#and got out of what sounds like a traumatic relationship

[honey-riley]

Love You To Death || S.R.

WARNINGS: Military themes, guns, weapons, violence, detailed gore, mentions of Simon's past.

A/N: This contains an OC :) her name is Honey Tailer (my user is after her 🫡), she's German, so I hope you brought your google translate or other translators. There are more descriptors of her in the story itself <3

A/N pt.2: I'm learning German, and for most of the dialog in German, I use a translator. So, if anything is incorrect in German, don't behead me pls.

wc: 5.9k

War.

That's all that ever ran through him. A traumatized, mean, brooding war machine. Ever since he was little, that's all he could remember. The war within his household, the constant abuse that his father passed around. The constant abuse he endured as a child had profound and lasting effects on him. It shaped his worldview, eroded his sense of self-worth, and left him with deep emotional scars that manifested in his brooding and mean demeanor. The war within his household became the war within himself, and it consumed him every day.

He had never truly felt warmth. Sure, he had happy moments, moments where he could forget the trauma, moments where the gray cloud looming above him would clear. But only for a moment. He was human after all. The impact of his traumatic childhood on his relationships was profound. He struggled to form deep connections with others, always keeping them at arms length, afraid of being hurt again. His fear of vulnerability and his need for control made it difficult for him to trust and open up to others, resulting in a cycle of loneliness and isolation.

Riddling himself with routines, sticking to schedules, running everything in a timely, comfortable manner is what he loves. What he thrived on. It was something that he knew he could rely on. Every morning, he would wake up at the exact same time, following a strict routine that he had meticulously planned out. From the moment he opened his eyes to the moment he closed them again at night, every minute of his day was accounted for. He found solace in the predictability of his schedule, as it provided a sense of control and stability in a chaotic world. His routines became his lifeline, a way for him to regain some semblance of order in his life and protect himself from the unpredictable nature of human interactions.

So, the day that someone broke that routine for him, that was a day that he was going to remember.

Preparing for a mission, he went in with his normal routine - shower, get his gear on, put the mask on, prepare mentally, head to base, scan in, have breakfast, pack his tactical vest, check his gear, clean his weapons, and head out to the chopper by 0400.

This time, when he got to the chopper, there was a new face. Striking green eyes, long black hair that was slicked back into a regulatory military bun, fair skin, and God, was she short. Standing at four feet, eleven inches, just barely meeting the height requirements.

"Lieutenant." Laswell nodded as he approached. "This is Sergeant Honey Tailer, hope you don't mind her joining you today." She added with a smile. Ghost stuck his hand out for Honey to shake, which she accepted, giving him a firm shake back.

He took in her appearance one more time, noting her black, polished boots, her uniform, which wasn't digital camo, but more like spotted camo. She had a German flag on her shoulders and on her tactical vest.

"My pleasure, Lieutenant." She smiled softly, her German accent apparent in her words. It wasn't strong, it was subtle, she sounded like she had been speaking English her entire life - but she hadn't.

"It's great to meet you, Sergeant." He nodded, releasing her hand.

"Honey's going to be your DM for today. She'll provide surveillance, make sure you guys keep your heads." Laswell grinned as she looked over at Honey. DM, or designated marksman, was a good position to be in - a position that they needed in the team.

The team then loaded into the chopper, strapping into their seats. Honey's rifle sat on her chest, the barrel pointing to the tin floor of the chopper as she looked out of the window. She stared off, lost in thought, devising a plan on how she would go about this. It was an in and out mission, quick and easy - if things went according to plan.

Honey would provide recon and examine from a distance, while the team went in, gathering intel, hopefully going undetected, then Soap would plant the bombs, they would all get back onto the chopper, where Soap would detonate them.

"You'll do just fine, kid." Price's gruff voice snapped her out of thought as he patted her on the shoulder. Honey shot him a small, tight lipped, slightly nervous smile. She was used to this kind of stuff, but to work with a team she had never met, find her groove all over again, and to do it in time, was nerve wracking.

"This isn't your first time, right?" Ghost grunted as he looked over at her, his voice deep, almost like a growl.

"No, sir. I've been deployed multiple times." She replied with a nod.

Ghost took that in an almost snooty, stuck up way. Like she was so young, and she had all this experience, and she sounded like she was bragging about it. That irked him.

Instead of saying anything, he stayed quiet, crossing his arms over his chest. To pass the time, Honey put her AirPods in, and turned on some music, letting out a small sigh as she leaned back into her chair.

There was something about her that Ghost didn't find appealing. Something about her annoyed him, but he couldn't tell what it was.

The metallic sound of her ring clanking against her rifle as she tapped her fingers to the beat of the song she was listening to only made his annoyance grow.

"Wha' song are ye listenin' to?" Soap asked, nudging her.

"Oh, Love You To Death by Type O Negative." Honey said, looking over at him with a small smile.

"Damn, gothic stuff." Soap chuckled, cuing Honey to nod. "Yer pal, Ghostie over there loves that kind of music." Soap chuckled, nodding towards Ghost, making him let out a small scoff.

Not only was Honey now annoying him, she also had the same taste in music? That felt like it wasn't going to fly with him for whatever reason. He was already annoyed that his routine had been disrupted, and now, her presence alone annoyed him more.

"Alright, team. We're landing in Verdansk, just to refresh, you are to take out Makarov. He's in a highly guarded area, with plenty of people surrounding him." Laswell said over the comms.

"Copy." Honey replied, letting out a small sigh. She was the one who was tasked with disturbing the hive - taking out Makarov. She had already been filled in on why they needed him dead, and all the other necessary things such as his identity, where he would be at, his rank, what he looked like.

Once the chopper landed Price divided everyone into partners, and one trio. Ghost and Honey were tasked with surveillance. Ghost was Honey's spotter.

'I'm gonna be stuck with this annoying, snooty, stuck up bitch?' Ghost thought to himself. He kept his opinions inward, thankfully. Usually, with new recruits, he was very vocal about his disdain for them. This time, he kept his mouth shut, just wanting to get the mission done quicker.

Honey established a sniper's nest, and laid on the roof of the building opposite of where the team would be infiltrating.

"What's the drag?" Honey whispered, looking through her iron sights, ready to set her rifle up.

"Not a clue." Ghost grunted as he looked through the scope of his own rifle, adjusting accordingly. He did know, he just wanted her to struggle a bit, make her more 'human' in his eyes.

"You're no help." Honey muttered under her breath, looking down her iron sights again. She glanced over at Ghost for a moment, turning to her own rifle, contemplating something.

She deftly reached over, sliding the scope off of his rifle.

'Now she's trying to fuck with my gear?' Ghost scorned in his own mind. He looked over at her, his brows furrowed under his mask before he snatched his scope back, sliding it back on.

"Du erzeugst ein Glitzern." She growled, taking it back off.

"English." Ghost muttered under his breath, starting to get pissed off.

"You're creating a glint. There's people in that building that can see you because of your scope." She growled, looking over at the moon for a second before looking back at him. She subtly lifted her hand, pointing at the opposing building, and indeed, a faint reflection from the scope could be seen if you knew where to look.

He let out an audible scoff, rolling his eyes. He adjusted his rifle, getting used to just using his iron sights.

"It's a 42 meter separation, the wind is blowing south-east. We're facing north-west. The wind is 6 knots. Light breeze." He replied, telling her what she would need to adjust her rifle.

"Any visuals on Makarov?" Laswell said through the comms.

Honey glanced through a pair of binoculars for a second, seeing Makarov working at a table in an empty room, his back turned to the window.

"Positive. Black, short hair, suit, I can't tell how tall he is, but Ghost can verify that it's him." Honey replied through the comms. "It's him, Kate." Ghost muttered into the comms. "Permission to take the shot?" Honey asked Laswell.

"Granted." Laswell replied.

Honey put down the binoculars and Ghost picked them up, ready to watch Honey shoot Makarov.

Honey lined up her shot, calculating the drag, and the possible path that the bullet would take once it hit the glass. Doubt nibbled at the edges of her mind, raising its voice as her finger hovered over the trigger. But she pushed it away, reminding herself of the countless hours of training. She took a deep breath, pulling the rifle tight to her shoulder, holding her breath so that the shot was steady. She loaded her chamber, taking the rifle off of safety, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

Ghost's heart raced. He felt a pang of jealousy, mixed with a swirl of emotions. 'This should've been mine,' He thought, his chest tightening. 'This is my team. What does she think she's doing, muscling in on my territory?' His fists clenched around the binoculars, sweat dripping from his temple.

The bullet shattered through the glass, sending a gory red mist into the air as Makarov's head exploded. Ghost's jaw clenched as his anger bubbled, the realization of what just happened setting in.

Honey laid her rifle down, staying on her stomach as she glanced over to Ghost. She could see the tension in his body, the balaclava clinging to his face with each heavy gasp for air. Unsure of how to respond to Ghost's obvious displeasure, she gave him a small, tight lipped, reassuring smile.

Ghost glared back, his eyes filled with the intensity of his rage. 'She's taken everything from me,' he thought. 'I can't let her win. I can't let her take this from me too.'

In the aftermath, the team sat in stunned silence, their gazes fixed on the lifeless body now sprawled on the floor. The reality of their success hung in the air, a weighty, shared accomplishment that lingered, tainted by Ghost's bitter resentment. This was a man that they had been tracking for years and Honey came in and shot him like it was nothing. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. And God, that smile afterwards pissed him off so much more.

'What the fuck is she doing? This was supposed to be my job. What the hell does she know about shooting?' Ghost fought with himself internally. He hated this. He ha=ted everything about her.

The pair watched as the team infiltrated the room, occasional gunfire sounding through the air. Honey watched as Soap went in, took a laptop and all the needed files, planting a few bombs on his way out.

Honey stood up, grabbing her rifle, unloading the chamber and putting it back onto safety. Ghost stood up as well, grabbing his own rifle, storming his way back down the flight of stairs to the ground floor.

"Ghost." Honey said as she followed him, her rifle slung over her back. He didn't bother waiting for her, or even listening to her. He silently stormed his way back to the chopper, getting in, and buckling himself up.

Honey set their things back where they belonged on the chopper, ensuring that nothing would fall out. There was an awkward silence as they waited for the rest of the team to get back to where the chopper was. Nikolai sat in the cockpit.

"How was the mission? You finally nail him?" Nikolai grinned, his thick Russian accent apparent in his words as he looked back through the door, glancing at Ghost.

"Honey did." Ghost muttered, his fists balled under his biceps as he crossed his arms. "Her shot was just luck." He added, looking outside of the chopper, avoiding eye contact. He knew it was more than luck - it was skill, but he didn’t want to admit it.

Honey winced at his words, looking over at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. She glanced away, keeping her eyes off of him. She had always been doubted. She had worked her entire life for this moment, and the entire time, she had been doubted. She didn't know why it even hurt at this point - she should've expected it. But, she was going to stand up for herself for once - even if it didn't work.

Honey looked at him, her brow furrowing. "Luck?" She asked, her voice slightly hurt. "I took the damn shot, calculated it. I did everything I needed to. And it's just luck? I’ve worked my entire life for this, I’ve worked my ass off. Making sure that I could make a damn shot." She added. Honey wanted to get frustrated, she wanted to argue, but she took a deep breath, keeping her mouth shut.

Ghost's jaw dropped slightly at her response. His glare softened, his unwavering anger faltering for the first time. He didn't know what to say to counter her words, her confidence - and for once, he found himself at a loss.

'All of my years of practicing, honing, just for it to be chalked up to luck? Fuck this guy.' Honey thought to herself, letting out a sigh. She wanted to be on this team, she had worked for it for years. She wanted to be on the top - the best of the best, and this was her chance. She wasn't going to ruin it.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the rest of the team getting into the chopper, carrying files, laptops, and USB sticks. Everything that they could get their hands on that could be important, they took.

"Let's watch this puppy blow." Soap chuckled as he buckled into the chopper. Nikolai lifted the chopper off the ground, getting it a distance away before Soap pressed the button, making the entire building explode and collapse in on itself.

Honey watched as the orange and yellow flames licked the air, huge billows of smoke and debris shooting up into the air.

"Christ." Honey murmured, watching the smoke shoot up. The blast wave then hit the chopper, making it sway and vibrate. Nikolai quickly corrected, starting their flight back. The flight back to base was almost silent, everyone processing what had just happened, and why it had happened.

'Why was Honey the one to kill Makarov? Why was this new recruit the one who got to end the man we had fought to kill for years? And why was it so easy for her?' Ghost was furious at the thought of it.

'Why did she get the pleasure? The satisfaction?'

When they got back to base, Ghost just wanted to get his report filled and then think things through in his quarters, but of course, Laswell had other plans.

"You and Honey are bunking together." Laswell said as she opened the door to his quarters. Honey stood behind Laswell, her bag slung on her shoulder as well as a few other things in her hands - two pillows and a blanket.

"What about Soap?" Ghost asked, looking over at the other bed in the room - the bed where Soap slept. That side of the room was blank, Soap moved rooms.

"Soap bunked with Gaz. We don't have another room for Honey, so she's going with you." Laswell said, turning around and walking away. Honey came in quietly, her steps silent.

She placed her things on the bed, avoiding him. She busied herself with the task of getting her things set up - making the bed, putting her things in her dresser and closet.

"There are rules here." Ghost grunted as he watched her, his attention drawn away from his paperwork.

"Keep your shit on your side of the room, keep it clean, keep it neat, and don't talk to me." He added. Honey didn't do anything but nod as she folded her clothes. Pajamas, uniforms, dress uniforms, civilian clothes - they were all put away neatly.

There was something about her, something that kept his attention away from his paperwork. Something that kept him from focusing. Maybe it was the rage towards her, maybe it was the envy - there was something. Something that he hated. Something that Simon despised. Ghost hated it more.

What do we think of the first part, y'all? Do we love it? Hate it? Eh? Lmk what I can work on as well! My ask me is still open :))

[lady-ika]

𐐘

[ahundredtimesover]

I Want You to Stay (02) | JJK

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre/Tags: boss!JK x assistant!reader; idiot strangers to lovers; slow slow burn; k-drama feels; angst, drama, fluff, smut

Chapter (Series) Warnings: foul/explicit language; alcohol consumption & passing out, unhealthy coping mechanisms; family drama; minor injuries; power dynamics (JK starts off as a jerk); work-related anxiety, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; childhood traumatic experiences, nightmares; sexual harassment, prior incidence of domestic violence (PLS PLS BE CAREFUL WHEN READING); arts and business/property devt talk that’s probably inaccurate; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters; cold and detached JK; explicit sexual content (specific warnings stated per chapter) (18+)

Chapter Word count: 11.9k

Series Masterlist

Status: Ongoing

Series summary: Working for Jungkook isn’t the same as working for Hoseok. For starters, Jungkook doesn’t smile, he doesn’t appreciate you, and he gives you too much work. It doesn’t help that he’s incredibly handsome and has women at his beck and call. But as the tension grows, it becomes impossible to resist him. You’ve dedicated yourself to your job for 8 years so when you finally decide to put yourself first, he asks you to reconsider. And while you know that leaving is difficult, you learn that when it comes to Jungkook, staying is always so much harder.

Playlist 🎶: on the way home

A/N: Hiii really touched with all the love for this story! I don’t know about you but this hits harder with all the boys away and we’re missing them so badly. But we’ve got this! 💕 But thank you thank you for all the messages (sorry I can’t get to each one!) and the interest and excitement. Hope you enjoy this one ☺️

And as always, my biggest thanks to @wonwoonlight  🥰

PS. If I can’t tag you, pls fix your settings!

Despite hoping that he wouldn’t, Jungkook, in fact, pushes you further away on his second day on the job. 

To his defense, it was partly your fault. You smiled at him last night - perhaps due to your delicious dinner that you didn’t even know was from him - and it disarmed him. 

The words you uttered after just flew over his head and he just nodded, too out of it to confirm what you’d said. It probably had something to do about you not coming to his penthouse, because it’s Tuesday morning and you’re still not here. He’d expected that like yesterday, you'd prepare his breakfast, and after all that transpired, debrief after yesterday’s meetings and discuss the next steps. That was his routine with Lucas, and for all the things that you seemed to know and do right - from his room design, the doneness of his eggs, and his coffee - this was a miss. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be assisting me from the start of the day?” Jungkook says over the phone, his tone sounding annoyed. “I’ve been waiting for you since 6:30.”

Your heart drops at his words, the memory from last night of him agreeing to you sticking to the same schedule you had with Hoseok suddenly feeling like some made up scenario. You remember telling Jungkook that you go straight to the office the rest of the week; you’d only go to Hoseok’s house on Mondays to prepare his clothes and brief him because he’s able to manage from Tuesday onwards. Your new boss, for some reason, perhaps misheard your question. And now you’re the one in trouble. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Jeon,” you bring yourself to say, your voice in a panic because regardless of who’s in the wrong, making him wait is not a good start to his day nor yours, and especially not to your already rocky relationship. “I can get a cab then head to you.”

“So you want me to wait for you some more?” He chides, his dry laugh making you want to throw your phone just so you won’t hear his voice anymore. “Just stay wherever you are, but I want the meeting minutes from yesterday ready when I get there since you’re not here to go over them with me.”

Jungkook hangs up and your head thumping on your desk is immediate. It’s barely the start of the day and you already want to go back home and probably never come back. 

You left the office at 9 last night, knowing you were too exhausted to continue working on the annotated documents, and then got soaked in the rain on your way home. You planned on coming to work early - given that your boss didn’t require you to go to his penthouse, a claim you stand by - so you can continue, but now he wants the meeting minutes in an hour, and that isn’t usually due until three days later. 

Neglecting the sandwich you planned on eating for breakfast, you work on your notes from the first meeting and then move on to the next. Every footstep you hear makes you anxious, and you breathe a sigh of relief every time you find out it’s not him. Every minute counts and you’re thankful for each one. Until, of course, you run out of it. 

“Send them to me now and meet me in my office,” his voice echoes through the hallway that leads to his room. 

Jungkook walks straight past you and doesn’t even give you a look.

“Yes, sir,” you squeak, quickly sending the email then scurrying to where he is. 

You find him seated on his chair, his leg crossed over the other one as he goes through the notes on his iPad, his furrowed eyebrows making you sweat in worry. He doesn’t seem pleased. But from what you’ve witnessed so far, you doubt there’s much that pleases him.

He encircles words and scribbles on the sides, mumbling “incomplete,” “what does this mean,” and “this is not what I said.”

Jungkook sets the device on his desk and groans. He turns to you with a hard glare, and you clearly see just how displeased he is. Not that you have any defense - it’s your job to do what he asked in a manner that’s up to his standards - but you already felt discouraged in the morning, and your meal skipping caused you to lose focus in the afternoon, resulting in your less than satisfactory documentation of the meeting.

“Ms. Cho, do you know the value of these documents? And why I require them to be comprehensive and done on time?”

“Uh, ye-yes, sir,” you drag out.

“Why?”

It’s too early for this, you think to yourself. Clearly you know why they’re important; you’re just too tired to articulate the reasons to him. But you try, as the words form in your head. You’re about to say them when he stands from his chair and walks towards his desk, leans on the edge and then intently looks at you, as if he’s judging even the way you’re breathing or standing. And you’d probably fail, given how your body seems to cower in his presence. 

“Because decisions are made through them,” he says, drowning out your thoughts with his stern voice. “I attend numerous meetings everyday. Decision points can be buried in the discussions unless they’re documented properly. And even when they are, they’re not actioned upon immediately unless I have access to them and unless they’ve been processed and verified. I don’t leave those conference rooms and forget about what took place. They stay in my head, that’s why I ask you to write them down, and that’s why I require you to meet me first thing in the morning so that I can process them with you, and let those points guide me for the rest of the week.”

His glare continues, so does his voice getting louder. “My job isn’t just to sit around and listen to people. I make decisions. And it’s your job to make sure I have all the correct information to make them.”

“I… I understand, sir. And I… I apologize for the oversight,” you stutter, still unable to look at him. “But about this morning, uh… you, uh last night, I—”

“Was there an explicit statement from me about not having you come in the morning?”

“No, sir.”

He lets the silence draw out, perhaps to let your own words sink in. He does have a point. You stand by your claim that you’d asked, and he nodded, but you should also know that such gestures aren’t clear responses, and that’s on you to make sure that you’re both on the same page. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say with conviction. “I made an assumption when I should have clarified. And even then, it’s your first week as Vice President. I should be assisting you in all the ways I can.”

Jungkook watches your form, hands clasped together with your nails sinking into your skin. Your head is bowed down, unable or unwilling to look at him this whole time. He knows he’s at fault, too, but he’d never admit it; he’s not exactly the type to do that. 

You stand there in submission and a part of him wants to apologize, but that’s not the type of weakness he wants to show, not when he needs to establish authority and more importantly, distance.

“I require Lucas to still come every morning because that’s the only time we can debrief about the previous day’s activities,” he says, making his voice calmer now. “We go through the minutes, clarify things, finalize them, and then disseminate so that people don’t forget. Teams collaborate effectively when there’s accountability and when timelines are adhered to. It’s my job to make sure they comply. And that means it’s your job, too. I don’t have to remind you of your roles now do I, Ms. Cho?”

“No, sir,” you respond, finding the strength in you to finally look at him, his hardened stare still unnerving you. 

He uncrosses his arms and walks back to his seat. “My cousin and I work very differently from each other. It’s on you to adjust.” 

“Yes, Mr. Jeon,” you bow in acknowledgment. “I’ll be at your apartment at 6:30 every morning and I’ll do better with my documentation and preparation of all the files.”

Jungkook just hums then proceeds to work on something on his desktop, which you take as your cue to leave. You bow again and excuse yourself, but his voice stops you as you open the door.

“Push back this morning’s meeting to 9:00,” he says. “And make sure you have something to eat. I can’t have you be unfocused again like yesterday.”

You survive the rest of Tuesday. You eat snacks rather than proper meals, and you find that that helps you more with time and focus. The meetings for that day are less intense, but with you still figuring out exactly how Jungkook wants the documents prepared, you stay up after hours and work on them for the next day, with you constantly going over the recording to make sure that you documented everything correctly. 

You arrive at his penthouse at 6:30 every morning during the week. You make his breakfast while he takes a shower, which is really whatever’s in his fridge or pantry. He doesn’t seem to mind what you prepare for him, and you’re glad that he doesn’t find any more severe reasons to dislike you. There’s still the occasional correction of your minutes, but you chalk it up to him just being too particular. There are terms he uses that you’re not familiar with; he’s an architect by training after all.

Perhaps it’s why he’s as specific and detail-oriented as he is, and more visual than anything. Hoseok is a perfectionist like him, but the older man has everything organized in his head and then executes them, whereas Jungkook needs them all laid out before him. Whether it’s about a policy, a process, and especially a design, he makes sure they’re drawn out, and the way they all just make sense to him is immediate. 

You suppose that’s what he’s used to. Plans need representation beyond words; he doesn’t seem to be the type to use much of them, in fact, unless he’s correcting you. But that’s what you’ve noticed. At some points during the meeting, he’d draw something on his iPad and send it to you; you both discuss it the next morning, with you finding the words for it for proper documentation. 

But his mind doesn’t seem to stop, as you catch him on the way to work sometimes doodling some design on this leather notebook that he carries with him everywhere. Whether it’s the Arts Center or something else, you’re not sure, but you know that any moment he pulls it out, he’d spend a good amount of time on it before getting out of the car.

He remains distant and disengaged as you expect him to be. Unlike Hoseok who asks you how your evening went or how the trip to his house was, Jungkook doesn’t talk about anything that doesn’t concern work. And so when he isn’t talking about it, there’s just silence - whether in the car, in the elevator, or the walk to his room. There’s none of the laughter or the questions about how you’re coping with all your tasks, and there’s definitely nothing about his life that he shares. Not that you thought he would, but the difference with your old boss is striking, as you think of the times when Hoseok happily talked about the salsa studio he was at with A-yeong over the weekend or the movie they watched together the night before.

The comparisons remain in your head throughout the week. You try to focus on your responsibilities but you realize that you haven’t properly moved on from the culture and environment that you used to enjoy when Hoseok was still leading the team, and that has affected your work in obvious ways, and especially your approach to it. 

There’s anxiety with every task that Jungkook asks of you, even if they’re things you’ve done so many times in your three years as the VP’s assistant. You find yourself constantly clarifying his instructions, prompting him to question your ability to take them. You feel like he’ll be displeased regardless of what your output is, yet you still end up spending too much time going over files that you forget to eat or clock out too late. You don’t get proper sleep either, nervous about what the next day will bring. You second-guess yourself constantly, and all the confidence you built in all your time here doesn’t seem to have as strong of a foundation as you thought. 

So when you make another mistake the following Tuesday, whatever belief in yourself that you have left dissipates. 

“Ms. Cho, where is the folder?” Jungkook asks, his gaze hardening the longer you look at him without a word. 

You’re currently at a restaurant, given that your boss has a meeting with Mr. Hu, the owner of the company that produces quality materials that Jungkook wants for the Arts Center. This was scheduled just yesterday, which is also when he’d asked you to put together the rough draft plans and design that he worked on last weekend. The project is in its early stages but the plans are clear to Jungkook and he wants to secure this deal early on, especially with Mr. Hu leaving the country for a few weeks. 

You finalized this last night and left it on your desk along with the portfolios that Yoongi and the support team have been taking from your shelf. Given the week you’ve had - lack of sleep and frustration more than anything - you rushed to get ready and mistakenly took a portfolio and not the folder meant for this meeting.

“I… I’m so sorry, sir, but I seem to have taken the wrong files,” you stutter, eyes on the ground as you clutch the portfolio for support. “They… they were on my desk along with others and I left them in the office.”

There’s a long pause before Jungkook speaks, the irritation clear in his voice.

“Do you at least have a soft copy?”

“It’s on a USB, sir,” you reply, nervously raising your head. “I left it as well.”

You try your hardest not to look at him, even if it seems like he wants you to, just so you can see the burning way he does it. Because you feel him huffing, you can see how he’s clenching his fists as he controls what he’s feeling, which is definitely anger towards your stupid mistake. 

Jungkook clears his throat before turning back to the man seated across from him, his voice apologetic as he explains that you weren’t able to bring it. 

“Ah, what a shame,” Mr. Hu says, judgingly glancing at you. “I was really looking forward to seeing your plans, Jungkook. I could’ve advised my people to check on the materials you want this early.”

“I’m really sorry,” Jungkook says. “Perhaps I can email them over to you?”

“Oh don’t bother, I’ll be chasing the Italian sun for the next three weeks,” the older man chuckles. “I’ll see you when I get back. By then, I hope you and your assistant have sorted things out and could give me actual information about what you want.”

“We will, I assure you,” Jungkook says, before saying goodbye to him.

He walks past you and you follow, with no words said as you both wait for the car and enter. 

You can hear him panting, and you know enough that's due to an extreme emotion he can’t express. He won’t look at or say anything to you, and that feels more terrifying. 

His phone rings, and not only does the person on the other line talk about what just happened, you happen to hear it, too.

“Hey, I heard what happened with the big boss,” the man says. “Did you really go to the meeting unprepared?”

“It wasn’t me, but yeah, what a mess,” Jungkook huffs, his head leaning back on the chair, his eyes closed as he calms himself down. “What did he say? Is he angry?”

“Nah. You’re a Jeon; he can’t be. He was just a bit annoyed because he was supposed to have a meeting with another client but he chose to see you.”

“Fuck. What an embarrassment,” Jungkook groans.

“Well, he does have high praises for your father.”

“And this is his first time working with me. My dad’s gonna hear about it and give me shit for it.”

“Just another normal day at the office, right?” The man laughs. “So, was it your assistant that screwed up?”

Jungkook hums his yes, knowing you’re two seats away from him, although he’s unsure if you can hear their conversation. For your sake, he hopes you can’t.

