. They’re firm but gentle in their movements behind you. Jungkook is helping you get your bodice undone and you didn’t even have to ask him. Your heart hurts a little. You ignore it.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, so quietly you’re sure Jungkook didn’t hear you say it. But then you hear him mumble out a “No big deal,” and you remember that this is an arrangement that the elders chose for you, and that you didn’t have a say in. Jungkook’s just being nice because he’s a good person, not because he cares about you. He doesn’t even know you. Your heart hurts a little louder this time.

Jungkook gets the bodice ties undone and you practically rip the thing off of you and take in a huge breath. You sigh out and reach for the zipper on the back of the dress without thinking, but it turns out you can’t undo that by yourself either. You let your hands fall awkwardly to your sides before letting out another sigh and saying, “So, um... I still need help.”

This time, Jungkook’s hands reach your back much more slowly than they did before. You wonder why. It’s only when the zipper is down your back and all the random buttons are undone that you realize why he’s being so hesitant – you’re basically half-naked in front of this guy and you’ve never done anything more intimate than kiss each other in front of a bunch of people one time a couple hours ago. You hold the dress to your front and turn around to face Jungkook and thank him for his help, but something stops you.

His eyes are screwed shut.

This time you actually do laugh out loud. It startles him and he opens his eyes. Cute.

“What were you doing?” you ask jovially. You’re pretty sure you already know the answer, but you want to make him squirm.

“Uh...” Jungkook starts. His eyes then wander down the front of your body and snap back up just as quickly, as if he suddenly remembered you could see him now. “I was, uh, keeping my eyes closed in case you... you know...”

“In case I what?” you tease, taking half a step closer to him. He doesn’t back away.

“In case you didn’t want me to see you... like that.” Jungkook’s cheeks had been getting lighter since you arrived home, but now the redness has returned, maybe even intensified. You decide to put him out of his misery.

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Even though we are married.” You’re not sure why you add that last part, seeing as you were just as nervous as Jungkook only moments ago. Maybe seeing him flustered makes you feel a little less alone, and a little more likely to joke around the way you would with someone you know well.

Jungkook opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but then closes it again. He settles on saying, “Right,” and then he backs out of the bathroom to let you finish changing.

You eventually emerge from the bathroom feeling better than you have all day, and you see Jungkook sitting patiently at the foot of the bed, legs crossed, waiting for you. You smile at him while gesturing to the bathroom behind you and saying, “All yours. I’ll be out there waiting for you.”

Jungkook’s face lights up at your words, like he had been thinking you might change your mind about unpacking with him. Impossible. He gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom quickly.

You soon hear the telltale sounds of the toilet flushing and the faucet running, and then Jungkook is back in the living room, gingerly approaching you as if you were a wild animal or something fragile that he didn’t want to break. You both plop to the ground and you reach for the box nearest to you.

“You didn’t label them?” Jungkook asks incredulously. “How are you supposed to know what anything is?”

“I just kind of wing it,” you respond casually, to which Jungkook shrugs and says, “Okay, fair.”

Once you have the box in front of you, you open it and begin searching through it for your Koya. It turns out that Koya is not in the first box, or the second, or the third... or the fourth. By this point you’re getting distracted by all the things you’re unboxing and by telling Jungkook about all the things you’re unboxing.

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. On the contrary, he seems to be just as invested in your unpacking as you are. He does end up helping you place things around the apartment like you hoped he would.

It feels like something real partners would do.

You try not to dwell on it, but the thought persists as you start opening the fifth box. Your Koya sits right on top of the mess of odds and ends you packed from your old bedroom. You smile and remove it from the box, lifting it up just enough for Jungkook to see it properly. You turn to him to see his reaction, but don’t expect the one you get.

Jungkook is smiling again, his bunny teeth poking through his lips cutely, but his eyes are shining. Instead of letting the panic overtake you once more and make you think you’ve somehow offended him, you simply say, “Hey. What is it?”

Jungkook looks up from the plushie to your eyes, then dabs at his own with the backs of his hands before responding. You wait for him like you did before.

When he finally speaks, he says a little shakily, “I’m sorry, I just... didn’t really expect this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t expect you to really have him. I kind of thought you were just being nice to me.”

You resist the urge to lean over and pull him into a tight hug. You settle for responding with, “I told you I wouldn’t lie.”

Jungkook is quick to shake his head and say, “I know, and I’m sorry. I should have believed you. It’s just... we don’t really know each other yet, you know?”

You stiffen a little at his words, but then force yourself to relax. Right. You had honestly forgotten about that. While you’re a little hurt, you suppose you have to allow him that skepticism. You would be skeptical, too, if the roles were reversed.

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. Are you okay?”

Jungkook pauses for a moment. He seems to like to think before he speaks, as if he wants to make sure he says the right thing the first time. You can relate.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he says slowly. “I’m just... happy.”

You beam at him and give him your Koya to hold while you unpack the rest of the box. The others can wait until tomorrow.

You both eventually head to bed, completely drained from the wedding and your respective emotions. Jungkook is still holding Koya when he climbs under the covers, so you pick up his Cooky and hold it to you as well. That’s how you fall asleep – silently, each holding a piece of the other.

~~~

“Would it be weird if our friends met each other?”

You look up from your bowl of Corn Pops, surprised by Jungkook’s sudden question. Would it be weird? You’ve been married for over a month already, but other than at your wedding reception, you haven’t ever really interacted with any of Jungkook’s friends. Maybe, you think, it’s time to blur the lines between you a bit more by having both sets of friends congregate in one place again. The prospect alone excites you a bit, as it will not only give you the opportunity to get to know Jungkook’s people a little bit better, but hopefully Jungkook himself, as well.

Within the last month or so of your marriage, your initial intrigue with Jungkook has developed into a full-blown crush. You hadn’t expected to develop feelings for Jungkook, but he’s so damn perfect that you can’t help it.

Besides the fact that he looks like he was sculpted by the gods themselves, he’s just about the most selfless and considerate person you’ve ever met. He always asks if he can join you on the couch while you’re watching television. (The first time he did it, you had told him he didn’t need to ask because it’s his apartment, too. He still does it.) He also knows you get hot when you sleep, so he turns the overhead fan on in your bedroom, even though he gets cold at night. (When you had asked him why he had been wearing layers to bed, he had just blushed a light pink and said it was no big deal.)

It might be a big deal to you. 

You go for nonchalance when you say, “Um… I mean, I guess not. Since we’re going to be together for the foreseeable future, I suppose it would happen eventually anyway.” You’re already completely sold on the idea and would probably be sad if it didn’t happen, so you give yourself a mental high-five for not sounding desperate at any point during your response.

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too, “Jungkook says, apparently unaware of the mental marathon you just subjected yourself to. “What if we had a game night?”

You perk up even more at Jungkook’s mention of games. You’ve always been able to bond with others over a good board game and a glass of wine or two. You suppose a game night would be a good way to get to know Jungkook’s friends, and to have him get to know yours.

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. I like it,” you reply with a grin.

Jungkook’s bunny teeth make an appearance as he smiles back at you. “Okay, let’s do it.”

That weekend, you receive six separate knocks at your door.

Yoongi, your best friend from college, arrives first, a gummy smile on his face and a bottle of sweet red in hand. You pull him into a hug before he can even cross the threshold, and he practically trips through your entryway when you pull him across it.

“Hey,” you choke out, not realizing how close to tears you are just from having Yoongi near after a while. As you hug your friend, you realize you haven’t seen him since your wedding, what with his hectic work schedule and your new living situation. It used to be easy to meet up whenever you wanted back in college, but these days you have to make plans to see each other. It makes you sad whenever you think about it. You suppose you’re also emotional because he’s been a constant in your life for several years now, and knowing he’s still here for you even though your life has changed so dramatically is a big comfort for you.

“Hey,” he repeats back to you, bringing one hand up to pat the back of your head gently as you rest it in the crook of his neck. He’s not one for much physical affection but he knows that you are, so he always accepts your hugs. It makes you appreciate him all the more.

“Okay, I’m good,” you say after a bit, finally letting Yoongi go, snatching the bottle from his hands and moving to put it on ice just so you have something to do. He doesn’t even protest, just lets you take it from him. He really is a great best friend.

“Um,” you call out from your place in the living room, “Jungkook, you remember Yoongi, right?”

You turn around in time to see Jungkook and Yoongi shaking hands and exchanging greetings. Seeing two of your worlds coming together so visibly makes you feel warm inside.

Next to make an appearance is Jungkook’s best man, Namjoon. He’s taller than Jungkook, and he’s wearing round glasses and a black turtleneck sweater. He bows his head politely upon seeing you, and then he gives Jungkook one of those man hugs that you don’t understand. When they part, Jungkook continues looking up at Namjoon with something akin to stars in his eyes. He must really admire the guy.

“Good to see you again,” Namjoon says just as politely as he had nodded at you earlier. You try to hold back a giggle at his formality. Maybe he’ll loosen up with some wine like he seemed to at your wedding.

“It’s good to see you again, too,” you reply similarly. One thing you know about Namjoon is that he tends to be polite when he’s nervous, so you mimic his greeting in an attempt to assuage any anxiety he might be experiencing. Based on the way he smiles at you, you think your efforts are successful.

You and Jungkook lead Namjoon to the living room, where Yoongi is already sitting comfortably with a full glass in hand. Namjoon sits down just as politely as he speaks, but before you have the chance to introduce the two, Yoongi suddenly asks him, “Do I know you from somewhere? I meant to ask you at the wedding but never got the chance.”

Namjoon pauses pouring himself a glass, seeming a little taken aback by Yoongi’s directness. Still, he says, “Um, I’m not sure. What do you do for work?”

Soon after Namjoon and Yoongi begin trying to figure out how they might know each other, your old neighbor Seokjin shows up with an entire roast chicken in hand, which you don’t remember asking him to bring but appreciate all the same. He gives you the best side hug he can with one arm full, and then you lead him to the kitchen so he can put the bird down.

“So,” he starts once you reach the kitchen, no tact in his voice whatsoever. “How are things going? Are they going? Are you two in love yet?" he asks outright, fluttering his eyelashes and drawing out the ‘o’ in ‘love’.

You hit his arm lightly while giving him your best expression of offense, and he seems to snap out of it. After sticking out his tongue at you, he begins looking around in your cabinets and drawers for the things he needs to serve the chicken.

He whips back around to face you, sharp knife in hand and unadulterated glee on his face, when you quietly say, “Nothing’s happened, but you already know I like him. I told you, like, last week.” You can feel your cheeks blazing at the admission you never thought you’d make out loud. Meanwhile, Seokjin has put the knife down on the counter (thankfully) and is now jumping up and down in place, flapping his hands, and making a noise similar to a squeal.

You want to hit him again, but you suppose he has a right to be excited for you. He sort of took you under his wing when you were neighbors, treating you to meals and babysitting your plants any time you were away. He’s also the only one who knows your deepest secret - that you want to fall in love and be loved in return.

It had just sort of slipped out one day, You both had had some wine and were talking about life when you suddenly confessed to wanting real, honest love rather than a lonely arranged partnership. You just couldn’t keep it to yourself anymore. Seokjin, in turn, had confessed that he liked spending time with you more than with his assigned wife. You both may have shed a few tears at your predicaments.

Instead of resorting to physical violence twice in the span of thirty seconds, you give Seokjin your best attempt at a withering stare. He stops jumping and puts his hands up in defeat, muttering out, “Fine, fine,” which appeases you greatly. Before you can leave the kitchen, however, he gives you a mischievous smile and tacks on, “Just so you know, though, I’m rooting for you two.”

You hit him again.

While Seokjin continues fiddling around in the kitchen and the other guys are mingling (it turns out that Yoongi and Namjoon both make music and know some of the same people), your favorite coworker Hoseok comes bounding through the door and almost knocks you over with the force of his hug. He’s still vibrating with energy when he lets go of you, and his soft, heart-shaped smile makes you feel more at ease than you have been so far tonight.

“I’ve missed you!” he practically shouts as he looks at you fondly, still holding onto your shoulders. “Work hasn’t been the same without you there.”

You know he’s referring to the sixty days that new couples are required to spend away from work ‘getting to know each other’ after first getting married, which is just a nice way to say you’re meant to spend that time making babies. While the thought of having children (and making children) with Jungkook is extremely appealing to you, that’s all it is right now. Just a thought. You’re not even sure Jungkook is totally comfortable sharing a bed with you yet.

“Just a few more weeks and I’ll be back!” you practically shout back at him. Hoseok’s energy has always been infectious to the point that you sometimes end up mirroring his seemingly limitless joy. It’s always made work much more bearable for you. Thinking about it and having Hoseok here in front of you now makes you realize how much you really do miss your job.

Just as Hoseok joins the others in the living room and begins picking chicken off of Seokjin’s plate, there is another knock at the door. Before you can move to answer it, however, Jungkook urges you to sit in the living room while he answers it instead. You wonder how Jungkook can possibly know that his best friend is behind the door, but sure enough, he opens it and there stands Taehyung. His entire outfit says ‘artist,’ from the beret sitting crookedly atop his head to the brown corduroy pants adorning his long legs. Jungkook gives Taehyung one of the most sincere hugs you’ve ever seen him give another person, and when they part they move toward each other once more to briefly touch foreheads. It’s a sweet gesture, one that you decide is fitting of someone like Jungkook.

Once the two men completely separate, Taehyung looks at you with shining eyes and immediately moves toward you for a hug. You’re surprised by the gesture, but you accept it anyway. Before he pulls away from you, Taehyung whispers into your ear, “Jungkook told me you like hugs, so I hope this is okay.”

Your eyes widen a bit at this information. Jungkook talks to his friends about the things you like? How did he even know that about you? Did you tell him and forget about it? Was he just able to figure that out about you by himself? Either way, you find yourself nodding at Taehyung as you two end your hug. He gives you a boxy smile in return, shoulders scrunched up to his ears. You decide then and there that you like Taehyung already.

The last to arrive is one of Jungkook’s childhood friends, Jimin. He looks a little frazzled, with wild eyes peeking out from behind his designer sunglasses and silvery-grey hair standing on end. (You soon realize his hair looks like that because he constantly runs his hands through it.) You try not to eavesdrop as Jimin greets Jungkook at the door, but you swear you hear Jimin say something about hoping Taehyung might not be here. Before you can wonder what he means, however, you hear Jungkook chuckle and respond with something that sounds like “It’s no big deal, you’ll be fine.”

Jungkook leads Jimin into the living room, where the rest of you are talking loudly amongst yourselves, various open bottles of wine and plates of roast chicken littering the coffee table. Taehyung looks up from his drink as the two enter the room, and he positively beams at Jimin. He pats the open space next to him on your big lounge chair, and after a moment of hesitation, Jimin smiles back and makes his way over to that spot. The two begin murmuring to each other, and finally your attention is pulled away from them when Jungkook plops down next to you on the couch and pats your knee gently. You bring your foot up under your other leg and rest your knee on Jungkook’s thigh. He keeps his hand on you.

It’s comforting to have him there, touching you. You didn’t realize it before this moment, but you were pretty nervous about having tonight go well. Having Jungkook next to you, wanting the same thing as you, makes you feel like you might not be alone in your other desires, either.

His touch comforts you to the point that you even miss the butterflies in your stomach.

Your curiosity about Jimin’s words gets the better of you, so you lean over and whisper to Jungkook, “What’s up with those two?” while gesturing across the room as subtly as you can.

Jungkook peers over at you with an unreadable face and whispers back, “I’ll tell you later.”

You don’t push him, and you move your questions to the back of your mind for after everyone leaves.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit back against the couch, careful to not give Jungkook a reason to take his hand off of you just yet. You turn to Seokjin and Hoseok, only to find that they’re in the middle of a heated debate about whether barbeque or garlic fried chicken is better. (How could you do this to me? And after all the meals I’ve cooked for you!” Seokjin cried when you had sided with Hoseok in the barbeque camp. You clinked glasses with Hoseok in solidarity while Seokjin continued to grumble without any real malice behind it.)

You then find yourself distracted by Yoongi and Namjoon animatedly discussing digital audio workstations, which you only know anything about because Yoongi used to have you sit in his room in college and listen to him excitedly talk about the newest software he had bought with the money he earned from delivering pizzas. You personally think that MixPad is better than FocusRite, but you like watching them talk it out themselves rather than offering your own two cents. From what you can tell, Namjoon seems to be really knowledgeable about the subject as a whole. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Yoongi look at another person so intensely.

Once you lose track of what Yoongi and Namjoon are saying, you turn your head once again to find that Jimin and Taehyung are happily cuddling in your big chair, giant smiles plastered on both of their faces.

“How did you two meet?” you ask, hoping that’s not too invasive of a question.

Taehyung tears his eyes away from Jimin long enough to look at you, still looking giddy. “We met through Jungkook, actually. They were friends when they were kids and I met Jungkook when we were teenagers, and when it turned out that Jimin and I were going to be in the same year at the same college, Jungkook basically forced us to get to know each other so we could all be friends.”

You barely have time to say, “Aw, that’s sweet,” before Taehyung is back to looking at Jimin again. You don’t blame him. You turn to Jungkook instead.

“That was really cool of you to do,” you say to him while giving him a little nudge. “Bringing them together like that.”

You can tell that Jungkook is trying not to smile into his glass as he takes a sip. His ears are red, though, giving away how pleased he is with your compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles into his wine. He gives your leg a little squeeze, and you both turn back to your guests.

After a little while of drinking, catching up with your old friends, and getting to know your new ones (you were right, Namjoon did loosen up after having some wine), you break out the board games. Soon enough, though, you discover that the majority of the people you’re playing with are a bunch of cheaters.

You catch Taehyung shoving Clue cards up his sleeve on more than one occasion, Hoseok doesn’t include all of the epidemic cards in the deck during your game of Pandemic, Seokjin keeps adding extra trains to his part of the board during Ticket to Ride, Namjoon and Jimin don’t call each other out for giving incorrect clues during Taboo, and Yoongi quits right in the middle of Secret Hitler because he’s ‘tired of being a liberal every time.’ The only one playing the games honestly with you is Jungkook, and that makes you happier than you think it should.

You eventually threaten the whole room, wine-tipsy as they are, with permanent exile from your apartment if they cheat at the next game, to which you receive grumbles of agreement that they will play correctly from now on. With a satisfied smile, you begin handing out the cards. A few riveting rounds of Sushi Go later, everyone seems to have paired off.

Yoongi and Namjoon are back to talking about music, and have even exchanged numbers with the promise that they’ll meet up sometime to work on something together. Hoseok and Seokjin have engaged each other in a pun war of sorts, trying to one-up the other with their best jokes about chickens. Taehyung and Jimin are giggling quietly at each other, still sitting together in your big chair. Their legs are tangled up, and they haven’t taken their eyes off each other since the last game ended. It’s sweet.

While you are looking around happily at your friends, you feel the same hand on your knee that comforted you earlier. This time, though, with your nervousness having dissipated, you focus on his hand more than you did before. This time, you easily recognize the butterflies that always seem to accompany Jungkook’s touch on your skin. Just for today, you decide to bask in his warmth and allow the butterflies to flourish inside you.

Just for today.

