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looooooooomis · 3 years

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F I N A L G I R L | F O U R

You were his final girl. And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t f o u r | k e y s

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.4k warnings: angst, s m u t, some more s m u t, teasing, finger-licking good billy boy, implied/referenced cheating, def not a healthy, functioning relationship (but like eh we persevere), some more s m u t.

Despite your best efforts, the last few days had been miserable without Billy.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a routine he’d become over the last seven months, how much you’d both come to rely on each other and, fuck, did you miss him. You missed his smell, you missed that small little cheeky grin of his, you missed curling up beside him and feeling him over every inch of your skin. Your body craved for him in an almost primal way but, while you could live with denying your body its needs, it was your heart that hurt the most.

What was supposed to be a quick release for the two of you had never been that easy. You’d been in love with the idiot since freshman year, seen him through his various ups and downs and he’d seen yours, too. Which was precisely what made this entire situation that much harder. Not only were you dealing with your own heartache, but you were witnessing his, too.

Billy’s grief was more or less a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. Ever the stoic silent type, you hadn’t expected to see much of what he was feeling splayed out on that handsome face of his, but shocking even you, his regret was palpable. And each and every time those brown eyes met yours, that grief that was as clear as day struck you blind.

You’d tried telling yourself that it was for the best because, in all honesty, it was but that didn’t make the pain go away. Nor did it make you miss him any less. You were trapped in a vicious cycle of missing Billy, sticking to your guns, and worrying about him all at once.

God, you’d really fucked up with this one.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tatum asked, narrowing her eyes at you as you shoved a handful of books into your locker. “You’ve been scatterbrained all week.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” she leaned her hip against the locker. “Is this about Steve?”

You blinked as the question played on loop in your head. “Steve?” You asked, giving the strawberry blonde your full attention. “First of all, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: ew. Secondly, huh?”

Tatum smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you’ve been acting all weird since Billy went psycho on his ass last week.”

“No, I haven’t,” you hoped your laugh didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Also, Steve’s an asshole. If the day ever comes when I am interested in that big oaf, feel free to euthanize me.”

“Promise,” she made a motion of crossing her heart, “but in the meantime, you swear nothing is up?”

“Cross my heart,” you mimicked the gesture and shut your locker. “What are you up to after practice tonight? Want to go see that new Brad Pitt movie?”

Her shoulders fell. “Can’t, Stu’s coming over,” she unwrapped a lollipop and shoved it in her mouth. “I’d say ask Sid, but she got into it with Billy last night so she’s in a mood.”

You tried not to care, you really did, but her words hit you like a freight train. “They did?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that your voice didn’t sound quite as high pitched as it sounded in your head. “What happened?”

“Who knows,” Tatum shrugged, “Billy’s always been a little intense and Sid’s been a little cagey since…well, you know – so, it’s bound to happen.”

You swallowed hard and continued to nod along to Tatum’s words. Were you nodding too frequently? Did you appear too interested all of the sudden? Catching yourself, you focused on the leftover gum on the locker just behind your friend’s head and cleared your throat. “That’s shitty.”

“Relationships,” Tatum waved off, “they’re all pretty shitty sometimes.”

Before you could finish putting your foot in your mouth any further, the third bell rang out signaling your next class. Your most dreaded class: Biology. With a groan you tossed your bag over your shoulder and frowned across at Tatum. “See you at practice?”

With a nod, Tatum took off towards her class as you slowly sauntered towards your own. You were halfway down the hall when you heard a set of heavy footfalls running towards you from behind. Glancing over your shoulder, you barely had time to register Stu’s smiling face before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “How ya doing, pal?”

“Peachy,” you scraped your eyes along his profile and blinked. “If you’re about to play the rule of dutiful henchman for you know who, I’ve got a class to flunk.”

“Harsh,” Stu beamed, “I see why our boy’s so smitten.”

With a roll of your eyes, you glanced around at the people around you and glowered up at him. “Stu,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“For what?” He feigned innocence. “I haven’t said a word.”