“See? This is why you should’ve taken Lucas! That guy was always two steps ahead of you.”

“That’s what I said, but when are my requests ever granted? Never. Another normal day at the office, huh?”

“If she’s pretty, maybe you can forgive them and just suffer through her incompetence,” the man laughs again. “I mean, she’s got to have some redeeming quality somehow. If she doesn’t, that just sucks for you.”

“You really enjoy making fun of my misfortunes, huh?” Jungkook huffs.

“Just sometimes. Not used to you not having your way, that’s all.”

“Well, nothing is going my way, that's for sure. But whatever, I’ll figure it out. Make sure Mr. Hu holds out for me, okay? I need you to help me this time.”

“Hey, I may laugh at your misfortunes but I always have your back,” the man says. “Good luck, VP. I’ll see you soon.”

Jungkook drops the call and you feel him glance at you but you remain stiff on your seat, unwilling to move nor look anywhere else that isn’t your lap. You’re glad that he decides to close his eyes for the rest of the ride, though, so you take your chance to shift towards the window and watch the buildings fly by, willing your tears not to fall.

You hold out until you arrive at the building. That is, until Jungkook heads straight to his room and asks you to follow. 

“Own up to your mistake and look at me,” he says, his voice seeping with disdain. 

You lift your head and meet his eyes, his gaze piercing right through you and you’re unable to move, to speak. But you try - a futile attempt, really - at appealing to the compassionate side of him, if it even exists. 

“I’m so, so sorry Mr. Jeon,” you plead for forgiveness. “I didn’t mean to forget the folder. It’s been a tough week and—”

“A tough week?” he mocks, his voice getting louder now. “As if you’re the only one who’s had one? I come here and find myself doing your job. I spent the weekend drafting the designs because I need that deal early only for you to screw it up! My father’s been on to me about this project and I need everything done right but I can’t seem to because my assistant, who’s supposed to be assisting me, can’t even get the most basic things done. All you had to do was bring the folder. You didn’t even have a contingency plan of having a soft copy. Were you not trained for this role?” 

You visibly shake but Jungkook doesn’t let up.

“Answer me.”

“I… I was, Mr. Jeon,” you tremble. “I know I’m not the smartest but I work hard and I—”

“You work hard?”

“Yes, sir.”

“In what?”

“In preparing your files and organizing everything for you and…” you try. 

A month ago, you’d be saying these things and more with so much conviction.  But all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to break you down and make you doubt every single skill you’ve developed and been praised for the past few years.

“And I can criticize each of those tasks in just this one week you’ve been my assistant.”

“I… I just needed guidance, sir, because it’s a new—”

“I need guidance. I need assisting,” he sneers. “My father wanted me to keep you because you apparently know how things are supposed to be done but you’re asking for guidance from me?”

There’s silence on your end and you’ve never felt as small as you do right now. The way Mrs. Byun abused her power over you and humiliated you during your first years here continues to be unmatched, but being treated this way by a man whose family you respect somehow hurts you more. 

You want to give up now. You’ll lose everything if you decide to just quit but it’s not like there’s much left of you to go by anyway, given the week that you’ve had. But if there’s anything your mother taught you is that the lowest you can go is when you don’t fight for yourself, so you gather what little dignity you have left and look him in the eyes. 

“You do things very differently from Mr. Jung like you said, and I admire your thoroughness,” you start, trying your hardest to calm the tone of your voice. “You’re adjusting to your new role with a new team and a new assistant that you didn’t choose but somehow you have to trust and that’s unnerving if you’re used to being in control of everything. With all due respect, however, perhaps if you let the people around you adjust as well, we would all find a way to work together effectively and respectfully. A little bit of compassion wouldn’t hurt, and it goes a long way.”

At his silence, you continue, digging your nails deeper into your skin to help you remain stable.

“I apologize for all the mistakes this past week. I know it has been unpleasant for you as well. I’ll do better, that I can promise. But if the way I work is not something that is up to your standard, then there’s only one thing to do. Me quitting would put you in a worse light; you can fire me if you think it is best,” you bravely state. “I can deal with the consequences.”

Jungkook continues to just look at you, unable to say anything this time. Perhaps he isn’t used to someone speaking to him like this. Maybe he’s finding the right words to hit you back and break you even more. The tiniest part of you wants to think you’ve softened him up a bit; hopefully he’ll be less angry at you the next time.

“Is there anything you need me to work on, Mr. Jeon?”

“No,” he answers. “Just hold off all calls for me for the next hour. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Understood, Mr. Jeon.” 

You bow and head out the door. 

Jungkook watches you leave, and the farther you become, the more he wishes you’d stay.

He’s unsure why. Perhaps it’s the way you spoke to him, similar to the way you did the first time you met over a week ago - with conviction and grace despite you putting him in his place. Maybe it’s him, trying to find the words to apologize without seeming weak, or to encourage you without being comfortable. The tiniest part of him just wants you around; he doesn’t know what it is about you but he finds himself feeling intense emotions because of you - frustration, fear, and an overwhelming feeling of sadness and regret. 

He returns to his seat and glances through the window, the angle of his chair allowing him to see you outside, although he’s unsure if you’re able to see him. Either way, it’s not like you’ve ever looked his way anyway, so he feels a little safe doing this now. 

You’re seated and turned away from the desk, with your fingers pressing over both your ears, as if you’re blocking out the sounds of the room; perhaps you’re blocking out his voice that’s probably still echoing in your head. He’d seen you do this last week, too, after you failed to show up at his penthouse in the morning. He thinks it’s your way of dealing with stress, a quiet one, in contrast to boxing like what he prefers to do. It’s the only time he’d ever allow himself to express anything, after all, other than getting mad at you apparently. 

You finally turn around, but it’s not long after when Do-hyun arrives and takes your place, leaving him to wonder where you’re off to. He focuses on his work like he meant to do, opting to read and send emails while he calms himself down. His eyes always turn to your desk, though, and when he sees that he’s halfway done but you’re still not back, he decides to head out.

“Mr. Jeon,” Do-hyun stands up and greets him. “Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Where’s Ms. Cho?”

“She had to go to the washroom so she asked me to cover for her first,” she responds. “But, uh… She’s been gone for half an hour. I… I’m not sure what she’s up to but I can—.”

It’s at that moment when you return, and the way that both Do-hyun and Jungkook look at you that you know they can tell. You can’t exactly cry for 20 minutes and then expect to ease the swelling of your eyes for the next 10. But you act like nothing’s amiss, so you dismiss the younger woman and turn to Jungkook.

“Was there something that you needed from me, Mr. Jeon?” You ask nonchalantly.

“Just, uh…” he stutters now, taken aback by the casual way you speak to him despite your glassy eyes. “I’m meeting the CEO and President tomorrow to discuss the Arts Center. Put the initial plans in presentation format and send it to me first thing in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” you respond, returning to your seat and not sparing him another glance. 

You work on the presentation in between the other things you need to finish. You draft memos and letters for Jungkook’s approval, and it’s half past 4 when you enter his room to have them signed. 

“I’m heading out at 5 for dinner,” he says as he signs the documents. “I’ve added points on the shared file for the presentation. Make sure to include those.”

“I will, sir.”

There’s a brief moment where you and Jungkook just look at each other, words swimming in your own heads that neither of you wants to say out loud.

You wish he’d offer an apology.

He wishes you’d say that you’re okay.

You want to tell him that the Arts Center already sounds amazing; you hope it turns out the way he imagines.

He wants to tell you that he won’t fire you, that despite how he’s been, he doesn’t want you to go anywhere.

But the moment passes and then it’s gone. You bow once more and then head out the door. 

He leaves at exactly 5, merely nodding at you as he leaves. 

Jungkook sees you again that evening, four hours later as he drives home after having dinner with Seokjin and Taehyung, the brothers he’d grown up with. The office is on the way, and it’s near the bus stop where he spots you, trying to catch a cab that someone always gets to before you do. 

The rain has started to pour, and his anxiety builds; he was never fond of it, given the memory it holds. But it’s you in your thin coat that suspends that for a while. You’re clearly shivering, unable to get a ride, and getting wet from the downpour. You cross the street, seemingly just submitting to the weather, and you disappear amongst the crowd of people just trying to get home. 

He checks his phone as he gets a message and sees the email you sent 20 minutes ago - the presentation he’d asked you to submit in the morning. This is you, making up for today, he guesses. He’s why you’re braving the rain. If he’s being honest, he’s why you’re suffering at all, and he can’t help the way his heart stings at the thought. 

The convenience store is bright and dry unlike the streets outside, and that’s why there’s a substantial amount of people seeking shelter from the downpour that came out of nowhere. 

You welcome the rain. It served as a distraction when you were growing up and your mother’s ex-partner would yell nonstop. You’d hide in your room and cover your ears like your mother taught you to do. When she was able, she’d stay with you and cover your ears with her own hands and tell you that it’s gonna be okay, that even if you can’t stop the scary sounds, you can drown them out enough that they’ll stop bothering you. 

You didn’t think you’d ever do so again but you’ve done that twice in one week, and all it took was one Jeon Jungkook to lecture you about what your job entails. He didn’t yell, but his voice was still piercing, firm and low as if he reserves that intensity for instances of pure frustration. 

That kind of thing takes a lot out of someone. It’s different when a boss is out to abuse their power and take advantage of you. Mrs. Byun made you do her work so she could spend her lunches out and then take credit for outputs without acknowledging you. She sucked up to the directors to overcompensate for not knowing how to answer their questions. And then she had the guts to embarrass you and call you out in front of the team for not being able to do your primary tasks, which was only because you were doing hers. It took a while but her incompetence caught up to her and her departure felt like freedom. But the experience with her was constricting, suffocating, humiliating. It was dehumanizing, too, as you went home to an empty apartment every night, feeling less and less of yourself.

But the way Jungkook treats you hits differently. You’ve survived the worst and ended up in a good spot under Hoseok’s leadership where you built your confidence. During those years, you felt capable, like you were trusted; you felt that your hard work earned you respect. 

Now, you feel all that crumbling. You feel exposed, bare; as if you’re realizing you’re not that good after all. How you’ve been isn’t like you. You’re meticulous, analytical; you’ve sat in so many meetings as an observer and know how things work, how the directors think, and the kinds of outputs expected from you. But recently, you find yourself just lost, questioning everything all the time, and so incapable.

You let yourself feel the burden weigh you down as you eat a small cup of noodles and call it dinner. You walk down the aisles and pick out your favorite snacks, first eating the roasted almonds as you head out the door. 

The rain has let up, with but a drizzle left this late evening. You catch the bus and munch on pepero and chocopie this time. You’re in your neighborhood by the time you tear open the frosted mini donuts. You’ve been mindlessly eating the whole time, but once you get off your stop, you start walking towards the community center. The public library is closed but something about sitting outside the door gives you comfort, just like it used to when you were growing up.

Your mom couldn’t really afford daycare. She’d spend her lunch break picking you up from school then dropping you off at a library where her friend worked; that nice woman always looked after you until your mom came back to pick you up. Some days when she wanted to take you away from the mess that was her partner, she’d take you there, too. 

You read mostly picture books and colored on your coloring book and played with your paper dolls. Even as you grew up, you didn't really read; you just liked that the library was quiet, comfortable, that it made you feel safe. 

Your phone beeps and you see a photo that your mother has just sent of her dry living room floor. 

[From: Mom] it isn’t leaking anymore! 

You smile, imagining her sigh of relief and the way she’s probably humming about the house. You decide to call her; another bit of comfort would definitely help.

“Hi, darling,” she answers after the first ring. “Min-woo went to the hardware store when he arrived in the afternoon so he could fix the roof. What a relief.”

“That’s great, mom,” you reply, wishing you were back home with her. “You can have a good sleep tonight, then.”

“I will. What about you?”

“I hope so.”

“Have you had dinner?”

“Hmm, yeah,” you hum. 

“And where are you now?”

“Outside the library,” you say. 

There’s silence that comes after, a way in which you both say things without words sometimes. Your mom is good at that, and even if you can’t see her, you know there’s love in her eyes. And even if she can’t see you, she knows there’s sadness in yours. 

“So, work has been tough lately, am I right?”

Even without any confirmation, she already knows. She probably knew when you said that everything was fine after she asked how things were going during your visit over the weekend. She probably picked up the faintness of your smile and the way you fell asleep on her lap while you both watched TV and she combed your hair like she always did. 

“The new boss is quite hard on me,” you admit. “He expects too much, asks me to do too much… I’m trying but I keep making mistakes. I’m missing things I normally don’t. I’m not like this, mom. I… I’m better than this.”

“Oh, darling,” she sighs, wishing she’d hugged you a little tighter before you left. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Maybe you’re still adjusting. That’s valid, you know? It’s only been a week.”

“Yeah, but he acts like he’s the only one who needs to adjust and that I just magically know how to do things his way,” you groan. “It… it just makes me feel like I’m not good enough. That I… that I shouldn’t be here.”

“___, you didn’t suffer through your first few years there just so you would continue to doubt yourself,” she responds. “You deserve your role, regardless of what he thinks. You work hard and that means everything.”

“Not to him apparently. Even if I work hard, if it’s not up to his standards, it doesn’t mean anything. I can’t even do anything about it because he’s the CEO’s son.” 

“You can quit, you know?” She says after a beat of silence. “You don’t have to stay if it’s too much, and especially if it’s unfair. Just because you know you can handle it, doesn’t mean you should.”

The thought settles in your head. You did just tell Jungkook that you’d rather he fire you, which honestly terrifies you because much as he’s insufferable, you do need this job. Helping your mom over the weekend reminded you of that. From the health insurance to the salary, you don’t have to worry too much because you can finally repay her for all her hard work in raising you, in protecting you, in surviving for you. 

“I know,” you sigh. “Maybe I just let the tough first days get to me.”

“Whatever it is, you shouldn’t suffer. And you definitely shouldn’t suffer alone,” she advises. “I’m glad you came over during the weekend even if for unpleasant reasons. I got to hug you even if I didn’t know you needed it.”

“I always need it, mom,” you admit. “I don’t have to say it. It’s the only one I get anyway.”

“Well, it’s because it’s the only one you accept,” she points out. 

“True,” you laugh. “But I… I’ll do better. I’ll get my head straight tonight and treat tomorrow like my first day and you know, show him I’m capable.”

“That’s good. And you can come over again this weekend if you want. The storm should be gone by then. The girls want to go to the park. I know they’d love to hang out with you. If you don’t have plans of course.”

“You know I only ever have actual weekend plans when Jimin and Soomin visit me. But yes, I can take the trip on Saturday. If Jungkook wants me to do any work… screw him.”

Your mother laughs, only because she knows you don’t mean it. You know it, too. Regardless of how you think of your boss or your job, you know the value of your work, and you’re not one to sacrifice it for any reason. 

“Are you feeling better, darling?”

“Yeah,” you smile. “The rain’s stopped somehow. I needed to be here. And I… I needed to hear your voice.”

“Good. You know you can call whenever. I don’t have to summon you with photos of a roof or grilled makchang or something every time.”

“I know. And I will. I’ll see you soon.”

You drop the call and start walking back home. Talking with your mom is the strength you need to get through such a tough day. It doesn’t change your situation; maybe Jungkook will still be upset with you in the morning but you’ll handle it, just like you handled all the difficult times before. 

Your mother taught you something else - it was grace. You’d fight back if you need to, but you can always do it with gentleness; sometimes that works wonders, especially if you can’t afford to respond with rage. 

You’re quite nervous walking to Jungkook’s penthouse the next morning. 

Before he left last night, you were sporting glassy and swollen eyes, after all; it wouldn’t have taken much for him to know what you were up to by being away from your desk for half an hour. But you’d been too upset to think of what he would think about it, so you acted like it was nothing when you returned to your seat, took note of his instructions, and watched him walk out. No other words were spoken and quite frankly, you don’t know what either of you could have said after what transpired. It’s a new day, though, and like you told your mother, you’ll just focus on your work and try to get that old version of yourself back, the one you’d felt slipped away this past week.

You enter the front door - as he’d told you to just go in so you don’t disrupt his workout - and immediately hear the loud sounds of leather hitting leather. He seems to be aggressively punching the sandbag, with more evidence of it coming in the form of his deep and successive breaths that you can hear as you walk towards the kitchen. You stop on your tracks, though, as a pair of red laced underwear lays crumpled on the floor.

That definitely wasn’t there yesterday morning so it must’ve been from last night. You’re not one to judge; he did have a frustrating day that you caused and releasing all that stress in this way is understandable. You just wish he had the courtesy to clean up, knowing that his assistant would be coming but then again, you also don’t know if that’s too much to ask of him.

You don’t realize that you’ve been staring at the underwear until you hear him, his deep breaths in tandem with his steps. You walk towards the counter and set him a glass of water before he notices what’s got your attention, but he still does, as he stops at the spot where you were and lets out a grunt. 

From your periphery, you see him pick up the piece of lingerie then throw it in the trash. You turn to him and bow in greeting, and Jungkook merely nods, the slightest of head tilts to acknowledge your presence, seemingly avoiding your eyes, even as you ask what he prefers to eat this morning. You’d like to think that in the recesses of his bitter heart, there’s remorse over yesterday at least, if not over the past few days. But you’ll take it; his silence is better than anything at this moment. 

You follow him towards his bedroom, stopping briefly as you look around and make sure you’re not intruding. You’re unsure if the woman is still here, but he picks up on that.

“She’s gone,” he says, walking to his bathroom. “I never make them stay.”

It’s a part of his life that you’ve only heard of. The gossip that Do-hyun hears from the washrooms in the office may be true, considering his weeknight bang and the left-behind underwear on the kitchen floor. He still had some energy based on his morning workout though, and you don’t know why the thought of him fucking someone and then boxing in the morning is making you feel hot all over. 

You snap yourself out of it, knowing it’s inappropriate and definitely not what you should be worrying about. He’s a stressed, obviously attractive, and rich bachelor; you’re not surprised he’d have women at his beck-and-call and be nonchalant about it.

You walk inside his closet and choose the shoes and accessories he’ll wear today before heading back to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast. He walks in 30 minutes later, and you approach him to fix his collar and his tie like you always do, now getting used to his natural scent with hints of jasmine and bergamot. Your eyes focus on the silk necktie, hoping you’re able to control your nervous breathing being this close to him. 

He may still be annoyed at you and you may be invading his space, and the realization makes you step away quickly, taking his plate from the counter and placing it on the dining table. You open your iPad and go through the presentation he asked you to do, surprised that he’s already added a few things.

“Is the presentation final, Mr. Jeon?” You ask. “I see you’ve already looked through it.”

“Sort of,” he responds. “I woke up at 5 and reviewed it before my workout. Let’s go over them now.”

He looks through his iPad as he eats, going over each slide with you as if he’s practicing. The more he speaks, the more you envision the Arts Center and how he wants it done. The way he puts together the ideas into a coherent design is impressive. You almost see it as he does, and much as you thoroughly dislike him right now, for the sake of all the good things that this center will do for people, you really want him to succeed. 

You remind him of a few more things before he finishes his meal, and it’s not long after when you’re in the car, the silence thickening the tension between the two of you once more. This continues until you reach the office, and you breathe a sigh of relief at the distance between the both of you now. 

While you do feel better, the anxiety remains. You don’t want to mess up. And as you enter his room to give him papers to sign and you see him going through his presentation while the leather notebook he was drawing on earlier lays open on the desk, you find yourself also just not wanting to disappoint him. He clearly works hard and despite his treatment of you, you want things to work out for him. 

It’s an hour later when you’re both walking towards the elevator to head to the conference room on the CEO’s floor. It’s just Jungkook with his father and cousin today where he’ll present the initial plans for their comments and their verbal endorsement of the draft budget. 

It’s a massive project that’s working within strict timelines and Jungkook is adamant on getting this ready by mid-next year. You can tell how much he wants to deliver this well - the board of directors would be his next audience and a boost of confidence would be much needed. 

You make him a cup of coffee the way he likes and sit next to him. The distance allows you to keep your eyes away from him; with the pressure he’s under, you don’t exactly want to be close to where you can easily trigger him. 

CEO Jeon and Hoseok arrive, greeting you with their bright smiles, a reprieve from the stoic looks and tight-lipped and furrowed brows you get from Jungkook everyday.

“Hi, Ms. Cho,” CEO Jeon says. “A week has passed, huh? How has it been?”

“Challenging,” you say honestly, “but still good. I’m learning new things, Mr. Jeon.”

“That’s good,” he smiles, glancing at his son whose eyes are focused on his laptop. The elder seems unconvinced by your half smile but he nods, turning back to you. “By the way, I heard on the news that the typhoon hit your hometown pretty badly. How’s your mother and her family? Mr. Ri mentioned that there was an incident over the weekend. Is everything okay?”

You’re used to CEO Jeon asking things like this prior to meetings. He believes it’s a way to release certain feelings and not keep them hidden, and while you don’t really want to talk about it right now, you appreciate the concern. 

“She, uh. A large tree fell over our house last Saturday,” you say, to the surprise of both CEO and President. “I had to travel in the morning to help my mom. A portion of the roof was damaged and she had to call a company to fix it. Min-woo and the girls were away and mom didn’t want to deal with the workers since she was alone so I had to stay over the weekend.”

“That’s unfortunate,” the elder Jeon laments. “How is your house now? And your mom?”

“The roof is sealed. But she slipped on some debris and had to be assisted; she was being stubborn about it. She’s okay, though.”

“Ah, it must’ve been a tough few days. And for you, too,” Hoseok says. “I mean, given all the work and then having to be there for her. I’m sorry, ___.  But I’m glad she’s doing better. Tell her I send my regards, okay?”

“I will, thank you.”

Jungkook tries not to look affected as the older men ask you more details about what happened that he, of course, didn’t know about. There’s that guilt over how he treated you yesterday, learning now what you had to do over the weekend. You don’t seem the type to blame any oversight or mistake on something like that, but he would know that the tiredness and preoccupation could definitely affect things. Even more, he’d implied that you don’t work hard and that you’re being a burden to him, which is far from the truth. 

The conversation ends and he’s unable to look at you, as he stands from his seat to begin his presentation. Everything is set up, including a pointer and a marker and a glass of warm water on his side. He proceeds, presenting his design, the materials, the budget, and the timeline. 

You take note of all his answers to the questions and the ideas he comes up with on the spot, with him repeating things and stating how he wants certain points written down. You’re immersed in your own task, feeling like you’ve found your rhythm because you’ve done this so many times but the fear got ahead of you. This morning, it’s as if you’re in your element again, and there’s relief that fills you this time.  

The meeting is moved to a restaurant after the third hour. There’s an event that the CEO suggests that Jungkook’s team organize as a way to build linkages with the arts and culture networks, making sure that the younger Jeon becomes known in those fields as well. 

You have to go by memory as you listen and eat your meal, but the distance from Jungkook remains. You merely nod at his words and avoid looking at him unless you need to. It’s your way of getting over last night, you think. You still have his look of frustration etched in your mind and it’s still a bit fresh; you’d need at least another day before you can look at him normally again. You hope that other than Jungkook himself, no one notices. 

But you suppose you’ve underestimated Hoseok’s ability to pick up on your behavior; it’s one of his strengths as a leader, after all. He’s always been good at reading people, a skill that Jungkook clearly didn’t develop. 

“Hey.”

“Mr. Jung,” you greet, a wave of nostalgia hitting you because his smile is one you used to see everyday, regardless of how stressed he was. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“No, not really. It’s just been over a week but I’m still getting used to the bigger office and the new secretary but I just wanted to check in,” Hoseok says. “You and Jungkook have been very busy, I rarely catch either of you.”

“Well, he wanted to get all the introductions out of the way so he can focus on the Arts Center,” you reply. “There’s a lot happening with that one so he’s in meetings and calls all the time.”

“Ah, of course. It’s a good design and I’m sure it’ll boost the local arts scene. He got inspired during his travels in the Southeast Asia sites and has been talking about it for years. It’s good he has the freedom to work on this now.”

You merely nod, not having much to say about your boss’ passion project that’s just made him angry and frustrated. Quite frankly, you don’t know how he is when he isn’t working on such high-pressure matters, but you can already tell he isn’t someone you’d want to be around in any other context. 

“But how about you? Are you getting enough rest? All these meetings and then traveling home on the weekend is tiring, ___. I hope you’re looking out for your health.”

“I am,” you try to assure him. “I can handle it.”

You smile before shifting your eyes to your desktop screen, not wanting to look at him any longer because a second more and you’d probably burst into tears. Experiencing Hoseok’s kindness for these few minutes has just reminded you of what you constantly miss - that feeling of safety and care, of someone looking out for you and not holding you back. 

“I’m glad you are,” he smiles again, holding your gaze when you glance at him, and Hoseok hopes that in this short moment of calm, he’s able to give comfort that he just knows you need. “Anyway, I just wanted to drop by. I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“I’ll see you, Hoseok.” And as if you knew why he came over in the first place, you add, “and thank you.”

Jungkook sighs in frustration as he watches your fading smile before returning to type away on your desktop. He was about to call you to ask for a project portfolio on the shelf but stopped once he saw you talking to his cousin. You seemed a tad bit lighter than usual; Jungkook could only assume it’s your natural state, even if all he’s seen of you is that of perpetual worry and stress. 

He thinks to himself that a part of that is because of him. Maybe a big part, he admits. He wouldn’t have known about your town in Daegu or that your mother resides there and that you had to go home over the weekend, hence, your oversight yesterday. He’s at least decent enough to acknowledge that he shouldn’t have been so harsh on you in the first place. He’s just not used to things not going his way; he wonders now what the people under him suffered through to make sure of that.

Not wanting to disturb you, he decides to get the portfolio himself, so he exits his room and leans on your desk, his eyebrows scrunched as he reads through the spine labels of the folders. He doesn’t notice you stand up and attempt to ask what he needs but he does find it, reaching over on the third shelf for it. 

“I could’ve gotten that for you,” you huff.

Jungkook spots a small pout as you utter the words, disarming him a little.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he mumbles, willing his mind to go back to what he was thinking about before you said something, which is the other project he wants to look at. 

But you pick up on his words. “Seongbuk, 2021,” you repeat. 

You look up and know exactly where the portfolio for that project is. You drag your stool with your foot and walk up the steps, carefully pulling out the folder and underestimating just how heavy it is. But before it can slip out of your fingers, Jungkook gets a hold of it, his right hand gripping the spine while his left palm supports your back. 

You stiffen when you realize just how close he is to you then step down the stool, somehow nervous to look at him.

“I, uh, sorry. You were about to fall.”

You stiffen again because he didn’t just apologize, did he? Your eyes are glued to the ground and you don’t see Jungkook’s surprised look.

Because he did just that. What felt more alarming than his apology was that it had been a reflex for him to have his hand behind you, his heart leaping a bit because you really were close to falling. An injured version of you isn’t something he wants to deal with, and he convinces himself that it’s because it would look absolutely terrible for his assistant to get hurt on the job, and especially in his presence. 

“Is that all you need, Mr. Jeon?”

“Uh, yes,” he responds. “Be, uh, be careful.”

He takes both folders and heads back to his room, his face buried in the pages as you sneak a glance at him from the window.

“So, how’s the second week as VP going?” Hoseok asks his cousin from across the table of their favorite Japanese restaurant during their Friday lunch. “Worse than the first?”

Jungkook, not keen on answering truthfully, merely shrugs. 

“Well, I can bet you though that ___ is definitely having it worse than last week.”

“Did she say anything? About me specifically?” Jungkook asks, his curious eyes telling Hoseok that it’s more of concern than anger. 

“Of course not. She’s there to protect you, Kook, not tell on you. Is there something to say? About you specifically?”