~~~

It’s past midnight when everyone eventually leaves. You can feel the exhaustion in your bones, but you’re happier than you’ve been in a while. Everyone seemed to have a good time together, you were able to see some of your closest friends, and you were paired up with Jungkook for most of the games. Additionally, you were able to see Jungkook interact with his friends in a way that you had never seen before tonight. You feel like you’ve gotten to know him more just from witnessing him be with the people he cares about. It makes you want to have even more game nights.

You’re bringing dishes from the living room to the kitchen for Jungkook to wash when you remember you had wanted to ask him about his two friends. You place the few wine glasses you’re holding down gently on the countertop next to the sink, then you bring it up.

“Are you okay talking about Jimin and Taehyung?” you ask tentatively from behind Jungkook. “You seemed kind of concerned about them earlier.”

Jungkook stops washing the dish he’s holding and sighs audibly, letting his shoulders drop and his head fall back. “Yeah,” he says anyway, and waves you toward the sink so he can see you while he talks. You hop up onto the counter next to him and swing your legs out in front of you absentmindedly while he continues to clean the plate in front of him.

“So,” Jungkook starts, “Jimin is going to get his pairing from the elders soon.”

You hum to yourself in thought. Even though you had only really just met Jimin officially, you could tell that he and Taehyung had something between them. From the way they smiled shyly at each other on their shared seat to the way they played the games together throughout the evening, it was clear that there were feelings other than ones of friendship present there. How would Jimin’s pairing affect the dynamic between them?

“But he and Taehyung…” you voice your thoughts about the two out loud, but trail off.

Jungkook has a sort of grave look on his face. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him look like that. The corners of his mouth are downturned and his eyes have little life in them when he says, “Yeah, I know. Jimin is going to get his pairing but he doesn’t know if he’ll accept it or not. Because the thing is that Taehyung rejected his own pairing.”

Your eyes practically bulge out of your head at that, but you don’t say anything. You want Jungkook to keep talking. This is the most interesting story you’ve heard in weeks.

“Yeah, that’s what I did, too,” Jungkook says, referring to your wide eyes. “I’d never met anyone who had rejected their pairing before Taehyung did it. He seemed so sure about it, too. Then, get this, he told me the reason he rejected his pairing was because he’s in love with Jimin. So, naturally, I ask him if Jimin feels the same way, and he just goes, ‘I have no idea.’ No idea! He rebelled against the entire system and yet he had no idea how Jimin felt about him.”

Realization hits you in that moment, so you ask, “Was that why Jimin said he was hoping Taehyung wouldn’t be here tonight? Because he feels pressured to reject his pairing for Taehyung?”

Jungkook is nodding before you even finish your question. “Yeah, that’s why. It turned out that Jimin does also have feelings for Taehyung, but Jimin is way less fearless than Taehyung is. He doesn’t know what will happen if he rejects his pairing. He doesn’t want to lose his family or the life he has right now. That’s why he was nervous about Taehyung being here tonight, because he wants to make that decision on his own, and not with any outside influence. But at the same time, Taehyung already did all that, and Jimin doesn’t want it to be for nothing.”

You wait for Jungkook to finish his speech before making so much as a sound. It seems like he really needed to get this out, like it had been weighing on him heavily. He’s never really confided in you about… well, anything. You just know this is a step in the right direction. (You might not be sure what the direction is, exactly, but you still feel good about it.) 

What you want to say in response to Jungkook’s words is, “If they’re in love, there shouldn’t be a decision to make.” But you know it’s more complicated than that. You have no idea what it’s like for people who rebel against the elders’ decisions. While Taehyung seemed happy and carefree all throughout the evening, you don’t know anything about what his life is like when he leaves the safe space of your apartment. With that in mind, all you can bring yourself to say is, “That’s a big decision to make.”

Jungkook nods again, then goes back to washing the dish in his hands. You continue sitting on the counter, thinking. Though your own greatest dream is to be in love, you didn’t even reject your pairing to try to find it. You figure the two must be quite different, wishing for love and actually experiencing it. If love is strong enough to make people go against the elders, what else are people in love capable of doing?

You’re snapped out of your reverie when Jungkook calls your name.

“Huh?” you say distractedly.

Jungkook moves away from the sink and comes to stand in front of you, coming to a stop between your legs, still dangling from the counter. As soon as he stops moving, your heart stops beating from his proximity. He still smells like soap, the way he did when he helped you out of your wedding dress. You never knew the smell of soap could be so intoxicating. He’s so close, you can even see flecks of gold in his chocolate eyes that you’ve never noticed before, like pieces of treasure just waiting to be found.

You’re not sure why he’s so close to you, but you remind yourself to be logical. He’s just concerned about how quiet you’ve become. Or you have something on your face that he’s going to remove. Yeah, that’s it.

“Are you okay?” he asks, confirming your suspicions about his concern for you. You nod at him, smiling as he rests his hands on the counter beside your thighs. He’s so close to you, and you briefly hope that he can’t hear how wildly your heart is beating in your chest. You could kiss him right now without a problem. You’re barely able to focus on your conversation with him when the only things in your field of vision are his soft, wine-stained lips and the adorable mole underneath them.

Yeah. You definitely want to kiss him.

“You sure?” he presses. You nod again, worried about your ability to speak properly in this moment. You then yawn without warning.

“Yeah, I’m just tired,” you say, as if your yawn needed explaining.

“Okay,” he says through his own yawn. “Want to go to bed?”

There are a lot of things you want, most of which involve having Jungkook’s mouth on yours right this very second. Thoughts of the elders, marriage, pairings, love and rebellion still fly around in your head, but none of them outweigh your desire to kiss your husband.

Instead of voicing any of those thoughts, however, you just sigh and say, “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

~~~

Nothing could have prepared you for the onslaught of pain and discomfort you are currently experiencing. You are presently lying on the bathroom floor after heaving over the toilet for about the twelfth time. Your body is burning from the inside out with fever, your chills have you shivering uncontrollably, and to top it all off you’ve just started your period as well. So, in addition to the regular aches and pains that come with being sick, you have cramps that you know will only get worse, your mood is going to take a dive, and you’re more than likely going to ruin at least one pair of underwear this week. Fantastic.

You had gone to bed the night before already feeling under the weather, and you had just called out of work before you told Jungkook about it, in case he didn’t feel comfortable sharing a bed with a potentially sick person. You certainly hadn’t expected him to give up the entire bed for you so you could sleep comfortably. When you had protested, he had said he wanted you to be able to sleep for as long as you needed, and he didn’t want to accidentally wake you up while he was getting ready for work the next morning. He even took all his necessities out of the bedroom and said he could just get ready at the gym instead of using your ensuite bathroom. How thoughtful.

Now that you think about it, as you lean away from the toilet and try to breathe normally for longer than two minutes at a time, you missed getting to see Jungkook before he went to work today. While it is true that he always wakes you up when he’s getting ready, you’ve come to find that you might like that part of your day with him the most.

Each morning, you get to stay in bed and be sleepy while you watch Jungkook move deftly around your bedroom, trying to slick his hair back properly or button the buttons on his shirt cuffs. (You love when he wears dress shirts because you usually have to help him with those exact buttons. He always smiles at you fondly while you do it, appreciative of your willingness to assist him. You, in turn, think it’s sweet that he looks to you for help when he struggles, even though it is with something small like shirt buttons. It makes you smile back at him every time.)

Additionally, you always end up talking about what your respective days will look like at work or the new episode of Survivor you watched together the night before. You discuss what you want to have for dinner, talk about whether or not you’ll see any friends this weekend, or play a game of Would You Rather?

Last week you had a pretty intense debate about which fictional characters you thought would survive a zombie apocalypse. (While you went into it thinking the cast of The Walking Dead would stand the best chance, you ended up agreeing with Jungkook’s choice of the Archer cast in the end, seeing as the title character had literally died and been brought back to life over the course of one episode.)

Through these mornings spent together, you’ve been able to see each other at your groggiest and crankiest, and it feels so domestic. It feels natural.

You imagine a couple in love would do the same.

It’s a thought you’ve been having about a lot of seemingly mundane things lately - the way you and Jungkook share a blanket while you watch badly reviewed horror movies, the way he always gives you some of his dessert because he knows you have a serious sweet tooth, the way you both end up using each other’s shampoo when you run out of your own.

You used to try to shove the thoughts down to where even you couldn’t reach them, but recently your growing feelings for Jungkook have been making those same thoughts of happy couples bubble up to the surface of your consciousness. The thoughts make you happy, and if you’re honest, so does Jungkook. You’ve developed a kind of friendship with him that you cherish, even if it came about in an unorthodox way. While your marriage isn’t based on love like you think marriages should be, you still make a good pair.

After downing some DayQuil and ibuprofen, you miraculously make it to the living room somehow and you lay down gingerly on the couch. You decide to turn on some Jeopardy! reruns to distract yourself from your abundant pain. You text Jungkook to let him know how you feel and to ask him to bring home some more pain meds when he gets off of work tonight. You then snuggle deeper into your blanket burrito and try to rest your tired eyes while you listen to Alex Trebek calmly reading clues to his contestants. Full of medication and practically swathed in your blanket like a baby, you eventually fall asleep.

You wake up some time later to a throbbing headache and the sounds of Alex Trebek on your television replaced with the sounds of someone cooking in your kitchen. You check your phone to find that it is only 12:03pm and you immediately shoot up from your place on the couch, only to fall right back down when a new wave of nausea hits you. You choke it back enough to weakly say, “Hello?” and hope that there isn’t a murderer making something delicious in your kitchen before killing you.

You hear a noncommittal noise from over the back of the couch, and you open your eyes (when had you closed them?) to find Jungkook towering over you, chewing something thoughtfully. Before you can scold him for almost making you have a panic attack while you’re already sick, he walks around to your side of the couch and sits down carefully, then lifts a spoon from somewhere and brings it to your mouth, making you go cross-eyed to see it and asking you very seriously, “Does this taste okay?”

You can’t believe your ears. He didn’t even say hello, he just shoved a spoonful of something in your face and asked you to taste it. Why did he do that? Why does he look so... contemplative while he eats? Does he always have his brows knit together and his mouth turned into a serious-looking frown like that while he chews? Why haven’t you ever noticed before? You think you might vomit again.

Your disbelief and hesitance to try whatever is in that spoon must show on your face, because Jungkook removes the utensil from your personal space and follows his original question up with a much more timid, “Is everything okay?”

“I, uh...” you start. Is everything okay? There isn’t a murderer in your house after all, which is a huge plus, but it’s only noon and Jungkook is here instead of at work, and he’s cooking. What is he doing here? Did something happen at work? Did he get fired? Why can’t you ever turn off your brain? The thoughts of Jungkook’s employment status swim through your head and make you dizzier than you already are from the fever.

“What are you making? It smells really good,” you finish, voice hoarse. You haven’t spoken a single word yet today, partly because you’ve been sleeping and partly because the effort it takes for you to speak in your sickened state is simply too much for you to handle. You figure it’ll be worth it this one time, though, just to make Jungkook look less nervous. You don’t understand why he still looks so nervous around you sometimes.

A look of relief washes over Jungkook’s face and he visibly relaxes. He hops off the couch to go back into the kitchen and continue stirring the pot of whatever he’s making. It smells like... chicken noodle soup? You’re not quite sure, but it smells delicious. Your stomach growls without warning.

“I’m making you soup!” Jungkook says cheerily from his place at the stove. He doesn’t elaborate, so you use up most of the strength you have left to get off the couch and waddle gracelessly to the kitchen in your blanket burrito. You slowly take your place at the kitchen table and lay your head down on it to try to ease some of your lightheadedness.

“But –“ you stop to take in a breath and let your stomach settle. “But why are you here? Why aren’t you at work?”

Jungkook stops stirring the pot of soup (it’s definitely chicken noodle) and stands up a bit straighter. He has his back to you, and you can see a faint blush creeping up from under his collar. He puts his free hand behind him and scratches at his neck, a habit you’ve come to learn he turns to when he doesn’t know what to say. It’s cute. Your heart might flutter a little whenever he does it.

He mumbles something you can’t discern, so you say, “Huh? Sorry, I can’t hear well when I’m sick like this.”

Jungkook quickly turns around to face you, his cheeks and ears just as red as his neck. He’s looking anywhere but at you, and he’s fiddling with his wedding band.

“They said in sickness and in health, right? The vows, I mean. They said in sickness and in health, and you’re sick, so... I’m here.”

Your heart is definitely fluttering now, and you don’t try to stop it. Where did this come from? He’s been sweet to you since you first met him, but he’s never directly referenced your wedding vows before as a reason for his demeanor towards you. You didn’t think your vows meant that much to him.

Oh, wait.

Maybe they don’t.

The butterflies inside you die just as soon as they had come to life. You keep forgetting that this marriage only exists on paper. Jungkook may care about you, but not in the way you hope he does. He was forced into this just as much as you were. He must feel a sense of duty and obligation toward you because you’re married and because you’re friends now.

But still... he didn’t have to come home in the middle of the day. That was his choice. And why did he turn so red before he mentioned your vows? If this was about duty and obligation, you’re sure he would be able to keep his cool around you and not get so flustered.

You smile despite yourself, and you lift your head off the table just as Jungkook brings two steaming bowls of soup over and sits down next to you. Before you dig in, though, Jungkook suddenly perks up and moves to stand.

“Where are you going?” you ask as you take your first bite. You were right, it is chicken noodle soup, and it’s delicious. There are carrots and celery in it (just the way you like it), the noodles are cooked perfectly, and the chicken practically melts in your mouth. The soup tastes like your mom’s. When did you ever tell Jungkook about your mom’s recipe?

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, just walks out of sight toward the front door. You hear the crinkling sound of a plastic bag, and then he reappears at the table as fast as he had left.

“I didn’t know what meds you wanted, so I just got… a bunch of them,” he says, pouring an obscene amount of pill bottles onto the table. There are blue bottles, pink bottles, tiny bottles, bottles so wide you’re sure you couldn’t wrap your hand around them if you tried. You almost spit out your soup with a laugh, and a sheepish grin makes its way onto Jungkook’s face.

“Thank you,” you say sincerely. “Why are you getting these out all of a sudden?” You honestly can’t believe he bought you so many different kinds of pills. You must have not specified which pills you needed when you texted him earlier this morning. The fact that he didn’t want to disturb you to ask you which ones you wanted almost makes you cry with affection.

“Well, you were sleeping for a while, and I figured you woke up because the ones you took before wore off. Was I right?” Jungkook’s embarrassed smile has been replaced by a look that is much more self-assured. You can’t decide which look you like more on him.

You smile cheekily back at him and reply, “Yeah, you’re right.” You sift through the pill bottles until you find the right ones, you knock them back with your water (“You need fluids!” Jungkook practically yelled at you in concern when you complained that you wanted a soda instead), and you finish off your soup with vigor, not realizing how hungry you had actually been before eating.

Before you can move to get up and bring your bowl to the sink, Jungkook beats you to it, swiftly gathering your dishes together and carrying them over to the opposite side of the kitchen. His shirt sleeves are rolled up in the same way they were on your wedding night, and you can’t help but stare at the ever-present vein that runs up his arm. You think about how painfully shy he was when you first met, and how he still is sometimes. You also think about how he has slowly come out of his protective shell since you’ve been living together, even if he does still act skittish around you sometimes. From every angle, inside and out, Jungkook is beautiful.

“I could have done that,” you say, just to get your mind off of how much Jungkook has come to mean to you in the past months. You might even venture to say he’s become one of your best friends.

Jungkook turns around and leans against the countertop, brows knit together and mouth turned downward slightly. He’s thinking.

“You haven’t stood up in a little while,” he says finally. “Are you sure you could have?”

You immediately scoot your chair away from the table to prove it to him, only to realize that, no, you probably could not have brought your own dishes to the sink. You whine at your current state and Jungkook comes over to help you out of your chair and back to what, by now, is surely a germ-infested couch. However, instead of moving away from you as soon as you’re laying down again, Jungkook sits down right next to your feet, making himself at home on top of the part of your blanket that doesn’t cover you. His closeness electrifies you, even when you feel nothing but pain. You think he might be made of magic.

He reaches for the remote on the coffee table and says, as he turns on the television, “So we’re watching Jeopardy! reruns, right? Or do you want something different now?”

His tone is so gentle when he speaks to you, even more so than it usually is. You barely register what he says because you’re so focused on his lips when he speaks. You think that maybe this relationship is more than married people who are friends, more than duty and obligation. Maybe there is something else there after all.

You feel yourself blushing at the thought, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too busy looking through the options on Netflix to perceive your inner turmoil for himself. You choose to simply watch him as he browses and finally makes a selection. You spend the next two hours immersed in the newest season of Big Mouth, but every now and then you steal a glance across the couch at Jungkook.

Most of the time, he’s looking back at you.