“But you want to,” you mused. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Stu chuckled. “All I was going to say is, like, I get it.”

You shouldn’t have taken his bait. What you should have done was push him off of you and continue on your merry way to class. That would have been the smart thing to do, the responsible thing to do.

Too bad you were neither of those two things.

Roped in, you sighed in defeat. “Get what?”

“I’ll be the first to admit,” he began, “when Bill told me that you and him were…you know, I laughed. I mean, two broads, man? I can barely handle the one how’s he going to deal with two of you?”

“I’m hoping there’s a point coming,” you groused.

“Right,” he laughed again, “my point is that I get it. I get why you two work. Why he’s knee deep in this big fucking mess because of it. You two work.”

“Stu,” you threw your head back and glared at the ceiling. “Stop.”

“What?” He asked. “Am I wrong?”

You gently pushed him away from you and dropped your voice into a whisper. “That’s not the point. He’s with Sid.”

“So?” Stu made a face. “Her mom just died, what do you want him to do? Dump her and break her heart? Her mom just died, that’d callous, man.”

“We’re breaking her heart either way, whether she knows it or not.”

Stu stopped walking and there was a compassion in his stare that left you reeling. For as long as you’d known him, Stu Macher had always been the goof. The reckless, chaotic idiot that seemed to fit just perfectly into your little mish mash of a group. But the sincerity in his blue eyes as the two of you stood in the emptying hallway was a look you’d never seen before.

“And by doing this, you’re breaking yours.” He limply shrugged. “Billy’s, too.”

Your shoulders fell as the weight of Stu’s words sank in. You couldn’t exactly say much in terms of a rebuttal, naturally, because he was right. There were no happy endings for either of you at this point in the charade. Sid had still been lied to and cheated on, Billy was still trapped in a relationship he no longer wished to be in in fear of hurting the girl he once loved and you were stuck in the middle, watching two people you cared for fall to bits while having to remain stoic in fear of showing your hand.

What a fucking mess.

After another minute of silence, Stu wriggled his eyebrows and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Just something to think about.”

Taking off down the hall, Stu left you to your own devices as you stood in the middle of an empty hallway with far too much on your mind. In an almost zombie-like trance, you took off in the direction of your biology class, not quite caring that you were about to be marked as tardy for the third time that week. But, before you got to that god-forsaken class, you heard the click of a door not far off before a pair of arms encircled around your middle, yanking you into the nearest classroom. A surprise yelp tore out of your mouth, but the full-fledged scream died in your throat as soon as you realized just who it was who had grabbed you.

“Jesus, Billy, you scared the hell out of me.” You grasped your chest and took in the dark, empty classroom around you. He was still holding you against the nearest wall, you could feel the heat of those large hands through your thin shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry,” despite the desperation in those brown eyes, his voice never wavered. It was still as calm and collected as ever. “I’d go to your house, but it’s been like Fort Knox for the last week or so.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment before averting your eyes to the ground, not quite being able to stomach the weight of his stare just yet. “Billy, unless anything’s changed, I—”

“In case anything’s changed?” He reiterated with raised brows. “Everything’s changed. I miss you, Y/N, more than you can even comprehend. I know I’ve fucked up, I know that, but I need you. The last nine days without being able to really see you or feel you or kiss you or—”

“I get it,” you held your hands up and gently pushed him away. “And it’s been hard on me, too, Billy. But it doesn’t change anything.”

For a few, long, agonizing moments, Billy remained still as a thousand different emotions splayed out across his face. There was anger and grief, sadness and desperation. But the look you got as he dropped to his knees in front of you was pure, unadulterated fear. “I promise you, Y/N, the second I can, when the time is right, Sid and I will be no more. But me and you are it, sweetheart,” his hands gently circled around your hips before embracing you around your middle. “I’m so fucking sorry that this is how it has to be right now. And I’m sorry that I’m too fucking selfish to let this go, but I can’t. I need you. I need us. You’re everything good in my life and I know I need to start proving that to you.”