Jungkook knows how well his cousin can read people, especially him. They’d grown up together after all, and had gotten close because the older man always stayed next to him, knowing how shy little Jungkook used to be. So he narrates what happened - that he’d gotten angry, that he was being too strict, that he wasn’t leaving you room for adjustment. He’d of course excluded his own oversight and need to establish distance and authority, chalking it up to not having the familiarity and conveniences he’d been used to back in Singapore. 

“I feel like working with father even closer now, it’s like I’m under a microscope,” Jungkook continues. “I don’t wanna mess up. I just don’t wanna give him a reason to criticize or question me.”

“Well, if he learns about how it’s been with ___, he’ll do exactly those things,” Hoseok responds. “He cares about his people, you know? I’m sure that’s the one thing he wants you to do right.”

“Can’t say I’d know. It’s not like he’s any more compassionate than I am. We’re talking about a man who yells at the managers who can’t get things done right.”

“They were abusing their power, that’s why,” Hoseok explains. “And I’m not here to defend the man - I’ve been on the receiving end of his anger twice and saw how he’d push people to their near breaking point a few times but he’s not a terrible person. I’ve seen him be understanding and caring to his staff way more; you just haven’t been around that much.”

“It’s not what I saw growing up.”

“Well, we remember what we want, and forget the parts that don’t make sense to us.”

Jungkook stays silent as he munches on his steak.

“He wants to get closer to you, you know?” Hoseok continues. “He hopes that with you being around, he can mentor you, learn from you. All those years that you were home, you felt so far away from him, farther away than Jeong-sik who wasn’t even here, and he doesn’t know why.”

“He can’t expect to be a rich, ambitious businessman and be close to his son,” Jungkook huffs. “All he ever cared about when I was growing up was work. Sure, he had rare good moments, but we all know it was to compensate for always being too busy. He pressured me to do well at school then missed awarding ceremonies. He scheduled some family time then left me and my brother in some cabin in the woods by ourselves. He wants to work with me here then disallows my requests. What does he want from me?”

“Your time, I suppose. Maybe your understanding, too.”

“Did he give those to me when I was younger? He had so many chances these past 30 years and he wants those now?”

“People are complicated, Kook. Sometimes they lose sight of what’s important, of what’s in front of them… doesn’t mean they’re bad people,” Hoseok says. “And it doesn’t mean they don’t deserve a second chance. I mean, don’t we all want that? Don’t we all grow out of our bad habits and just yearn for something good?”

“Not everyone does that.”

“Maybe not, but your father has. And he just wants another chance. And whether or not it was her fault, I’m sure ___ wants that, too.”

“Did you really ask me to treat you to lunch only to advocate for the people I don’t really care much about?” Jungkook laughs bitterly. 

“No,” Hoseok chuckles. “I really wanted to try it here. But also, uncle took me out to drinks before you arrived and was all honest with me, which was a little weird but I guess he thought he could get some perspective from you through me. And ___ was my assistant and I think highly of her. It’s upsetting how things started for you both. I guess I just feel kind of caught in the middle between you and the people you actually care about. So yes, I deserve this free lunch.”

Jungkook doesn’t correct his cousin, more for the fact that Hoseok really does get caught in the middle - always has, even between him and his older brother whom Jungkook never really got along with; it definitely isn’t because he acknowledges that he cares about you. There’s no reason for him to feel that; you’re just his assistant, after all. 

Being beautiful and capable and hardworking doesn’t have anything to do with being cared about. 

“I… I admit being too hard on ___. I get that she’s good and stuff but maybe that fits with your leadership style more,” Jungkook tries to reason. “Maybe she just thrives in a team where she’s led by someone like you, someone who’s good with people and who’s process-oriented and I don’t know, someone who isn’t as tough or meticulous like me.”

“I’m sorry, Kook, but you sound stupid. You clearly don’t know anything about her. She’s experienced all the lows - the disrespect from the men, the abuse of power from the women, all the long hours and ridiculous deadlines, the loudest of yells and the craziest demands,” Hoseok exclaims. “She’s been here for just eight years but it feels more. Sometimes I don’t know why she stayed but I’m glad she did, selfishly, and that’s because she helped me so much. Are you… are you giving her reasons to leave so you can have Lucas with you?”

“No,” Jungkook dismisses the thought, although he does admit it entered his mind before he even started. “I’m just… not used to her. And the mishaps didn’t help. I just wanna be able to do my job and do it right.”

“And you will, if you just loosen up a bit and give her a chance to show you that she can help you. It’s just that I’m not seeing that same joy and energy in her eyes and her smile,” Hoseok explains. “I was thinking last Wednesday that maybe it was because of her mom but during the meeting this morning, it was the same. I’d hate to think that’s because of you. Because if it is and she’s thinking of resigning, I won’t stop her. I might even suggest it to her. “

The thought of you being gone causes a lump in Jungkook’s throat. It’s selfish, really, because despite how he treats you, he still wants you here. It’s just as silly, and stupid, and something he doesn’t have a clear reason for. But other than his cousin not trusting that he could treat you fairly, it’s the possibility that you might just quit yourself, something you seem to be capable and willing to do. And that voluntary departure is something he doesn’t want to deal with. Once you leave, you’ll just be gone; he won’t have a reason to seek you. 

“I’ll do better,” Jungkook finally says. “I’ll stop being such a pain in the ass and be… kinder, I guess.”

“She’ll probably see right through you if you fake it,” Hoseok laughs. “Just be fair. Trust me, that’s what she’d want, too. Correct her if you need to, but do it constructively. And please, try to smile every once in a while. It won’t hurt you. Nor would it ruin whatever tough guy image you have.”

Jungkook playfully rolls his eyes but he lets out a chuckle. His cousin won’t ever let go of the fact that 18-year old Jungkook had his first tattoo because he wanted to look tough. 

“I still have to establish authority, Hoseok. I can’t do it like you do.”

“Well, you’re missing out. Smiling always makes you feel a hundred times better.”

“She’ll probably see right through me if I fake it,” Jungkook repeats his cousin’s words almost mockingly. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m not… cheerful. It’s like, how I’m compared to you.”

The two start walking back and Hoseok takes a jab at the younger man. “Actually, I heard that I’m the handsome one, too, and the stable guy, the family man, the man you’d take home to meet your parents…”

Jungkook laughs along. He agrees, and while it was not Hoseok’s intention at all, it does make Jungkook wonder even hours later - given all the things that characterize him, which are nothing like the older man’s - who would want him? Who would even take a chance on him? Who would even think it’s worth it to be with him?

Chaerin did, and then he self-sabotaged and lost her. Maybe the women he meets at clubs and takes home, but then all they want is a good time anyway, just like him. Maybe it’s someone he’s never met, but he also doesn't know how to be someone that someone else would love. 

Maybe there isn’t any. And maybe that isn’t so bad. Perhaps he’d have to start getting used to that fact; it’s easier than realizing he’s not meant to be with someone after all. 

He pauses the thought and decides that’s for the weekend version of him to lament over. This Friday afternoon, he’s focused on firming up the project details with the design and logistics teams. He’d just finished his meeting with them, with you barely looking his way just like you’ve done throughout the week - which he can’t fault you for because he was doing the same - and he’s back in his room to coordinate with other units. 

You, on the other hand, seem to be fixated on the quarterly reports that you’ll be handing over to him. It’s past 5 and he knows you’ll be staying up late again, given that he’d ordered you at the start of the week to finish the reviews by Friday. He’s given you too much to do, and after everything he’s done, letting you off early is a way for him to apologize without actually apologizing. 

He picks up the phone and calls you.

“How many reports do you have left to review?” He asks.

“Three more, Mr. Jeon,” you answer. “I’ll finish them tonight, please just give me another hour and a half.”

“Are you going home to see your mother tomorrow?” 

“Uh, yes, sir. I leave in the morning,” you say, curious at the question that you never thought he’d ask.

“You should clock out now, then.”

“Oh, but the reports, sir. I—”

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising you. “I’ll be busy with Arts Center details this weekend so I won’t have time to sign off on the reports anyway so you can continue them on Monday.”

You’re too shocked to speak that it doesn’t register that you’re indeed not saying anything.

“Ms. Cho?” Jungkook repeats your name.

“Oh, uh, yes, as long as it’s okay, Mr. Jeon.”

“Yes, that’s what I just said.”

“That’s, uh, thank you,” you mumble, turning on your roller chair to retrieve your bag and start packing, only to look up and see through the window that Jungkook can see you right now, smiling like a giddy child. There’s this movie that’ll show on your favorite local channel and you’re glad that you’ll be able to catch it tonight. 

You’re unsure what Jungkook’s eaten to be dismissing you this early. Maybe it was the lunch he had with Hoseok earlier; maybe it was the older man knocking some sense into him. You don’t have the energy to think about it, given that you now also have time to cook yourself proper dinner and enjoy eating it while watching and curling under your comfy blanket on your tiny couch, just like how you used to enjoy your Fridays. 

You’ll deal with the unreviewed reports and Jungkook returning to his normal, grumpy self on Monday. Tonight is all about you, and the weekend version of you is about being with your mother, her partner, and your stepsisters. There’s nothing like being with the people who make you feel safe; you’ll deal with the stress when a new week rolls by.

Jungkook watches you excitedly leave your desk. He can’t imagine the relief you’re feeling of being relieved this early and then spending your Friday evening the way you want, however that is. He lets himself wonder for a bit how you would spend time by yourself. Yoongi did say your friends aren’t in Seoul and your family obviously isn’t.

But then again, maybe you do have a partner, and maybe that’s why you looked as happy as you did. He’s not quite sure what to do with the slight distress at the thought, but with the absurdity of the amount of times he thinks about you, he decides it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

He has his own plans, too, like watching sports over bottles of beer that night, and then playing video games the next day before going to a bar with Seokjin and Taehyung. 

That Sunday, he works all morning then works out in the afternoon. In the evening, he decides to meet his friends again. 

Entering the club, he spots the table where they are - Seokjin has his arm around a woman and his lips glued to her ear; he pulls her closer as she laughs at his words. Taehyung has one next to him, too; they’re engaged in some serious conversation, it seems, given how passionately they’re talking to each other. That is, until his hand slides inside her dress; maybe it wasn’t that deep. 

Jungkook doesn’t know how his friends can converse with the women they find in these places. Given, Seokjin tends to stick to the same one for months and Taehyung is just naturally flirty and friendly so maybe it’s not that hard. 

For Jungkook, it’s just not something he’s able to fully or even properly do. What does he say? He’d brag about his work and his lifestyle if he was the type, but he isn’t, and there’s nothing else about him that he’d like to share. He’s always straightforward when it comes to these things. He’s picky; he does have a type, after all, but he always knows what they want and so do they. 

So when he spots a woman by the bar - the one who’d bought him a drink last night - he just smirks as she takes her shot and bites her lips when she catches him looking. 

“Hey, I finally caught you sober,” she giggles in his ears after she meets him halfway. 

“And I finally caught you without a man next to you,” he whispers. “Should I be worried?”

“Nah, he was just my plaything last night,” she responds. “I could be yours.��

Jungkook chuckles, enjoying her bluntness. He takes her hand and waves at his friends; they already know he’s taking off and they won’t hear from him for the rest of the night. 

It’s the way most of his evenings go anyway, whether he’s here or in Singapore or elsewhere, really. 

Jungkook likes the thrill, he likes the shallow intimacy he gets from the feelings of ecstasy and carnal desire. He likes that he doesn’t have to share anything about himself apart from his name so they could scream it, likes that there’s nothing about the other person to uncover, and that there’s nothing about himself he has to be honest about. He likes that he’ll remember the pleasure until the next day but nothing else - not her breathing, not her gentle touches on his chest, not her soft whispers of his name. 

There’s nothing much about her he’ll care for other than that she had a good time. And there’s nothing about tonight he’ll regret, except not making sure that she left his apartment like he always asks them to do.

Because it’s Monday morning, and there’s that woman wearing his coat and nothing else. 

And then there’s you, dressed in your skirt and blouse in his living room, with a look of shock on your pretty face. 

Series Masterlist

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[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Eddie is gushing about Steve to Robin and he mentions how it's so fucking metal the way he never shies away from danger. Like, quite the opposite, he literally jumps right into it without a second thought!

And suddenly Robin remembers how Steve wanted to be tortured by the actual real Russian secret service if it meant that his then friendly coworker who he never saw outside of Scoops would be at least a little bit safer. And she notices for the first time how Steve always makes sure that everyone is safe before he leaves a dangerous place - how he makes sure to always be the last one - and she thinks fuck.

(She feels so fucking bad. He is her best friend. Her soulmate. The person who knows her best and vice-versa. How has she never noticed this before?!)

They start paying closer attention to him, then. Neither like what they see. Steve's eyebags grow bigger with every day that passes. He doesn't eat a lot. He can never say no to others, no matter how much it inconveniences him. And when Robin and Eddie gush about what an awesome person he is, he gets an uncomfortable expression on his face and denies it. Robin had never noticed how most their interactions were self-deprecating jokes until now, either.

They need to stage an intervention.

The next time Steve walks through the doors of Family Video, Robin and Eddie are ready. They lay down all the facts and propose a simple deal: either go talk to a professional, or they will explain everything to the rest of the party and they will force him to talk to a professional. It will end the same way no matter what he chooses, might as well take the path with least resistance.

The only thing that sounds worse than paying a stranger to talk about his feelings is to be forced to talk about them to his friends, so he agrees.

He doesn't think it will make a difference, at first. It's not like he is allowed to talk about monsters and other dimensions.

The first session is awkward. But Robin and Eddie always look at him with such worried and expectant looks and he cannot bear to burden them in any way, so he starts opening up more. He can't talk about the time he almost got eaten by Demogorgons in a secret supernatural underground tunnelsystem, but he can talk about the time Billie almost beat him to death. He can't talk about the secret Russian operation beneath the mall, but he can talk about almost dying in the "mall fire". (His memories of his time there are all scrambled because of the drugs, anyway. It is more about the 'near-death' thing and never being able to feel safe, which he can talk about)

He doesn't mean to talk about his interpersonal relationships at first. But then his therapist cautiously asks him about his parents, and before he knows it he is spilling beans he didn't even know needed to be spilled. He talks about how he only seems to be friends with people who went through traumatic experiences with him, and what does that say about him? He talks about when he first realized that other kids are not left behind by their parents for months at a time. He finally starts unpacking the whole Nancy situation and realizes, wow, turns out he isn't nearly as over the whole thing as he'd hoped. (There are a lot of tears).

He seamlessly fills session after session, and at first he doesn't think that it makes much of a difference. Until the kids meet him after he is exhausted from a double shift at Family Video and beg him to drive them somewhere or other, and he can say no and not give in without fearing that they will cast him aside.

(Robin and Eddie are smug when they also notice the changes, but Steve supposes they have earned it this one time.)

[muchosbesitos]

Can you please do one where Y/N is spider woman, but she is a variant of Miguel’s wife that died. She was recruited by Parker B, and she met Miguel at HQ. He’s cold and very distant from her, but in reality he just wants to hold her and love her like his old wife. Y/N sneaks into Miguel’s room one day hoping to snoop around to find anything that could explain his past and his cold demeanor. But she either comes upon him walking videos of him and his old wife (a 100% doppelgänger of Y/N, both physically and characteristically), or she accidentally finds the footage when she’s snooping around and Miguel catches her. (And Y/N has a crush on him the entire time) 

glimpse of us

pairing: miguel o’hara x fem reader

contents: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, miguel kinda being an ass? and brief mention of a blowjob (like one sentence brief 😭)

author’s note: should probably state that i was listening to frank ocean and jeff buckley’s ‘lover you should’ve come over’ while writing this so my bad if it’s too angsty LMFAO. anyways idk if this should be a 2 parter or if i should js leave it alone

word count: 6.2k

Grief. It was an emotion that Miguel was all too familiar with, whether it be losing civilians that pleaded for their life until the very end or simply just the grieving of a relationship. Grief sunk its claws deeply into his very being, the perspective that he had towards life completely tainted. He walked on eggshells to prevent himself from enduring any more losses, missing opportunities left and right out of fear. Every time he went through something traumatic, he assured himself that it'd be okay. That it was just a test of his character. And now, all that pain and suffering seemed worth it now that he was up there on the altar.

You were the embodiment of perfection, an angel sent from above to illuminate what was once the darkness in Miguel’s life. White lace intertwined into your wedding dress, the material falling well past your feet. The veil placed above your head flowed past your head, the crown fitting you all too well. You looked like you were meant for this moment, brought into this world to be his wife. Well, no. He was brought into this world to be completely and utterly devoted to you, thinking of himself as lucky that you reciprocated the feelings.

The sound of 'Wedding March' followed as you made your way up to the altar, everyone's attention solely focused on you. Yet, even with all the eyes peering into your direction, you could only manage to look up at Miguel. The image was imprinted in his mind the moment it happened, the rose petals on the floor surrounding you as you made your way up. The venue had been small, just enough to be able to fit both of your families and a couple of close friends. Despite of the venue size, Miguel had made sure to make every idea that you had a reality for the reception.

He refused to accept something other than what his pretty wife wanted, willing to bend over backwards just to fulfill your every whim. He didn't care about the amount of money that he had to spend, not when your presence mattered more than any possession he owned. He felt like he could spend this lifetime devoted solely to you and it still wouldn't be enough time. His only job throughout the wedding plan was swiping his debit card and approving the charges made to his account. He gave his opinion on a couple of the minute details such as the designs of the cups and the napkins, but overall, he left it up to you and the planner.

"Here, antes de que empieces a chillar," Gabriel whispered next to him in a teasing tone, handing him a handkerchief. Miguel took the cloth with a small shake of his head, putting it in his pocket. If anything, Gabriel should've kept the handkerchief for himself. Miguel felt all the saliva in his mouth dry up at the sight of you up close, seeing the gold necklace he'd bought for you adorning your neck upon further inspection. "You've got a little drool there," you whispered just for him to hear, a cheeky smile on your face as you pointed to the corner of his mouth. He indulged your teasing, swiping a finger where you'd pointed. "Hard not to drool when you look so enchanting."

(before you start crying)

"Thank you to everyone who's gathered here today for the gathering of this lovely couple," the priest started off, looking up from the book he was reading off of to the guests. He waited for the guests to settle down before continuing with what he had to say. The ceremony seemed to drag on as the priest continued to speak, all that Miguel wanted was to have the honor of being your husband. The crowd seemed to disappear while he looked at you underneath the fairy lights that you'd requested for the venue, his expression just so full of love as he admired you. In all the different ways that he'd seen you, this one had to be his favorite. The image of his future wife.

The sweet melody of your voice upon speaking your vows was soon drowned out as he looked down to see blood splattering around your stomach. The wedding continued as normal, everyone at the event sporting a smile on their faces. "Do you take Miguel O’Hara as your husband?" The priest asked, oblivious to the fact that you'd just collapsed on the podium. Matter of fact, everybody seemed oblivious. No one was rushing to call 911, too on the edge of their seats to wait for your response. If you were in pain, you didn't present it. Your eyes almost seemed to glisten as you looked over at Miguel, the words 'I do' escaping from your lips.

Cold sweat dribbled down his forehead as he woke up to the solitude of his bedroom, darkness enveloping him completely. His chest heaved as he tried to calm himself down, convince his brain that it was just a nightmare. His heart ached when he looked over at the spot next to him, finding it empty. He really needed a hug from you now. Needed to feel your fingers in his hair to ground back to earth. He wanted to let out a yell out of frustration, every dream and memory that he had of you now tainted with the memory of losing you. First date? You ended up on the floor with your stomach bleeding. Engagement party? Same result.

Ironically enough, the only thing he couldn't bring himself to dream of was the actual event of your death. That in itself would open up wounds that he wasn't ready to face, wounds that he wasn't sure he'd be able to go through for a second time. He ran a hand through his hair, the ends standing up like a soldier in command. The bed creaked underneath him as he stood up, his eyes rapidly blinking to try to get adjusted to the darkness. He stepped into the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face. It wasn't enough, it was almost like the scene was tattooed in his eyelids so he'd have to endure it as long as he lived.

The only thing that managed to soothe the pain that resided deep inside his soul was the physical pain that he willingly put himself through. The muscles in his legs ached as he moved up on the stair master, intensity set at the highest setting. His mornings usually consisted of this repetitive motion, getting about four hours of sleep before he woke up soaked in his own sweat just to be awake for the rest of the day. His body was over exerted from the amount of stress he was under, but he didn't care. He'd push himself beyond his limit if it meant it would distract him from the memory that you were no longer here to be his person.

"No, you're not listening to me, Miguel!" Your voice boomed throughout the apartment, overlapping his as he tried to argue back to you. You'd seen the scene too clearly and yet he still had the audacity to claim that they were just friends. As if friends looked at each other the way Dana D’Angelo looked at Miguel. She looked at him like she'd eat him alive regardless of the wedding band adorning his finger, her lip often caught in between her teeth as a mean to seduce him. "I'm telling you that I don't care about her advances, I only want you! Haven't I done enough to prove that to you?" He lowered his voice, holding your hands in between his own.

"Yet by not doing anything about her advances, you're making her think that it's okay!" While you didn't expect Miguel to cut off every woman from his life, you at least expected for him to shut down the ones who were so clearly interested in him. Miguel’s frustration seemed to be more evident now, his brows creasing together as he let go of your hands. "Te he dicho un millon de veces. I don't want Dana, I just want you. Please believe me when I say that," you could tell he was trying to make amends but that apology just wasn't cutting it. "Seriously, how hard is it just to cut that damn bitch off?! She cheated on you!"

(i've told you a million times)

"Maybe this whole marriage was a mistake if you can't even trust your husband," he uttered as he turned his back to you, your mouth agape at his words. He had to be saying them just to hurt you, right? He'd certainly done the job if that was his intent. You refrained from crying in front of him, never quite giving him that satisfaction in any arguments between the two of you. He'd never given you a reason to distrust him, but you couldn't say the same thing about Dana. You knew her issues regarding commitment, how easily she ignored the fact that someone was already accounted for.

"Maybe it was," you whispered quietly to yourself, unaware that he'd heard it even through the thin walls. It was only when you heard the staircase leading up to the apartment hallways that you allowed yourself to cry, assured by the fact that Miguel wasn't here listening to you. You looked over at the baby outfit you were planning on surprising him with, gripping it so tightly that your knuckles started to turn white. You were hoping on surprising him with the news of your pregnancy given how eager he was to have kids, only to have the evening end up in an argument.

The argument continued until the next day, both of you unable to put your pride aside and apologize. Well, mostly him. He was at his desk, glasses tipping at the edge of his nose as he read through the last report of his samples. His brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the percentages in front of him, the culture showing an abnormal amount of growth for the amount of time it'd been exposed to the antidote. His train of thought was abruptly cut off when he heard his cell phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans, a small groan escaping from his lips before he reached for it.

Your name appeared on the caller ID, his gut telling him that this call was important. Despite that, he pressed the red button to shut the ringing up. His ego was still bruised from the words you'd uttered yesterday, even though he knew that you hadn't meant them. They were just words spoken out of anger. the same reason why he even thought of uttering those words to you. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose, raising his hips to put his phone back in his pocket when the shrill ring sounded again. He took it as a sign of you raising a white flag, deciding to be receptive towards the signal.

"Aló?" He asked as he picked up the phone, your heavy breathing coming through the other end. He stood up in a frenzy as he listened to the sounds of your breathing, starting to feel his blood turn cold. "Miguel! Thank goodness you picked up. I think there's a couple men following me. Can you please come and pick me up? I'm at fifth a-POP!" All the air from his lungs left as he heard a gunshot coming through, the unmistakable sound of a thud echoing in his ears. "Hurry up and get her purse, asshole!" He heard the yelling and scuffling of feet get closer to the receiver, your belongings being stripped away as he was forced to listen.

Miguel remained on the line, wanting some kind of indication that you were still alive. For now, he'd settle for listening to your ragged breathing coming through. He'd called for an ambulance before leaving the house, though he wasn't sure how serious it would be taken with the amount of homicides that happened throughout nueva york. "Oyé. Once you get out the hospital, we're going to Bali like you wanted us to. We're renewing our vows," he spoke into the phone, his voice threatening to crack as he willed himself to cling onto the last bit of hope.

The ambulance still wasn't there by the time he arrived, his knees buckling at the sight of the amount of blood on the sidewalk. He watched other people walk around you like you were inconveniencing them, anger brewing inside him at the sight. He knelt down by your side, watching the bullet wound piercing through your shirt onto your stomach. He removed his shirt without much thought, using it as a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. All he needed was more time. More time with you. More time to apologize to you.

All he wanted was to tell you was that he didn't mean it, wanted to let you know how much you meant to him and more. He didn't want you to die thinking that he hated you. The pain in his chest intensified at the thought, warm tears rolling down his cheeks onto your face. "I'm sorry," he tried to tell you in broken sentences, his voice cracking as tears welled up in his eyes. He wasn't sure what he was apologizing for at this point, if it was for the fact that he wasn't able to save you or for the fact that he'd called your marriage a mistake.

The last thing he remembered from that was your hand squeezing his, your eyes snapping open to look at his for a fraction of a second. "I know, Miguel," your voice was hoarse as you spoke, blood leaking from your mouth. He was immediately dismissed from the scene once the paramedics arrived, the police following soon after. While he was getting questioned as one of the suspects from the attack, you were in the back of that ambulance battling to even stay alive. He forced himself to be compliant, answering the ridiculous questions just so he could be next to you again.

The wait outside the emergency roomed seemed endless, the ticking clock on the wall only adding to the ominous mood. His hands rested on his knees, his head hanging low as he listened to the chatter going on around him. A kid complaining that their mom wouldn't give them their tablet. A woman wailing loudly at the news of her daughter's stroke. After what seemed an eternity, a nurse approached him with a solemn look on her face. "We did everything we could but unfortunately the blood loss was just too much by the time we managed to get her underneath the table. The mortician's analyzing her body down in the morgue."

"Sorry about the wait, we like to do investigations on deaths that aren't of natural causes. We managed to get the bullet out intact so our chances of finding the perpetrators are much higher now," the mortician spoke to Miguel after coming out the laboratory, the voice coming out in a dull tone as Miguel forced himself to focus. The dim lighting around him almost seemed fitting with the topic of death. "We didn't find anything too out of the ordinary, except for the fact that her hgc hormone levels were elevated upon doing blood tests," the mortician continued, treating this as standard routine while Miguel was slowly dying inside. "Can you explain what that means?"

You were pregnant. A million of different scenarios ran through his head on the drive home, the image of you swollen with his baby resting in the forefront of his brain. His grip on the steering wheel was iron tight, trying to maintain his focus on the road ahead. He imagined the baby shower that he would never get to host now, the gender reveal that would now remain a permanent part of his imagination. He was running on autopilot, unable to register his surroundings when he arrived. Home didn't feel like home anymore. Not without one of your candles burning in the background. Not without the dulcet tunes of the record player you'd spent too much on.

His knuckles were purple by the end of the night, having found the perpetrators before the police were able to. The cracking of noses and the crunching of teeth grinding together filled his ears with a certain kind of satisfaction. His sense of morality had been long tainted before, his only goal in mind to have them meet the same fate you'd did. He beaten them to a bloody pulp, their faces disfigured after he was finished with the job. He was expecting for the feeling of satisfaction to rush over him, to make him feel like this was all worth it. But all this reminded him was that you weren't coming back no matter what he did. 

Miguel spent the next couple days in bed, unable to fall asleep as the memory of your lifeless body ran through his mind at every second. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your lips uttering that you forgave him. Shock, how he regretted the petty fight between the two of you. If the two of you hadn't been fighting, he would've been the one to take you to work instead of leaving you to your own devices. His mind was just a constant loop of: if, if, and if. He was curled up in a ball, silent tears soaking your pillow as he buried his face in it. He maintained doing this every night until the remnants of your shampoo no longer lingered on the pillowcase.