~~~

Six months into your marriage, you realize you are in a predicament.

You’ve tried to distract yourself with work, with friends, with anything, but it’s all been in vain. With some effort, you’ve finally come to the conclusion that nothing makes you happier than Jungkook.

Jungkook, who was so painfully shy and insecure on your wedding day that he almost cried when you showed him your Koya plushie.

Jungkook, who wanted your friends to get closer to his and organized a game night to make it happen.

Jungkook, who brought home an entire pharmacy and made your mom’s chicken noodle soup for you when you were sick.

Jungkook, who is perfect for you.

You are in a predicament, and your predicament is this: you have fallen, absolutely and irreversibly, in love with your husband.

And you know it’s only going to get worse.

You’re currently on your way back home from seeing a movie with Jungkook, running at full speed toward your apartment building to avoid being soaked by the rain that’s suddenly coming down in buckets. After slipping once or twice on the blacktop, you make it inside your building and head immediately for the elevator, excited to change out of your newly wet clothes and get in bed for the night.

You make it into the elevator and, with some effort, push the button for the seventh floor. You don’t realize how much you actually ran until you’ve stopped moving completely and are waiting for the elevator to arrive at your floor. You’re slightly hunched over and breathing heavily, and you look over to see that Jungkook is similarly affected by your sprint.

With a small chuckle, you stand up straight once more and quip, “For someone who goes to the gym so often, you sure look tired from that little run.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes at you but can’t hide his smile when he says, “One, that was a run with no warm-up! I always warm up first because I hate cardio. And two, you don’t look so g--”

His surely witty response is cut off by the elevator suddenly going dark and ceasing its upward movement. The unexpected stoppage causes you to lurch forward, crashing into Jungkook with a yelp and causing you both to tumble to the floor with a loud thud. You don’t even have time to freak out about basically laying on top of Jungkook on the floor of this elevator because you’re too busy freaking out about the possibility that the elevator itself will fall to the basement and kill you both.

You wait for a few moments, straining your ears to see if you can pick up any sound, any indication that the elevator is going to drop. When you hear nothing but silence, you turn your attention to the body underneath you, which is starting to squirm slightly. You quickly scramble off of Jungkook with a mumbled apology and get back to your feet, then begin to search your pockets for your phone so you can use its flashlight. Once you find your phone and turn on the flashlight, you begin looking around the elevator for the panel of buttons so you can hopefully get to your destination and leave your tiny prison.

While Jungkook is struggling to his feet with a groan, you find the panel and push the button for the seventh floor, but nothing happens. You try again. Nothing. You try the button to open the doors. Nothing. You try the button for the lobby. Nothing. You try all the remaining buttons, including the panic button. Nothing.

You’re trapped in the elevator.

Panic begins to overtake you as you realize what’s happening. Your breath starts coming in short, quick pants that you can’t control. Your entire body feels rigid, like you could break in half if someone so much as touched you. Your vision is blurry and unfocused; you might be seeing double. You’re unsure. It doesn’t help that your only light source is a phone flashlight. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears, the sound trying to claw its way out of you and into the small space the elevator provides. The same thought keeps cycling through your mind, leaving room for nothing else. I can’t get out.

Panic attacks used to be a daily occurrence for you years ago (for reasons you would rather not discuss), but these days you only have one every few months, which is a great improvement if you do say so yourself. You’ve learned how to avoid them when possible and, when you do have one, how to get through them.

This is one of those times when you need to get through it.

You know one of the only ways for you to overcome a panic attack is for you to talk it out with someone, but the only person in this space with you is Jungkook, and until now you have avoided letting him be aware of this part of you, since being vulnerable around him is still difficult for you. You don’t want him to think any less of you or to think you’re being dramatic. You’re not sure how you would cope if Jungkook thought those things about you, so you haven’t ever given him the chance.

You consider trying to ignore the anxiety bubbling inside you, but you know that will only make it worse for you and will likely send you into a full-on meltdown, which you desperately want to avoid having in front of your husband. With that in mind, you take in a shaky breath to try to calm your nerves a bit before you speak. Even so, you can’t help how small you sound when you say, “Um, hey, Jungkook?”

Jungkook, who is looking at the elevator buttons exasperatedly with his own flashlight, mutters out a “Hm?”

“Um, would you mind turning your flashlight off for a second?” you ask while turning your own off.

Jungkook is still looking at the buttons. “Huh? Why?” he says distractedly.

A tear slips from your eye and down your cheek as you turn away from him, crouching to the floor to hold yourself. Your hands feel slightly numb, and your brain is screaming a million different things at you. You understand none of them.

“Because, um, I don’t want you to see me, um, cry right now.”

Not even a full second goes by before the elevator is once again cloaked in darkness. While you’re thankful and relieved that he listened to you, you’re unable to stop the tiny sob that escapes your lips. You can hear Jungkook take in a breath as he opens his mouth to speak. You’re prepared for the worst when he says, “What do you need from me?”

You cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle your cries. You didn’t think it was possible for Jungkook to be any more perfect than you already thought he was. He’s good at proving you wrong about that.

Jungkook must hear your weeping anyway, though, because he continues, tentatively asking, “Wait, did I say the wrong thing?” He keeps speaking after that, seemingly more to himself than to you, saying, “Dammit, I really suck at this.”

You stop your quiet bawling long enough to emphatically say, “No! No, you didn’t say the wrong thing at all. You said exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”

“I did? I mean, okay, so what should I do?” Jungkook asks, still sounding unsure.

“This. Keep doing this. Talking to me, I mean. I need to get my mind off of what’s happening. Talk about anything, and get me to answer you,” you say through your tears. Your voice is already steadier when you speak, and the million thoughts in your brain seem to have silenced themselves. You feel clearer.

Jungkook makes a sound of realization at your words, then does exactly as you asked.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Orange.”

“What time do you usually wake up in the morning?”

“Um, around 8:00.”

“Okay, uh… oh, since you can’t see, what are three things that you can feel right now?”

You’re taken aback for a moment, as that’s a question that people who know you well have asked you during panic attacks. After a beat of silence, you answer, “Um, I can feel my phone in my hand. I can feel my hair getting the back of my shirt wet. And I can feel you.”

“Cool. Wait, what?” Jungkook says, sounding confused. “What do you mean, me?”

For just a moment, you’re glad you’re in the dark, because you’re surely blushing right now. “I mean that I can feel your presence next to me, your warmth. Like, even when you’re not speaking, I can tell that you’re there. Does that make sense?”

You hear feet shuffling on the carpeted floor, and then Jungkook speaks. “I, uh… I think so, yeah. I can feel, um… I can feel you too,” he finishes, sounding more certain than he did when he started speaking. You wonder if he’s just saying that for your benefit, or if he really can feel you. You hope it’s the latter.

Still feeling shaky, you ask Jungkook, “Can you tell me a story? Any story, I don’t care. I just like listening to you talk.” You close your eyes, even though you can’t see Jungkook at the moment. You feel like you need an extra layer of protection from the confession you just made to him. If he picks up on the confession, though, he doesn’t mention it. You’re thankful.

“Oh, okay, um… do you want to hear the stolen underwear story or the drunk karaoke story?” He asks the question quickly, as if those are the two stories he whips out at parties without a problem.

Both of those options sound extremely ridiculous to you, but you find yourself smiling slightly when you answer, “The underwear one.”

You hear a small snicker in the darkness. That alone is somehow enough to help you feel a little less panicked. Then Jungkook starts speaking.

“So basically, I went to this summer camp when I was like thirteen, and I had to share a bunk with maybe six or seven other guys. The camp itself was great. It lasted most of the summer, and it’s how I met Taehyung. Anyway, somehow I had managed to lose about half of the underwear I had brought with me over the course of the summer, and I honestly thought it was just me being an idiot. So we got to the end of our time there and, since we all knew each other so well, we had like a roast session slash complain-about-your-campmates session.”

The story itself is pretty amusing, but what’s hilarious is how Jungkook is devolving into a fit of giggles while telling it. His voice is coming from somewhere at your level, telling you that he sat down at some point in the middle of his story. You’re glad that he came down to the floor to be near you, but you don’t say anything about it. You just listen as he continues, voice soothing your frazzled nerves.

“So I get up there and I’m like, ‘Yo, guys, whoever stole all my underwear better watch out,’ even though I thought I had just lost them myself. So after I go up there, Taehyung gets on the stage and he looks really apologetic. I’m wondering why, because he had told me what he was going to say before we got up there. So he gets up there, and he looks right at me, and he just goes, ‘Jungkook, I’m sorry for stealing your underwear.’”

Now it’s your turn to giggle. You never would have pegged Taehyung for an underwear thief. Just listening to Jungkook’s story and his laughter is calming you down further from your panic. Even though you may not be out of the woods yet, you appreciate Jungkook’s efforts to help you more than you can say.

Jungkook’s laughter dies down after a bit, and a comfortable silence falls over the tiny space you’re occupying. Soon enough, though, you hear the sound of a throat clearing, and then his voice asks, “How are you doing now?”

You sniff slightly before answering, “A little better. I really appreciate that you listened to me instead of just trying to fix the problem. Most people would have just tried to call maintenance first instead of helping me. So thank you.”

You hear the telltale sign of Jungkook scratching at the back of his neck. He doesn't know what to say. You're too panicked out to worry about whether you've made him uncomfortable, and even if you had the energy to wonder about it, you wouldn't need to do so for long anyway, because he does end up speaking.

"Um, you're welcome. But to be honest, I don't feel like I did much. This was all you."

At his statement, you find yourself groping through the dark to find him where he sits. You're not sure why he thinks he didn’t have a hand in you calming down, but you’re suddenly very determined to set him straight. It matters to you that he put in work to help you feel better, and he should know that.