Still, you remained quiet. Your fingers itched to reach out and run your fingers through that slightly greasy, unruly mop of hair, but instead you kept them pinned down at your side as you considered his words. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant them, the desperation on his face said as much, but you had your reservations. Taking your silence in stride, however, Billy simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Oh, jesus,” you grumbled, burying your head in your hands. “You better not be doing what I think you’re fucking doing.”

“Open the box, Y/N.”

“No,” you held your hands up. “Not if it’s…that.”

Billy sighed. The muscle in his cheek twitched. “It’s not a fucking engagement ring.”

Somewhat relieved, you continued to stare down at the box in slight disdain. “So, what is it?”

Billy sighed. “Fucking open it and you’ll see.”

“Buying the ‘other woman’ jewelry, Billy?” You shook your head. “You’re like a walking cliché at this point.”

“Shut-up and open the goddamn box.” Standing up to his full height, he continued to hold the box out towards you and breathed out a quiet laugh when you remained unwavering. “It’s not a fucking bomb, Y/N, open it.”

With a sigh, you snatched the box out of his hand and, rather unceremoniously, opened it up to reveal a key. Not a fancy skeleton key or a charm in the shape of a key but a regular, run of the mill house key. You blinked, mildly surprised. “Okay, I’ll give you a point for creativity with the box,” you pulled the key out and observed it. “But what is it?”

“It’s a key,” Billy said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I see that,” a small smile pulled at your lips as you looked across at him. “What’s it for?”

“It’s a key to my parents’ cabin.”

If you were meant to understand the significance, the story was lost on you. Looking back down at the key, you surveyed its tiny ridges briefly before nodding. “And what’s that have to do with me?”

He took a step towards you and grabbed the hand still clutching onto the key. “My dad doesn’t go up there much ever since my mother left and I figure we could both use a place where we can just…be.” His raked his thumbnail along your knuckles. “No Sid, no anyone. Just you and me.”

You were trying to remain unfazed by the sentiment, to remain icy and cool to the man you were supposed to be pulling away from, but between the softness in those warm brown eyes and the weight of the key still clutched in your hand, you could feel your defenses waning. “You expect Sid to just not care that you’re disappearing up north every once in a while?”

“I’ll make it work,” he shrugged it off. “And, to be honest, I don’t care what she thinks.”

Your answer came in the form of a long, drawn out sigh. “Billy,” you began, but before you could dive into the rest of your speech, his large hands slid up your arms and neck to cradle your face.

Slowly, he backed you into a nearby desk and traced the apple of your cheek with his thumb. “We can sneak up there whenever we want. Spend a whole weekend up there, just the two of us. I can worship this fucking body of yours in every square inch of that cabin. I can go into town and hold your fucking hand in public. We can do whatever the hell it is we want to do up there, whenever we want, without worrying about any of our idiot friends seeing us.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of being able to parade around like a normal couple in a town where not a single soul knew who you were. You swallowed, trying to steady your excitement with a dose of realism. “It’s still not fair to Sidney.”

“Fuck Sidney!” Billy’s voice echoed out around the vast, empty classroom, alarming you with just how angry he sounded. His chest heaved with a white-hot rage that you couldn’t fully comprehend, and his jaw was wound shut as his nostrils flared with each and every heavy, uneven breath he took. You swallowed hard and watched the man steady his nerves, unsure of your next move. You’d seen Billy angry before, but that level of emotion was definitely new.

You weren’t sure whether to be terrified or turned on by the sudden outburst.

But, just as quickly as it happened, Billy’s eyes slowly opened to reveal those molasses coloured eyes again. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he appeased. “But I can’t have her stand in the way of this. I won’t.”

You remained silent as you shimmied on top of the desk that had been poking into your ass for the last few seconds and tried not to focus on the way your body seemed to melt into Billy’s as he stepped in between your legs, still looking at you with all the intensity of the world.