Eventually, he managed to leave the house upon realizing that all the food on the fridge was either pass its expiration date or rotten. He walked around aimlessly through the aisles, picking up what would be easiest to cook. The idea of eating didn't even appeal him all that much, not when it wasn't your delicious cooking. The type of cooking that would leave him going back for seconds, rubbing his stomach with his head tilted back at the dinner table. Soon enough, his cart was full of refried beans, frozen dinners for one, and chicken soup from a can. The once health junk that complained about processed foods was long gone, settling for what was easy.

He walked into the cleaning aisle section, unsure of what he needed to buy. You were usually the one who took care of the necessities of the house, knowing what brand of dish wash was better and knowing what brand of toilet paper would last you two the longest. He put the chemistry class he'd taken in college to work, reading through the ingredient lists until he found something that was up to his liking. He stopped by the laundry aisle, overwhelmed by the strong aroma of the different scents permeating the area. He'd only come in here to pick up one thing.

Fabric softener. It was the one thing that he did remember what brand you liked, since it was the first thing that he woke up to in the mornings. The relaxing scent of a lavender field hitting his nostrils as he brought the cover over his body. He scanned the shelves, unable to find what he was looking for. He scanned the shelves for a second time, taking his time to analyze the bottles as if he expected for it to magically appear from thin air. "Excuse me, but do you have any more of these in the back?" He asked an employee, pulling up a picture of the bottle he'd taken on his phone.

He felt the air leave his lungs as he waited, his throat constricting while his vision blurred. Bis chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, his grip on the shelf next to him tight. His body was urging him for oxygen but he couldn't bring himself to breathe, warm tears accumulating in his waterline. The world seemed to be passing him by at a rapid speed, everybody too preoccupied in their own problems. His world, however, had been turned on its axis completely. He didn't know how to function like the rest of these people, not without you by his side.

"Sir?" The employee's voice was barely heard over the ringing circulating through his head, his eyes darting over to hers. "So, about that softener. The line's chosen to discontinue that product but there's plenty more on the shelves," their words only served to disappoint him even further, the frown on his face deepening to the point it almost looked like a scowl. His hands clasped and unclasped in attempt to calm himself down, trying to acknowledge that this was far beyond his control and this poor employee's control. His control lost against his emotions, his voice wavering as he tried to speak.

"Can you check the back again?!" He managed to croak out, desperate to have something that reminded him of lazy morning spent with you. Of the feeling of having his lips pressed against your forehead, your naked bodies intertwined underneath the dark bedsheets. He hadn't even meant to snap at the underpaid employee, but he needed that fabric softener. The others on the shelves just simply wouldn't suffice. He needed that small reminder to tether him to reality.

"Sorry sir, I don't know what to tell you.." the employee's words didn't quite compute in his brain, a sudden ringing reverberating throughout his skull. He managed to nod out a response so as to not get security called on him, ignoring the stares that people were shooting his way. The shelves seemed to be crowding around him, a cage closing in around him. He needed to get out of this place, needed to get back to the comfort of his own home. He needed to get away. Get back to the one place that was still full of memories of you, your trinkets scattered throughout the house. He gave up on shopping, leaving the cart behind.

He walked into one of the bathroom stalls, closing the door behind him. If he would've been a little more self conscious about his surroundings, he would've realized that he was kneeling in front of one of the Walmart toilets. Just the sight of public restrooms was enough to disgust him on a regular basis but he wasn't thinking properly. His eyes stung as salty tears rolled down his cheeks despite his best efforts to maintain his composure. He welcomed the sting that rested on his knees, anything to distract him from the fact that he felt himself falling apart. Any feeling of pain that wasn't caused by you.

He curled up into a ball on the dirty bathroom floor, his knees resting by his chest as he burst out into tears. He'd been holding out on breaking down for so long that the seams had finally unraveled. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, his mouth silently crying out for you. For you to come back to him. "Miguel?" LYLA spoke up after a couple minutes of inactivity, noticing him on the ground a couple minutes later. While she couldn't feel human emotions, she couldn't help but feel bad seeing her creator laying on the floor. "Peter. Miguel needs your help. I'm opening a portal to you."

"Miguel, come on man. You've gotta stand up," Peter pleaded with him as he tried to help him up to no avail. "No. It hurts," Miguel muttered, his eyes starting to burn from the amount of tears he was holding back. He was never one to cry in front of other people and he certainly wouldn't start now. "I know, Miguel. But come on, you can't have a mental breakdown in a Walmart. Let's go home and drink a couple beers, yeah?" Miguel only agreed to Peter's request to get him to shut up. His metabolism was too fast for the alcohol to hit him properly, leaving him in the same state that he was in the bathroom. But for now, he'd make stupid conversation.

So if Peter had seen him in that state, why had he brought a carbon copy of the woman that haunted his every waking moment was beyond him. Miguel had to do a double take just to make sure he wasn't seeing things, just the sight rendered him speechless. You waved up at him, almost seeming like you were expecting more out of this interaction. He couldn't bring himself to act normal, to even utter a word. Just the sight of you was too painful to bear, something like Medusa's stare. He simply nodded off to whatever Peter was telling him, waiting for the doors to close before he began a thorough analysis about your background.

He couldn't help but wonder if he could morph you to be the perfect image of his wife, shape you into the perfect mold. He'd even thought about how he would go about it, slowly but surely showering you with love until he was able to make subtle suggestions to you. Subtle suggestions that would turn you into a perfect image of his wife. He shook his head after thinking through the scenario once more, realizing just how much of an asshole he was being. He knew that you were a completely different person than his wife, the mole on your left eye serving to prove his point, but that didn't mean he still couldn't see her in you. Seeing you resurfaced some feelings he'd tried so hard to bury.

"Is he like that with everyone?" You asked Peter as he led you through the various paths of HQ, various paths that you'd inevitably end up getting lost in despite the tour. "Miguel? Yeah, I'd say so. Don't take anything too personal from him. You probably won't have to see him too often since you report to me anyways," Peter's words were meant to be reassuring, but you couldn't help doubt the sincerity behind them. They seemed measured, almost like he didn't want to hurt your feelings in the process. You decided to stop asking questions about Miguel, choosing to ask more about how the society worked.

The few times that you did see Miguel were during your mission briefings and even then, he seemed to want to avoid you at all costs. He avoided eye contact with you as he spoke, answering other people's questions before answering your own. "Yes Web-Slinger?" He inquired after he was done with his train of thought, his red eyes focused on the cowboy-ish Spider-Man. "Well the little lady over there had her hand up so she can go first," the other man replied, referring to you. You wanted to shrink into your seat when everyone's gaze was directed towards you. "Yes but I’m answering your question first. What is it?"

Despite the fact that he didn't give you any actual motive to develop a crush on him, you still couldn't help yourself. You started looking forward to the mission briefings despite how much time they lasted. You started thinking about him in scenarios that you probably shouldn't have, thinking of the way his muscles would tense under your touch as you gave him a massage. You'd heard some baseless rumors from the other spiders at HQ who'd slept with him, fantasizing that it was your body he was playing like an instrument instead of them. You were practically feeding your delusions off of bread crumbs, silently cheering for yourself when he managed to face you.

You thought that maybe he was just stressed out the day Peter had introduced you to him, given that he was the one leading this whole organization and whatnot. "One coffee, please," you ordered at the cafeteria, standing for an ungodly amount of time in line. Though, with the amount of variants that wandered throughout the building, you supposed you couldn't expect for easy service. You took the cup of coffee after paying two dollars for it, making your way over to Miguel’s office. You were hoping you could get some brownie points with him. Start off slow before you tried to pursue something deeper with him, something more intimate.

You brought your fingers up to the door, hesitating for a moment before knocking on it three times. Miguel instantly hated himself for even recognizing that knock, the minute details about his wife engraved deep into his cortex. Deep into his soul. "Come in," his voice came out from inside, unbeknownst to you that he was looking at the cameras throughout HQ. "I brought you a coffee. I didn't know which one to get so I just went with black," you offered as you peered your head to look up at the platform he was standing on. You could barely make out his figure with the darkness surrounding you, the only light source being the monitors around.

"I don't drink coffee," his response came out curt, making you question what you did wrong this time. As adamant as he was to not pursue any conversation with you, you were at the very least determined to leave him with a good impression of yourself. At least aiming for that since any chances of him reciprocating the feelings brewing out inside you seemed slim to none. "Are you sure? I saw you with a cup the other day," you tried to push the subject further, hoping he'd be a bit more receptive this time around. "I didn't stutter, did I? I said I don't drink coffee."

It was so quiet that you could hear the quiet beeping from the computers, the noises almost mocking your attempts. "Well, I'll just leave it on your desk in case you change your mind," you told him, setting it down on the table with the least electronics sitting on it. You made your way out of his office, grimacing to yourself as you recounted the events. Well, at least he'd spoken more words than before. Even if they did undermine your intelligence a bit. You wouldn't consider it as a win, but you'd consider it as progress. Somewhat. Well, you hoped that it was a step in the right direction towards getting to know him.

Miguel picked up the cup of coffee, immediately wanting to be disgusted at the gesture and wanting to throw it out. He saw it as something that disturbed the equilibrium of his office. As minute as it was. He took a sip from the cup, mentally reprimanding himself for enjoying the liquid going down his throat. "You're so weird, seriously. Who just drinks black coffee?" His wife used to tease him during the mornings after making his cup, setting it on the counter along with the daily newspaper and a plate of eggs. He'd almost thought of apologizing to you, holding you against himself to remind himself of what he used to have but he knew better of it. He knew it wouldn't be the same.

You busied yourself with the multitude of files that Miguel left for you to do, the task making it seem like he was keeping you busy for as long as possible. You were buried underneath paperwork, filling up papers that you had the briefest knowledge of given the reports provided. You'd made it out of your desk at around seven, much of the other spiders having already departed from HQ to head back to their respective universes. You lingered for a little bit longer, strolling around to make yourself a bit more acquainted with the place before sitting down at the common area. You scrolled lazily through your phone, trying to find something to distract you from heading back home.

You watched as Miguel departed from his office, talking to one of the spiders with his gizmo before opening up a portal. The orange colors swirled around, complimenting the blue and red design of his suit before he disappeared inside. You couldn't help but wonder if he just had a problem with you specifically or if he had some kind of trauma trailing behind him. While he was more closed off and less charismatic than the other spiders, he at least made the effort to maintain a proper conversation with them. You rubbed your sweaty palms on the material of your pants, standing up from your seat to head into his office.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" A voice behind you boomed, your back straightening out like a ruler. You turned around to face miguel, the clip from his wedding playing in the background. Specifically the part where you, well your variant, was sharing her vows. You'd never seen him smile the way he did in those videos, never seen him so full of life. You were about to open your mouth to explain but Miguel’s glare was quick to shut you up. You didn't know how to explain the situation, that you were snooping around his personal belongings because you were curious?

"Get out. I don't want to find you in my office again."

You defeatedly got off from the platform, making your way over to the door. You looked back at him, the pain in your chest growing stronger at his rejection. You just wanted to know more about him, get a glimpse of the man behind the shell that he put on for the public. Despite getting the answers you were looking for, you were only left with more questions in turn. Did he hate you because you reminded him of who he couldn't go home to? You stood there with your hand on the doorknob like a fool, waiting for him to take mercy on your poor, bleeding heart. Mercy that unfortunately never came.

"I thought I told you to get out."

The scent of your perfume lingered inside of the room, the slightly floral aroma hitting his nostrils when you departed. He shouldn't have thought much of it but it only served to prove how much different from his wife you were. Despite the fact that the two of you were so similar, even in the ways that you acted, there was a little difference here and there. The foods that you liked to frequent, the different aromas that you enjoyed, and even the jewelry that you chose to wear. His wife had been more subtle with her jewelry while you chose to wear a heart necklace over top your Spider-Suit. Just the thought was enough to drive him mad.

Miguel let out a shaky exhale, his eyes traveling to where the clip was playing in the background. "Por ti aprendería todo los idiomas si fuera necesario para describir el amor que siento. Te amo, Miguel. Ahora y en la muerte," your voice was a sweet melody that he could never get enough, his throat closing up as he hung his head. "Y yo a ti," he spoke up along with the recording, the camera panning over to Miguel as he went through his own vows. The exchange of love brought an involuntary smile to his face, no awful dream morphing it into something it wasn't. The ceremony played out, the waltz music filling the silence in his office.

(for you, i'd learn all the languages if it was necessary to describe the love i feel for you. i love you, miguel. now and in death//and i to you.)

He frantically looked through the files, analyzing each of them by name just to make sure you hadn't deleted any while snooping around. He'd seen them plenty of times whenever his mind was too much to handle, which seemed to be more often these days. He let out a breath he didn't even realize he was holding after triple checking the files, all of them where they were supposed to be. Almost as if it wasn't enough to have that sense of security, he decided to put them in an encoded folder that only he and LYLA would be able to access now. Those memories meant too much for him to put them at stake.

That night, no dreams of his wife came back to haunt him. No painful reminders of how she'd died, of how he'd failed her in her last moments. His dreams were oddly peaceful, a life in a beach paradise where none of his worries seemed to matter. He still ended up waking up in the same cold sweat when he got the image of you, the new spider recruit, haunting his dreams with that sweet smile of yours. The dream itself had been enjoyable, an arm wrapped around your waist as he kissed you good morning. The feeling of your lips wrapped around his morning erection, your tongue greedily lapping up his precum while the sunlight illuminated your features.

The thought of it being you and not his wife for once stirred him awake faster than any nightmare ever could. The fact that he was starting to grow more accustomed to you as a person, rather a simple visage reminding him of what used to be terrified him more than any multiversal anomaly. He was unable to fall asleep for the duration of the night, simply looking up at the ceiling as he tried to figure out what the dream could possibly mean. He wanted to hate you so badly, for reminding him of his past failures. And yet, he couldn't help but long for your company now that he was laying alone.

taglist🫶🏼: @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @lazyjellyfish300 @pxtched @nympholove @ifiwasaguybrickedup @yournextbimbogf @nixinluv02

[onsomenewsht]

All these people think love’s for show / but I would die for you in secret

About when she’s got a smile and you got impatient

》 Leah Williamson × Reader 》 words count: 1.7 k 》 soft launch [verb, specialized]: to make a product, service, or business available or open for the first time, but only to a limited number of people at first

Being in a private relationship when you���re a public figure is even funnier than it sounds. And it sounds pretty funny as it is.

“You’re overthinking it”, Leah says, even if she knows better than to tease who’s literally feeding her.

You don’t bite back but keeping the plate slightly out of reach is a clear enough answer.

She smiles.

Oh, the way she lights up your day when she smiles at you.

You and Leah aren’t much for sharing your lifes on social media.

She’s been pretty much traumatized by the immense and not-really-that-unexpected attention after leading her national team to an historic tournament win. You’ve been scolded enough times by your agent to take your online enthusiasm down a notch.

So, your relationship flowered from two friendly teammates - who happened to share a room after a worth to be celebrated win - to an overly in love couple - who barely manage to store that many jackets in a four door closet.

You both understand the importance of some privacy to grow a love so beautiful yet so fragile, also not really caring about the outside world’ hot takes.

But one year of unplanned dates, dances around the kitchen waiting for delivery and shared stories in the middle of the night are a lot to keep just between the two of you.

Your teammates are way over your not-so-discreet looks during practice and your constant touch, the skipper never been one to shy away from a teasing kiss or wandering hands and you never back down an opportunity to make your friends regret every single life choose ‘til that very moment.

“We’re having a good time, aren’t we?”

“Yes, we are”, Leah raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Oh, the way she lights up your mood when she challenges you.

“Such a cute moment to share with our loved ones, isnt?”

Leah looks around, the pasta dish shared in your kitchen island definitely counts as a cute moment for her. Sure, the fact you both are just in oversized t-shirts adding points to her case. Or yours, she’s not sure yet what point you’re trying to make.

“You want to share this?”, she gestures at the scene with a smirk, “We eating undercooked pasta in our underwear at unholy hour?”

“Yes, I want to share us having a wonderful time and perfectly cooked pasta”

Her blonde head tilts studying you, thinking it’s more about the fact you’re looking at her like she’s the reason why the sun rises every morning.

You’re feeding her, Leah’s own hands way too busy caressing her girlfriend’s outstretched legs to bother with food. And you can see her nipples through the overworn t-shirt of yours she’s on.

It's definitely about the nipples.

“What if I die tomorrow and no one knows I managed to win you over?”

“That's a way too dramatic turn, even for you”, but then she cracks up and you sure will die happy if this is how you meet your maker.

Oh, the way she lights up your home when she laughs at something you said just for the sake of making her happy.

“What? Life is unpredictable and McCabe is getting more aggressive with the age, I don’t know how much long I still have”

“And your main concern is the world knowing you won me over?”

"Of course not, my sunshine", you reach toward her, brushing your lips so close to hers she can already taste the wine you paired with the pasta. “My main concern is not being able to survive a tackle by Katie, even dead I have a reputation to keep and it’s your duty to defend my honor ‘til your own grave”

It is Leah who is closing the distance now, and even if you wanted to keep the jokes coming - still making sure she does make up a great story about your noble sacrifice if needed - Earth stops running around the sun when she kisses you.

You’re whipped and she’s honored, truly grateful for the opportunity to learn all your ways to show her and the people you care about how much love one can gift the world with.

“I love you”

“Why are you looking at me like that, Williamson?”

“I love you”

“Now you’re scaring me, are you the one dying?”

She knows you, she knows humor is your way to deal with comfortable and uncomfortable situations alike. She knows you’re always up for a good laugh, but she also knows you never say things just for the sake of a joke. Your words are always meaningful, your retorts always smart enough to look effortless.

“You wanna make some big announcement?”, Leah asks with a smile that’s held back by the seriousness behind the question.

“No, but I don’t want to hide us”

“We don’t hide”

“We don’t keep a secret, but sometimes we do hide”

It takes her a moment, but she gets what you’re saying. Your relationship is not hidden per se, not a secret and never denied.

But sometimes the two of you have to delay your greeting and wait for more private settings, or think twice before posting anything on your social media accounts. Sometimes she needs to withhold the instinct to rush to you and be the first to celebrate you for an incredible and game changing goal. Sometimes you need to hold back yourself, walking a step behind with your head down just to refrain from taking her hand in yours.

Usually, you two don’t even realize you're actively hiding the deep love no speculative-but-surprisingly-high-quality video edit can really capture. It happens regardless and it’s starting to make you feel dejected, Leah notices.

“Then we don’t”

You look up, stopping playing around with the now cold pasta. Your girlfriend’s hands are still on your legs, her soft touch never hesitant or refrained despite the tricky topic.

“What are you saying?”

“You know what I’m saying”

Your lover lights up again, the world lights up again.

She’s smiling a lot tonight, she thinks. She’s also perfectly aware of the permanent grin on her face whenever you’re around. She’s whipped too after all.

You wait for her to elaborate, so she does.

“I’m saying we do whatever we want whenever we want, and we share what we feel like sharing about our lives together”

“Whatever we want?”

Leah is pretty sure you have some very specific images in mind, you’re always taking photos of everything and everyone. Needless to say, your girlfriend is by far your favorite subject to capture.

Pictures of her sleeping with face masks on, or her frown while she’s playing board games and not necessarily winning, or when she’s trying outfit after outfit to make sure she’s dressed up for the occasion. Pictures of her taken during intimate moments, not necessarily suggestive but definitely meaningful given the nature of your relationship and the level of trust in each other.

She’s confident you have several photo albums of her in your phone.

You do.

That’s why when you reach for the long forgotten device, putting on a show of taking as many candids as you can, Leah happily plays along. Your shenanigans get a more creative direction, let's say, and some of the photos are taken just for the two of you to admire.

~

“We can soft launch”, she insists hours later, archives improved and clothes forgotten.

You’re lying on your back with her head placed comfortably on your thigh, sheet all over the bed. She can see your pensive gaze, despite you being at ease.

“Who educated you on such slang?”

“Beth but that’s not the point”

“It clearly is, she did the soft launch thing all wrong”

The hand you have between her blonde locks stops its ministration when Leah bursts out laughing like you just said the funniest thing possible.

“Let’s show them how it’s done!”

~

The next couple of days you both shared a bit more on your social media pages, nothing too revealing but enough to give your agent anxiety.

She posted a few photos on her stories, like a restaurant set up that’s most definitely a date and you from behind preparing tea in her kitchen in the middle of the night. Surprisingly you take a more subtle approach, posting teasing pictures but nothing really telling, even if Leah’s in most of them.

It lasts three days, by the end of which you’re even more pissed than before.

“I genuinely can’t believe it! You’re shoving her during practice and you two are basically married, but you post my hand on your thigh and I’m a really supportive friend”

The team’s admin posted some training shots in the morning and the vast majority of the comments are about the cute interaction between your girlfriend and Lia, the two always messing around a bit.

You’re mostly joking but the English capitan is aware that the constant rumors and the oversexualised comments she often receives upset you. Not sparked by jealousy, rather by the lack of respect towards her and her personal life.

“Relax, my love, they comment about us too”

She’s holding you from behind, her hands on your sides and her freshly washed hair leaving wet spots on your shirt. She lays her chin on your shoulder, trying not to giggle too much at some unhinged comments she can read under the posts you are scrolling.

“The way she looks at Leah: same”, you read out loud, faking annoyance. “Oh, that’s enough!”

You must have spotted something that snapped your sudden reaction.

Your lovely girlfriend stays unfazed in her position as you determinately search for a particular photo, type a caption, then stop to silently wait for her approval.

Leah barely nods, but you feel her smile and then her lips on your skin when you post it.

A picture of the two of you looking at each other with heart shaped eyes, dressed up to the nines since it was a snippet of a date on your summer vacation.

Her black attire was to die for and you sure died in some way. The blonde remembers in vivid details your care and attention, slipping it under her with such reverence later that same night.

She shivers, comments already popping in.

“You'd have tagged me”

“They know who you are”, your grin getting bigger by the seconds as you lock your phone and toss it away muted.

You turn around in her arms, and even if you know Leah’s most definitely sporting one of her best smiles, when you look at her it’s life changing.

Oh, the way she lights up your entire existence when her love for you it’s clear on her face.

You pick her up by her thighs, holding her as close as your bodies physically allow.

"Impatient", she teases.

“I’m gonna show you impatience”.

~

fine.

[carmyboobear]

Idk if you've written this but can you write about carmy and the reader arguing and he makes her cry? Idk I just feel like thatd be good angst fluff lol

AHH I got carried away as per usual. anyway this is good stuff. wrote a bunch. enjoy!!

word count: 1.3k

tags: traumatized carmy, mentally ill carmy and reader, arguing, language, HURT/COMFORT, ANGST/FLUFF, carmy being a sweetie

Hm…i'm spending a lot of time thinking about the set-up for this. Carmy is a very careful person when it comes to those he’s romantically involved in, but at the same time, he has a hard time controlling his temper when he's in the darkness, as i'll put it. 

here's something awful i think about that i wanna write about. carmy's stressed about work, because of course he is. he's carmy. his head is whirring, spinning with anxiety and self-hatred. i think you're just like him. mentally ill for mentally ill if you will. you're also in a bad mood, and he comes home from The Bear exhausted and keyed up.

“I hate when you push me away like this,” you admit. You've been trying to get him to talk to you since he's been home. Maybe he just needs space, but separation makes you anxious. Especially when he shuts down. 

“I'm sorry that it's so hard for you,” he spits, finally snapping and turning to face you. You've followed him into the dark bedroom, lit only by the harsh moonlight through the window. You flinch. You never quite get used to seeing him like this. 

“I—I just—“ you feel pressure beginning in the back of your eyes. You will it away. “How can I help you if you don’t talk to me?”

“Why do you care so much? Does it make you feel better to take care of someone more fucked up than you?” He snaps, voice raised. His words go down bitter, leaving an awful taste in your mouth. Something in you shatters.

“How could you ask me that?” Your vision’s gone hot and blurry. “I’m your partner. I love you, that’s why I care, you asshole!” You’re stifling sobs. You hate crying in fights like this, but it hurts. You can’t help it.

“Fuck,” Carmy mutters under his breath. He’s gone still in your blurred vision. “Baby, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that—“

“That was so fucked up, Carmy.” You move to sit on the bed, trying to wipe your tears away, but they keep coming. “What’s your problem?”

“You know what my problem is.” His remorse has swept away the anger, leaving him quiet before you. He leans down at your knees, hands on your thighs. “I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”

“You shouldn’t have.” Carmy nods quickly, and he raises a hand to your wet cheeks. “Fuckin’ asshole.”

“I know.” He takes your pain, your anger in its entirety. His other hand brings your knuckles to his lips. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.“

“Sure sounded like you meant it.” Anger flares up in your chest, hurt and betrayed, but you tamp it down, leaning into his hand cradling his face. You take a deep breath to steady yourself. “Damnit, Carmy.”

“I know. I know.” He’s still kissing your hand. “You’re too good for me. I don’t deserve you.” You hate it when he talks like this, because you can tell he really believes it.

“Don’t say that. Please.” 

“But it’s true.” You look down at him in the moonlight, at his sad blue eyes. “I always find ways to hurt you. I…”

“That’s what being in a relationship is, Carm.” You pat the space next to you. “Sit with me?”

“I keep having to remind myself of that.” He sinks into the bed next to you. “I’m so sorry for talking about you like that. Like you’re only doing this out of…I don’t know. Obligation.” He drags a hand across his tired face. “You don’t deserve that. I’m sorry. I just, I just think that—that I’m—fuck—“

“Slow down, Carm,” you say quietly. “It’s okay. You don’t need to force it. I’m listening.” He smiles bitterly at you, and you recognize the love in it easily. He takes in a deep breath before continuing. 

“I still have a hard time believing that anyone cares about me. I can’t even believe that you—love me.” You can practically see the shame rolling off of him in waves. “And it makes me scared.”

“Love is scary, isn’t it?” You say softly. He just nods. “It scares me, too. That’s why I kept pestering you when you got home. I…” You blink quickly. You don’t wanna cry again. “It scares me when I don’t know what you’re thinking. Because…I dunno. It just does.”

“Yeah?” You nod. He has this thoughtful expression that he holds for a moment as he stews on your words. “I didn’t think about it like that. I’m sorry. I think…I think when you kept asking me if I was okay, it…” he sighs, scratches at his temples. “I felt like I was…getting back into a corner. I think.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” You take his hand in yours. “I can see how that must’ve felt really bad.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault that I’m like this. I think—I think it just reminded me of my mom. We would always ask her if she was okay, because she’s fucking crazy, yknow? We didn’t wanna step on her toes. But it turns out we did anyway. And the way I acted just now, I was just like…” He can’t even get the words out. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, voice choked with emotion. “I love you. So much. You know that, right?”

“You tell me everyday. How could I not?” You pull him into a hug, tight and warm, and he instantly wraps his arms around you. “You’re not your mom, Carm. You're nothing like her. Okay?” 

“I don’t wanna be like her,” he whispers. “I don’t wanna be like her.”

“You’re not,” you remind him softly. “And you won’t be.”

Carmy leans back to look at you, but he remains close. His expression is knotted with pain. You run your thumb over his furrowed brow, and it makes his mouth curve upwards in a smile. It’s fleeting, but it was there. 

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I’ll try to open up more. Let you know what I’m thinking.”

Suddenly, you think about when you first started dating Carmy. He was so scared to open up to you emotionally, but with gentle prodding, he fell apart instantly. There was a hunger in him to be known by others, to be seen by you, and it scared him to death. You see that same fear in him now, but you also see how much he’s grown since then. You doubt you would’ve been able to have this conversation at all in the first couple months. 

That makes you happy in a way you’re not quite able to word properly.