Once you manage to touch his shoulder, he yelps in surprise and you chuckle. You feel your way down his arms until you reach his hands, warm despite the icy rain outside, and you squeeze them tightly.

"Please believe me when I say this," you state as assertively as you can. "The reason I can talk to you normally right now has nothing to do with me. I owe that to you. You were everything I needed to get through that. Thank you."

You can't believe you're being so up-front with Jungkook right now. Perhaps it's the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Regardless of the reason, though, you find that you don't regret anything you've said to him in this elevator. If you had the option to take back your words about how to calm you down or about how you like listening to Jungkook speak, you wouldn’t. It all felt right.

“You’re welcome,” Jungkook says after a pause. “And thank you, too. You know, for… letting me help you. Thank you for trusting me.”

You let out a breath and squeeze his hands again. “Is it okay if I hug you?” you ask before you can stop yourself. While you would consider the two of you to be close at this point, you’ve never hugged each other before. Now feels like the opportune time for it to finally happen and for you to become closer physically, just as you did metaphorically through the words you shared while trapped here together.

Jungkook seems to give his answer the same amount of thought that you gave your question, because he immediately says, “Yes. Yes, definitely.” He sounds slightly breathless when he says it.

You let go of his hands and feel for his shoulders again. Once you find them, you pull Jungkook into a gentle hug, made only slightly awkward by your sitting positions. Your head rests in the crook of Jungkook’s neck, and you breathe out a sigh. His hands settle on the small of your back, thumbs moving up and down the material of your shirt reassuringly.

You can’t believe you’ve never hugged this man before now. You fit together perfectly, even when you’re both sitting. You wonder what it would be like to hug while standing, or to cuddle while laying down. You hope this is the first of many hugs with Jungkook.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Jungkook’s voice, quiet and calm in your ear. “Not to be an ass, but would this be an okay time to call maintenance?”

You huff out a laugh into his neck and mumble an agreement, then begin to disentangle yourself from him. 

You watch Jungkook as he looks up and calls the apartment complex’s maintenance number. You then slowly get back to your feet, turn your flashlight back on, and make your way back to the button panel. You press each button again, one by one. No luck. With a sigh, you turn back to Jungkook, who has just finished his call.

“What did they say?” you ask, sounding tired to your own ears. You feel tired, too.

Jungkook looks at you with a kind of grimace on his face. “The guy can come reset the breaker or whatever, but he’s already dealing with a flooded bathtub in another building, so he doesn’t think he’ll be able to come over here for a while.”

“Oh,” you say, “okay. What should we do?” You have to tell yourself that there is no use panicking a second time. Luckily, your rational side wins this battle with your emotions.

“Wait, you’re not upset?” Jungkook asks, sounding a bit disbelieving.

“Not really,” you reply. “I already kind of tired myself out. And besides, you’re here. So I’ll be okay.”