“If we do this,” you found yourself muttering, “there’s going to be some ground rules.”

A sense of hope blossomed in Billy’s chest as he vigorously nodded his head. “Anything you want,” sliding his hands up the sides your stomach, he gently held your waist and gave it a small squeeze. “You name it.”

“When we go up to the aforementioned cabin, we go out.” You told him. “While I’m more than happy to blow you in the living room without worrying about your dad walking in, it would be nice to go on an actual fucking date.”

Billy nodded and, with his hands still on your waist, he tried not to focus on the thin cotton of your shirt bunching between his fingers as his thumb danced along your ribcage. There was so little between you in the empty classroom, barely any space as the two of you were practically nose to nose. And between that short little skirt you had on and your pert nipples beneath your thin tank top, it was enough to make his cock twitch inside of his pants. “Anything else?” He asked, his voice husky as he nudged his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you ran your tongue along your now parched lips as you sat with Billy standing between your thighs, holding you in place as his thumb traced agonizingly close to your tit. Were you even breathing? It didn’t feel like it. You were wet, too, which made his inhumanly close proximity almost too much to bear. “Lock the fucking door this time.”

A roguish grin enveloped his features as he stepped out from between your legs. Crossing the threshold of the classroom in two seconds flat, Billy locked the door and made his way back to you with that same mischievous glimmer in his eye. His eyes were hungry and, as his hands shifted down to your ass, he tugged you even closer to the edge of the desk. Closer to him. With your legs still open and on either side of his hips, you just about died when your clit managed to rub against the zipper of his jeans.

A quiet, low moan tore out of your throat from the sensation.

“Anything else?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” your breathing was ragged as Billy’s slow, methodical fingers, trailed up the side of your stomach. He was being extraordinarily temperate and slow to further tease you but, despite knowing how risky this was, you were putty in his hands. “Touch me.”

His nose brushed against yours again as he shifted his hips just enough for the zipper of his jeans to rub against your clit again. The bastard knew what he was doing.

“This feel good?” He asked as his hips toiled into you again.

You were practically dry fucking against the desk, you could have been caught any second. But, fuck, when he pulled you in a little more and slowly gyrated his jean-clad pelvis against your clit again, you couldn’t care less. “Mhmm,” you hummed.

Slowly, Billy’s dept fingers slid up from your waist towards your breasts. Raking his thumb against the swollen bud, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your neck.

He knew his jeans were rubbing against your clit and, as he looked down and saw the visible wet patch on your blue thong, he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you and bury his face in between your legs. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.”

When his hand squeezed your breast, you arched into his grasp. “I bet you did.”

Billy smirked and rolled your nipples between his fingers through the fabric of your shirt. With every roll of your hips, the strap of your shirt slipped down just enough to expose your breast. Without missing a beat, Billy leaned into your chest and allowed his mouth to consume your nipple, swirling his tongue around it expertly before biting down. You hissed as a combination of both pain and pleasure ripped through your body.

Your fingers curled around the hair along the nape of his neck and gave it a firm tug as is hands held you firmly in place. “Fuck, Billy” you moaned, breathless.

He released your nipple slowly, nipping at it one final time before leaning his forehead against yours again. You wanted like hell to close the distance between you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. Feel the tickle of his stubble along your upper lip and have that expert tongue brush against yours.

But you also wanted to make him sweat a little.

You weren’t sure what had come over you as you slid your hand down your torso. Maybe it was adrenaline of being caught or the relief of having Billy in your arms again but as you allowed your fingers to dip beneath the hem of your exposed thong, the look on Billy’s face made it all worth it.

“What are you doing?” His Adams apple bobbed up and down as he watched you touch yourself. You were in an awkward angle, but as your finger circled your clit and you watched the bulge in his pants grow, you were coasting high.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” You hummed, feigning innocence. “When I say touch me, I mean it, Billy. I’m taking matters into my own hands.” You pinched your clit and arched your naked chest into him. “Fuck.”