“Thank you. But I hope you also know I don’t want to force you. I just wanna help. And…” You measure your words carefully. “I’ll try not to let it freak me out so much. Because if you’re not in the mood to talk, I want you to know that’s okay. Okay?”

“Okay. I’d like that. If I don’t want to talk, I’ll just tell you. Instead of…blowing a fuse.” He laughs dryly. 

“I’d like that too.” You let out an exhale of relief you didn’t realize you were holding. “Wow, Carm. Look at us. Communicating!”

“I know.” That makes him laugh for real this time, and you’re laughing too. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

“I think you could. But I certainly like doing it with you.” His smiles grows wider at that, brimming with affection. 

“Let me make this up to you, baby.” He pulls you in for a kiss, slow and deep. You let out a little noise when his lips meet yours. 

“Make it up to me?” Carmy’s tongue is on your neck now. Oh. “Aren’t you tired? You—you have work tomorrow—?”

“Don’t care.” You fall back onto the bed, and the blankets deflate under you. You stare up at Carmy, his curls hanging by his face. “You’re more important.”

“Well, if you insist…” You giggle, and your giggles get louder when Carmy pulls up your shirt to blow raspberries against your stomach. “Carmy, quit it—oh—!”

He makes it up to you in full and more by keeping his head between your legs for the rest of the night. By the end of it you can't remember what you were mad about in the first place.

[absolutehomosexuals]

Astarion's ascension is extremely popular, despite it clearly being the designed bad ending for him.

So many fans of this version want to argue that it's a "valid" path to choose if you enjoy his character, or that it's equally good as his Spawn ending. The "it's what he wants" argument is the hegemonic justification in question.

But is wanting something better than needing another thing? Yes, he talks about ascension ever since he finds out about the ritual.

Yes, when push comes to shove he's still committed to ascend. But is this enough? Should we support his choice, even when everything but his words tell us not to? Should we trust the judgment of a deeply traumatized man about the best way for him to feel better?

This may sound harsh, but the answer is no.

Because in many circumstances, we see Astarion behaving unhealthily as a result of his trauma: he's hypersexual at the beginning of the game, using sex as a survival mechanism. He's yet to learn what his boundaries should be, what it means not to be an object, to see himself as a person that deserves respect and has so much more to offer than just his body. His trauma is still fresh. And he's so scared of losing his freedom, being trapped under slavery again.

We can't blame him being so desperate to feel safe that he will trade everything he is for it.

Because that's what the ritual means, Cazador says so himself: despite gaining the ritual's power, Astarion is still part of the bargain for said power. He still loses his soul in the process, and that is clear once we see how he acts post-ascension.

Of course, someone that is still suffering from the consequences of 200 years of abuse wouldn't care if he became less of himself, in the process of becoming untouchable ever again. Astarion's behaviour towards himself highlights that he doesn't care for the person he is because that person is, sadly, the product of those centuries of abuse.

He doesn't want to be that person anymore: even better, he doesn't want to be a person anymore: people suffer, people get taken advantage of, people are submitted by more powerful beings. He is willing to give this up not despite losing everything he is, but because of it. And that's what happens after his ascension: he retains his body, which becomes an empty shell of who he once was, with someone else inside of it to fill the void left by his soul.

This situation is a perfect, brutal metaphor of an abused person that later in life becomes the abuser himself, a thing that often happens to male victims of SA.

This is what is fundamentally wrong with Astarion's ascension: he's choosing power, his abuser's tool, over healing. Instead of learning to feel like a person again, to deal with his trauma to life after having endured it, he chooses to not feel anymore, while letting thousands of spawns (like he was) be consumed to get what he wants.

This terribly selfish act is the first instance of Astarion behaving like Cazador, considering the spawns as lesser beings, as nothing but his tools, like all vampire lords do. In this process he also sees himself, the person he gives up being, as a tool. He isn't healing. He's losing all of himself entirely.

Why would someone see this sacrifice as not only necessary to leave his trauma behind, but also preferable to healing from it?

The fan-favourite characteristic of Ascended Astarion is his behaviour towards Tav: in this version of "himself", he clearly is even more sexual than he was in his first days with the tadpole. And this expression of his sexuality is drastically different from the one we got to know prior to this point.

He is dominant, prevaricating, demanding in his avances: he enjoys being in a position of power even in his relationship.

This isn't the Astarion that slowly learns to trust his partner, to build a real loving relationship with someone who sees him as equal and truly cares for him.

Everything that he learns during his romance and his plot gets nullified by his ascension; and yet, this gets overlooked in favour of this more sexually appealing version of him. For people that claim to love his character because of his complexity, Ascended Astarion fans seem to only truly love him when he's less of himself than ever.

When all that's left of him is his body, and he behaves more like the toxic love interest from a young adult romance book, a great number of his fans get wild. Is this all that they want from him? The husk of the funny, sarcastic, dramatic and complex character, filled with this more traditionally masculine attitude, replacing what he used to be? An Astarion that never heals from his trauma, choosing to leave behind everything he was instead? Who resembles his abuser more than ever?

Do his fans who like his ascended version so much to genuinely think this is the best outcome for him, or do they just enjoy being able to project this "macho" fantasy on a physically attractive male character, that otherwise isn't anything like this prototype of man?

We can't help but think that appreciating Ascended Astarion is the same as believing in, if not loving, his hypersexual facade: it's overlooking his humanity in favour of sexualising him.

Which is the biggest disservice one could ever do to his character.

[olderthannetfic]

I'm sick and tired of people writing posts about how if you don't always support your "crisis friend," then you're a horrible piece of shit who sucks the dick of capitalism and only thinks through hyper-individualism. I'm fully convinced that these people never had to deal with a "crisis friend," and they're either surrounded by (mostly) mentally healthy people or they are the crisis friend and don't realize it.

A crisis friend sucks the life out of you, will cross all the boundaries you'll set, and then, once you tell them that you're hurt by their behavior, they'll go to other friends and act like you're a big meanie who abused them.

I recently had to close off a relationship with a crisis friend because their objective in life was to drag me down too.

I like an actor? He's surely a rapist. I post a fic and people enjoy it? I shouldn't be happy about it because the fandom is small and those are very few comments and I'm wasting my time. I find the name of an aesthetic I like? I'm not allowed to, because it reminds them of *extremely triggering memory they'll tell me about in detail when the only thing I wanted to talk about was something silly.* I wasn't allowed to discuss my employment situation because theirs is wobbly at best, and if my family gifted me something nice for whatever occasion, I had to keep it to myself because it would upset them.

Crisis friends won't bother remembering your birthday (not even the month, just to have a general idea of when they're supposed to ask you about the specific date), they won't bother remembering what you like, and they won't care about your boundaries.

I have very few "no-nos," in friendships, and one of them is that I don't want to be put anywhere near the word or concept of rape because I was sexually assaulted as a teen and it was so traumatic I had to drop out of college and go through EMDR. My crisis friend never bothered remembering that, gleefully sending me articles of celebrities who got accused of having assaulted someone.

This is not friendship, and you're not sucking capitalism's cock if you don't want to be someone's burnt-out, underpaid, and mistreated therapist, and I don't give a shit about what Wannabe Communist Tumblr Users think about it.

--

One trillion percent they are the crisis friend.

And they do realize it.

That's why they're writing guilt trip posts to try to move Tumblr's general understanding of boundaries and appropriate behavior back in a direction that favors them.

--

Your particular... uh... "friend" sounds more than usually toxic.

The more commonplace version of the crisis friend is a lot better at not sending you triggering stuff and not insulting the fuck out of your interests.

They do still want free therapy all the time and have trouble understanding why that's just not a fair burden to put on their friends and/or they do kind of know but are in too much of a crisis all the time to figure out how to stop.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 25, Unprotected - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

WARNING: THIS PART HAS A MAJOR THEME THAT SHOULD HAVE A WARNING, BUT I DO NOT WANT TO SPOIL THE PLOT. THEREFORE, IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU FEAR YOU MAY NOT BE ABLE TO HANDLE, *PLEASE* DM ME FOR THE WARNING BEFORE READING!

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Uh... something went horribly wrong.

A/N: BUCKY IS BACK, and just in time <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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You weren’t sure what woke you up– the incessant beeping or the dull ache between your legs. 

“Ugh, Sam, turn off your fucking alarm clock,” you muttered, pulling your blanket above your head. When had the apartment lights gotten so hideously bright? “Sam’s not here, doll. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, and you slowly pulled the blanket down from your face. You were lying on a bed in the middle of a hospital suite, and Bucky Barnes was sitting in an armchair in the corner. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t done anything but worry and fret since arriving. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked him, fighting to keep your voice steady. You’d hoped time would have helped lessen the pain you felt at the sight of him, but no– he still tore at your heart.

“You never changed your emergency contact,” he said, getting up from his chair to sit at the edge of your bed. Lovely. You were going to have to re-traumatize yourself because you hadn’t been assed to update fucking paperwork. 

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. “What happened?” you asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Bucky said. He reached for you but you, but you pulled away, leaving him to frown at the space where your hand had been. “All they would tell me was that your distress beacon was activated, and when SHIELD operatives responded to your safehouse, they found you passed out in a pool of blood. They had you in surgery when I got here.”

“Surgery?” You began patting your body, searching for bandages or stitches, some sign of an incision, but you found nothing. “I don’t feel like I had surgery.”

Bucky shrugged. “That’s all they told me. Since I’m technically not family, they wouldn’t say anything more.” You scoffed. He was a lot less than ‘technically not family’.

“Well, I’m not dead,” you said dismissively, “so no reason for you to stay.” You shooed him away with a flap of your wrists. “Go on home now.”

Bucky snorted. “All laid up in the hospital and still, you got jokes,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Sam called Steve on his way to the airport, told him what went down with A.J., so looks like you’re in need of a new mission partner.” The smirk behind his eyes was enough to make you sneer.

“No,” you said, crossing your arms, and you were sure you looked very intimidating in your hospital gown with an IV sticking out of your hand. “I’m good, thanks. Don’t need any help, especially not yours.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Always so stubborn,” he chided. “Doesn’t matter what you want, doll. Captain’s orders; I’m here to stay, at least until Sam gets back.”

Fucking wonderful. As if you didn’t have enough to worry about, with girls getting murdered, Hydra funding the Wiggle Room, you randomly bleeding out and collapsing, and poor A.J.’s condition still unknown. Maybe there was something so seriously wrong with you, they’d make you go back to the Tower to recover and Bucky would be forced to stay down here, alone. God, was that actually what you were hoping for, now? Your life had indeed gone to shit.

There was a soft knock on your door and a man in a white doctor’s coat and glasses entered, carrying a clipboard.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued: “I’m Dr. Carson; I’ve been attending to you during your stay with us. I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You barked out a humorous laugh. “Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked by a cactus, Doc. Care to explain what the hell happened to me?”

Bucky suppressed a snort as the doctor blushed and averted his gaze. “Yes, well, it’s quite normal to experience some mild discomfort following a D&C,” he began.

You sat up straighter, positive you had misheard him. “I’m sorry,” you interrupted, “a fucking what now?” He couldn’t have said what you thought you heard him say.

Dr. Carson coughed. “A Dilation and Curettage,” he explained. “It’s a procedure to–”

“Oh, I know what it’s fucking is,” you said, raising your voice. “What I don’t understand is why I would even need one in the first place!” Except you did. There was only one reason, and it made everything make perfect sense– the vomiting, the fatigue, all of it. 

Before the doctor could answer you, Bucky spoke up: “Uh, I don’t know what it is. One of you care to explain to me what the hell all this means?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Barnes,” you grumbled, just as the doctor spoke over you:

“It’s a surgical procedure that requires dilation of the cervix and the removal of tissue from the uterus,” he said. “In this case, that would be necrotic fetal tissue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Um, okay,” Bucky said as he considered the doctor’s words. You watched as the realization came over his face. “Holy shit. Fetal tissue? Like… like a baby?”

Dr. Carson nodded slowly. “Yes.” He turned back to face you. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. (Y/L/N), but it appears that you’ve experienced what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. Near as we can figure, you were about sixteen weeks along.”

You brought both hands to your temples. Was this real life? 

“Were you not aware you were pregnant?” the doctor asked, taking in the look of complete shock on your face. “When was the date of your last period?”

Before you could control yourself, you began laughing with the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. “I’ve been slightly preoccupied,” you managed to get out. “Between the baby’s father” you thumbed at Bucky, “cheating on me with my greatest enemy, working undercover to save a bunch of women from sex trafficking and now solving a murder, too, I guess, so forgive me if I haven’t really been keeping track.”

The look Dr. Carson gave you then was a mixture of concern and alarm, and you were fairly confident he was this close to having you held for a mandatory psych eval. Good; you could benefit from a vacation.

“Could, you, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat, “give us a moment alone, please, doctor? I’m sure Pock– I mean (Y/N) needs a minute to collect herself, to process.”

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Carson said, seeming relieved that one of you appeared sane, at least. “I’ll send a nurse over in a little while to check your vitals, and we can see about getting you discharged.”

Bucky nodded and offered the doctor his thanks on your behalf, because you were still laughing. Dr. Carson left the room, his haste evident. 

“Pocket,” Bucky said, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him. “Pocket,” he tried again, this time grabbing both your shoulders in his hands and gently shaking them. “Hey, get yourself together, come on!”

Your laughter tapered away and you wiped a tear away from your eye. “Oh my god,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry, but this is just… I’ve been running around pregnant for four fucking months? Come on! That’s, like, an entire third of a year! You gotta admit, that’s fucking insane!”

Bucky studied you. “You really didn’t know?”

You snorted. “Of course not! If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, because I would have taken care of it the second I found out.”

A frown took over Bucky’s face. “What do you mean, ‘take care of it’?” he asked. 

“I mean, like, I would have aborted it,” you said, as though the answer was so unbelievably obvious that it was stupid of him to have even asked, but Bucky’s frown deepened. “You can’t honestly think I would have kept it?”

“It was our baby, Pocket,” he said after a beat, his voice a rough whisper. “You would have killed our baby?!”

You rolled your eyes. “What? Just because you knocked me up, I’m supposed to forget everything you put me through and play happy co-parents with you and step mommy Carthage for the next eighteen years? No fucking thank you.”

“I would have married you,” he said, and you noticed for the first time that his voice was full of sorrow, his eyes lined with tears. Jesus Christ, this was hurting him. “We would have raised him or her together. Been a family.”

You laughed, the sound harsh and awkward to your own ears. “There’s no way in hell I’d marry you,” you told him. “Not after what you did. A clump of cells doesn’t just absolve you from your sins.”

“That was our child,” Bucky said, with so much anguish in his voice that you pulled yourself back. “That was a baby we made, out of our love, and you’re talking about it like it’s… it’s inconvenient garbage.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the trash took itself out,” you said bitterly.

Bucky looked at you in abject horror. “You don’t mean that,” he said, as though trying to convince himself as much as you. “You’re… you’re in shock. You’ve been through a trauma, and you’re not thinking straight.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he reiterated.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, James.” You turned your head away from him, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you, as if you were a complete stranger. 

The suite’s door opened again, and a nurse came in, dragging a portable computer cart behind her. Saved by the vitals, you thought.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky said under his breath, and you sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to table this discussion for long, but not knowing what he hoped to get out of you. 

He couldn’t seriously have expected you to want to have had a baby with him, could he? Not after everything. To be forced into close proximity with him for the next two decades, and be tied together for the rest of your lives with a constant reminder of what could have been, should have been, with what he prevented you from ever having? That was just… delusional. 

Even though, if you had given yourself a chance to truly think about it, outside of the initial shock of it all, that was what you would have wanted, too.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[kakiastro]

Who’s your Future Spouse ? Detailed 18+ reading

Hey y’all! It’s been so long since I made a intuitive post but I’m back! This reading is all about who you are going to marry or just be in a committed relationship with.

Disclaimer: please know that this is just a general reading and for entertainment purposes only. We all have free will so take what resonates and leave the rest.

Now take 3 deep breaths. Pick which animal you feel called too. If it’s more than one then that’s okay.

🦌🐅🐘

🦌

Physically: deep round light brown or hazel eyes(prominent feature) have a youthful face. Small build, lightweight muscular, light brown shaggy hair and beard. Big smile, there’s something noticeable about their hands so it can be a tattoo, a scar or birth mark. Wears casual clothes especially sweaters

Personality: chilled laid back person. They’re more on the introvert side but loves to talk once they’re comfortable with you. I feel like their low key nerdy, like for example,you wouldn’t expect them to be huge Star Wars nerds first talking them until they reveal they own collectibles😅. I wouldn’t call this person a stoner per say but they don’t mind hitting a blunt every once in a blue moon😅they also love nature and I’m seeing a hiking bag so they could have an adventure side to them as well. I feel like some of you all are interested in astrology and they’re going to love hearing you teach them about it. Im hearing they love Greek mythology. This person loves learning things as well. They’re readers. This person gives me Taurus and Gemini vibes. They love food especially street food. They’re not confrontational but they will step up if need be “I’m not with the drama but don’t get it twisted, I got these hands.” Is what I heard. If you ever seen the tv show euphoria, your person reminds me of Fez a little bit lol.

Career hobbies: im hearing they love jogging or running. They love to paint as well. Im hearing they don’t have career per say but they do have ambitions. Im hearing freelance or one day owning some type of business (im seeing a gym) I do want to point out that this is the current energy they are in so when you 2 actually meet, they may be established in their chosen field

Sexually: very sensual in bed, they love the late night cuddles and conversations after y’all have sex. They don’t mind doing it whenever but at the same time they’re not in a rush either. Very chilled person like I said. they have a nice butt. If you’re interested in men then their 🍆 is long and slightly curved. If your interested in woman, they may have some hair down there

Astrological: Mercury, Taurus, Gemini, some Sagittarius as well

Letters: D, M, L, Y (First, Middle, Last name) or nick name

Overall your person sounds dope too me deer pile, I hope you enjoyed your reading

🐅

Physically: fine as hell! intimidating look at first. May have resting bitch face😅 I’m hearing covered in tattoos, they love tribal and quote type of tattoos. They have an intense stare, they can see your soul type of stare. They’re tall and muscular, they take care of their body. They have deep dimples that you can see when they’re talking. They’re very confident but not arrogant with it. Here’s the the thing, they’re attractive and they know it😅 they dress nice and love to wear suites or athletic wear. Classy gentleman vibes. They have dark brown panther type eyes, google panther eyes and that’s how your Fs stares at you🔥clean cut hair but when it grows out, it’s really curly. They’re not really a smiley type person but when they do, their smile lights up a room.

Personality: “all my life I’ve had to fight” is what I heard. I’m going to be honest here and say that y’all Fs has been through some traumatic things in their life!! This is why they carry this tough, intimidating persona, it’s a defense mechanism. The have a hard time opening up to people due to past betrayals especially with lovers. The good news is that they’ve been working on some healing. I do feel like when they meet you, they’re going to really start taking their healing seriously because they want to be the best person they can be for you🥹they’re very protective of loved ones as well not just physically but emotionally as well. “If someone hurts you, then I’m hurting them real talk” is what I heard. Your person sort of reminds me of Jax Teller from sons of anarchy. The bad boy /bad girl with heart of gold type of vibe. They’re big romantics as well, loves date nights and very funny. Sort of a jokester (especially dirty jokes)

Career/hobbies: they love working out, playing cards, camping, traveling is a big one Im seeing. They’re very proud of their family roots; I’m hearing Italian descent. So they may love traveling their family ancestral place. For career, they work in some corporate type of work. Hence why their wearing suits a lot lol. I’m hearing entrepreneurs so they may own a business. They love this type of work because it’s competitive and they’re competitive lol

Sexually: Whew Chile!! I hope you guys have lots of stamina because this person is very sexual omg! Your Fs works a lot so when they do have time for you they want to do everything with and too you. Now I’m blushing🫣 they’re open to do all positions. They’re favorite is missionary, not because they’re boring but because they want to look you deep in your eyes while they’re in you👀, they trying to snatch your soul and you’re going to let them. I heard “Make you lose your breath with each stroke” There’s a deep spiritual connection between you 2 so the sex is fire and otherworldly. They love to go down on you as well. If you’re interested in men/masc then they have a big 🍆, if you’re interested in women (fem) then they have nice breast.

Astrological: Mars, Aries, Capricorn with some Libra energy

Letters; T, V, D, B (first, middle, last name) or nickname

Well that was hot pile 2, I need a drink of water after that😂 I hope you enjoyed it tigers

🐘

Physically: I’m hearing this person has a very gentle aura about them. They feel like a warm fireplace with hot cocoa during a winter storm. I feel so relaxed. They’re medium height. Pillsbury doughboy just came to my head so they might be on fluffy side which is good for cuddling. Round face and brown curly hair and beard. Watery blue eyes, they may wear glasses(im not sure if it’s for reading or everyday use) big hands and feet😜, they love to wear sports jerseys. They have dimples and you can really see them when they laugh. They also have rosey cheeks and they blush a lot

Personality: this person is very shy, I’m having a hard time picking things up about them because they’re so hesitant. They may have been bullied growing up so it’s hard to open for them.🥹 They’re very much homebodies but don’t mind going out every now and then. They’re very much in a bubble and only those that’s in this bubble with them can see their true personality. I am hearing that they love watching and discussing movies. They’re great listeners. They’re more of a listener than a talker but they will carry a convo with you. They love their family, especially their mom. Very protective over them. Their a very family oriented person. Im sorry y’all, I’m not getting much here, their very private person.

Career/hobbies:watching and discussing movies, loves to cook (that was a big thing I received from y’all Fs) , watching sports. For career Im hardly getting jack squat😅Im only picking up on writer so they could be that

Sexually; very emotional connection when having sex. They’re pleasures rather than receivers. Your Fs sees sex as a bonding experience more than just a “hey let’s have sex” type of way if that makes sense. I’m not going to go furthur because they’re so private and shy compared to the other piles. I want to respect that. I’m hearing “I promise I’ll do my best to make sure they’re pleased.”

Astrological : Moon and Venus. Cancer, Pisces Aquarius and some taurus energy

Letters: B,R,A, D, H (first, middle, last name) or nickname

Hey I hope you all enjoyed my post ! Make sure to follow and share my content if you want to see more. Thank you!

[suugarbabe]

[Chapter 9]

word count: ~4.6k

warnings: mentions of blood, mentions of torture, mentions of traumatic wounds, smut, oral (f!receiving), p in v

Mattheo picked up a vase from the table next to him, throwing it against the wall and  smashing it into a million tiny pieces. Pansy’s whole body jumped in her place on the couch, Draco squeezing her hand in comfort. “You’re scaring her, Cousin, she said she was sorry and she didn’t know what happened.” Mattheo was seething with anger, his words spitting out of his mouth like venom, “I don’t give a bloody fuck what she says she does or doesn’t remember or how fucking sorry she is. My girl is gone and she’s the only one who can tell us who possibly took her.” Mattheo turned his back to the pair now, dragging his fingers through his hair and tugging at his curls in frustration. 

“Well, there is a way for you to see, Matt,” Theo spoke up, giving Pansy a sorrowful look. Mattheo turned back around, Pansy nodding her head, “He’s right. Do it Matty. I can’t remember but it’s gotta be there.” Without hesitation Mattheo took out his wand, pointing it in the middle of Pansy’s forehead, “Legimens.” In a swirl of images Mattheo was thrust back into the club, the edges of his vision slightly hazy. He saw you in front of him, swaying to the beat with your eyes closed. You wore a cheshire grin and he could tell it was when you were talking to him. In front of you was Pansy, body moving similarly to the music. You laughed to yourself as Pansy did another twirl. Just as Pansy’s back turned, Mattheo saw a flash of red, it was like your body was falling in slow motion before a pair of arms wrapped around you, dragging you out through the crowd. 

Mattheo pulled back, stumbling back into the sitting room where the rest of the family was watching him intently. Everyone could see Mattheo’s expression darken, worry fitted on all of their faces, “What is it, Mattheo, what did you see?” Enzo was trying his best to stay calm but he was just as angry as Mattheo. Enzo didn’t have any siblings growing up and thus his relationships within the family were of max importance. Mattheo closed his eyes, speaking through gritted teeth, “Someone cast a spell at her. I’m nearly positive it was stupify because-”

“Because she stopped speaking to you mid-sentence,” Theo finished the sentence for him. Mattheo’s jaw clenched as he nodded. Pansy’s eyes started filling with tears once more, the guilt she felt intensifying with each passing moment that you were gone. She opened her mouth to speak once more when she suddenly heard your voice ring in her head, and by the looks of the others she wasn’t the only one. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. 1538 Woodbury Lane, London. Immediately Mattheo’s eyes met his cousins, Draco nodding in silent agreement, “Blaise and I will stay here with Pansy, you three go.” The next sound a simple crack as Theo, Enzo and Mattheo disappeared from the room. 

The space the three men apparated to was dark, emergency lights the only source of illumination around them. “Find her.” Two words were all the direction Mattheo gave as the three men started looking through the entire warehouse. Closets, old boxes, under machines were all scoured until Enzo walked into the the back room, breath catching in his throat, “H-here, oh bloody fucking Salazar, SHE'S IN HERE!” The sound of rushed shoes on pavement could be heard as Theo and Mattheo ran to where they heard Enzo’s voice, the latter boy already rushing to your body curled in on itself, wrist still chained against the back wall. Enzo got to you first, grabbing hold of your neck. His first two fingers immediately finding your pulse point, “She’s alive. Pulse is there, it’s strong.” He pointed his wand at the wall, the chain attached to you disintegrating.

Mattheo fell to his knees next to you, hoisting you up to a sitting position and pulling you into his arms. Your head was rolling, Mattheo holding your head in one of his large hands. “Princess,” he tapped your cheek lightly, voice strained, “Princess, can you look at me, please?” Your eyelids felt heavy, but they fluttered open, blurrily catching a glimpse of Mattheo as he held onto you. “T-teo?” Your voice came out horse, scratchy. “It’s me, Princess, don’t worry.” He looked at Theo and Enzo, both wearing looks of worry across their faces. Mattheo stood, holding your body close to his chest as he did so, “Theo take us back. Now.” Theo placed a hand on Mattheo’s shoulder, then Enzo’s. In a whirl the four of you were back at the manor, back in the sitting room where Blaise, Draco and Pansy were waiting. 

Pansy’s mouth was agape, tears starting to flow again at the sight of what had become of you in your absence. Mattheo started toward the foyer, you still in his arms, “Come, cousin, she needs your help.” At his words Draco moved immediately, the rest of the family following suit. At the bottom of the stairs Mattheo stopped, turning towards the group, “Just cousin. No one else.” Theo and Blaise let out a huff while Enzo mumbled a “like fucking hell” but Mattheo doubled down, “It’s not a negotiation. Just Draco. That’s it. The rest of you need to start planning.” Through her tears Pansy managed to finally speak up, “Plan for what?” Enzo gripped Pansy’s arm lightly as they watched Mattheo and Draco take you into the room, “Revenge.” 