You swear you can see Jungkook blush.

~~~

“Never have I ever…” You chew on your lip as you try to think of something else that you have never done. “Oh! Never have I ever broken a bone.”

Jungkook lets out a chuckle and puts a finger down. He only has one out of five left up.

It’s been over two hours since you first entered the elevator. Over two hours since the thing stopped functioning properly, leaving you and Jungkook stuck together in its tiny space. Maintenance still hasn’t shown up to fix it, meaning that the two of you have had to find ways to occupy yourselves. You’ve turned your flashlights back on and settled your phones against the elevator walls for some visibility, and you’ve been playing games since then.

“Okay, my go,” Jungkook says, bouncing a little where he sits. He scrunches his face up in thought, looking to the ceiling. He’s so cute like this, you think. You want to reach out and hug him again, just to feel his strong arms around you. But you don’t. For right now, just looking at him is enough.

He suddenly looks down from the ceiling and right at you, a glint in his eyes. You wonder what he’s going to say that has him giving you that look. It’s like he wants to know all your secrets. After today, you’d be more than willing to give them to him.

“Never have I ever been in love.”

Just as your heart promptly begins to break at his words, you notice movement from the corner of your eye. You look to his hand and find that he put his last finger down.

Just as soon as you begin to register that, yes, Jungkook has indeed been in love with at least one person in his life, you hear a chuckle that sounds almost forlorn. You move your eyes back to Jungkook’s face to find that he’s practically grimacing, and you give him a questioning look.

“Just me, huh?” Jungkook asks quietly, sadly.

“What do you mean?” you breathe out.

“You didn’t put a finger down,” he says as he points in your general direction. You peer down at your hand and realize that he’s right. Without looking up to see how he’ll react, you put one of your fingers down. You hear a small gasp and you glance up, meeting Jungkook’s wide eyes.

“Not just you,” you say softly, a sad smile on your face.

Jungkook seems to perk up a little at your words, but you can tell that he’s nervous now. He’s fiddling with his wedding band like he always does when he’s nervous. What does he have to be nervous about?

“Wait,” you say when Jungkook doesn’t speak up. “Why did you say something that you have done?”

In the dim lighting of your dying phones, it looks like Jungkook is blushing again. He scratches the back of his neck and then, without looking directly at you, says, “I wanted to know if you had.”

You can’t quite believe what you’re hearing. Is he trying to say what you think he is? You search Jungkook’s face until he focuses back on you, somewhat wistfully.

“Why does it matter if I have?” You can’t help but let hope bloom inside you as you await his next words. 

Jungkook lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, opens them again. He regards you with a determined look, then he finally speaks.

“Because then there might be a chance that you love me back.”

There is absolutely a chance, you think to yourself. You want to scream it from the rooftops, but instead you remain still in stunned silence. This is everything you’ve ever wanted, finally coming true. You’ve never desired anything as much as you desire to be loved, and now it’s finally happening. You know you need to speak soon, or you’ll risk making Jungkook think that you do not return his affections. Oh, how wrong he would be.

But, how will you tell him?

You glance down at your lap and see that you are still holding a finger up, even though you’ve already won the game. It gives you an idea. You hold up your last remaining finger and briefly look at Jungkook, who appears as though he might pass out from your silence. You would usually be amused by his expression of nervousness, but right now you’re too nervous about what you’re going to do next.

“Never have I ever kissed Jeon Jungkook,” you say quietly, putting your finger down. Before Jungkook even has the time to react to your statement, you’re crawling forward to where he sits, taking his face gently in both of your hands, and slotting your lips together.

You feel Jungkook sigh into your mouth and wrap his hands around your waist, just as he did when he hugged you earlier. You’ve never experienced a kiss like this one. It electrifies your very being from the inside out, while also being soft, gentle, sweet. Jungkook’s lips are like velvet, and he tastes like the Skittles you shared in the movie theater earlier tonight.

Wanting to be closer to him, you move to straddle Jungkook where he sits, pressing your chests together and moving your hands around to the back of his head. He responds eagerly, tightening his hold around your back without ever removing his mouth from yours. You run your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and he shivers slightly, so you continue your ministrations as his hands begin to fall lower.

Just when you think Jungkook is going to grab at your ass, the elevator’s lights come on and the thing roars to life, beginning to ascend once more. You take your lips off of Jungkook’s and he follows you with a whine, not wanting to stop despite the current circumstances. You giggle and place one final peck to his already kiss-bitten lips before climbing off of him and standing up. You help Jungkook to his feet, grab both of your phones from the floor, and turn off their flashlights before turning towards the elevator door, feeling lighter than air.

As the elevator continues to move, you see Jungkook out of the corner of your eye and you stifle a laugh. He’s pouting. Feeling brave after his confession and your kiss, you turn to him with a coy smile and say, “You can keep kissing me, you know.”

Jungkook’s face morphs from sullen into elated in an instant, and just like that he’s crowding into your space to kiss you again. He puts his hands on the sides of your head this time, moving his thumbs gently across your cheeks as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

As the elevator finally comes to a halt on your floor and the door opens, Jungkook doesn’t let up, continuing to kiss you fervently. He simply moves backwards out of the elevator and takes you with him. You smile into the kiss, euphoric over the fact that he wants you so much that he can’t stop kissing you while you walk the few feet from the elevator to your own door.

You delicately push Jungkook away from you so you can see the door behind him, but he is undeterred. He moves so that he stands behind you instead, pressing kisses to the back of your head, the part of your jaw that he can reach, the top of your neck. Now it’s your turn to shiver, as he has found your weak spot. You love few things more than neck kisses.

It takes most of the strength you possess to not let your knees buckle while Jungkook’s mouth is on your neck, but you manage to get your key into the lock and open the door to your apartment. You’ve barely gotten past the threshold and kicked off your shoes when Jungkook spins you around and kisses you hungrily, as if he’ll die if he doesn’t. You think you might die yourself.

You begin to back up until you find yourself against the wall of your entryway, Jungkook pinning you to the spot with his kisses. You put your hands back into his hair and he lets out a quiet moan into your mouth, bringing his hands down and around you to squeeze your ass. You never thought a sound could be so sexy. You decide you want to hear it every day.

Jungkook lets his mouth wander back over your jaw and down your neck. He finds your pulse point with ease and begins to suck, making you moan out loud. Jungkook freezes for a moment, as if surprised by what you’ve done. You notice quickly and use your hand to push Jungkook’s head back into your neck, whispering out a breathless, “Please don’t stop.”

You can feel Jungkook smile into your neck and then he gets back to work, littering your neck and collarbone with tiny purple marks. You can also feel a hardness at your belly, straining against Jungkook’s pants. You snake one of your hands down his chest and hook a couple of fingers underneath his waistband. You can feel Jungkook’s stomach tense up at your actions, so you pause, lick your lips and throatily ask, “Is this okay?”

Jungkook takes his mouth off of you just long enough to say, “God, yes.”

You don’t hesitate to move your hand further into Jungkook’s pants, past his coarse hair and right around the base of his cock. He hisses at the contact, moving one of his hands off of your ass to the front of your joggers. He begins massaging your aching center through your clothes and you sigh, your legs widening of their own accord.

You continue to move your hand over Jungkook’s cock as best you can while he’s still dressed. You don’t expect either of you to get off like this, but it’s still hot knowing that you couldn’t even get to a bed before you had each other.

Speaking of a bed, though...

“Jungkook. Bed. Now,” you practically choke out.

At your plea, Jungkook backs away from you just to pick you up and wrap your legs around his waist, carrying you easily to your bedroom. Once there, he proceeds to climb onto the bed with you still in his hold and lean forward slowly, laying you down as if in reverence. Once you’re splayed out beneath him, he takes a moment to gaze at you from above. He must like what he sees, because he gives you one of his big, bunny-like smiles before he’s back to kissing you.

You soon become impatient, however, wanting to close the distance between you both and rid your bodies of their clothes. You tap Jungkook lightly on the shoulder, and he backs away from your face to look at you. You’ve never seen someone look so beautiful.

Jungkook’s hair is in complete disarray from you putting your hands through it, his eyes are absolutely blown out, and his lips are raw and red from your kissing. He’s panting heavily and gazing at you with a look that you can’t describe as anything other than adoration.

You forget how to talk for a moment, so you just pout and tug at the hem of his shirt. He gets the picture, sitting back on his heels and peeling the offending article off of himself. You watch him from between the pillows, eyes darkening as you take in his toned form. You decide that Jungkook really was sculpted by the gods.

Despite Jungkook having an intensely hot body, he puts his arms in front of his chest. He sounds extremely shy when he says, “You too?”

You nod happily and sit up on the bed, urging Jungkook to rid you of your shirt himself. Once he does, you can feel his eyes roaming across the expanse of skin that he has already covered in love bites, then downward to the rest of your newly exposed flesh. He licks his lips.

You don’t bother trying to get him to undo your bra for you. Wanting to avoid the hassle, you reach behind you and unclasp it with one hand, letting it fall from your shoulders. Jungkook drinks you in, from the birthmark on your left breast to your pierced right nipple. If his gaze were capable of getting darker, you think it just did.

“Can I see the rest of you?” Jungkook asks, only sounding a little less shy than he did a moment ago. He’s toying with the cuff of your joggers when he says it.

“Yes,” you say unhesitatingly, lifting your hips from the bed to begin taking your pants off. Jungkook helps you along, pulling at the legs until he has the garment bunched in his hands along with your lace underwear. He practically swoons at the sight of you laid bare on your bed. You thought you might be self-conscious under his stare, but you’re not. All you can feel is wanted.

“Your turn,” you say, toeing at Jungkook’s jeans. He kneels up to begin unbuttoning them, but you scoot forward and place your hand over his before he can.

“I want to do it,” you say, peering up at him with soft eyes. He gulps, then moves his hands to give you access. You take the button into your hands and pop it open, then slowly, tortuously pull down his zipper. You manage to accidentally torture yourself during the process, so you waste no time tugging the jeans down over Jungkook’s firm ass along with his boxer briefs, letting his cock free from its confines. You didn’t think it was possible for a cock to be beautiful before this moment, but you do now.

He’s longer than you expected him to be, and not exactly thick, but there is a prominent vein running up the underside of him, and it reminds you of the vein on his hand and arm. Your pussy flutters at the thought of him being inside you. You want him inside you right now.

Jungkook manages to rid himself of his jeans and underwear completely before he’s hovering back over you, looking like he can’t decide what to do next. The thought of him being overwhelmed by you turns you on immensely, and you pull him down into a bruising kiss. He reciprocates with something that you can’t describe as anything but pure zeal, as he immediately takes your tongue into his mouth and meets it with his own. The taste of him is intoxicating, fruity and dulcet, the only thing you want to taste for the rest of your life.

Jungkook comes down to the bed and lays next to you, tangling your legs together and letting his free hand wander over your body exploratively. He tentatively cups your breast in his hand and squeezes, then rubs at your pierced nipple until it becomes a stiff peak. He then continues downward, palming at your soft stomach and your fleshy hip, until he reaches your mound. He moves his hand through curls damp with arousal, making you sigh wantonly into his kiss and squeeze at his bicep. You want him to hurry, but he’s taking his time with you.

He begins to rut against you lightly as his hand dips down between your soaked folds. You’re positive he’s going so slowly on purpose, because he chuckles when you begin to whine and circle your hips to try to get him to speed up.

“You’re so impatient,” he teases lightly, dancing his fingers along your inner lips, so close to your entrance you can practically taste it.

“Uh huh,” you manage to get out. You’re hot, sweaty and trembling under his touch, and he’s barely done anything to you yet. You’d let him do anything he wanted.

Jungkook smiles down at you, then nuzzles your cheek with his nose before planting a chaste kiss there. “I’m sorry, babe. It’s just that I’ve… kind of dreamt about this, and I want it to be perfect. Like you.”

You turn to face him, tears suddenly pricking your eyes, and he’s gazing down at you, cheeks aflame and eyes swimming with affection. You think this might be the best moment of your life.

You swallow and whisper, “You can’t just say things like that and not expect me to cry.”

He nuzzles into you again, still smiling. “I love you so much,” he whispers back. Then he sinks two fingers into you.

The intrusion has you sighing loudly, closing your eyes, and arching your back from the bed, hands attempting to find purchase in the flannel sheets underneath you. You do your best not to squirm as Jungkook deftly moves his fingers inside your wet walls, all while beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses down the unbitten side of your neck. The combined sensations have you whimpering, already too fucked out to speak. Jungkook seems to be similarly affected, as he continues to rut against your hip, though more quickly now. You try to wriggle your hand in between your bodies to touch him, but he suddenly halts his movement against your side when he realizes what you’re attempting to do.

“What is it?” you ask, amazed that you’re even able to talk with how well he’s finger-fucking you. Jungkook doesn’t speak right away, so you bring your hand to the back of his head and pull on the hairs at his nape. It seems to ground him.

“I, uh… I don’t want you to touch me.” Jungkook says like it pains him. He’s out of breath from moving inside you. Or maybe just from getting to be with you.

“Why not?” you say, curious but nonjudgmental.

Jungkook sighs, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck, where he mumbles, “If you touch me now I think I’ll come too fast.”

You can’t help but coo at how cute he is, and you continue to pull at the hairs at his nape. He doesn’t move from that spot for a few moments, but he continues to fuck you open tenderly with his fingers. You take his silence as an opportunity.

“Do you want to fuck me?” you ask sweetly, putting as much emotion as possible into every word. You want Jungkook to know you mean it.

You hear him suck in a breath, and then you feel him nod against your neck. You push his hand away from your center only to bring it to your mouth, where you gently suck your arousal from his digits. You feel his head turn towards your face, so you can only assume that he’s watching you do it. You move your tongue over his fingers as you continue, feeling powerful and just as desired as when he had you pinned against the wall earlier.

When you finish licking Jungkook clean of your wetness, you let go of his hand. You expect him to start moving around so he can fuck you, but instead he brings his hand back to your face, where he thumbs at your cheek like he did in the elevator. He’s just looking at you longingly, lovingly. You can’t get enough of that look.

“Jungkook,” you say, your breath coming back to you. “I love you. Please fuck me.”

Jungkook pauses the movement of his thumb. “That’s the first time you’ve said it back.” He sounds choked up when he speaks.

You realize that he’s right. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” You punctuate each admission with a kiss to the crown of his head.

You hear a small sniffle before Jungkook moves his head out of your space and ducks it so you can’t see him clearly. You lift your hand to his chin and bring it forward so you can see his face. He’s wearing a small smile, lip trembling a bit. His eyes are shining.

“How do you want me?” you say softly, overwhelmed with love.

Jungkook clears his throat. “Um… can we do it like this? I want to, um, see you. I want to see you.”

You smile brightly up at him and nod, moving your hand away from his face so you can situate yourself underneath your husband. You bring him down to you for a passionate kiss while opening your legs to fit his hips between yours.

Jungkook reaches down between you, positioning his cock at your entrance. He continues to kiss you slowly, purposefully, as he inches himself inside. Your hands find purchase on his strong shoulders, and he swallows your moan with his lips as he bottoms out within your quivering walls.

He doesn’t move right away, allowing you a moment to adjust. Another thing to love about this man. When you’re ready, you squeeze his shoulders and he takes the cue to pull back. Then he snaps his hips forward, and you see nothing but stars.

As Jungkook thrusts into you, he drops his head back down into the crook of your neck and bites down on your pulse point again. You can’t help but cry out, your body thrumming with pleasure and a bit of pain. Jungkook only moves faster, cupping your breast with the hand not holding him up.

“I think I might come,” he confesses into your neck. You clench at the thought of him painting your walls white.

“Come whenever you want to,” you sigh back at him. You were already getting there just from being fingered, but you’re dangerously close to the precipice right now.

Jungkook lets out a huff. “You first,” he says petulantly, then moves his hand from your breast down to the apex of your thighs, where he begins rubbing your clit mercilessly.

His attention to your clit, his cock pounding into you, and his obvious desire to put you before himself all combine together to send you careening off the edge. You feel the pressure that had been building in your lower belly finally release, causing something white-hot to move outward from your very core to the tips of your fingers and toes. You call out his name as he follows you closely behind, shuddering as he comes inside you and continuing to fuck you through both of your orgasms.

After you both begin to come down and Jungkook pulls out of you, he immediately snuggles back into your side, placing his head in the crook of your neck once more and throwing his free hand over your waist, tugging you in close.

“This is my new favorite spot,” he expresses quietly, voice already thick with sleep.

You yawn, bringing your hand back to his nape and absentmindedly beginning to pull at the hair there. After all your daydreaming, you can safely say that this is your new favorite spot as well.

“I love you,” you manage to get out before you and your husband both drift off - silently, each holding a piece of the other.

[yandere-daydreams]

The classic concept of "you rejected him while you were just childhood friends from the same neighbourhood but now he has come back years later, wealthy and more socially powerful, to collect what's his." And according to the wattpad cliche, you are in a tough financial situation right now :"(

tw - finnancial abuse, stalking, delusional mindsets, implied poverty, implied attempted non-con, superiority-complexes.

Going back to your roots can be good, sometimes. Am I ever completely going to recover from my wattpad days? No. Am I alright with that? Also no. But, do I like the idea of a yandere misinterpreting the exact reason their best friend in the world started to pull away from them, and spending the next two decades of their life trying to remedy the situation with a length of rope and a shock collar? Perhaps.

It doesn’t help that you never really grew apart, that would imply you were ever together in the first place. No, you were their childhood friend, their first crush, their highschool sweetheart, but to you, they were just the kid who kept getting caught outside your bedroom window in the middle of the night, the not-so secret admirer that slipped a hand-written love letter into your locker everyday and the stalker who your best friend (your real best friend) once beat the hell out of for trying to slip something into your drink at a senior-year party. They’re delusional, they’re creepy, and worst of all, they’re unrecognizable when they come back to town after college, sporting a new nickname and a tailored suit and just enough confidence to make anyone pay them a second glance before consulting their old yearbook. 