You heard him swear under his breath as his lips ghosted over yours. “You’re doing my head in, woman,” he growled, sliding his fingers beneath your panties. You gasped when his thumb began to circle your clit. And when he slid two fingers inside of you, you nearly saw stars.

His mouth found yours, mid-moan. Reaching the hand that had just been down the waistband of your shorts, you ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue coaxed yours. Everything about this man was electric. His fingers quickened their pace and before you knew it, you were thrusting into his hand. Placing sloppy kisses down from your mouth and along your jaw, Billy nipped at your ear. “How’s this for touching you, sweetheart?” He hissed, licking and biting his way across your neck.

Your breathing was rampant as you felt yourself edging closer and closer. “It’s alright,” you teased with a cloudy grin.

“So stubborn,” he laughed into your neck and curled his fingers so that he hit an area inside you that felt almost primal. The moan he got in return made him bite down on your collarbone. He curled his fingers again and you nearly choked. “You sure?”

Pulling his hair, you steered his face back to yours and crashed your lips against his. “Fuck me.” You mumbled into his mouth.

He applied the smallest bit of pressure to your clit and flicked his fingers one final time, sending you over the cliff. With a long, shaky moan, you bucked your hips uncontrollably as you came into his hand. Every inch of you felt as though it was on fire as Billy made you ride out your orgasm, not for a second easing up on your clit as you writhed beneath him.

“Play with your tits,” he barked out through hooded eyes.

“You play with them,” you argued, but the resolve in your voice was gone. You weren’t entirely sure if you knew your name at that point. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger pinching your highly sensitive clit and that was it. Everything else was a blur.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn.”

You were so wet and so turned on you could barely think straight. “Billy,” you pleaded, your entire body heating up almost unbearably so. When he ignored you and instead continued his attack on your clit, you whimpered. “I need you to fuck me.”

With a bruising kiss, Billy released your clit and, in seconds flat, tugged his jeans far enough down his hips before slipping inside of you. The moan that escaped your lips was undeniable as he pumped into you. Reaching up, he grabbed your tit and squeezed as he bit down on your exposed neck. It was a sensory overload coming from all angles.

“Fuck,” Billy’s hoarse voice was in your ear as he pumped into you. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He reached for your face and tilted your chin up towards him, meeting you halfway with a sloppy kiss. Moaning into his mouth, you managed lose yourself in that instance.

Gone was the room around you.

Hell, gone was everything up until this point.

All you could focus on was the feeling of Billy inside of you. Biting down on his lip, you tugged it back as he rolled his hips in a way that made you quiver. He was thrusting, hard, in an almost animalistic that made your entire body shake with the velocity of every desperate push. He moved between kissing your lips, to biting them to suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. He was a man, unhinged, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him so sexy.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when his forehead dramatically fell against your own.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, simply just remained still and firmly pressed against one another. But, as the weight of your current whereabouts slowly dawned on either of you, you both slowly pulled away from each other, both wearing a small smile as you re-dressed yourselves.

Once his pants were done up, Billy stepped into you once again and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Cabin this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and hopped down from the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” you teased, fixing your skirt.

Billy’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, maybe, eh?”

“Yeah,” you winked, “I’ll think about it.”

“Smart ass,” Billy smirked. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“I’m counting on it.” Once you were both fixed up, you nodded towards his hand which was still slicked with your juices. You laughed. “Oops.”

But Billy didn’t seem fazed. Instead, your breath hitched in your throat when he raised his hand to his lips and licked your slick clear off, relishing in the taste of it with a knowing smirk on his face. “This weekend.” He reiterated, driving the point home.

“This weekend,” you agreed, walking towards the door. Ensuring nobody saw the two of you leave an empty classroom together, you unlocked the door and gave Billy a small, knowing smile. “See you at lunch, lover boy.”