In the room Mattheo quickly laid you down on the large bed, pulling Draco up to the side, “Check her. Do it now, cousin. Just like Aunt Cissy taught you.” Draco glanced over his shoulder nervously, clenching and unclenching his fists before giving a nod. He turned back to you, taking in the sight before him. Your breathing was shallow, but steady. He noted the dry blood on your chin and the edge of your mouth like you had been slapped or punched in the face. The dried blood that seemed to have dripped down your legs worried him as well. A large purple bruise was forming on your shoulder that looked like the heel of a boot. Draco closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath before nervous hands hovered over your body. He started at the top, near your head, just as his mother taught him. He concentrated his thoughts, slowly moving his hands over your body, “Cut lip,” he moved lower, “left collarbone broken,” he grimaced as he kept going, “ribs seven and eight on her right side cracked, right kidney bruised,” he moved down towards your legs, “seems just a few cuts and bruises, cuts are what the blood down here’s from.” Mattheo nodded solemnly, “So he didn’t…” 

“No, he didn’t,” your voice was shaky, but you knew what Mattheo was implying, “Just…heal what you can Dray, please.” A tear ran down your cheek as your bottom lip wobbled. Draco leaned down as he wiped  the tear with his thumb, a sad frown on his face, “S’gonna hurt a little, darling.” You nodded meekly, “I know, just…get it over with.” Draco nodded, standing back up fully and slipping his wand from his sleeve. He worked backwards this time, knowing your collarbone was going to hurt the worst to heal. Slowly the cuts started to close and heal, the bruises fading to small dark marks that would disappear in a day or two. He healed your ribs with one swift motion, the cracks healing with little pain much like a cramp. He healed the cuts from your lips and mouth next before pausing. “You ready for this last one, darling?” You nodded, closing your eyes in anticipation. Draco’s wand hovered over your collarbone, “Episkey.” The bone snapping back into place was loud, nearly drowning out your own whimper as you bit your lip to conceal how painful it really was. Silent tears slipped from your eyes, Mattheo quickly by your side to wipe them away. 

Draco chewed his lip nervously as Mattheo consoled you, “There’s one more thing, cousin.” Mattheo turned towards the blonde as you turned on your side, back facing them as your curled in on yourself once more into the covers, “What is it?” Draco peered over at you, grey eyes swirling with sorrow, “They…they used the cruciatus on her, like...a lot, Matty. From what I could feel I think more than one person used it on her at a time.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the information, not wanting to imagine you in that situation, how it must have felt for you. Draco continued, “There’s no healing I can do to take that away from her. You know better than any of us-” Mattheo cut him off, “I know.” Draco nodded, walking over to you once again. Draco leaned over you, placing a gentle kiss on your head, “I’m so sorry this happened to you, darling.” You turned to face him, grabbing hold of his wrist with a weak smile, “Thank you for healing me.” Draco huffed a laugh, “Not as good as you by any means, love.” But you shook your head, “Might give me a run for my money.” Draco smiled at you lightly, nodding to Mattheo as he left the room to leave you two alone. 

Mattheo rounded the bed on the opposite side of you. It was obvious he wanted to grab hold of you but wanted to respect however you were feeling, “What do you need, Princess? Do you want to be alone? Do you want me to go?” You slumped further into the bed, not making eye contact with him as you shook your head, “Don’t go. Will you…” You looked up at him almost shyly, “Will you hold me…please?” Your bottom lip trembled once more. Mattheo gently crawled into the large bed, shuffling under the covers to pull you close. You grabbed hold of him, grasping to whatever you could get your hands on like you couldn’t get close enough to him as the tears started to flow. Mattheo’s heart was shattering, squeezing you so close to his body he feared he might crush you but you relished in the pressure. Lips pressed to your forehead, he mumbled into your skin, “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon, Princess. I swear it.” With his reassurance, your body finally relaxed. Mattheo could tell when you finally fell asleep as your grip on his arm and around his neck went slack, however he still held you close. 

As you woke up hours later, you were still wrapped up in Mattheo. His scent enveloped you like the most delicious intrusion to your senses. You started to release your grip on him, needing to attempt to stretch away the soreness from everything that happened the night before. Mattheo was apparently already awake, hand sliding down your side as his eyes quickly gave you a once over. As his hand reached your hip you caught his wrist, breath catching in your throat at the memory of what now lay carved in your skin there. “Sorry,” his words came out sheepish but you only shook your head, “No, s’okay. M’just, sore.” Mattheo nodded, anger bubbling back inside his chest, “I get it.” He sat up then, giving himself a proper stretch before turning towards you. “Coming down for food with me?” You shook your head, pulling to covers back up to your chin, “Think I’m gonna stay here for a little longer…if that’s okay.” Mattheo nodded, leaning down and kissing your lips softly, “Course it is, sweetheart.” He stood from the bed, leaning down with his hands on the mattress as you turned to him, “The boys and I are gonna be in and out of the manor for a little while, but you know how to call me if you need me.” 

You met his eyes, tone flat as you asked, “You’re going out looking for him aren’t you. For…Damiano.” Mattheo closed his eyes at the name, but nodded. You leaned up, capturing him in a soft kiss once more. Mattheo grabbed hold of the side of your face, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek as he separated your lips. You laid back down as Mattheo made his way towards the door. He turned back once more before exiting, chest tightening as he saw you curl in on yourself again before closing the door behind him. 

The days that followed all blended for you. This was due to the fact that you hadn’t left Mattheo’s bed since that first night, the most to use the bathroom. But with how little you were eating, you barely had to do that either. Mattheo and the other boys were gone more than they were home. You knew when they were home because the door would creak open. You knew it was Mattheo, but every time you heard the door open the mark on your leg seemed to pulse and shame washed over you. Pansy came to comfort you often when the boys were gone, laying in bed beside you, rubbing your back as you sobbed. She never asked what happened, never asked for details. The first time she cried with you, apologizing and saying how it was all her fault. You held each other that night, cried together until you convinced her that if he had to, Damniano would’ve taken both of you that night, just to prove a point. 

Gimball would bring you meals, smiling sadly as he took the untouched plate from the previous when dropping off the next. After a few days he started changing what he brought you, making you special meals he thought you might be able to stomach versus what he was making for the rest of the family. “Please, Miss, just a few bites. Gimball make special, you don’t have to eat it all to help.” You started to comply slowly, if only for the fact that Gimball had also started begging for you to eat something and that made you feel slightly pathetic for pitying yourself so harshly. Gimball noticed you’d eat more when you thought the others were away or sleeping, therefore bringing you heartier meals at those times.

“Master Mattheo is very worried about Miss Birdie. Asks Gimball every day how she is,” Gimball rocked back and forth on his feet as you slowly ate the sandwich he had brought for you. “And what do you tell him?” you were curious how they were all perceiving you, how sad and helpless they thought you were. “Gimball tells Master she is strong at heart, but hurting in mind. Gimball tells Master that Miss Birdie just needs time.” You smiled at the elf, finishing the last bit of the sandwich and handing over the plate. Gimball bowed, giving you a small smile before disappearing with a crack. You laid back down against the pillows, trying to ease your mind now that your stomach was full. Trying to close your eyes without seeing his face the moment you tried to drift off to sleep. You were nearly there when you heard the shouting. 

The voices sounded panicked, shouting at volumes so high you heard it through the doors. You rushed to get up, knotting the silk robe tight around your waist before heading for the top of the stairs. Below the shouts became clearer. “The table, the fucking bloody table, get him up there!” Your pulse quickened, feet rapidly descending down the stairs before you even knew what they were doing. “For Salazar’s sake, Malfoy, hurry, there’s no way he’s going to last this long, you’ve gotta move faster, mate!” Your feet hit the foyer floor, nearly sprinting towards the voices now. Before you could get a look at who was on the table a pair of arms enwrapped you, pulling you back towards the stairs. 

“No, Princess. You can’t, not yet,” Mattheo’s voice was stern but you heard the concern laced within his tone. “Who is it? Who’s hurt?” you tried to push him off you but he just held you tighter. “We found him but I think he was expecting it, he had more people with him than we planned. He got away after he attacked us, ran away like a fucking coward.” You knew he meant Damiano. That they were close to catching him and doing what they wanted so badly to do to him. “Let me go, Mattheo. If he’s the one that did this let me help, I’m the one who could do it best.” Mattheo held on tighter, “S’too much, Birdie, you’ve been through enough already, Draco can handle it.” 

You shook your head, “Tell me who it is, I can tell Draco needs my help. Tell me who it is. Right now, Mattheo, is it Enzo again?” You peered around his arm, stretching your neck to catch any glimpse of those surrounding the table. You saw Pansy’s black hair, Blaise holding the table by someone’s feet. Draco’s platinum hair flashed in your vision as he moved from one side of the table to the other. As he maneuvered around whoever was hurt there was a brief moment where carmel eyes locked with yours and then you knew. You knew who was hurt, who lay dying on the table as Draco struggled to help heal him. 

You looked up, eyes locking with Mattheo’s, “Teddy? It’s Teddy?” Mattheo didn’t respond, giving you all the confirmation you needed. You started thrashing in his grasp, desperately begging him to let you help. You knew he was just trying to protect you, just worried after what Damiano had put you through, but what Mattheo failed to realize was that not helping was doing more damage. With a final push Mattheo let go, your body rushing towards Theo’s where it lay bloodied on the table. You took in the scene before you, Draco frantically trying to work on the large, deep gashes on Theo’s torso and legs, but constantly having to stop as Theo’s mouth, and presumably his lungs, kept filling with blood from Merlin knows what spell was cast on him. 

Theo was in bad shape. You ran your hands along his neck, checking his pulse, your fingers slipping on the blood covering his skin any time you applied pressure. His left arm was clearly broken and whatever spell or spells that hit him left baseball size gashes all over his body, your hands ran along his skin, noting no dark magic attached to him. Turning off all emotion you started giving out orders, “Draco focus on his legs, one wound at a time, the same spells you used on me, okay?” He nodded, stepping aside and quickly getting to work. The sound of Theo beginning to gag again caught your attention, quickly waving your hand over his mouth to make the blood disappear. Enzo looked at you in shock. “Enzo if it happens again, take out your wand, wave it quickly and horizontally, sicco. You got it?” Enzo nodded, hand gripping his wand tightly in preparation. 

You turned forward now, hands hovering over Theo’s torso. Just as you instructed Draco, you hovered over each gash, one by one starting at Theo’s chest. You moved down his torso, healing the wounds on his side and stomach just as Draco was finishing up his legs. You could tell Theo’s breathing was starting to even out again, finally able to take full breaths. “Hold his shoulders Enzo, this parts gonna hurt him.” Enzo did as instructed, watching as your hands hovered over Theo’s arm. With a flick of your wrists everyone heard the crack as his bones snapped back into place. “Fanculo tutti, Uccellina! A cosa diavola serviva!” Theo groaned out, pulling his arm to his chest and rolling to his side. You pointed a finger at him, “Don’t you take that bloody tone with me, Theodore or I’ll break your arm all over again!” Theo merely groaned, lying back on the table with his arm covering his eyes. Your breaths were heavy, pushing Theo's hair from his eyes and placing a kiss on his forehead, "Amo tuo fratello."

Walking away, Mattheo was quick to follow you. “Where are you going?” He was hot on your heels as you ascended the stairs. You stopped at the door, not to his room, but to yours. Turning towards him your face was blank as you spoke, “I’m going to wash my brother’s blood off my skin.” Speechless, Mattheo watched you walk into the room. He followed close behind, watching you walk into the bathroom. He stood by the door, observing as you undid your robe. That’s when he saw it, what you had been so ashamed of for the last week and a half, what you didn’t want him to see but was currently too lost in thought due to what just happened. The sun etched on your skin, just below your hip where you wouldn’t let him touch before. 

Mattheo waited on your bed for you. You had expected him to leave, to walk out when you had been so cold to him, but there he was, waiting at the edge of your bed. You walked towards him, towel tied around your body and hair wet. He didn’t speak until you were stood between his knees. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your head tilted in confusion, only for your mind to be cleared when you felt Mattheo’s hand quickly slide under your towel to grip your hip, thumb pressing into the mark. His other hand gripped your chin, forcing you to make eye contact. “I’ll ask again, Princess. Why did you not tell me he did this to you?” You closed your eyes, tears threatening to spill. His grip on your face tightened, asking for your answer. “I was ashamed. I thought…I figured you wouldn’t want me once you knew.” Mattheo tsked his tongue, “Oh, Princess, we’ve been over this haven’t we? You think something like that would change things?”

A tear threatened to fall as he spoke again, “Tell me what you know to be true, Princess. Say it for me so I know you understand.” Your eyes met his, speaking on a shaky breath, “I’m yours.” Mattheo grinned slightly, “Again, like you believe it.” You spoke firmer now, “I’m yours.” Mattheo nodded, eyes flicking to your lips briefly, “One more time.” You watched as his tongue darted over his lips, your pulse quickening under his touch, “I’m yours, Mattheo.” You watched his mouth upturn into a smirk before you smashed your lips to his, taking him slightly by surprise. His hand grips the back of your neck as you climb onto his lap, deepening the kiss, turning it heated and passionate. As the kiss breaks you stare at one another, catching your breath. “I need you, Teo, please.” He was hesitant, not wanting to push your limits after all you'd been through, "You sure, Princess?" You nodded. Mattheo cupped your cheek, "I need words, pretty girl." You took a deep breath, "Yes, Mattheo, I'm sure."

At your words he lifted you up as if you weighed nothing, flipping you both around so you’re now lying down on the bed. He peppers kisses down your neck, the air in the room cool on your skin in his wake. His hands gently caress every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of fire in it’s wake. “Mattheo,” you moan, need evident in your voice. He chuckles, the sound sending shivers up your spine. His lips trail lower, making his way down your body until they reach your core. In one swift motion he flattens his tongue, giving a long, slow lick. Your back arches off the bed, body seeking more of him in such desperation, you can nearly feel him smirk between your thighs. 

Mattheo takes his time, worshiping your body with his tongue like you were his salvation, his lips singing your praises against your skin. “Please, Teo,” you beg, desperate for more of him. A whimper leaves your throat as he gives you what you crave, two fingers thrusting into you as he sets a pace that has your thighs trembling. Your fingers tangle in his curls, gripping tight and pulling him impossibly closer. He moans against you, the vibrations taking you to a new height of pleasure, each thrust of his fingers bringing you closer to the edge. Then his fingers slow, his mouth on your neck now before connecting your lips once more. His fingers hit that spot deep inside causing a mewl to leave your lips. 

You bury your face into his neck and make another noise. “S’okay,” Mattheo comforts, “ ‘ve got you, Princess. Al’right? M’right here, yeah? I’ve got you.” His thumb circles your bundle of nerves, figure eights causing your hips to buck as he whispers in your ear, “This all for me, Princess. Mine to play with. Mine to taste.” You whine, head nodding, “Yes, fuck, yes, Teo, all yours. Always yours. Forever.” Mattheo slowly pulled out his fingers, you whining at the feeling of loss inside you as you watched him suck his fingers clean before undoing his belt and freeing himself. He pushed your knees down, spreading you open and pinning your legs to the bed so you had nowhere else to go. Slowly he guided his cock to your cunt, watching as he eased into you, your walls swallowing him to the hilt. 

“Bloody fucking hell, look at that, Princess, feels good doesn’t it?” He grinned devilishly at your slacked jaw, breath catching in your throat as he began rocking into you. Your nails dug into his ribs, scratching down his skin. He hissed at the pain, hips snapping into you harder. His fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs, using them as leverage as he rammed his hips against yours. “Fuck, Teo, yes, please don’t stop,” you moaned, eyes fluttering closed as you grabbed onto him for dear life. “Uh, uh, Princess, eyes open, look at me,” he tutted, grabbing your jaw roughly, kissing you deeply and grinding his hips against yours, stimulating your clit perfectly. You gasped as you fell over the edge into your orgasm. Your walls fluttering around him had Mattheo following soon after. His lips trailed your neck lightly as he slowly pulled out, lying down on his back beside you. 

He slid an arm under your waist, pulling you into him. Your head settled on his chest comfortably, Mattheo’s fingertips trailing up and down your back lightly. You laid like this for a moment, enveloped in all that was him and all that you two were together. Mattheo was surprised when you broke the silence, not by the sound of your voice but by your words. “When you find him, don't kill him right away.” He made a noise of confusion, causing you to lift your head, chin settling on his chest to look up at him. “When you find him, because I know you will, don’t kill him right away. I want you to call me, have Theo or Enzo get me and bring me there.” Mattheo’s brows furrowed, a mix of anger and confusion written on his features, “Why the bloody fuck would I do that?” You pressed your lips to Mattheo’s skin, feeling his heartbeat beneath your lips before looking at him once more. 

“Because I want to watch him die.” 

[creative-caramel-coffee]

Wheezy Winters

Pairings: Wandanat x R

Word count: 1.1K

Summary: you had always kept your asthma a secret… until you couldn’t.

TW: asthma, fainting, hospitals (at the compound), swear word (just the one)

A/N This is so true for me. I know I shouldn’t be but I’m low key so embarrassed to use my puffer in-front of other people, even if I need it.

You’d had asthma long before you had joined the avengers. But when they had you fill out the medical forms you left out your condition in fear of placing your job in jeopardy. Who knows what they would have done. Less missions maybe? Less training? Less work? No. You loved your job. Over the first few months you found yourself under the two resident red heads wings. Slowly the three of you painstakingly became girlfriends. Joining the red headed relationship. They were sometimes overbearing but that was ok and justified by their traumatic pasts. All was going well until one winter morning.

You woke late. The clock read fifteen minutes until 6. Steve’s morning jogs were the bane of your existence and in your haste to be ready you forgot to take your preventer. The little purple puffer was a must in the winter. With the cold air and exercise being your main triggers, you had to take it each morning of the cold months. However in case needed you always carried around the blue puffer, to be taken if you had an attack. Shouldering your mini backpack you kept with you always, much to the amusement of the team, you ran down to the compound foyer.

The team grinned at the sight of the small bag. Clint and your girls often teasing you for your attachment to the bag. But pride and shyness kept you from telling them the real reason you kept the small black pouch on you always. Tony smiled at the sight.

“Got your bag of secrets?” He asked, poking fun. You smiled along not taking it to heart, they didn’t know.

“Come on love, you can leave it with Bruce if it makes you feel better.” Natasha smiled, kissing your knuckles lightly. You blushed slightly, embarrassed by the attention.

“Uh, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go.” You choked out, not missing Wanda’s raised eyebrow.

“Alright.” Nat sighed, pulling you out into the cold. Starting off slow, you broke into a jog, falling slightly behind the team a bit, matching pace with tony. You cringed at the slight jiggling sounds coming from your backpack. Not missing Tony’s feral grin. He made some snide remark, which you ignored. Focused more on the slight tightness in your chest as you realised you forgot the most impact the part of getting ready. You quickened you pace, wanting to be near Wanda in case of an attack. Your girls always made you feel safe. Nat was too far away to catch up to. Realising your mistake when your chest began to tighten more. Wanda noticed the discomfort, slowing to run beside you. You sent her an appreciative grimace and huffed a small ‘thank you’.

“It’s alright darling… are you feeling ok? You look a little puffed?” Wanda’s worry was justified, normally you ran circles around her without so much as a strained breath. But your chest was too tight to respond. Your breathes becoming shorter and shorter. Wanda slowed again. Dizziness overtook you as you sat down heavily.

“Baby? Are you ok?” She crouched beside you as you laid on the cool concrete. Her brow furrowed at your lack of response. Your arms reaching for something you couldn’t find.

“What do you need?” Wanda asked again.

“Wands? What’s going on?” Nat asked, having come back to see whats was happening.

“Im not sure, but Y/n/n’s breathing doesn’t sound too good.” Nat placed an ear to your chest, frowning at the raspy short breathes.

“Sweetheart, whats happening? use your words baby.” Wanda cooed, stroking your knuckles with her thumb.

“Need… backpack… front… pocket.” You wheezed between short breathes. Your lungs felt like they were being popped.

Nat grabbed the bag you had dropped. Neither of them had seen what was inside before. Pulling out the small blue device Nat frowned. Wanda quickly snatched it off her.

“Y/n/n I need you to open your mouth.” Wands said softly. Your vision began to blur as you lost consciousness. Opening your mouth before passing out.

“Shit.” Wanda swore. “Nat hold her mouth open and support her head.” Wanda shook the puffer a few times before removing the cap as Nat pulled your head into her lap.

Carefully Wanda tilted the puffer up slightly, angling it down your throat as she gave two puffs into your mouth.

“Now shut her mouth and pinch her nose.” Wanda instructed

“Why?” Nat asked not moving.

“Just do it.” Wanda responded. Nat moved and did as she was asked. “We need the medicine to stay in her lungs for a bit for it to work properly” she explained.

Wanda counted to five before telling Nat to let go. Repeating the process, she administered another two puffs before placing her ear to your chest again. Satisfied with the less raspy breathes you drew.

Wanda nodded to Nat, who scooped you into her arms and the two lightly jogged back to the compound.

When the made it to the lab, they placed you on the bed. Explaining to Bruce what happened, he placed you on a low flow of oxygen through a mask.

Coming out of the blackness was hazy. You felt a warm hand brushing the hair from your face, stroking it backwards softly. Eyes flickering, you drew both girls attention.

“Oh sweetheart.” Wanda cooed at the sight of your teary eyes. “Its ok. We understand.” She read you loud thoughts of your fears. “Honey, do you know how I knew what to do?”

You slowly shook you head, peeling back the mask to respond. “No.” You rasped. Nat’s hand placed over yours as she guided the mask back to your face.

“Honey, Pietro had asthma. It did nothing to stop his place on the team. But we needed to know. We’re sorry you felt you couldn’t tell us.” She whispered, her lips grazing your knuckles again.

“Love, don’t worry about anything. I’ll be beating Clint and Tony’s asses if they give you anymore grief about the backpack. Im glad you carried it with you despite their teasing.” Nat smiled, placing a kiss on your cheek.

After a few hours of rest. Life returned to normal. The only difference, now your two girls both check each morning to make sure you had taken your puffer, before they let you out of their sight. It warmed your heart in the cold months to know they cared.

|| PART 2 ||

Master list

[mariofyuu]

𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐧 [𝐘𝐮𝐭𝐚 𝐎𝐤𝐤𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐗 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

"Don't cry little one, for the sun will come and dry your tears."

✰Tags: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Unrequited Love, Established Relationship, One-Shot

✰Summary: Yuta Okkotsu is afraid of two things; thunderstorms, and losing you.

✰W/C: 1.2k

✰C/W: Mentions of Trauma, nightmares, and thunderstorms

✰A/N: A quick one shot that I thought of during a thunderstorm.

The sound of pouring rain in a midnight storm filled the tiny cramped area of a dorm room. A huddled body shivered beneath a bundle of covers, the size being almost comedic considering the childlike action. He wasn't always afraid of the dark. It was just on nights like this, after a particularly scary mission, when the abyss seemed to pull him in.

Chest heaving and sweat forming on his brow, Yuta Okkotsu, a special grade sorcerer, slowly came to the acceptance that he was still afraid of thunderstorms. Small hiccups could be heard underneath the sheets, now becoming stained with the tears flowing heavily down his jaw and onto the bed below.

She'd often asked him, "Why do you always look so sleepy?". He'd give her a reply with an awkward half smile, saying "I just end up thinking so much, it keeps me up."

Which was partially true. He'd be thinking about her, her eyes. The way they sparkled when they'd grace his with a prolonged gaze, when she'd eat something she likes, or when she'd listen to her favorite song.

But soon her golden sunshine-like glance would turn into a downpour of bloody rain, the light fading into a series of traumatic memories that plagued him. He was sure they'd follow him to his grave, if he'd ever find the peace of one.

Then the worrying would start. The what if's of their job, of their life's purpose filling his mind like a poison that never fully worked its way out of his system. Those piling thoughts of 'what if' would mostly continue with the word 'she'. Even in his deepest, most terrifying memories, they only remained scary because they could repeat again. They could repeat with her.

And that's why in the sound of a rain storm, that reminded him so much of that day, did Yuta sob her name quietly into his pillow. Except it wasn't as quiet as he'd thought it was.

Suddenly the pitter patter of water on his window was replaced with quick footsteps. Oh so familiar footsteps.

Slamming the door open she came in like a whirlwind, even under his blankets he could imagine her expression. The same one she'd wear whenever he was injured in battle, or whenever he'd burn his tongue on his tea because he sipped without thinking. That adorable, worried, brow furrowed face would be the death of him.

"Okkotsu?!"

Her usually chipper voice was tinged with concern. His body freezing in place. How utterly humiliating.

"H-Here.." He mumbled out, lifting the bedding from over his head and sitting up. Yuta was correct of course, her brows were furrowed and her lips turned down. Her eyes widening as she noticed the tears still trickling down his cheeks.

"So you were crying" The sentence came out just above a whisper. That pretty gaze fixed totally on him, but its sparkle was replaced with worry. It sent a ripple of guilt through his body, akin to the lightning going off outside, the feeling making his stomach drop. God forgive him if he were to ever make her sad.

No use in denying it, but he couldn't help but wonder how she got up there from the second floor so fast. Or maybe he'd been crying longer than he realized. His mind was foggy with sleep deprivation and the need to flinch at the thunder claps sounding every few minutes. Still, Yuta tried to give her a sleepy smile to ease both the awkwardness and his own nerves.

"I had a nightmare, I'm sorry I woke you. I completely forgot your room is right under mine" He was lying through his teeth like it was second nature. Anything to make her stop looking at him like that.

Luckily for him, she was never the type to push in unless he allowed it. Always respecting boundaries and letting him come to her. Maybe that's why he fell in love with her to begin with.

Instead of asking him more questions, she merely sat beside him. Turning to face him in her usual criss-cross sitting fashion. That sparkle returned, her hands suddenly going to cup his cheeks. Well, maybe she wasn't good with all boundaries..

"Eh?" It was practically a squeak as her delicate hands pressed to his face.

"Don't cry little one, for I am here to stay. Don't cry little one, the rain will go away. The thunder will sleep and the lightning will disappear. Don't cry little one, for the sun will come and dry your tears."

Her voice was soothing, like a pure river flowing to cover his entire body. Except instead of cool water, she covered him in warmth. Hands moving away from his face and sliding down to wrap her arms around his back. The sorcerer felt himself relax all at once, tears building again in the corners of his eyes. Like a dam that was about to burst.

One that'd been built over 10 years ago and was finally cracking because of her. He tried to hold himself together, worrying the overflow would drown out her light. But as soon as her head laid on his shoulder, and she started to whisper that everything would be okay, Yuta found himself pouring it all out to her.

He pulled her into his chest tightly, his face pressed into her hair as he breathed her in. Long, heavy sobs escaping him as the waves of grief he'd been holding back washed down his features. His usually quiet, gentle voice turning raspy and strained.

It did shake her, how this often soft spoken, selfless man was breaking to bits in her arms. Not because she judged him, not because she was afraid. But because of how so lonely he must have been. How many nights did Yuta cry himself to sleep here, all alone? How many mornings did he awake more tired than he was before he'd gone to bed? Just how much had he suffered without her fully grasping it?

"It's okay.. I'm here, it'll be okay"

Is all that she could mutter to him between her own tiny sobs. Hands tight in his nightshirt as the two took the brunt of his pain together.

It was almost like for a small moment, he wasn't a Jujutsu sorcerer anymore. He was just him, in her arms, raw and bare before her. She'd stripped any sort of armor he'd covered his heart in, crossed any distance in a single stride. With a single touch of her hand.

It put him in awe as he slowly regained his composure, sniffling and bringing the back of his hand to wipe his eyes. All the weight in his chest from before seemed to diminish while he held onto her. He let out a long sigh before finally, be it reluctantly, letting her go and falling onto his back. His tired eyes looked up at her from below.

She gave him her award winning grin, her eyes meeting her cheeks before closing. He lifted his hand to swipe a tear off her cheek with his thumb, genuinely smiling back at her this time.

"I guess the sun did dry my tears."

He laughed as more drops fell from his dull blue eyes; of which for the first time in years had a glimmer of hope. Sunlight always comes after rainfall, after all.