In your defense, you never ask for their help. You don’t have time to. You’re juggling a small collection of part-time jobs, debts you can’t pay off, rent and bills and all the many things that can’t be fixed when you don’t have the means to fix them. You’re handling it, but that doesn’t stop them from stepping in. At first it’s small things, putting in a good word for you with your status-focused bosses, or paying for your groceries whenever they catch you shopping (which is every time you go shopping, obviously). They don’t ask for credit, not when they pay off your rent for the next six months, and not when they take care of your debts, brushing your family’s bad name under the rug with the kind of money no one in your town should have. They don’t make you wear the outfits they leave on your doorstep, but they’d appreciate it if you did. They don’t get mad when you take down all the security cameras they asked your landlord to so charatiably keep hidden, only waving a hand and having them replaced the next time you leave the house. They don’t expect credit. They don’t expect to be thanked. They already know how stubborn you can be, how independent you think you are, and they don’t want to rove you wrong just yet. They want you to get used to their help. They wanted you to get used to the life they can provide, and if it means they get to see you in your most vulnerable moments, that’s just a bonus.

Last time, they made the mistake of trying to explain how much you needed them. They showed their love, but not the necessity of it. They made their devotion clear, but not what would happen if their loyalty, if they support started to falter. 

They’re looking forward to seeing just how quickly you take to your ‘stalker’, this time, after you see what your life would be like without their generosity. 

[10-19-17uswnt]

Not that kind of librarian Sonny- Tierna x Reader

This is my first ever fic and I’m really nervous about it so tell me what you think. Prompt: “I work at a library and you continuously ask me to help you find books about the most random topics, are you on some sort of quest?”

On this particular day when Tierna walks into the Stanford library she stops dead in her tracks when she sees you standing at your desk. You are the most beautiful girl she has ever seen. She is so lost in thought that she doesn’t notice you walking right up to her.

“Can I help you with anything?”

She blinks quickly and looks around confused. Suddenly she can’t remember why she’s here. Panicking she blurts out the first thing she can think of to keep you from walking away.

“Dinosaurs!” 

An adorable blush starts to creep up her freckled cheeks as she realizes she practically shouted at you. You smile softly and let out a quite chuckle.

“Do you have a specific dinosaur in mind?” You say as you start to lead her towards the correct section.

“Uhh no not really” She laughs nervously with a hand on the back of her neck. “I’m Tierna by the way, Tierna Davidson.” She finishes while extending her hand to you.

What she didn’t know is that you knew who she was the second that she walked through those doors. You were a huge soccer fan and even played all throughout high school, but your senior year you were told that if you got another serious concussion it could result in brain damage so you decided to hang up your boots for good to stay healthy. 

Despite what you went through you still loved the game so when you arrived at Stanford you went to any game you could. Tierna is one of the best players to come through the Stanford program so it was no surprise to you when she finally got her first call up. From the very fist time you saw her play you were smitten, and now is no different.

“I know who you are Superstar,” You can’t help but grin as you watch her eyes widen. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” You say as you finally bring your hand up to meet hers.

Just as you are reaching the books about dinosaurs you hear your boss call out to you, “(Y/N)! I need you to put these books back where they go!”

You can’t help but feel disappointed at your time with Tierna being cut short. For a fleeting moment as you turn towards her you think she may look disappointed too.

“Duty calls, I’ll see you around Superstar” You say as you bring your hand up to brush her arm. You’re already beginning to walk away before she can respond, but as you look back you see her nodding. 

With her original purpose for coming to the library long forgotten Tierna quickly makes her way back to her dorm room texting into the USWNT groupchat as she went.

Baby T: SOS I JUST MET A CUTE GIRL AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO

Frat Daddy Sr.: Aww shes a baby gay.

Frat Daddy Sr.: I remember those days

Frat Daddy Sr.: It took me like 3 months to ask out my first girlfriend

Baby T: 3 MONTHS?!?!

Not so Baby Horse: Probably not helping worms

Frat Daddy Sr.: My bad T...

Frat Daddy Sr.: I’m sure you’ll be fine

Pressi: Just take a deep breath and tell us about this girl honey

Baby T: I was headed to the library for only god knows what at this point and I saw her standing by her desk and I couldn’t help but stare because she is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. By the time I realized that she was standing next to me I had already forgotten what I had came for so when she asked what I was looking for I just blurted out the first thing I could think of. AND she already knew who I was and didn’t seem bothered by it at all.

Dasani: Wait I thought librarians were only hot in pornos?

PewPew: Eww Sonny, not that kinda librarian

The Great Horan: I don’t see the issue here, just ask her out

Uncle: Yeah just go back tomorrow and ask her to coffee or something

Rose🌹: Leave it to Lyss to be the voice of reason haha

Baby T: Just ask her to coffee, how hard could that be? Thanks everyone, minus Kelley and Emily

Frat Daddy Sr.: HEY!

Dasani: HEY!

The next day you’re sitting behind your desk when you see Tierna walk inside. When she spots you she smiles and starts walking towards you. As she gets closer you call out, “I get to see the Superstar two days in a row? Must be my lucky day”

Her step falters as a deep red blush rises to her cheeks. Making Tierna a blushing mess is quickly becoming your new favorite thing. “What can I do for you today Superstar?”

She stands rooted to the spot staring blankly at you. You start to think that maybe she’s not as into you as you thought and maybe you should cut back on the flirting when she finally rushes out, “Doyouwannagogetcoffeewithmemaybe?”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? All I got out of that was coffee. You’re gonna have to talk slower babe.”

Her eyes widen and somehow her blush gets even darker. She clears her throat before speaking again.

“I uh... I asked if you.. if you... had any books on how to make coffee.”

You give her a weird look as you turn to your computer to see if the library has such a book. While you are distracted Tierna facepalms at her nerves getting the best of her once again. She is pulled out her thoughts by the sound of your voice. 

“You’re in luck Superstar, we have one book on how to make coffee.” You say as you get up to pull the book off the shelf and check it out for her. “Is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“Uh..Nope. That’s it I guess. Thanks (Y/N)”

You watch disappointed again as Tierna walks away. Before your brain can catch up to what you’re doing you grab a pen and run after her. “Hey Superstar! Wait up!” 

Tierna turns around slowly and watches as you jog up to her. She’s extremely confused since she thought that she blew it with you once again. When you finally reach her you grab her arm and before either of you think about it you write your number on her arm. When you see the goofy smile spreading on her face as it dawns on her what just happened you knew that you made the right decision.

“Call me Superstar.” You say with a wink as you start walking back towards your desk.

As you walk back you hear a load yell and turn just in time to see Tierna land from her flying fist pump. You shake you head with a smile, this goofy girl held the key to your heart and she didn’t even know it yet.

On her way back to her dorm Tierna excitedly pulls out her phone to update the team.

Baby T: GUYS GUYS GUYS! I GOT HER NUMBER!!!

Pressi: That’s great sweetheart! Now, do we get a name for this mystery lady of yours?

Uncle: So I guess the plan worked?

Baby T: Oh yeah! Her name is (Y/N), and not exactly...

Frat Daddy Sr.: What do you mean “not exactly” it either worked or it didn’t

Baby T: Well you see, I was GOING to ask her out to coffee, but then she was flirting with me and called me babe out of nowhere so I panicked and asked for a book on how to make coffee...

Not so Baby Horse: Oh honey

Dasani: Wait how did you end up with her number then!?

Baby T: She ran up and wrote it on my arm when I was leaving

PewPew: So now that you got her number are you going to invite her to the game Saturday?

Baby T: Should I?

PewPew: You said she already knew who you were, so that means shes a fan right?

Baby T: Good point. Thanks!

Your shift ended almost an hour ago and you still haven’t heard anything back from Tierna. You were starting to worry that you had written your number down wrong when you hear your phone go off.

Unknown: Hey it’s Tierna

Maybe?Tierna: From Stanford

(Y/N): Hey Superstar, I was beginning to think you didn’t like me anymore ;)

Superstar: Oh, sorry lol. So we have a national team game coming up this Saturday in LA and I was wondering if maybe you wanted to come watch and like meet the team and stuff

Superstar: But like its totally cool if you already have plans, or if you don’t want to go

(Y/N): I’d love to

Superstar: Really? Awesome. Okay cool, I can’t wait.

(Y/N): Me either, I’ll see you Saturday 

Saturday could not come soon enough, you drove 6 hours on Friday to get to your hotel and relax before the game. Tierna had to leave in the middle of the week to meet up with the rest of the team so this will be the first time you’ll be seeing her since you gave her your number. Luckily you bought her USWNT jersey last year so you’re able to show your support.

You get to the game early so you can watch the team warm up, when your eyes meet Tierna’s you can’t help the excited squeal you let out as you wave to her. She had pulled some strings to make sure that you got a seat close to the bench ans was excited to see that the staff went all out and gave you front row seats.

On the field Emily notices that Tierna has gotten distracted and follows her line of vision. When she shes your happy dance and notices your jersey a devilish smirk appears on her face before she calls out to the team.

“Hey look eveybody, T’s Sexy Librarian is here” Her snickering is interrupted by a thump on the back of her head from both Christen and Ali.

“Get your head out of the gutter Sonnett” 

From your seat you watch on amused at the reaction that your presence has caused. Soon after that the game was starting, the US were playing the Korean Republic and while it would not be as exciting as a rivalry game it was still a very good game. Tierna started and played a full 90 with some great plays on the ball.

Once the game was over and most of their gear was packed up Kelley noticed that Tierna kept glancing back towards your seat behind the bench. Tierna jumped when she felt Kelley’s hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, hey Kelley”

“Just go ask her out already dude, you’ve been texting her non stop since you got here so I think its safe to say she likes you too.” She whispers in her ear.

“Now go get your sexy librarian!” She laughs as she shoves her towards you

You smile as you see that ever present blush start to creep up her face as she walks towards you. When she finally reaches you she takes a deep breath before speaking.

“(Y/N)? I really like you. As in make me forget my on name kinda like you. From the very first second I saw you in the library last week I was awestruck by your beauty. That’s why every time I came to the library instead of getting what I came for I left with some book I didn’t need. If you’ll let me I’d like to take you on a date so that we can get to know each other without a phone screen and 350 miles between us.”

Throughout her little speech your smile continued to grow, but towards the end you could read her face and see that the nerves were starting to fight their way to the surface so you decided to interrupt her before she could start rambling.

“Hey Superstar?”

“-oh uh, yes?”

With a smirk you watch her eyes go wide as you lean forward and grab the nape of her neck.

“Just shut up and kiss me already,”

For once she stopped overthinking and listened to her heart.

[bellemorte180]

Prompt: Sangria for @klarosummerbingo

The suds from the dish soap went up to her elbows as she scrubbed the inside of the glass pitcher. Her lips turned into scowl as she peered into the murky water. Her hangover from the night before was still raging in her head. No amount of greasy food, headache medicine, coffee and cold showers were doing the trick. Caroline really should know better than to allow Klaus to mix their Friday night cocktails.

That and the fact that Sangria’s really were the devil.

It would not be the first time that she found herself on the wrong end of a Sangria. It was how she ended up in bed with her best friend and roommate last summer. Her friendship with Klaus was complicated and yet neither one was willing to speak about it. Nothing had changed between them except the fact that she slept in his bed instead of her own and spent the majority of her time with Klaus when she had down time. He was her constant rock, especially given the fact that her love life had hit a wall in the last year and a half, leaving her single for the first time since college. She honestly did not know what she would do without him, the mere thought of him somehow not being in her life made her feel as though the world would go bleak.

“Caroline!” Klaus called out from somewhere in the apartment. She pulled her hands out of the water, set the pitcher on a towel to dry before grabbing another to wipe the soap off her hands before following the sound of Klaus’s voice. She found him in his bedroom, rooting through the closet, pushing her clothes, that she had hung up there because it was more convenient to get ready for work in the morning, aside. “Have you seen that blank canvas I bought last week? I have a client I’m meeting tomorrow morning for a portrait and really don’t feel like running out and buying a new one.”

“It's in my room. You set it in there beside all your other paint stuff.” Caroline told him, trying not to roll her eyes. Klaus always stored his paint supplies in her room and did most of his non-studio work there because the lighting was better. Caroline chuckled, amused at the fact that he spent more time in her bedroom than she did. Sleeping in Klaus’s bed had its perks and she was in no hurry to return to her own anytime soon.

“Right! Thank you, Sweetheart.” Klaus moved away from the closets, paused in the doorway to place a kiss on the top of her head and walked through the living room towards her bedroom. Caroline rolled her eyes, swearing that if she was not around, Klaus would lose his own head if she was not there to find it for him. While Klaus was not a messy person, having lived with her long enough to know better than to leave things lying around, he routinely missed placed items more often than not.

I swear, it is like we are married. Caroline thought to herself, giving another roll of her eyes before her body completely froze. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the towel that she was still holding in her hand. She turned to look at the bedroom, taking in the pastel blue comforter, one she had picked out six months ago in order to replace his old one, and the decorative pillows arranged perfectly on his bed. Her clothes hung in the closets and she had several drawers in his dresser, knowing that the one in her bedroom was completely empty.

A photo of her mother rested on the bookshelf in the corner, where a mixture of their photos and knicknacks sat together. Her old worn copy of Pride and Prejudice sat beside his sketchbooks. Klaus’s reading glasses sat on the end table on the right while her book of the moment was on the left. Caroline knew that the ensuite bathroom held both their products and the bathroom down the hall that she had claimed as hers when she first moved in was only used when either friends or family were over.

“Oh. My. God.” Caroline said slowly, as she tried to wrap her mind around the realization that she had just come to. A door closed from down the hall and she turned to see Klaus heading towards her with a blank canvas in his hand. She took in his appearance, knowing every inch of him both intimately and personally. She knew what he looked like first thing in the morning and in the moments he was most vulnerable. She had seen him cry and laugh, both in fits of happiness and sadness. She had seen all of him, inch by inch.

And Caroline realized she let him see her.

“Are you okay?”

“We are in a relationship.” Caroline told him firmly but the shock was obvious in her tone. Klaus froze, tilting his head in confusion at her confession. She points to the room, almost as though the sight was proof of what she was telling him. “I sleep in your room. I haven’t been in my own bed in months. My clothes are hanging in the closet beside yours. My stuff is in your room. I spend all my free time with you. Family functions, I’m your date. You come with me to Sunday dinner at my mother’s every week.”

“Oh.” Caroline could see the shock and realization written on his face but he gave nothing away. Caroline felt her stomach flip, suddenly terrified that he would run from her. She silently cursed herself for saying anything at all. Now that she knew what they had, she wanted nothing more than to keep it. She did not know if she could handle Klaus pulling away from her, not when she so desperately wanted and needed him. “Okay.”

“Okay? Okay? That is it. Nothing else to say. Just, okay?”

“I-” Klaus paused and Caroline felt as though her entire body was on edge; a thousand pins and needles pricking her at the same time. “You’re the first person I want to see in the morning. When something exciting happens or terrible, you’re the first person I call.” Caroline felt her heart jump into her throat, biting the bottom of her lip while her shoulders sagged. “When our….friendship...shifted, I didn’t want to say anything because I was terrified you would run.”

“So this entire time, you knew we were dating and didn’t say anything?” She asked him, her eyes bulging wide. Klaus gave a small smile, the smile that she knew was reserved only for her. It wasn’t the cocky one he wore when he needed to prove that he was the alpha male nor the filthy one he wore in bed. It was small, gentle and kind. Caroline had never seen him smile like that for anyone else.

“I didn’t though, not at first. It took a while but I realized it when you were doing laundry and you started hanging your clothes in my closet.”

“And you just let me?”

“I wanted more.” Klaus shrugged and Caroline sucked in a breath. “I have always wanted more but you only ever saw me as a friend. That night when we drank the sangria’s and we slept together, I had thought you would immediately think it was a mistake but you didn’t say anything and it kept happening and-”

Caroline cut him off. All but lunged toward him and brought him into a deep kiss, wrapping her arms around him and pressing herself into his chest. Klaus went easily, happily at the feeling. His eyes fluttered shut and Caroline could feel the small smile bleeding into the kiss. Klaus dropped the canvas, it slid down to rest against the sofa but neither paid it mind, lost in the sensation of each other.

“For the record, I want more too.”

Review at A03

[exantivancrow]

The Flavor of Your Soul

thank you for the tag!! @thefathersbride from this uquiz!! doing my canon worldstate members and my favorite non-canon oc

Warden Baldr Aeducan

lavender

oh moon child, restless sleeper, tell me what it's like to dream? you float along the margins of reality, picking up the pieces of fallen memories to sculpt into your own realm. you are searching, but your tongue is quiet, quiet, quiet. open your mouth and sing my dear, silence only does you good for so long. and here you planted roots in the darkness, where not even the moon can reach your leaves. there is such a thing as being too practical, for you sail your ship on perpetually calm waters, and never have you spotted land. your mind has wings, uncage them! allow yourself to dream, you are not too far gone. there is no such thing! trust in yourself dear.

Champion Nicholas Hawke

rosemary

ah, the old soul, nice to meet again. the time of ages is etched into your bones, you see clearly. you've watched the heartache in this realm and sworn to solve it. but kindness without limits is self destruction. oh little leaf, strong and wise, you seek to bring peace with your presence. I'd be wrong to say you fail at this effort, but you mustn't set yourself on fire to keep others warm. you wish to please everyone, to protect them all. but if you shield the saplings from the sunlight they will never grow, and you one day will wither. protect yourself too. you know there are no happy heroes, so don't be one. be a friend. your loved ones will not forsake you for not being perseus slaying all their demons. you have your own monsters, why not meet them first before you conquer anyone else's nightmares. oh true-hearted paladin you are brave, and you are good enough. you know that right? be true to yourself, one cannot do anything saintly if they did not tend to their own wounds first.

Inquisitor Cody Liath

vanilla

oh heart of ice and mind of gold, what am I to do with you? you are only good in small amounts, bittersweet fledgling, you are hard for most to swallow. your spirit is strong, your wit is potent, your biting essence drives even the most daring away. but why are you hiding your sweetness? I know within you, you are soft, but humanity has made you bitter. you mask your pain and sorrow with spite and sensibility. you say you do not care about trivial things, but don't you? sweetheart relax. you can let down your drawbridge, the waters are not poisoned. I know you have looked monsters in between the eyes and scoffed at them, but please, relax. you think your armor protects you but it is smothering you slowly. little owlet, when will you learn, words can only get you so far? feelings are what makes this world pulse. do not suppress your feelings. your heart can still thaw my dear. trust.