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years

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Baby Broke Down In My Bed Again

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: this came to be because 1. I wanted to try and write a more sanguine, less patient reader 2. @minaslittleone do you remember a long time ago when we agreed that someone with as much self-hatred as Wilhemina probably had moments when sex wasn’t bearable, or something like that? Well, I decided to write a fic about it. Reader x W’s relationship has been going on for quite a while in this one, because I wanted a less guarded, more trusting and forgiving Wilhemina.

Word count: ≈ 8 700

You collapsed on the bed with a groan and let your body sink into the mattress. It had been such a long, boring and yet incredibly busy day, that had made you feel way older than your years. All you wanted now was to forget about it entirely and let warmth and content take over.

Wilhemina was tucked in on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had been particularly quiet this evening, seemingly lost in her head, had played with her food and answered your questions with short, annoyed sentences. You had let her be, given her space, regularly glancing at her for any sign of pain, but her back didn’t seem to be the trouble. She had helped you clear the table, and the soft brush of her hand against your arm had felt like a silent apology.

Now you snuggled up to her side, curling your body to fill all the gaps between you and her, and planting soft kisses on the bare skin between her collarbones.

“What are you reading?” you whispered, draping one arm over her stomach to pull her closer.

“Still the same book,” she answered, rather curtly.

You peered up at her, planted more kisses along her collarbone, then buried your face in her neck. Your eyes fluttered closed. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and safe, your safe place; you felt the tension slowly leave your body, and be replaced with sweet, happy content that nestled cozily in your stomach.

Home. In the past year you and her had built your home together. You had painted your walls in her colors and she had filled her rooms with your laughter. By now you knew by heart which parts of her floor creaked when you put your foot on it, which parts of her body to press your fingers on to make her moan.

“Will you read to me?” you whispered against her skin.

It came out too muffled for her to understand. She made a questioning noise, but it bore so much annoyance you decided against repeating your question. Instead, you slipped your fingers under her night shirt and started stroking slow circles on her stomach, the softness of her skin sparking a low fire where there had been only warmth.

You snuggled closer to her still, nudging her neck with your nose and breathing her in. She was intoxicating, you thought, as you planted soft, lazy kisses that lingered longer on her skin as your brain slowly awoke to a growing need, so ridiculously intoxicating; you pushed yourself up on one elbow for better access as you trailed kisses up her neck, your other hand sliding up to caress the swell of her right breast.

Wilhemina set her book aside, which made you smirk victoriously. You sucked on the skin over her pulse point just as she lay one hand on your shoulder, and was about to flick your thumb over her nipple when she gently pushed you away.

There was surprise in your eyes when you met hers. Wilhemina was so incredibly hungry for affection she rarely rejected it when you so eagerly offered it to her.

You scanned her face, your breathing quick and expectant.

Wilhemina held your gaze and shook her head. “Not tonight, Y/N.”

She didn’t look annoyed anymore, just sad. It was this sadness that silenced the protestations tingling on your tongue.

You swallowed down disappointment and planted one last kiss on her collarbone before lying down again, with your face mere inches from her shoulder. You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths till the heat in your head and in-between your legs was back under control.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Of course I am,” she retorted, but the tone of her voice betrayed her.

Her voice was always softer in the evening. There was a warm fondness to it that let giggles and chuckles and secrets go through almost unimpeded. Four months or so into your relationship, she had allowed herself to take off parts of her armor and hang them next to her coat after she had closed the front door to her place or yours. Weapons were set on the floor, and the weight of them replaced with the weight of your body on top of hers.

But tonight, she was using the voice which to your ears sounded like the low, threatening growl of faraway thunder. Meant to warn, to intimidate, to make you duck your head and run away.

For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching her.

“Do you want to keep on reading?” you asked eventually.

“No.”

“Should we turn off the light, then?”

“Don’t you need to get off first?”

The spite and harshness of her voice had you reeling for a second. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

“Excuse me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and glazed. “Don’t you need to get off first?”

This time, her voice wasn’t spiteful but mocking, condescending. That made it even worse.

“No,” you answered, gaze boring into hers, “I don’t need to get off first.” You paused. “Did something happen today?”