[whoreanghae]

wedding ; jeon wonwoo

genre - fake relationship, friends to lovers, kinda slow burn

wordcount - 8.6k

disclaimers - lowercase on purpose, no proofreading, fic under the cut, female/feminine aligned reader, mentions of alcohol and being drunk

a/n - this one has been in the works for a loooong time, finally got the energy to finish it! hope you enjoy, i put a lot of work into this one. happy holidays! <3

you put down your phone with a sigh. your mother had just given you a call to let you know that one of your cousins was getting married in a month, and your mother wanted to let you know the plan for their wedding early on so you could get started on planning your trip back to your hometown. she gave you dates and dressing codes, and other wedding things that blended together into one blur in your head as you mindlessly responded to your mothers queries and requests. 

one of the things she brushed over was the fact that you had to bring a date for the entire wedding. the ceremony, the dinner, the dance, you always had to have someone on your arm. it was a rule that your cousin was apparently very adamant about. in the blur of questions from your mother, you had accidently answered a question that you should have saved for a later time, when you hadn’t been just getting home from a 2 hour long exam.

“so, y/n, you do have a date right?”

“yes, i do.”

your mother gasped, bringing herself to a conclusion that you had not written. “my baby has a boyfriend? oh, how sweet!” her coos were quickly pushed aside when you heard a door creak open on her end of the line, followed by your fathers voice asking her if she was ready for dinner. your mother quickly said goodbye as you pressed the red ‘end call’ button, and the reality of the belief your mother was under finally pieced together in your head.

your family are expecting you to show up at a family gathering with a boyfriend you do not have.

you leaned forward, elbows digging into your knees as you tangled your hands in your hair. every thought of how you could fix this raced through your head at once, but every solution made less sense than the last. in the end, you came to the conclusion that you would have to find someone willing to be your boyfriend for a weekend, which is a statement that is easier said than done. 

- 

laughter echoed around the room as you sat on the sofa of hoshi’s apartment with your head in your hands. while you thought the entire situation was simply traumatic, everyone else thought it was hilarious. some of them had pity, but even the sympathetic ones were stifling their laughter as they comforted you. 

you couldnt help but laugh along at the absurdity of the entire thing. it was really something that could only happen to you. 

“guys, i seriously have no idea what to do! its not like i can just rent a boyfriend for a couple days!” dokyeom was holding onto mingyus arm as he laughed so hard he was out of breath. joshua faked a serious face as he looked towards you. “thats not true, im sure you could rent hoshi for the right price.” 

you sighed a dramatic, exasperated sigh as you flopped back onto hoshis sofa, staring at the ceiling as you laughed. the laughter fizzled out and everyone realized it was getting late. 

“i should probably get going and try to find a desperate guy who would free up a weekend to go to my cousins wedding with me.” you laughed as you stood up, brushing your hair back behind you. wonwoo stood up with you. “y/n, i could give you a ride home, since its the same building anyways.” you smiled and nodded towards him as you said goodbye to everyone and followed wonwoo to his car. 

the ride back to your apartment building was quiet, with the low radio being the only sound filling the car. car rides with wonwoo always had a peaceful silence, never awkward. it was comfortable. 

you thought over the sentence a thousand and one times in your head before you finally broke the silence. “uh, wonwoo.. can i ask you, um, a big favour?” you looked down at your hands before looking over at the man next to you, a grin now plastered across his face as he glanced in your direction. “i wonder what this could be?” he said, followed by a chuckle. your ears turned pink as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, a smile wide on your face to match his.

you took a deep breath before finally asking, “wonwoo, could you be my date to my cousins wedding?” you smiled over at him from the passenger seat, trying your best to look convincing enough for him to say yes. all things considered, something must have worked. “of course i will, it’d be an honour to be your boyfriend for a couple days.” the pink flush on your ears travelled all across your face as you smiled ear to ear. he parked at your apartment complex as you leaned over and wrapped your arms around his neck. “thank you so so so much wonwoo!” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your waist and lightly squeezing as you pulled away and opened the car door. “ill send you all the details when i know all the details,” you told wonwoo as you walked into your apartment building together. he nodded as he pressed the button for the elevator. “hopefully ill be able to impress your family.” you and wonwoo smiled at each other as the elevator door beeped open and you stepped inside. 

-

you sat at your dinner table, a notepad and pen sitting in front of you. your mother had just called and informed you of all the details of the wedding, and you decided that it would make your life easier if you wrote down everything she said this time. she gave you details on where everyone would stay, the timeline of events, and every little thing in between. the phone call had lasted for at least 20 minutes. you had always said, your mother was nothing if not thorough. after overlooking the list in front of you, you picked up your phone and typed a text.

y/n : hey, are u busy rn?

wonu 🐱 : I’m at practice, is everything ok?

y/n : oh yeah its fine, its just stuff about the wedding. call me when you get home :)

wonu 🐱 : Will do. :)

while you waited for wonwoo to finish practice, you absentmindedly scrolled on your phone. as you did, you saw countless pictures of people from your hometown posting pictures with their significant others. you liked their pictures and kept scrolling, but the photos made you feel.. off. since you had moved away from your hometown, you hadnt had any relationships. you had met people, but nothing ever amounted to anything more than a coffee date or a study session at your campus library. you were just always so busy with school and spending time with the boys that you had simply never sought out a relationship in your years of living away from your family. while you were content with your independence, seeing photos of couples happy and in love made you feel left out. not envy, just a feeling of ‘i would be happy with what they have’. 

since starting university, romance has been on your back burner to say the least. you had barely considered your own feelings between exams and essays. maybe this was why every time your friends caught someone checking you out, or blatantly flirting with you, your response was always “really? i didnt notice.” your group of friends from university had always been suspicious of your relationship with the 13 men you spend most of your freetime with. they were convinced that if you did end up having a secret relationship, it would be with one of them. you shut down the accusations every time, insistent that they were just friends. and thats all they were. just friends.

breaking you out of your mindless scrolling, your phone rang. you shook out of your daze as you accepted the call. “hey! how was practice?” wonwoo groaned dramatically. “you dont even understaaaand!” you laughed and shook your head at his complaining. “but im sure ill make it. alright, whats the deal with the wedding?” he said, leaving his dramatics behind. “yes! okay, so there is one major difference than what i was told.. it will be a whole week, not just the weekend. if you cant make it its fine i understa-” wonwoo cut you off. “oh thats okay! i dont mind.” you paused in shock. “you dont mind? like you dont mind being a fake couple for a week?” you had expected him to back out, not because he was unreliable, but because it was a big thing to agree to. but, wonwoo insisted. “im serious! id be happy to, itd be nice to get out of this place for a bit and spend time with your family.” lots of people saw wonwoo as being a cold person, but anyone who knows him knows hes a huge softie. you were overjoyed at wonwoos willingness to do this for you. 

you went on to explain everything to wonwoo, as he listened attentively and was eager to help you and your family in any way he was able to. the wedding was on a thursday afternoon in the middle of june. your mother wanted you to come home a couple days before the wedding, so you decided that you would get there on the sunday before the wedding, and leave the day after the wedding. wonwoo agreed and said he could even drive (as long as you gave him directions). you had thought you had everything all in order, but wonwoo piped up with something you havent even considered up until this point.

“wait, so what about our fake relationship? we need details to make it believable.” wonwoo really was an actor at heart. until now, you had entirely forgotten that you would actually need to seem like a couple in order to be perceived as a couple. “yeah youre right, what kind of things would we have to detail though?” you both thought about the bare minimum for a second, before deciding the things you would decide on beforehand and the things you could just make up on the spot if necessary. “alright, i think we should figure out how we met and how long we’ve been together. those are the stereotypical new couple questions.” wonwoo sounded like he knew what he was talking about, so you just went along with it. “how about, we met when i was working at that convenience store on the corner, and we’ve been together… 6 months?” you were completely pulling this out of thin air, but wonwoo hummed in agreeance on the other end of the phone call. “convenience store, 6 months. sounds believable to me.” 

with everything clarified about your cousins wedding, all there was left to do was wait. well, besides finding something to wear, and packing, and tying any lose ends in your schoolwork. but other than that it was a breeze. the month did seem to fly by. in no time, you were fitting your suitcase into the trunk of wonwoo’s car and leaving to make the drive to your hometown. along the way, wonwoo made sure to ask lots of questions about your family and childhood friends, and you told him lots of stories as well. as you pulled into the driveway of your family home, you were hit with a wave of nostalgia. the house hadnt changed a bit in the years you were away. 

as you and wonwoo got out of the car and began taking your luggage out, the front door of the house swung open and your mother rushed out, eager to see you after so long. she ran down the driveway in order to engulf you in a bear hug. you laughed as she squeezed you so hard you thought youd explode. your father stood in the doorway, arms crossed and a toothy grin across his face as he leaned against the doorframe. wonwoo shut the trunk of his car, and your mothers attention immediately switched to him. you laughed as he squeezed his cheeks and gave him an equally tight bear hug. 

“oh its so nice to meet you dear! what did you say your name was?” your mother had her hands firmly planted on wonwoos shoulders as she smiled up at him. wonwoos eyes were bright and happy. “im wonwoo, its lovely to meet you mrs l/n.” your mother cooed at wonwoo as she pulled him in for another hug. she admired you and wonwoo together, until the fire alarm started blaring from the kitchen, prompting her to run past your father and back into the house. wonwoo picked up the bags as the two of you followed your mother into the house, albeit less rushed than she was.

your father automatically took a liking to wonwoo, talking to him at the table as you helped your mother finish dinner. the sight of them laughing together and your father lightly hitting wonwoos shoulder with a smile was such a warm moment. the domesticity of it all made your heart swell. with the ding of a timer, you and your mother brought the dishes over to the table and laid them in front of wonwoo and your father. wonwoo looked at the table in awe. you made sure to tell him that your mother wasnt the best at making the right portions, which was evident by the mountains of food sitting in front of you. 

your mother took her seat next to your father, and you took the one across from her, on wonwoos right. he smiled at you as you sat down, and you smiled back, trying to ignore the pink flush you could feel hazing across your face. all the time you had known wonwoo, why was being around him making you feel this way now? you quickly pushed the thought aside as your mother began asking questions between bites. 

“so, how long have you two lovebirds been together?” she had a smirk on her face as she glanced between you and wonwoo. wonwoo spoke before you got the chance. “we’ve known each other for longer, but i officially asked her to be my girlfriend 6 months ago.” the fond look on his face as he said this would make anyone melt. if you hadn’t been a part of the ruse, you wouldve never questioned the love in his eyes. damn, hes a good actor. he gazed over at you as he finished his sentence. you smiled back at him before turning to your mother. “our 6 month anniversary was actually last week.” your mother held her hands to her chest as she congratulated you both. wonwoo held your hand on the table as your mother began telling a story about how your father had originally asked her to be his girlfriend. you didnt hear much of the story over your own heartbeat ringing in your ears. wonwoos hand was warm, and much bigger than yours. you had decided that wonwoo was simply too good at acting the boyfriend role. did he have some secret girlfriend none of you knew about? was he taking classes? you tried to act casual as he rubbed his thumb along the back of your hand. you knew you couldnt overthink anything that would happen over the next week. it was all just for the act, right? right.

dinner went by in a blur, and soon you were being led to the spare room your mother had cleaned out for you and wonwoo to share. you shivered as you walked in. it was cooler in this room than the rest of the house. it wasnt major, though, so you didnt say anything to your mother about it. she smiled as she disappeared down the hallway, leaving you and wonwoo in the bedroom, alone. as soon as your mother left, wonwoo flopped down onto the bed in the middle of the room. you looked at him and laughed. he closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, even though the growing smile on his face as you stood over him with your hands on your hips gave him away. you shook your head as you walked to the other side of the room where wonwoo put your bags. you rumaged through your bag for a sweater. you dug through the bag, but you couldnt find the one hoodie you swear you packed. defeated, you sat on the floor next to your bag and pulled out every item of clothing and put it in your lap. no sweater. with a frustrated sigh, you scooped everything back into your bag and stood up. at this point, wonwoo had sat up, his arms supporting his weight as he watched you get up. 

“whats wrong?” he quirked an eyebrow. you gestured to your bag. “i forgot to pack a hoodie, i swear i did, but i mustve left it on my sofa.” wonwoo thought for a second before sitting up entirely. “here, take this.” he began taking off the hoodie he was wearing, and for a second, you couldnt take your eyes off of him. as he pulled the sweater over his head, the shirt he wore underneath rose with it, revealing his bare abs. you stood watching, mouth agape. everyone had said that wonwoo worked out a lot, but you had never seen the proof for yourself. you snapped out of it as he fixed his shirt and ran one hand through his hair, passing the sweater to you in the other. “oh wonwoo, its fine, i was just gonna ask my mom for one.” but, he wouldnt take no for an answer. he tilted his head to the side as he tossed the sweater in your direction. you caught it, and he smiled that gorgeous smile youve been seeing all day.

you pulled wonwoos hoodie over your head, and you were engulfed by the smell of his cologne. the scent overtook your senses as you situated yourself into the sweater. the warmth of the material mixed with wonwoos leftover body heat warmed you up instantly. so much that when you caught wonwoo staring at you wearing his hoodie, you didnt even feel the way your face instantly heated up as you sat on the bed next to him. he moved over to give you room to move further onto the bed, and suddenly the thought of being closer to wonwoo made your heart race. 

wonwoo sat on the bed, typing away on his phone as you slid onto the mattress next to him. you watched him, focused on the message he was sending. the black tshirt he had been wearing under his hoodie was tight enough that it hugged all the parts of his body in the right ways. the way the fabric draped across his chest, and was rolled up at the sleeves. as wonwoo put his phone down and looked in your direction, you were quick to look away and take your own phone out of your pocket. luckily, he didnt seem to notice your staring. wonwoo looked past you, towards the clock above your head. “is it really that late already?” you glanced up at the time on your phone screen. “11:30? yeah, i guess.” wonwoo raised his eyebrows in surprise and stood up, leaving you by yourself on the bed. he began rummaging through his bag before pulling out a pair of sweatpants and another tshirt. he left the room without a word, presumably to go to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. you did the same, shutting the door and quickly getting changed before he came back into the bedroom. 

after getting changed, you lightly knocked on the bathroom door so you could brush your teeth. as you did, the door swung open and you were greeted by wonwoo with a toothbrush already hanging out of his mouth. you laughed to yourself as you walked past him in order to get to the sink. as you started brushing your teeth, you straightened your back and stood next to wonwoo in the mirror. not able to easily smile, you both did your best to smile at each other with your eyes through the vanity mirror. the two of you stood there in the mirror together, before wonwoo finished up and you followed behind him not long after. 

when you walked into the bedroom, you were greeted with wonwoo creating a sort of barrier in the middle of the bed made of decorative throw pillows that your mother had laid out on the bed for when you got there. you stood in the doorway, letting him finish whatever he was doing before you began to question him. hearing the door shut, he turned around, and gestured to the bed. “i thought itd make you feel more comfortable.” you smiled at the sentiment, but you hadnt really thought to this point yet. you completely forgot about the fact that you and wonwoo would be sharing a bed for the next week. while you or wonwoo could have just slept on the sofa, the facade that you were busy putting on was more important. so, pillow barrier it was. you shivered as you snuggled under the duvet that was on the bed, still feeling that same chill that you did when you first walked into the room earlier that day. “goodnight, y/n.” wonwoos voice came from behind you. “goodnight, wonwoo.” you smiled as you said it, and wonwoo clicked the switch for the lamp, enveloping you both in the darkness of the night.

warmth. when you woke up the next morning, the first thing you noticed was the sudden warmth that you felt, compared to the chill from the night before. at first, you equated it to the shine of the sun that was streaming in through the cracks of the blinds. but it was a different warmth. you opened your eyes, curious to find the answers to your questions. somehow, as soon as your eyes fluttered open, all of your questions were answered in one glance. on the floor next to the bed laid one of your mothers decorative pillows, the ones that should have been in the middle of the bed, and not on the floor next to the (obviously broken) space heater. as you started to fully wake up, you felt slow, light breaths on the back of your neck. you also felt the arms snaked around your waist, and the hands that lightly rested on the mattress in front of you. your mind went blank. what were you supposed to do? move and wake him up? leave it and pretend it didnt happen? in the moment, you decided to go with the latter. carefully stretching towards the nightstand on your side of the bed, you grabbed your phone and pulled your arm back to your body. wonwoo stirred slightly, but stayed asleep. the clock on your phone read 6:00am, so you felt no reason to wake him up already.

you had no idea at what point in the night this had happened, but some part of you wasnt mad it happened. wonwoos body heat was enough to keep you warm, and youd be lying if you didnt like the feeling of his arms wrapping around you as you slept. the almost silent snores coming from behind you had somehow lulled you back to sleep, as you woke up 20 minutes later with your phone on the bed next to your pillow. you also noticed how your back was suddenly no longer covered, sending a shiver down your spine. when you heard the footsteps approaching the bedroom, you decided to just pretend you were still asleep instead of facing the events of the night. the door creaked and shut, as you felt the bed dip back down behind you. you didnt say anything, but soon after you felt the same arm creep back around your waist and settle back onto its previous place on the mattress. wonwoo settled into place, as did you. 

the questions in your head did make some points. if wonwoo had accidentally started cuddling you at night, why would he return to the same position while awake? how would you address this? you just decided not to. the comfort of having him flush against your back overpowered the thoughts of wanting to stop it. you never wanted the morning to end, although you knew you obviously couldn’t stay in bed all day. it was still pretty early, so you just didn’t bother to worry about getting up just yet. your strategy of pretending to be asleep had been successful before. you closed your eyes as sun began to shine more brightly through the small opening in the curtains. maybe it was just your own, but as you felt yourself drift asleep again for the second time that morning, it was as if you could feel wonwoo’s own heartbeat against your back. 

you weren’t sure how long you had slept, but you felt a light push on your shoulder as you began to feel yourself wake up again. “hey, wake up. it’s 8:00.” your eyes slowly opened as you looked over at wonwoo sitting on the edge of the bed. his hair was messy, and flat on one side. you smiled at the sight in front of you, as he scrunched his nose and ruffled his hair. god, he really was beautiful. you had always known that wonwoo was conventionally handsome. but seeing him in this context, just waking up as the sun shone on him, he was breathtaking. you quickly realized that you had been staring at him for longer than what seemed normal, so you began to sit up and try to wake up fully. you yawned and stretched as wonwoo walked in front of you to open the blinds all the way. you groaned and covered your eyes dramatically. wonwoo laughed, smiling down at you as you opened one eye and glared up at him. he picked up his clothes and made his way out of the bedroom. you watched as he left and shut the door behind him, and you sighed. this week just started, and the outcomes are already looking questionable for keeping your relationship the same as it was before. 

as you left the bathroom after brushing your teeth, the smell of breakfast filled the hallways. your mother had always been the best chef, and her cooking was one of your favourite things about coming home. you walked back to the bedroom and peeked through the door, only to notice that wonwoo was nowhere to be seen. thats when you heard your parents laughter travel up the staircase. you briefly smiled to yourself as you grabbed your phone from the bed and shoved it in your pocket. you headed downstairs and saw your parents and wonwoo sitting in the same seats as they had been the evening before. they all smiled brightly as you walked through the kitchen. “good morning sweetheart!” your mother beamed as she gestured for you to come eat. you sat down with wonwoo on your left again, and smiled at him as you reached past him for a pitcher of water to pour some into your glass. your mother gushed at this small interaction, making a comment to your father about how much the two of you remind her of them as young adults. “how did you both sleep? well rested for the festivities?” you both smiled and nodded as wonwoo spoke. “we slept well! i cant wait to meet more of your family, if they’re all like you three im in for a great week.” he grinned as your parents erupted with laughter and joy. wonwoo was always one for buttering up people, and god was he good at it. a small smile crept onto your face as your parents started telling wonwoo all about your family. you ate quietly as he sat listening intently to everything your mother was telling him.

the wedding wasnt for another two days, but your family had planned a small get-together prior just for everyone to warm up and see each other before the wedding. yourself and wonwoo had decided to just tag along with your parents rather than drive two separate cars. this party was more casual than the wedding, so you didn’t have to dress up that much. the two of you sat in silence in the backseat as your parents spoke amongst themselves. without warning, wonwoos hand made its way to your thigh, just above your knee. you looked down as his hand made contact with your skin through the rip in your jeans. he didnt bat an eye. he continued looking out the window, or looking at his phone. meanwhile, you tried to act like his touch didnt send electricity coursing through your body. without any second thought, you rested your hand on his and looked straight ahead as you tried to ignore your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

as you arrived at your aunts house, you noticed the amount of cars parked outside. you know your family is large, but visualizing it like this makes it seem crazy. your eyes widened at the sight, and you could even hear some of your families laughter before you even got inside. wonwoo walked by your side into the house. the same hum of talking remained for moments before everyone realized that more family had joined them. the house erupted, with aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents all rushing over to greet the four of you. you hugged all of them, muttering quick ‘hello’s and giving smiles to relatives you hadnt seen in years. after some time everyone began returning to their prior seats, and you all followed suit. in the commotion, you hadn’t even noticed wonwoos hand had come to rest on your lower back.

as you sat down, it felt as though all eyes in the room gravitated to yourself and wonwoo. you looked around before clearing your throat. “everyone, this is my boyfriend wonwoo!” wonwoo smiled and gave a small wave. your family all smiled and started introducing themselves at once. you both laughed at the acts, but he made sure to speak to every person who was there. they all immediately adored him. you spent the evening catching up with family and exchanging old childhood memories. wonwoo chatted with your family as well, telling them about his life and family, as well as your ‘relationship’. throughout the night, his arm stayed wrapped around your shoulders the entire time. every so often when conversation died down you would look up at him to notice he had already been looking at you. you both giggled and turned away, somewhat flustered by the other. 

your parents checked the time, noticing that it had been way later than they thought it was. you all stood up and began saying your goodbyes. as you spoke to your cousin who was getting married, you stifled a yawn. wonwoo noticed and smiled to himself as his arm found its way around your waist. he congratulated your cousin, and talked to her for a bit as you found yourself slowly sinking into wonwoos side. “i think someones tired, we should get going.” he and your cousin laughed as you nodded your head. you gave her one last hug as you followed your parents out of the house and back into the car. on the way back to the house, you had rested your head on wonwoos shoulder. as you fell in and out of consciousness, wonwoos hand lightly patted your head as you yawned.

you felt the car come to a stop as you pulled back into your parents driveway. you lifted your head and looked around, catching wonwoos eye as he gave you a fond look. you both got out of the car and went straight to your room after saying goodnight to your parents. rooting through your suitcase, you grabbed some pajamas and headed for the bathroom to change and get ready for bed. you drowsily brush your teeth, as theres a quiet knock at the door. opening the door, youre met with wonwoo, toothbrush in hand. you try to give him a smile as you move over to give him some room. since coming to your parents house, brushing your teeth together had become a common occurrence. it was peaceful, and the silence was never awkward. although, it was rare for you and wonwoo to encounter awkward silence at any moment. silence with him was always calm, never awkward. you both just enjoyed each others company, and you both knew that. after a couple minutes of standing together at the sink, you both finished getting ready and went back to the bedroom. too tired to worry about wonwoos pillow ‘solution’ from the night before, you both just crawled into bed facing away from each other. you muttered goodnights as he flicked off the lamp.

you found yourself waking up at some point in the middle of the night shivering. the room had cooled off more than it was before, and the one blanket you had wasnt doing the best job. the air conditioning had to be on the lowest setting possible. you could still hear wonwoos soft snores as you moved gingerly and stood up, so you assumed he was still fast asleep. as you walked past the end of the bed, you heard him speak in a low whisper. “where are you going?” he was groggy, his eyes barely opening to look at you in the dark. “oh, im cold so im just going to grab another blanket. you can go back to sleep.” he nodded gently as his head layed back down on the pillow. you made your way to your mothers linen closet and grabbed a fluffy blanket from the top of the pile. as you got back in bed and snuggled back in with the other blanket, you heard wonwoos voice again. “wanna come over here?” you turned over in confusion to look at him, but them you saw what he meant. his arm was lifted, inviting you to snuggle into him. as you shivered again, you thought, ‘whats the worst that could happen?’ so, you shifted towards wonwoo until you met his chest and his arms wrapped the blankets around the two of you. with one of his arms under your head and the other around your waist, you pressed your head to his chest and drifted away to the sound of his heartbeat.

waking up in wonwoos arms again was a shocking experience for half asleep you. as you slowly felt yourself waking up, the warmth surrounding you yet again confused you for a moment. you blinked yourself awake before remembering the events of the middle of the night. the air in the room remained slightly cool as you began to slip out from underneath the blankets. wonwoo had always been a heavy sleeper, as he didnt budge when you snuck out from his hold. you made your way out of the room, the air in the rest of the house feeling the same as it did in your bedroom. you noticed the early morning sun that had been shining through the blinds. suddenly, you realized it may have been earlier than you thought. you shut the bedroom door as quietly as you could behind you when you returned, even though you knew wonwoo was sound asleep anyways. sitting on the side of the bed, you picked up your phone from the table where it sat. 5:47am. so it was way earlier than you thought. you settled back into the blankets, glancing over to see wonwoo in the same way he was when you left. lips slightly parted, long eyelashes resting on his cheeks. he looks so content. as carefully as you can, you lift his arm up and nestle back into his body. although he seemed as though he was in deep sleep when you got back, you couldnt help but notice the arm around your waist lightly squeeze as you nuzzle your face into the crook between his neck and his shoulder.

the next couple of days went by generally the same as the past two did. visiting family, spending time with your parents, just taking time to relax and be at home. acting as a couple actually wasn’t as difficult as you expected it to be. the most you would have to do is recite the backstory you had both made up, or hold hands every now and then to look believable. it felt like no time before it the day of the wedding, and you were all getting ready to head to the wedding hall. you fought to curl your hair in the mirror, but couldnt quite reach one part in the back. this caught wonwoo’s attention, as he made it was over to you behind the mirror. you sighed, making eye contact with him in the mirror. “do you want some help? i can finish it for you.” he reached for the curling iron as you nodded. “i just cant get that one piece, does the rest look okay?” you watched as he tilted his head in concentration while he curled the last few pieces of hair on the back of your head. “turn around.” you turned to face him as he inspected your hair. he fluffed up some pieces, then moved his hands to rest on either side of your face. “it looks great.” for a second, you couldve sworn the love in his eyes was genuine. well, you knew he had love for you, but in a platonic way. but this look felt like a different type of love. before you could process anything that had happened, your mother appeared in the doorway. “oh, arent you two just beautiful?” she crossed her arms and leaned on the doorway. you both stood to face her so she could admire your dress and wonwoos suit. wonwoo had made an effort to get a tie that matched your dress. it didnt take long for your mother to notice the small sentiment as she raved about how cute it is and left to go tell your father. after close to an hour of getting ready in preparation for a wedding that wasnt even your own, you all made your way into your parents’ car and were officially enroute to the wedding. 

the wedding venue was absolutely beautiful. decorated from floor to ceiling with white and gold decorations, you walked in and your jaw dropped. you admired everything as wonwoo stood by your side, also taking in all the glamour of the space. after taking the time to appreciate the decor, wonwoo lightly takes your hand and pulls you into the wedding hall, trailing behind your parents. your parents picked a seat close to the front in order to get a good view of the ceremony. with different members of your extended family surrounding you, you felt right at home. wonwoos hand never left yours from the moment you both stepped into the venue. everyone quietly spoke amongst each other as they all waited for the wedding to begin. you told wonwoo about all the family members you could see, telling him small anecdotes and childhood stories. wonwoo always seemed to be so attentive. you loved that part of him. it didnt feel like long before the music queued and the wedding party began entering the room. you watched as your aunts, uncles, cousins, and their partners all walked into the room in pairs. you began tearing up at the sight of your family all looking so proud of your cousin. wonwoo noticed, squeezing your hand and lightly running his thumb along your knuckles. you wrapped your arm around his as your cousin turned the corner. she was absolutely stunning. you looked towards the front of the room to see her soon-to-be husband in tears at the sight of her. the display of love made you cry as well. all you had wanted since you were a young child was a love like they have now. as your cousin made her way down the aisle, wonwoo silently wiped your tears and squeezed your hand yet again. you gave him a thankful smile as he put his free hand on top of your intertwined fingers.

the rest of the wedding was just as heartwarming as the beginning. more tears were shed, smiles were had, it was a beautiful experience. as the wedding party all exited the room, you sat in wonwoos presence as the guests around you broke out into a chatter about how beautiful the wedding was. in the hum of the crowd, wonwoo watched you in a silent effort to make sure you were feeling okay. you had told him in a drunken rant in the weeks preceding the wedding how much you didnt want to go home because everyone was in love and happy together, and all you had was school and friends. you reassured wonwoo that you appreciate what you have, but as he practically carried you through your apartment, he could hear the sadness and disappointment in your voice through the intoxication. he never brought this up after, but this did make him want to go to this wedding and take care of you even more. as everyone in the wedding hall began standing up and getting ready to leave, wonwoo patted your thigh gently as you both joined everyone else. your parents waited by the door for the two of you to exit through the flood of people. on the drive back, your parents had plenty to say about the newlyweds and the wedding as a whole. you chimed in occasionally, but you were perfectly content with listening to your mothers rambling uninterrupted.

when you get home, you decide to stay in the same dress you had worn for the wedding ceremony, as the wedding dance and reception were only hours later. you relax in the family room with wonwoo, watching whatever your parents had been watching on tv before you left. you sit in the same comfortable silence that you two always manage to seek out. you drape your legs across his lap as he mindlessly draws invisible patterns along your legs with his fingers. interrupting the tv show, your phone rings. hoshi? you answer the phone and put it on speaker.