bonus:

Keala Ghilain

mint

oh spry little dryad, spinning sprite, you drift through life as light as lion down. you are the chimes of churchbells and the laughter of faeries. gossamer and spidersilk shine from your ribs. life is fleeting, you more than anyone should know that. something we love today may never see tomorrow's sun. you pride yourself on skipping through moments, soft and merry. but you do not let your soul be tethered. is it for freedom or fear, sweetheart, that you do not let yourself be tamed? you are as fresh as and wild as bluebirds in snow, you smile at your problems before dashing away. hoping they will never catch up to you. but even nike can't run forever. you have been hurt before. but that is life. you wish to never feel that way again, but regretfully I must tell you that is nothing short of impossible. life is but part sorrow part sun, you cannot have teacups until they are burned by the kiln. oh I see the scars child, they shimmer down your chest, I see the pain in your eyes. but I also see the stardust. keep smiling, but allow tears also. you do not have to be solely wonder, fear, you are allowed to be bitter. so bite, and scream, and laugh, and love. that is what makes life worth living.

this was really interesting and i love it!! tagging whoever feels like it!!

[quentinbecks]

stillness in woe

Summary: Charlie left Hope County years ago hoping never to come back. But when she learns of her parents involvement with the local doomsday cult, she finds herself heading back to a life she thought she left behind. (Begins two years before the reaping/events of the game)

Pairing: Eventual John Seed x Non Dep OFC

Word Count: 1.9 k

Warnings: mentions of death and vomiting

A/N: I was a little nervous that introducing Charlie’s descent into the cult in the second chapter would be too soon, so I made a little filler chapter. Not the best, but the real meat of the story begins in the next chapter.

Chapter 2: Family Reunion

She hears footsteps coming up behind her. She pauses, thinking it’s only a figment of her overtired imagination. The noises don’t stop. Instead, they only increase in proximity. She’s barely turned around when she notices the red and white camo that signals Jacob’s hunters. The sight alone sends her into a panicked frenzy. Both the hunter and its prey raise their weapons at the same time. Luckily for Charlie she shoots first. Stomping over to the body she rips the red ski mask of their face. This time it’s not the usual boyish face that greets her; it’s her own.

“Charlie!”

The young woman awakens with a start. For a second she’s confused about her whereabouts, not used to sunlight first thing in the morning. After realizing that she’s in Mary May’s apartment she quickly relaxes, but that doesn’t last very long. Her nightmare combined with her current hangover causes bile to rise up in her throat. Charlie bolts upright and runs towards the bathroom, Mary May following right behind her.

She can only make it as far as the sink before her body retches into it. She feels Mary May rubbing circles on her back as she trembles, clutching the porcelain.

“You okay?”

“No” Charlie sniffs, wiping away the tears pooling down her face.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Charlie shakes her head no. She doesn’t need her friend knowing about what she was doing up in the Whitetails. She knows Mary May said things were bad in the valley, but she doubts John Seed is as much of a monster as his brother is. At least not yet. Instead of worrying her, Charlie chooses to tell a white lie.

“It’s nothing. I’m just worried about going to Joseph’s service. Can’t shake the feeling I’ll be held hostage at his compound.” It’s not completely untrue. Charlie is worried about losing herself to the Seeds. She’s heard and seen too much to not have that weigh heavy on her mind.

“Hey” Mary May says, forcing her friend to look at her. “I’m not gonna let him take you. Not when we just got you back.”

Good luck with that she thinks to herself

“My hero” Charlie says with a smile, choosing to forgo voicing her doubts. “I should shower and at least make an attempt to look decent. I wouldn’t want to show up to a Sunday service looking like a sewer rat.”

“Clearly you haven’t seen many peggies.”

In the shower she tries to wash away all of her fears, but the image of Mary May’s scar keeps flashing through her mind. How many other people in the county have been scarred by the youngest Seed? His handiwork looks painful and she doubts anyone would choose to have it done willingly. She wonders what sin will be chosen for her when the time comes. With her luck her whole body would adorned with all seven.

Charlie leaves the apartment to find Mary May helping Casey Fixman open up the bar. She gives a twirl as she hits the ground floor. “You think daddy Seed will like me in this dress?”

Mary May crinkles her nose in slight disgust. She had been gracious in Miami her friend a dress her, recently deceased, brother Drew had bought her for her graduation. On Charlie’s newly slimmed down body the white dress hangs a bit loose, the straps barely clinging to her shoulders.

“I’m sure Joseph will like a lot of things about you if you call him daddy.”

The blonde studies her friend’s appearance closely. The two of them know the importance of appearance to the cult. Due to the release of the documentary ousting the behavior of Eden’s Gate, the group has become more serious in trying to root out those that come with ill intent. And given by the knife holster strapped to Charlie’s thigh, the woman isn’t going in with good will.

“Come here” Mary May pulls on her pony tail once she’s close enough, letting her waves cascade over her shoulders. “There, see, now you look docile and sweet. Just the way the cult likes.”

Charlie wants to remind her friend no one has called her docile or sweet, not even when she was a child, but she can see something is bothering the younger woman. “You do know Nolan will there, right?” Mary May inquires before she can even ask what was wrong.

“No. No I didn’t fucking know that. I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s involved with something illegal, but I am.”

“Your ex husband is basically a glorified drug dealer. He’s helping turn the people in the Henbane into angels” Casey calls out from the kitchen.

“Angels? You know? No. I don’t want to know what that means.”

“Hey” Mary May calls out, bringing her hands to rest on Charlie’s shoulders. “Don’t think about him. Focus on what really matters. Like getting your family out of a cult.”

Charlie nods. She knows Mary May is right, but she can’t help how she feels. It’s been five years since they divorced and she left Hope County, but the wound still feels so fresh.

After promising to check in after the service, she decides to head out to the church. The warm, late summer sun and some classic rock helps Charlie relax on the ride over. Makes her realize there are bigger problems in the world than cheating exes.

The woman is shocked to see the throngs of cultists loitering around and inside the compound, making it almost impossible to find a spot to park her car.

After ditching her car at the end of the drive and doing a few sets of breathing exercises, Charlie makes her way inside. Before she can make her way past the gate she’s stopped by burly, bearded middle aged man.

“Sorry, ma’am I’m afraid I can’t let you past without searching you for any weapons.”

Choices quickly flood Charlie’s mind. She can run past this guard, try to hide amongst the crowd; the crowd wearing mostly uniformed clothing. Or, she can try her hand at improvisation; pretend she really is innocent and sweet. She chooses the latter option.

“I’m sorry” she says, lifting her dress a little to show the knife strapped to her thigh. “You can never be too safe as a woman.”

Charlie pulls the weapon out of its scabbard, holding it out to the man. “If you do me a small favor you can keep this.”

The cultist eyes her warily; unsure of whether she’s worthy of his trust or not. But, to her surprise, her charms worked on him. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Charlie bites her lip before getting as close as she can “I was just wondering if you could introduce me to John Seed. My mom works for him and I just wanted to meet the man she speaks so highly of.”

“I don’t know…” he trails off, looking back at the Seeds and the flock congregating around them.

“Please?” Charlie looks up at the man through her lashes. The man has a rancid odor to him and she wishes she had chosen to duck and run into the compound instead of flirting. “You don’t know how much it would mean to me.”

“Fine. But don’t try anything once you’re inside.”

Pathetic

Charlie flashes him a smile. “Thank you so much.”

The man leads her up the gravel path and through the crowds up to the front of the church. There stood three men and one young woman that everyone seems to gravitate towards.

The Seeds

Charlie’s blood runs cold at the realization that she’s finally in their presence. It dawns on her too late that they may know she was the one responsible for the death of the young chosen. Fortunately she doesn’t have time to dwell too long on that thought as the man pulls her gently towards John Seed.

“Brother John?”

The young man looks up and she’s struck by the fact that he’s actually handsome. He’s well dressed and equally well groomed with a lordly posture. She recognizes immediately that she can’t manipulate him with her feminine wiles, he’s clearly too worldly for that. The older man pushes past two young women who were waiting in line to speak to the herald.

“This lost soul has been looking for you.” Charlie tries not to roll her eyes at the descriptor, but she knows she can act the part if it brings her closer to her parents.

“Is that so?”

“Yes” Charlie answers for the cultist, a sudden surge of bravery overtaking her as she steps around him. “I haven’t heard from my family in years. I heard they were here and I wanted to see if they were okay. A wellness check, if you will.”

“That’s not what you…” John cuts the man off before he can continue on.

“Did you not recognize her?” he asks as his eyes light up with recognition. Charlie freezes.

How? He can’t possibly know.

“She’s clearly our accountant’s daughter” he says lightly spinning her around.

The other man studies her face for a moment. “Huh. You really do look exactly like Christine.”

“You know, there’s really nothing to worry about. Your family is doing well here, but, if you want to do your little ‘wellness check’, you best follow me, sweetheart” John suggests over her shoulder.

Charlie fights the urge to make a snarky retort, choosing to cast a smile over her shoulder instead. “Of course. After you.”

They head inside and Charlie is flanked on all sides by peggies. Two to her side, one behind her, and John in front of her. If she’s being honest she doesn’t understand why they need to guard a tiny, unarmed woman. Besides, who goes to reunite with their family just to attack them?

All of that goes out the window when she sees her mother. She barely registers John calling out to her mother before she’s shoving past him.

“Mama?”

Christine steps forward, her hands cupping her daughter’s cheeks. “Charlene? Baby, what are you doing here?”

Charlie blinks back the tears she can feel tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. “You haven’t returned any of my calls in almost three years. I was scared” she whispers, hoping none of the cultists can hear.

Unfortunately for her the youngest Seed does hear. “I told you there was nothing to worry about” he says, clasping both Berger women’s shoulders. “Your family is doing well here, even better, they’re thriving.”

Her mother nods and smiles at John. Charlie can tell her happiness is real and it pains her to see it. If it weren’t for the armed militia around the compound she would punch the smug look off of his face.

“Sweetheart, now that you’re back in Hope County; now that you’re home, why don’t you move back in with your dad and I?”

It sounds like a terrible idea. The last thing she wants is to be stuck in a house with two people who only want to talk about Eden’s Gate. She goes to protest when she realizes she hasn’t even seen her father yet.

“Oh, no I really couldn’t... Wait, where is daddy?”

Before her mother can explain a deep voice from behind her interrupts, stopping everyone in their tracks “Who’s this?”

Charlie turns around to see who intruded on their conversation. She recognizes Joseph almost immediately, his man bun and glasses giving him

Shit

[athenasbloodyspear]

Say Something to Stop Me: Chapter 5

Writing Master List | Say Something to Stop Me Master List

Please note: This fic describes depression, anxiety, panic attacks, past/referenced non con and domestic violence. Please read at your own discretion.

You all arrived back at the compound to find Tony standing on the landing pad. He requested everyone in the common space to debrief but not until after you cleaned up.

“Don’t get blood on my upholstery.” Tony yelled at you all as you dragged yourselves through the compound.

In the five hour flight back, you’d lost most of your steam. The adrenaline had left your system and your muscles were more sore than you’d been in a long time. Every step you took toward your room felt like wading through mud.

When you finally got to your bathroom you looked at yourself in a mirror, really seeing the aftermath of the mission for the first time.

You had a nasty bruise on your cheekbone that you didn’t really remember how you got. Your face and chest was splattered with blood. You peeled the zipper on the front of your suit down and let the holsters and weapons attached drag the material off your shoulders and to the floor.

You surveyed the damage from under the suit then, standing completely naked in your bathroom.

The kevlar could protect your skin somewhat from bullets and knives, but it couldn’t completely dull their impact. You had large bruises on your upper arms, and you had some bruising on your hips from where the repelling harness and tugged hard when Bucky had stopped your free fall.

Your knees were pretty banged up from where you had hit the roof after Sam dropped you. When you turned you noticed that your one shoulder, the one that you had shifted your weight to while falling to try to keep yourself from crushing Bucky, was a nasty mosaic of blue, greens and purples.

All in all, you looked like someone had used you as a human punching bag. Despite all that, and how exhausted you were to your very bones, you felt amazing.

It was the kind of amazing you imagined marathon runners felt. Utterly and completely physically destroyed, but you had accomplished something you thought impossible.

You’d gone out there, and done a mission. You hadn’t broken down, you’d bantered with your friends and you’d successfully gotten Hydra intel.

You were making steps in the right direction. You were starting to tread water in the endless sea of emotions you had previously been drowning in. You might not be on dry land, but you could feel the sun on the crown of your head and you could taste the wind. It was a start.

You took another scalding shower, wincing when the water hit the ever pulsing cluster of bruising on your shoulder.

You dragged yourself to your closet and glanced through your clothes. There was no way you could put on a shirt that touched that bruise right now, any soft brush felt like agony. You grabbed the softest tank top you could find, forgoing a bra, and using your other arm, wrestled it over your shoulders and on your body. Then, still using one hand, shimmied into a pair of your comfiest sweats.

You couldn’t muster up the energy to lean down to put on socks, so you shoved your feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and shuffled your way back down to the big open living space on the main floor.

Everyone but Nat and Clint were there already. You figured Clint had used Nat’s shower, since he didn’t have his own space at the compound, and they were probably running a bit behind. You hoped they hurried their asses up because you really just wanted to pass out right there on the rug in the middle of the room.

“Someone looks a little tired.” Sam called when you walked into the room, causing Tony, Bucky and Steve to look up from their conversation and survey you.

“I’m a little out of practice if you don’t remember.” You snarked back at Sam. You couldn’t come up with anything more sparkly to say right now.

Bucky patted the spot next to him on the couch and you hobbled over there. You definitely looked like you were 90 years old, hunched slightly and trying your damnedest not to bend your knees more than necessary. You were well trained, but your body definitely had forgotten what it was like to get the shit kicked out of you like that. It would take some getting used to again.

When you turned around to flop onto the couch (you didn’t have much energy left to lower yourself gently) you heard a small gasp behind you. As you started your quick and non-graceful descent, two hands wrapped around your waist to slow your momentum and let you fall softly into the couch.

“When did you get this, Doll?” Bucky murmured from behind you. Sam, Steve and Tony were bantering around you and Bucky kept his voice soft, just for you.

“Oh I believe it was when a bird brained idiot dropped us a little farther from the roof than necessary.” You huffed. Sam looked over at you then, spotting the nasty bruise on your shoulder. Bucky shot Sam a look of pure, unfiltered rage and Sam just held up his hands in surrender, saying nothing in return.

“I thought I took most of the impact.” Bucky said softly to you again, the fingertips of his metal hand brushing so softly over the skin of your shoulder you almost wondered if you were imagining it. Except it still hurt slightly, even with the cool metal touch soothing the burning skin.

You hissed a breath through your teeth involuntarily at the throbbing pain. He quickly withdrew his fingers, much to your chagrin. “I rolled a bit. Didn’t want to crush you.” You hissed through gritted teeth as you slowly leaned back against the couch, wincing when your shoulder hit the leather. You shifted your back slightly so that you were leaning mostly on the other shoulder, which pitched your weight slightly in Bucky’s direction.

Bucky huffed out a laugh. “Crush me?” He shook his head and then quickly tucked a strand of your still drying hair behind your ear, almost like he wanted to be able to see your face clearer from this new angle. “I was wearing a kevlar bullet proof vest and a backpack to soften the fall. You just had a near paper thin scrap of kevlar between you and the concrete sweetheart.”

At this, Tony scoffed. “It is not paper thin, I would never send her out there unprotected.”

“She should have had a vest, Tony.” Bucky snapped back.

“Can you two shut up?” You moaned. “I’m exhausted. Can we just debrief so I can go pass out for the next month?”

As if you summoned them, Nat and Clint finally walked through the doors.

As Nat plugged the hard drive she had into a port in the wall, and Friday started projecting the information you’d all captured onto the walls, you felt yourself melt deeper and deeper into the couch. You didn’t really need to be here. You weren’t a keeper of information or someone who was needed to decipher codes, so you zoned out. Trying your best to appear present while also napping with your eyes opened.

At some point you felt a hand snag around your waist and pull you so you could rest your heavy head on a very large and muscular shoulder. Whoever this shoulder belonged to smelled delicious, and was so warm.

So warm.

You couldn’t think straight you were so sleepy. You couldn’t really remember where you were or who was around, all you knew is that the world of dreams was pulling you deep deep down. You wanted to close your heavy eyes and fall into it.

You noticed momentarily that you already had your eyes closed. You debated trying to pry them back open.

There’s something I’m supposed to be paying attention to. You thought. But oh my god I’m so warm and cozy right now.

You fell into it. This warmth and comfort. It was just too delicious to ignore.

~0~

You woke (it could have been 15 minutes or 15 days later, you really couldn’t tell) to the feeling of someone softly running their hand through your hair.

It felt delectable. The tingling in your scalp ran down your whole spine to your tailbone. It had been so long since you’d been this relaxed. Since you’d felt this safe. You took in a deep breath and buried your face deeper into the warm pillow under your head.

It was only when that pillow rumbled with laughter that you realized it wasn’t a pillow at all. No, this was a human being.

Worse, it was an incredibly warm and muscled chest that you knew well, as you’d been trying (and failing) not to stare at it lately.

The thing about your half awake mind is that you knew you were currently curled up in Bucky’s lap. You must have crawled farther into his lap in your sleep. He now sat with his back against the arm of the couch, his legs spread along the cushions with your body cradled between them. Your good shoulder was curled against his chest, you were huddled against his torso, your face buried in the space between his collarbone and pectoral muscles.

You knew all this. You knew how embarrassing it was that you had basically climbed the man in your sleep, but the only thing your sleep addled mind could come up with as a solution was to keep your face buried in his chest and pretend none of it was happening.

Okay. And maybe it felt really good and you didn’t want to move or say anything to break this spell. You could just pretend you were still sleeping right?

Wrong. Bucky knew you too well it seemed.

“Hey sleepy head.” He whispered, running his fingers through your hair again, from root to end, before starting again.

You sat up. Every inch that you peeled away from him was agonizing. Your skin was so cold where it left him. “What time is it?” You croaked, voice crackling with sleep. You squinted as you glanced around the common area. It was dark, you and Bucky were the only people left in the space with a few ambient lights still on around the room. Just enough to be able to make out the shape of the furniture.

“It’s somewhere around two.” Bucky grumbled under you, stretching his arms behind his head.

To your major distress, the action revealed a strip of skin at his waist and you could make out a spattering of hair and two distinct v-shaped muscles at the bottom of his abdominals. You quickly looked away, pushing with two hands on his chest to get yourself away from the man as fast as possible. Before you did something stupid like lean down and lick that skin.

Oh my god you’re losing your mind.

“Fuck.” You whispered, uncurling your legs and placing them on the floor. The debrief had started at around 8pm. You’d been curled up against Bucky for hours. You really hoped you hadn’t drooled, snored or farted in your sleep.

Or worse. Talked.

Who knows what you had been dreaming about.

You started to get up, but you were a little more groggy and stiff than you had realized and stumbled a bit as you pushed yourself up to your feet.

“Whoa girl.” Bucky chuckled, his hands wrapping around your waist to steady you from his position, now seated normally on the couch. “Okay Y/N, is this gonna be a thing you do now? Stumbling around and almost falling on your ass? It’s a little freaky.”

You whipped your head to look at him over your shoulder. He had repeated almost the exact words you’d said to him when he had stood at the end of the hall a month ago. After he had followed your drunk ass when you bolted during happy hour. He just smirked up at you from his place on the couch. He hadn’t moved his hands, even though you were completely stable now.

“Very funny.” You muttered, pulling yourself gently from his hands. Again, it was almost painful to do so but you simply had to before you did something stupid. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.”

Bucky just looked down at his hands where they now rested on his lap, his smirk still in place, “Anytime.”

You flushed. Damn him and his ability to always pull a blush from you.

You just turned and started toward the door to the hall, ready to fall face first into your bed and not move for weeks. Embarrassment and exhaustion pulling at you in equal measure.

Just as your hands started to push the handle to the door you heard his throat clear behind you.

“Um. Would you wanna maybe… go explore Brooklyn with me for a while tomorrow?” Bucky asked cautiously. Like he was nervous you’d say no. As if you’d ever turn him down when he asked for anything.

You spun around and let your lower back lean gently against the door, carefully avoiding leaning your shoulders against it. “Brooklyn?” You muttered. You hadn’t been back to the city since Tony and Steve had hauled your depressed shell away. You could face it though, if it was with him. At least you hoped you could.

“Yeah.” He muttered, his metal arm shifting to rub his hand against the back of his neck. He looked so boyish like this. So vulnerable and soft as he avoided your eye contact. “I haven’t gone back in a while. I just sort of… miss it. I thought you might too.”

Little did he know, you had no desire to step foot in the borough again, but you would. For him. “Sure. I’ll come.” You managed feebly. Your heart pounded a bit in your chest, your throat closing just slightly as it became a challenge to keep your breath even.

Even though you were pretty sure there was no outward indication that your heart rate had sped up, he looked up at you suddenly, his brows furrowed. “If you don’t want to come, you really don’t--”

You cut him off. “No. I’ll be there. Shall we say two?”

He paused a moment, studying every plane of your face. He must have found an answer to the questions you could see running through his mind because he finally nodded. “Two it is.”

“Cool. See you tomorrow.”

You spun and pushed your way through the door.

You only hoped the nightmares would stay away and you could get some more sleep before tomorrow. You were gonna need it.

~0~

You had been able to sleep for a few more hours after you’d face planted into your mattress. Apparently you were still exhausted enough from the mission to pass out until 10.

You’d gotten up, inspected your shoulder (mostly healed due to your super human tendencies, although there was still a good sized bruise on your shoulder) and stretched a bit in your bedroom. You didn’t feel you needed to work out today, you deserved a day off, but your muscles were still pretty stiff.

You’d gone down the common room, had a lovely lunch chatting with Natasha and Wanda, before you returned to your room to dress for your afternoon with Bucky.

You decided on a black soft tank top again, with a leather jacket lined with silk over it, to help with your still slightly tender skin on your shoulder. You pulled on a pair of loose light washed jeans and shoved your feet into a pair of red sneakers. You pulled your hair into a messy bun and propped a pair of gold rimmed sunglasses on your head.

You met Bucky in the garage again. He had just smirked at you before offering you a helmet. He must have remembered your remark from your last ride. He hopped on the bike, no helmet for him apparently, and waited for you.

The whole ride to the city you had kept your head attached to his back. You could see glimpses of the world whipping past through the visor, but your heart was fluttering in your chest with panic.

You knew you probably wouldn’t see anyone you knew (you didn’t know many people from your old neighborhood anyway) and you knew you probably weren’t even going within blocks of your old place, but the panic was hard to tamp down. The idea of walking those streets again caused your chest to seize in a panic. You tried to breathe slowly, using techniques that your therapist had taught you over your last few sessions.

You focused on the way your arms felt wrapped around Bucky. You focused on the feeling of the bike rumbling underneath you. You focused on listening to the sounds of the engine and the traffic around you as it got steadily louder the closer you got to Brooklyn.

You lifted your head when you felt Bucky downshift and pull off the highway to the smaller streets of whichever neighborhood he was taking you to. When you lifted your head to look around, you recognized the streets as belonging to Brooklyn Heights, the old neighborhood Steve and Bucky had grown up in. You knew it was probably wildly different now, full of new money hipsters and thirty-something wall street brokers, with little coffee shops and niche bookstores and overpriced sushi restaurants everywhere. It was far enough from your old neighborhood of Prospect Heights, but still a tad too close to settle the flutter in your stomach.  

Bucky pulled into a small slot between parallel parked cars and cut the engine.

You pulled the helmet off of your head and tried to fluff up what you were sure was now a matted rats nest of a bun. Bucky took the helmet from you and put it in a hidden compartment under the seat of the bike.

“So old timer, where to? Your old stomping grounds?”

Bucky just rolled his eyes at you. “I figured we could just wander. Stop in places that look interesting. It’s all different now, so I doubt I would even remember where our old stomping grounds are anymore.”

Something in your heart pulled a bit at that. It wasn’t fair that everything had been ripped away from Bucky. He had never wanted this life.

“Alright.” You said. Softer this time. “Lead the way.”

Bucky smiled softly at you before starting to walk down the block, in the direction of the river. You fell in step with him.

You both walked for a couple hours, Bucky pointing to buildings that were still the same. A few spots he remembered going as a kid, but most he said looked familiar but couldn’t place.

You made it to the river and spent some time side by side in silence, staring at the Manhattan skyline. It was a content sort of silence instead of the oppressive open void of silence that had been your companion for so many months.

Your stomach rumbling broke the silence. Bucky looked at you and laughed. “Alright. It’s time to feed the beast.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, punching him in his arm. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who ate not one, not two, but three burgers at that bar.”

Bucky just laughed again and said “Who said I was talking about you?”

~0~

You found a little pizza place not far from the river and ordered two large pepperoni pizzas. You walked back to one of the many grassy parks lining the river and plopped down with your meal. It had to be somewhere around 6pm at this point.

The anxiety in your gut had mostly faded away after the first twenty minutes of wandering around with Bucky. No one you had passed had really made a huge deal about the two of you being here. A few pedestrians had done a double take as they passed, but New Yorkers were probably pretty used to well-known people wandering around all the time, Avengers were no exception.

So you’d relaxed in the companionship of Bucky. It felt a bit like your time in Budapest, wandering the busy streets together. You spoke when one of you had something to share, but there was no pressure for constant chatter between you two. You barely even had to speak when one of you wanted to change direction to head toward a place that caught your eye, it was like you could read each other's thoughts and adjusted your trajectory accordingly. Like when you were on a mission together fighting at each other's backs, but this time the enemy was tourists who weren’t looking where they were going and socialites that didn’t look up from their phones as they walked.

You sat in the grass, munching on pizza, letting the crisp autumn breeze drift past. It was on the warm side today and the sun was still hot enough that you had shrugged your jacket off.

“I’m glad to see your bruise is healing.” Bucky said as he tore into another slice.

You hummed in response, swallowing your pizza. “It just looks nasty now, it doesn’t really hurt anymore.”

“I’m really sorry that I didn’t protect your shoulder from that fall.” Bucky whispered. He wasn’t looking at you. You balled up a napkin and chucked it at his head.

“Hey. Do not apologize. First of all, it was my fault for rolling slightly to try to keep myself from slamming into you. Second, it’s a mission. We’re bound to get a little beat up. I’ve had worse.”

“Well that doesn’t make me feel better.” Bucky mumbled. You just rolled your eyes, which earned a small chuckle from Bucky.

You sat in silence for another few heartbeats before he spoke again. “You did really well, by the way. I know it’s been a while but you were a machine out there. It was nice to see you…” he trailed off.

“Nice to see me, what?” You prompted.

He looked at his pizza, clearly nervous about whatever it was he was going to say next. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but it was really nice to see you be you again. A swaggering, sass-talking ass kicker.” He looked up at you again as he finished his sentence. You burst out laughing, nearly choking on the piece of half chewed pizza in your mouth.

“Ass kicker?” You spluttered. Bucky was laughing now too.

“You know what I mean!” Bucky tossed the balled up napkin you’d thrown at him back at your face, eliciting another string of giggles from you.

You took a few gulping breaths, settling yourself. The sounds of the breeze and chatter of nearby people filling the space between you. “I know what you mean.” You looked down at your pizza sadly, thinking about all the time you’d spent locked in your apartment, or your room at the compound, missing out on days like this. Days that weren’t special by any means, but were magical all the same.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Bucky said, knocking the toe of his boot against your sneakers. “I meant it in a good way.”

“No, I know.” You blurted. You didn’t want him to think any of this was his doing. “I’m just… I don’t know.” You paused for a  moment, sorting out your swirling thoughts. He gave you space to think. “I’m just mad at myself for spending so much time not being myself.”

Buck just hummed in response. Leaving the space open for you, like he knew there was more swirling in your brain but you just hadn’t organized it yet.

“Something…” You stuttered a bit. Were you really going to talk to him about this? “Something really bad happened to me Buck.” You whispered finally.

Bucky turned toward you a bit. He moved preternaturally slow, like he was worried if he moved too quickly he would spook you and you’d run off. He’d been waiting for this, you guessed. He had probably been waiting for you to finally talk to him since the moment he had grabbed your arm to stop your momentum on your way to the elevators all those weeks ago. When he’d caught you disassociating outside of your bedroom. He’d been patiently waiting all that time for you to finally be ready.

You didn’t know if you were really ready, but he’d been so patient and the ambient sounds of the river and the pedestrians were lulling you into a sense of calm. It felt like this little patch of grass in this park was a totally different universe than the compound. It felt safe.

“That’s actually not true. Well it is true, but it’s not really how I should have said it. I… I let something really bad happen to me.” You whispered again. Bucky was staring straight at you now, you couldn’t meet his eyes. You looked at the tree behind him, the few slices left in your pizza boxes, the river to your right. He was breathing evenly and slowly, like he was hoping that his own even breathing would encourage you to keep yours steady.

“I…” You started to open your mouth to tell him everything, but you never got the chance as a cool voice called from behind you.

“Glad to know some things never change.”

Your heart stalled in your chest.

No. No no no no. Not here. Not now.

Bucky’s eyes shifted over your shoulder to the person who stood probably 10 feet away, behind you. His brows furrowed as he took the person in. You knew what he was probably seeing. A flop of dirty blonde hair, intense brown eyes and likely an immaculate suit or a well paired set of athletic wear on a thin but muscular body.

Elijah.

You couldn’t move.

“You always were a lying bitch.” Elijah spit. Bucky’s eyes flitted to you. Your eyes were still glued to the pizza box in front of you. You were unable to breathe, to think, to do anything. You had been so relaxed sitting here you didn’t even consider the possibility that Elijah would ever happen across you. What were the odds? In a city of over 8 million, what were the chances that Elijah would be in this park at the same time you were.

Even though you weren’t looking at him, you could feel the rage build in Bucky’s body as he stared at your motionless body. He saw every strangled breath you tried to choke down and he turned an absolute lethal look on Elijah. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d gone cold. That the Winter Soldier was looking at your ex fiance now. But you did know better, and there were too many emotions swirling in Bucky’s eyes at the moment.

“Who the hell are you?” Bucky gritted out, his metal fist was in the dirt underneath him and dug in, like he needed something to keep him from launching up and wrapping his fist around Elijah’s neck instead.

Elijah’s arrogant chuckle rolled over your shoulders, causing your stomach to lurch. Why couldn’t you fucking move? “I think you know exactly who I am, you brute.”

You almost laughed at that. Elijah, perfectly plain normal man Elijah who took an occasional boxing class at the gym tossing insults at a literal super soldier with more kills on his list than Elijah could ever comprehend.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he looked at you again. He was clearly waiting for some sort of message from you on how he should proceed. It seemed like if he had it his way he would probably strangle him right here in front of hundreds of onlookers and not give a shit.

“What do you want, Elijah?” You choked out finally, if only to save Bucky from the fall-out of killing a civilian in broad daylight.

“Nothing in particular.” Elijah tossed at you. You finally glanced over your shoulder and sure enough, he stood there in his usual running gear.

Of course. You thought. His running route normally takes him along the river.

You’d forgotten in the near year you’d been apart.

“I just was on my run minding my own business when I saw you over here. My slut of an ex sitting here with one of the very men she said she didn’t even work with anymore.” Elijah continued. You flinched at his words. Bucky became even more murderous, if that was possible. You flicked your eyes up at him, trying to convey that he shouldn’t engage. This wasn’t an enemy worth the fight. “I was just wondering if you could answer a question for me.” Elijah finished.

“What?” You gritted out. Your heart was thundering in your chest now, your muscles locked together to keep you from moving. You felt like you might start shivering soon, you were suddenly so cold and it only had a little to do with the setting sun.

“I wanna know how long after I left you it was before you jumped in their beds.” He hissed. “Did you wait at all or did you run straight into the arms of the juiced up freaks and fuck em?”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Bucky snarled. His voice had pitched unnaturally low. He kept his eyes on you, as if he couldn’t stand to look at Elijah without trying to kill him.

You choked and coughed a bit. The panic in your stomach flipped the acid and your throat started to burn. You could feel tears building pressure behind your eyes.

I will not cry. Not in front of him. You told yourself.

Elijah just laughed at Bucky. “Did he do that?” Elijah asked. You weren’t looking at him, but you figured he was indicating the large bruise on your shoulder. “Missed me that much did you? Had to find someone else to bash you around when you’re being a cunt?”

Bucky launched himself at Elijah. Like a spring finally being released, he jumped up with no warning.

But you had fast reflexes too.

You jumped up between them, placed your hands on his chest to stop his forward momentum. Something in the movement finally released the panic in your gut and you felt tears spill over your cheeks and down your jaw. You were holding every muscle in your chest as tight as possible to keep from audibly sobbing.

Bucky’s murderous gaze shifted to yours, and once he tracked the tears he instantly softened and brought one hand to either side of your face, his eyes flicking back and forth between yours.

You closed your eyes and choked “Get me out of here Bucky. Please.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate. He wrapped one arm around your shoulders and one under your knees, hauled you in his arms, and began taking long strides away. He leaned down to snag your jacket, but left everything else where it laid.

You had the fleeting thought that you hoped someone came and picked up your trash. You hoped it was someone who maybe needed those last few slices of pizza.

Bucky was almost running, like he couldn’t remove you both fast enough by walking.

From behind you you could hear Elijah chuckling and yelling “That’s right bitch. Have your mutant monsters save you from everything. You’re fucking pathetic.”

Bucky squeezed you closer to his chest until you were far enough away you couldn’t hear Elijah’s taunting voice anymore. You could hear it in your mind, though. Your spiralling panic wouldn’t let you forget it.

Had to find someone else to bash you around

You’re pathetic

Lying bitch

His voice echoed and ricocheted around your skull. He was right. You were a pathetic liar who ruined every relationship you touched. You had lied to your best friends and strained your relationships with them, you had lied to your fiance and destroyed a multi-year relationship when he found out.

You were a liar. And a ruiner. A pathetic mess who didn’t deserve Steve and Tony’s trust. Who didn’t deserve that final dose of serum they gave you. Who didn’t deserve friends like Peter, Sam and Thor. Who didn’t deserve people like Natasha watching your back. Who didn’t deserve someone like Bucky holding you, carrying you away from something you couldn’t face because you were a coward.

You sobbed then. A loud, jarring sound that was ripped involuntarily from your body. If you had any room left in your body for more emotions you would have been embarrassed that you were falling apart in public, with hundreds of witnesses, and crying into Bucky’s metal arm again.

Suddenly Bucky sat down on what must have been a park bench, adjusting your weight slightly so that he could use the arm that had been holding under your legs to reach into his pocket.

Your heaving sobs continued to tear their way out of you. Your face was buried in Bucky’s arms and you were trying to suck air into your lungs but it felt like there was water in them.

You were fully under again. There was no air here, no sun, no wind. It was just the roar of panic in your ears. The world around you was muffled. You could only vaguely feel where your hips sat on Bucky’s lap and the band of his arm around your shoulders.

You heard Bucky’s voice, muffled to your ears like you were sitting at the bottom of the deep end of a pool, “I need the quinjet to come get us. I just sent you our location.” You sucked in another heave of breath. “I’ll explain later but I need that jet right fucking now.” He paused “I don’t fucking care that we’re in the middle of civilians.” Another sob left your chest and Bucky’s warm arm wrapped a little tighter around your shoulders. “I’ll grab my bike later. Yeah. Thanks.” Bucky wrapped up the call and slid his phone back in his pocket before wrapping his arm under your knees again.

Bucky started to rock your body very slowly back and forth on the bench. His nose and mouth were pressed against the top of your head as he murmured “It’s okay. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore. It’s me. It’s me. I’ve got you.” You sucked another rattling breath in, not nearly deep enough to offer any release from the spasming in your chest. “You gotta breathe for me baby. C’mon. You have to breathe.” Bucky continued, his warm hand soothing strokes up and down your back.

You couldn’t. Your throat was nearly closed and you couldn’t open your eyes or lift your head. It was like you were frozen solid, drifting in a void.

Bucky kept murmuring into the top of your head while he rocked you. You felt your body grow lighter and lighter, your hands and feet going tingly and then numb as your panic grew and grew.

The last thing you were aware of before you lost consciousness was the sudden rumbling of the jet above your head and the thud of the ramp hitting the concrete.