“y/n!! hows it going, loverboy giving you any trouble?” wonwoo rolls his eyes at hoshis obnoxious tone, but cant help the laugh escaping his body. you flash him a teasing smile. 

“no hosh, im keeping him in line, dont worry.”

“you better be, im not there to do it so i was getting worried.”

wonwoo began playfully arguing with hoshi through the phone as you hold the phone and giggle at their antics. they go on and on for a couple minutes, before wonwoo inevitably gives up. hoshis persistence is truly something to be reckoned with. hoshi has some last final parting words before abruptly ending the phone call.

“have fun lovebirds, see you soon! i dont want to be a godfather yet though!”

you both laugh at him again, letting the silence fall back into the room. before long, its time to go back to the wedding hall for the reception. you find your seats next to your parents as the food begins to be served. wonwoo spots the open bar across the room, and asks if youd like a drink. you give him a nod and hes off to grab refreshments. you dont bother with specifics, as you trust wonwoos knowledge about your taste. he comes back with two glasses, and places one on the table in front of you. smiling in acknowledgement, he gives you a nod. you listen to speeches and songs, before the meal is over and the crowd is brought to the dance floor. being a couple drinks deep so far, you try to convince wonwoo to get up and dance with you. youve always been sort of a lightweight, but you also know your limits. sometimes. wonwoo, however, doesnt have the same taste for alcohol that you do. so he has one or two, and switches to soda before he even feels the slightest bit tipsy. still trying to drag him to the dance floor, you ask wonwoo to come with you in the nicest most stable voice you could muster. he gives in, following you out and joining the many people already enjoying the dj’s music.

you both get a taxi home, as your parents arent the party animals they used to be. wonwoo tries to bring you in quietly, but youre as stable and discrete as a baby giraffe in a china shop. after managing to successfully sneak you into the bedroom without angering your parents, he closes the door as you stumble to the bed and flop back into the blankets. wonwoo hangs his suit jacket on the back of the door and begins gathering his clothes to go get changed in the bathroom. as his hand touches the doorknob, he hears distinct babbling coming from the bed behind him. he turns around to see you staring at the ceiling, and he’s unsure if youre talking to yourself or him. 

“what was that?”

you turn your head towards him and smile. “youre sooo handsome woo. im just so happy that youre my fake boyfriend.”

he laughs at this sudden proclamation. he sits on the bed next to you and leans back onto his arms, gazing down at you. “you're pretty sweet too, y/n. i couldnt ask for a better fake girlfriend.”

“but you knowww…” you attempt to whisper to him, as if it was a secret to him and yourself. “i couldddd be your real girlfriend toooooooo..” you give him a gleeful smile, your eyes closed. he brushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “is that so?” you nod profusely as he says this. he chuckles and stands up, tapping your leg. 

“youve got to get ready for bed, you cant sleep in your dress and makeup.” you sit up in a slouch, giving wonwoo a disapproving look. he puts his hand out to help you up, and you gladly take it. he brings you to the bathroom and hoists you onto the counter, shutting the door to create a barrier between your elevated drunken volume and your parents’ bedroom. he takes a makeup wipe out of its packaging as he places his hand along your neck with his thumb on your jaw, holding your face in its place. you close your eyes as the cold cloth comes into contact with your face. you shiver a little as wonwoo readjusts his grip on your face. when hes done, he pats your thigh as a signal to slide off the countertop. you jump down and try to follow him back into the bedroom, but before you leave he passes you your pajamas to get changed into. you reluctantly return back to the bathroom and try to change as carefully as you can. once you get back into the bedroom, wonwoo is in his pajamas, climbing into bed. you jaunt across the room onto your side, and as soon as wonwoo is settled in, you slowly snuggle into his side. he wraps both arms around you, wrapping you in a warm cocoon of blankets and his body. before you drift off, you mumble “love you woo” into his chest. he knows it was the drunk you speaking, but he makes sure to whisper “love you too y/n” into the quiet night. 

the last morning waking up in wonwoos arms was no different from any of the other days. you try to savour this time a little bit longer, but he soon starts to stir and slowly gets out of bed. you can tell that he thought you were asleep by how carefully he was moving. when he comes back, youre sitting up in the bed on your phone. he’s taken aback, and begins to apologize for waking you up. you reassure him that you were already awake which calms his nerves. while wonwoo is in the bathroom, you begin packing your stuff back into the suitcase you brought with you. when hes ready, you switch places, now with you in the bathroom and wonwoo packing his stuff. you both decide to hit the road early, so youre not getting home tired late at night.

after saying many goodbyes to your family you're hitting the road again. after some time, wonwoo suddenly chimes in. “um, do you remember anything you said last night when we got back from the reception?” youre taken aback by the question, trying to replay every moment of the night. you shake your head. “but im definitely sorry for whatever it may have been.” you both chuckle, as wonwoo turns it over in his head, trying to decide whether or not to continue on this train of thought. “its just…” hes made his decision. “i was thinking about how people say drunk words are sober thoughts, and your drunk words said some things that i actually agree with.” at this point youve turned fully towards him in your seat, trying to figure out what he was about to say next. he takes a deep breath before continuing. “when we were getting ready for bed you said.. you said you wished that this-” he gestures between the two of you, “-wasnt fake. and ive been turning that over and over in my head because… i feel that way too.” the tips of his ears are bright red, and his grip on the steering wheel has tightened slightly. you watch as he tries to calm himself down enough to continue. you decide to let him finish before speaking. “the last few days has made me feel so happy. being around you makes my days better. you don't have to feel the same, you dont even have to say anything if you don't want to. i just.. i had to say something.” you smile at him as you place your hand lightly on his arm. now, its your turn to speak. “wonwoo, you don't understand how difficult it has been to try not to fall for you in the last week. everything you do makes my heart flutter. ive been dreading the day this whole scheme was over. i do wish this wasnt fake. i want this to be our everyday life wonwoo. i want this to be us.” his hand finds yours as a smile overtakes his face. you hold his hand in yours, not wanting to ever let go. wonwoo glances over at you. “i cant believe that the girl i met at the convenience store is finally my girlfriend after us dating for 6 months.” you laugh, letting your head rest against the car headrest as you let the quiet music from the radio fill the silence. 

you should've known this fake relationship would last longer than the week you signed up for.

[eydi-andrius]

Soldier Down (Harvey x Reader)

Synopsis: After the heart wrenching experience of rejection from the last flower dance, you decided to skip it on year 2 making your newfound friends worried

a/n: the idea is all over the place... maybe. i just wanted to write something for my husband of two years, which was Harvey the town doctor. sorry, i got is so bad for him 😭

tw/cw: badly edited... it's 3AM, i wrote it after some idea boost, fluff, mild angst, happy ending

divider: @/cafekitsune

“What do you mean you're not going to participate in this year's flower dance?” Emily almost flipped the sewing machine over when out of the blue you confessed your desire to not join the spring flower dance, an event in which everyone was looking forward to participating, except George who hates the look and smell of the flowers.

Meanwhile, beyond Emily’s shoulder, you watched as Haley, who was in the kitchen, minding her own business, turned her head slowly, frown plastered on her forehead, as she stared at you. Are you for real?, was written all over her pretty face. Haley loves the flower dance. In fact, you know she makes an effort to look the prettiest on that special day. The look of disbelief is so strong, that you found yourself clenching the glass of orange juice you're holding, trying to look small behind it. Wishing that it can hide you from the shame that's slowly creeping in.

Gulping the sweet and sour orange liquid in one go, you prayed that even without alcohol, the citrus would give you courage not to stutter and look like an idiot trying to explain your plan to skip an important event in the valley after experiencing a silly little rejection. Everyone gets rejected here and there. There is no way one rejection left you that traumatized……right?

“Well…..Uhmmm…. I just don't want to. I- I don't feel like joining.” Great. What a plan. And you practiced the reason in front of the mirror way too many times before finally having courage to share this big decision.

Palm sweaty, you tried clenching the evidence of fear on your denim pants, rubbing and squeezing, in hopes that it will help dry your hands. But, it did nothing to calm your nerves, absentmindedly, your right leg started shaking. Head hot from a million thoughts running inside your mind, scared that Emily and Haley will judge you the moment they found out that even after a year, you still can't get over how Harvey declined your offer to dance with him. At that time, when he mentioned that he was working on his courage to ask someone out, it gave you false hope that he may be referring to you. It may sound like a stretch but you thought there was something blooming with your relationship with him. It seems that way….. or so you’ve thought.

In your first year, as an early riser, you always meet the doctor at his clinic. Most of the time, you just see him by his window, sitting in front of the reception, waiting for any of the townsfolk to ask for his assistance. Your interaction started off with shy glances, which turned into a curt nod of acknowledgement, a nod turned into small smiles, smiles became hesitant waves of your hand, and a wave evolved into a morning routine of exchanging pleasantries and coffee before you two start your long day at work and doing your respective responsibilities.

You were so happy, and you admit at that time, you're grateful that despite the doctor being a bit awkward and shy, you two clicked and are forming a bond, and you usually don't admit your feelings easily, but you know deep down that you're starting to like him. He was so sweet and caring afterall. How could you resist him?

So when the rejection came on the day of the event, when you asked him politely to be your partner, then he awkwardly looked away and kindly said no. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water was splashed on your face. Your body went rigid, a chill ran down your spine, until it turned into a scorching fire of shame. After a mess of mumbling apologies, wishing that a hole would open up and swallow you down, you half walk and run as you left the forest and did not watch the whole event unfold. You were so glad that at that time, your tanned skin, after days of being under the sun farming, had hidden your embarrassment well from their naked eyes.

You involuntary flinched, when a firm hand held your shaking leg and effectively stopped the movement. Blurry eyes start focusing on Emily’s face, her eyes reflecting your ashen appearance, pity and worry were mixed on her gaze, and you admit that you feel small and vulnerable in front of her……and Haley, who held your shoulder and squeezed it to give you comfort. You did not notice her coming close at all. It says a lot on how you must have looked in their eyes. They must have been worried sick.

“Sorry. We don't want you to remember anything awful that may have happened that day. But maybe the doctor has his own reasons when he rejected you. It was your first month after all. Doctor Harvey is known to be very awkward and shy. Maybe he was just shy???” Your blue haired friend shrugged as she tried her best to reason out and make you feel better. A scoff was heard from Haley as she disapproves of what Emily said, or so you thought.

“I can't believe I am defending a man but my sister is right. Doctor Harvey is far too much of a softie to purposely play with your heart and reject you after giving you motives.” She tuts. “I bet he was feeling a bit overwhelmed that someone asked him for a dance. You know…. Choosing to dance with him, while the other younger bachelors were around.” She continued as a matter of fact.

You watched as Emily glared at Haley’s sharp tongue and the blonde just shook her shoulders with no care. Chuckling nervously, you twiddle with your thumbs as you process what they’ve said. It is easier said than done. You have been in this headspace for a year, that despite their words being reasonable, you just can't believe it to be true. Doctor Harvey probably has his eyes set on someone smarter. You are quite bright but not as smart as Maru.

“I- I don't know.” Unsure, you look at them, lip on a thin line. Now that you're on the hotseat and being grilled about it, you hope to steer away from the conversation. It's just childish to you, even though the sisters never called you anything similar to that. You felt childish. You were grateful when your phone alarm went off, screaming and screeching, signaling that the gold bars you processed are ready for harvest. After that, you have to go to Jodi and give it to her to finish her request and get some gold coins, which you have to use to save up for summer crops. Still far away per say but better saved up than use your dwindling savings again if something disastrous happens. Just like the last time where your crops suddenly died despite being taken care of.

Also, you just don't want to bawled your eyes out. Knowing Emily and Haley, they will try their best to cheer you up. You know you can't stay here with them trying to boost your confidence without crying. And you don't want to cry. It's too cliché. So with an obvious rush on your steps, you almost jump out of their door and run towards the nearest way to your home, which was near Marnie’s barn.

“Do you really think the doctor is not playing with her heart?” Emily sighed as she watched the door, you almost closed way too loudly, as you obviously rushed towards it, with an intent to run away from the conversation you started. She would lie if she says she’s not worried. Despite the farmer being known to be strong-willed, both physical and mentally, she's also an empath and a softie. You feel things way too strongly. This is why Emily likes you a lot. She can be vulnerable towards you because she knows you’ll understand better than anyone in Pelican Town. And with that, she hopes that only good things come your way.

“Remember the story Abigail told you on your shift? After the accident with the farmer fainting inside the mines, Abigail rushed her to his clinic, barely alive, and he was waiting and ready. Remember that before that, he would often be seen to have his lights on at night, way past his usual bedtime, especially, on days wherein he knew that the farmer was inside the mines. If that isn't love, I don't know what that is?” Haley sighed as she flopped herself on the nearby couch. 

“He is the only town doctor, Haley. That's to be expected.” She doesn't want to be the party pooper but that needs to be addressed as well. 

“Emily…..usually, it would be you defending someone. But weirdly enough, I am doing it this time. So okay, let's make it our mission to help the doctor and the farmer to choose each other in this year’s flower dance. Doctor Harvey is a man of routine, however, when the farmer is included in the equation, he would go out of his way to accommodate her. I just have a good feeling about this. I bet they'll get married this year.” Haley shrugged before she pulled out her phone texting for reinforcements. 

“Luckily, this Thursday is my annual check-up.”

“Remind me again why you two are at my farm?” You blinked as you watched Sebastian and Sam sit at your porch after they showed up earlier while you’re tending to your livestocks.

“How many times do we have to say that we came here to practice? You’re not sensitive to loud sounds. Your farm is huge. We can all jam here together.” He explained.

See…that's the thing. Sebastian, you would understand he’ll come here. He loves the quiet of the farm and would often help you out as a thank you for letting him stay and relax, here and there. But Sam? Sam hates the smell of animal manure. He also hates ducks because as per his story, he was chased down by them when he was a kid. Something is not right but you can't quite pinpoint where it was coming from.

Your suspicion may be written all over your face because Seb shrugged and sighed at his best friend's awful excuse.

“Sam just wants to see Helios.” Seb spoke.

As if on cue, upon hearing his name, a loud bark was heard from afar, and you heard his paws hitting the soft soil before you saw a brown dog, wearing a red collar, rushing towards where you three were standing. Like a giddy kid, Sam's eyes widened and he excitedly kneel and open his arms, waiting for Helios to go towards him. Helios, the smartest pup, went towards Sam without hesitation, knowing he’ll get good treats and pets from him.

You don't want to spoil Sam’s delusion that he was your pup’s favorite, but you and Helios know that it was Harvey he liked the most. Even your old rescue, Helga, the big orange grumpy cat, purrs at the doctor when he visits the farm. Helga isn't nice just to anyone. Even Seb took a long time before Helga finally purred at him. Yet, Harvey was loved at first sight. It was obvious that it was because he is very gentle towards them. You also witnessed a time where he was talking to them. Retelling stories of his childhood where his parents hated pets because they are dirty and a source of diseases. Their obsession and hatred towards the baby animals made Harvey anxious and avoided adopting any pet, not because he thinks they were a handful, but he feels conscience, that he wasn't able to do anything to save the cats and dogs his parents threw away after trespassing in their property.

You bite your lip when you realize that you're thinking about him again. The pang in your chest grows more painful as the day passes by, and the spring flower dance is getting closer, and no action was taken on your end. You want to dance with him. You want your intention towards him to be clear. However, the fear and doubt takes over and you crumple like a coward.

“Hey, you should ask the doctor about this upcoming flower dance.” Out of nowhere, Seb suggested. And there was something that clicked in your head.

So that….was the reason why they are here.

“Oh god no!” You grimaced and shook your head in refusal. Emily or Haley must have told him about what you’ve talked about last time.

“Emily told you?!” You asked, exasperated.

“She doesn't need to. It's a small town. Eventually, everyone will know.” He corrected your assumption and leaned towards the armrest of his seat. Your response was only a sigh, as you focused your attention on Sam and Helios, who was now playing fetch with a ball.

“Sam didn't know about this?” Putting your arm around your chest, you clarified.

“Nah. He does. He got distracted.” He shrugged. Internally, you heavily sighed.

“Then tell me how you found out?” You pry him some more.

“Should I tell you? I mean…it seems like you told Emily and Haley, and not me, your best friend. It kind of sucks.” He pouted.

You playfully slapped his shoulder at that and he only rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll spill!” He raised his hand in surrender.

“Haley texted me.” He admitted with a grin.

“You are the worst!” You slap him again, but this time, you made sure it will hurt.

“I’m sorry! Hey! I said I’m sorry! Hahahaha!” Sebastian used his arms to shield himself from your attacks, and he had the audacity to laugh out loud from your hits.

When his laughter annoyed you more, shame and frustration mixed together, you made sure that some of the playful punches actually hit him quite hard. He yelped when he finally felt that you meant it, and used his strength to stop you from your continuous onslaught of him. He grabbed your hands and chuckled at your pouting lips and frowning brows.

There was a pause and you watched as something flashed in his eyes before he smiled.

“Don’t be scared. There is nothing wrong inviting and asking him again. The fifty percent chance of him saying no, is still a fifty percent chance of him saying yes. I mean….if he ever said no” He paused, his face morphed thoughtfully.

“I can always dance with you to the flower dance.” He continued.

You felt warmth from that, and you cannot help but smile.

Sebastian was like a brother to you. It was weird. But the moment you two met each other, there was this bond, that was akin to being siblings that was created.

He always looked out for you, and you always looked out for him. Robin being fond of you was probably one of the main reasons why your sibling-like relationship with him strengthened.

He is like a baby brother that you never had. However, you know that Sebastian always thinks he is the eldest brother which was a lie because you are two years older than him.

Seb’s sincere smile suddenly changed into a cheshire one, and you kind of got a hint that he will make fun of you.

But before you two could banter, a loud, intentional coughing was heard behind you and you froze when the source spoke.

“I- Hi! Sorry for interrupting.” He started with a stutter.

You suddenly realized the position you were at. Sebastian holding both of your hands, your faces inched closer from arguing. Embarrassed, you pulled your hand away from his hold, and like the speed of the lightning, moved farther from Seb, clenching both of your fists. Your face and ears, hot to the tips.

“Hey, doc! What are you up to?” Sebastian casually asked. And you gave him a deadly glare. He only smirked at your reaction.

You panicked as you watched Harvey look in between the both of you, and was about to open your mouth to explain, when the doctor smiled, although forcefully, as he continued.

“Well…uhnnnnm..I replenished the tonics I have at the clinic. I was wondering if you would like to buy some?” He asked, but he was looking down while offering.

“Didn't know you’re selling house to house now, Doctor Harvey?” Seb teased.

Your eyes widened at that, and you mouthed a threat at him, in which Sebastian only replied with a shrug.

“I-I usually don't. But the farmer was always in the mines so..I thought…uhm…I” Harvey’s face turned into a tomato, and his eyes were wide, as he stammered, and tried to explain why he was at your farm. He was caught off guard from the younger man’s question. He felt awfully shameful, the red was even creeping up to his neck.

“Harvey, it's okay. Seb was just teasing you.” You tried to deescalate the situation, and you stepped down from your porch, to come closer to the reddened Harvey.

Deep inside you are panicking for him. His red face, and embarrassed stammer, makes your heart beat faster, infected by his shame. You feel like your heart will jump out of your ribs.

Out of nowhere, Sam suddenly came into view, and tapped the doctor on his shoulder to say Hi.

As if the action woke him up, Harvey flinched, and he suddenly bid his farewell but with reminding you to come to his clinic if you ever needed a tonic when you mine and combat monsters.

You watched his back, as he rode his bicycle away from your farm, watching him slowly going away left a pang on your chest.

When he was out of view, your attention however, was now back to the culprit. With no person to stop you, you removed one of your slippers and threw it at Sebastian, who crouched down to hide, but was still hit straight to his head. He yelped in pain, but soon you heard his laughter.

Sam was oblivious and frowning, when Sebastian’s laugh boomed and he tried his best to apologize and breathe at the same time.

You cannot sleep.

Yoda, forgive you for picturing Harvey’s downcast face when he saw you with Sebastian.

It was an image you do not wish to see. But every time you close your eyes, you see it oh so perfectly.

You don't wish to see Harvey sad or misinterpreting your relationship with Sebastian.

Yet, you have no strength to stand and go to him to explain or clarify.

Because….what if you're just assuming things? What if he wasn't really sad but just surprised? What if? Yoda! Too many what ifs!

You ruffled your hair from frustration, and you kind of forgot that Helga was sleeping beside your head. You profusely apologize when the old cat hissed at you, before jumping down, and comfortably sitting on the jacket Harvey lent for you to use. It was raining, and you were soaking when you visited him at his clinic.

At that time, you insisted that you are okay. That the rain will make your farmer body stronger. But he only pouted at that reasoning, and you cannot help but accept his offer anyways, because he looks so cute when he cares. Technically, he looks so cute in everything he does.

Those memories are precious to you. And you have this feeling that if you let this go, it will be the end of your relationship with him.

You have to make it up to Harvey. Whether he likes you or not. You cannot live knowing he misunderstood. Out of all the people in Pelican Town, you don't want to be perceived wrongfully by Harvey.

After yelling on your pillow, for courage, you stood up, wore your scarf, and started walking towards the clinic. With renewed vigor, you did not think things through, and you found yourself just standing in front of his door. Not knowing what to do.

Thoughts were on a haywire, you were breathing heavily, trying to force yourself, remind your head, why you were here in front of his door at 12 AM.

The courage that gave you strength earlier, slowly diminishes, and you realize how cold it was. Your teeth were chattering and you were shaking involuntarily from the bone chilling wind. You hugged the scarf tighter hoping it gives you enough warmth ... .as you walk back to the farm again. Feeling cowardly when it hit you how stupid you must have looked walking on an unmarried man’s house way past midnight.

You looked one last time at his mahogany door, deciding that whatever good idea you had was probably bad, as you stepped back, retrieved your hand, that was ready to knock, finally ready to just go back home and forget this…

When his door opened, revealing a disbehelved Harvey, glasses crook, hair was everywhere, white shirt soaked from sweat and breathing heavily from probably running from upstairs to downstairs just to meet you.

You were about to open your mouth, was about to ask him how did he know that you were in front of his door, when he explained himself after he was able to breathe.

“Your glow rings. It was only you who wore glow rings in Pelican Town.” Your cheeks heated at that and you involuntarily looked down on your fingers and in there, you were indeed wearing one of your glow rings you use for the mines. It was an automatic response. Wearing your glow rings at night, to see the dimmed pathways better.

“Oh Yoda! I’m so sorry for waking you up!” You panicked, and apologized profusely when you understood that you interrupted someone’s sleep again due to your glow rings. You remembered how the Mayor scolded you to make sure to remove or darken your ring once you walked past the town, on your way home to the farm.

“You didn't wake me!” He countered. “I cannot sleep.” He admitted face was red.

“Oh.”

Was your only response before there was a pregnant pause that swallowed the whole conversation to a full stop. You bite your lip, thinking of many things to say to change the awkward silence. But truthfully, you don't know how. You watch him as he just stands there, cheeks red, hands on his neck, and shyly looking away. The crickets were loud, and you watched as the moths danced around the light post. Although the silence was loud…..it was weirdly comfortable.

“Would you like some tea?” He offered. Breaking the ice.

You nodded, not trusting to open your mouth, afraid to say anything that may sabotage whatever was starting.

You followed him up to his room upstairs, and he guided you to sit on his two person dining table. He apologized for how small his place was and you assured him it was okay, and it was you who was imposing.

While his back was turned on the kitchen preparing the tea, you looked around, and you cannot help but smile on seeing the familiar wallpaper of his room, and the posters of different planes plastered on his wall. You swore, it looks fuller now. It seems like the space for his planes are bigger than the ones for his medical profession. You chuckled at that.

“Care to share?” He playfully asked as he sat the steaming mug of chamomile tea in front of you, its aroma filling a sense of calm and familiarity, which you liked.

“You're building a new model plane again? Looks fun.” You nodded on the new wooden pieces on his work bench. He followed your eyes and smiled sheepishly at your attention and observation.

“Ah..yes. I was hoping to show it to you. Invite you over earlier when…” He paused and looked at you. When you felt his eyes on you, you stared back at him.

You felt like that was the perfect moment to say something.

“Sebastian is like a brother to me. Nothing more.” You explained, gripping the warm and comfortable tea cup, nervous of what he may tell you.

Maybe it was the warm cup, or the shift of energy in the air, that made you feel vulnerable and open as you blurted out a confession.

“Harvey…it was only you I like.”

At that moment, you have forgotten your dilemma that maybe he doesn't like you the same. At that time, you just felt that it was the right time to confess. You thought it was now or never.

You watched as his brown eyes widened, his mouth agape, he looked surprised, face blank from any emotions of rejection or happiness.

You were hopeful until you weren't. His none response jarring your confidence.

It took a couple of seconds before you felt the shame coming back, he was just staring at you, quiet, surprised, not saying a word.

You feel so bad, ashamed, that when he doesn't say anything, you started rapping, telling him he is not required to respond right away, that it wasn't your intention to drop a bomb to him late at night, that it was just you being silly, or probably just from the lack of sleep.

You were mouthing off a hundred and thousand of reasons and explanations, to get yourself out of the embarrassing moment, when you suddenly felt soft lips enveloping yours, warm calloused hands caging your face, moving in the direction in sync with his lips.

It was gentle and soft. Like a warm breeze in the field of flowers. Trees swaying, fallen leaves dancing, and air sweet as a honey.

You were never kissed like this before.

Most kisses you had were inexperienced, aggressive, and wild. This one…you liked it.

No, you love it.

You never thought that kisses could be felt like this. A warmth pooling in your stomach as you place your hand atop his, deepening the kiss, lost in the feeling.

There was only you and Harvey. And you think…. that wasn't such an awful idea to have. You feel lucky and blessed.

You slowly opened your eyes when Harvey let go of your lips, hands still in your face.

“Would you dance with me? This spring flower dance?” He asked. His whole demeanor changed. He felt much relaxed.

“I cannot think of anyone dancing with me that day.” You smiled, leaning closer to his hand. Happy that everything feels like it is in place.

The moment was beautiful and solemn, until a flash was directed on the window where you and Harvey were standing. Both of your heads snapped from its source and you cannot help but guffaw when your friends push against each other, as they fight off getting away first from being caught after they took a photo of you together.