“Nothing happened today,” Wilhemina snapped.

You swallowed back anger, forced your voice to stay calm. “Then what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

With a groan you closed your eyes and rolled away from her, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp.

The darkness only increased your anger. You lay fuming with your back to her, curled in on yourself and cursing that brain of hers that was so ridiculously stubborn and scared and hurt. There was no talking to her when she was behaving like this and yet it was killing you, not knowing how to help her even after a whole year of loving her.

And what troubled you was, she had opened up to you before. Not enough times that you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand, but still. And you couldn’t begin to understand why tonight she had decided to shut you out.

You heard her shift behind you. Before you knew what you were doing, you were turning on the light again and sitting up.

“Talk to me,” you said – maybe a bit too harshly, but you couldn’t do better.

Wilhemina slowly opened her eyes to meet your gaze.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “except that if you need to get off, the bathroom –”

“What happened today?” you cut her off.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. “I told you before,” - voice slower still, and mocking, mocking so cruelly as if she were talking to a moron -, “nothing happened today.”

“I’m not turning off the light until you’ve talked to me.”

She smirked. “Suit yourself. I can sleep just fine with the light on.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

You huffed, staring down at her disbelievingly. For a minute you waited, refusing to believe she was going to end the conversation like this. But she didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. You watched the slow, regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, almost mesmerized, then groaned.

Hot-tempered, your parents had always called you. You knew they were right, and you had been successfully working on it. But tonight, something in you snapped.

You had been so patient with Wilhemina. Taken one step forward, two backwards. Braved the storm, kneeled down and extended one hand toward the terrified and the abandoned shivering in the rain. But tonight, you let the anger win.

So, with your heart pumping fire instead of blood and its smoke filling your head, you lay down on your back, spread your legs open and touched yourself.

And you started to moan. Loud, exaggerated moans, and you made a show of moving your hips so hard the bed creaked.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your wrist in fast circles that brought you no pleasure at all, “hmm,” biting your lower lip and closing your eyes; you slipped your hand lower down, and forced a finger inside. “Fuck,” you screamed, “I haven’t been fucked so good in months!”

Stop it, a voice pleaded somewhere deep inside your head. You ignored it. You bucked your hips against your hand, slid your other hand up your body to tease your nipple. As you forced another exaggerated moan out of your mouth, you increased the pace between your legs, anger making you desperate for release and increasing with every second you were denied it.

You pushed another finger inside, wincing at the pain, and rubbed harder at your clit, demanding pleasure. You tensed your muscles to help your body reach its climax; and then, finally, finally, felt pleasure build and build and sweep over you. As your body gave a few weak shakes you remembered to arch your back and to cry out, “Yes! God! I haven’t felt so good in so long!”

With a dramatic sigh you let your body fall back on the mattress and brought one hand up to your forehead. There was a drumming in your ears, and something unpleasant that nudged in your chest. You closed your eyes, feigning exhaustion, forcing your chest to heave, and waited a few seconds before you stole a glance at Wilhemina.

She hadn’t made a single noise, nor moved an inch, during your little show. She was still lying on her back, barely breathing, eyes wide open and unblinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw.

In the following silence, the smoke in your head cleared. The drumming in your ears slowed down, the tingling between your legs disappeared; but the thing in your chest grew. It grew and crushed your heart till it became hard to breathe.

You were about to say Wilhemina’s name when she slowly sat up in bed. She paused, her back to you, and reached out for her cane. Her hand was shaking.

You closed your eyes and listened to her footsteps as she fumbled about the room for a while, dropped something, picked it up; walked out. Her footsteps receded down the corridor; heels; and then, you heard the front door close.

Your flat was empty and silent when you got up at dawn the next morning. For a long moment you stood still in the middle of the room, not looking at anything in particular, dread gnawing at your insides.

You weren’t sure you could remember what had happened the night before. The pictures were too blurry. There were memories, but could they be real? You didn’t want them to be. Everything you could remember had anger and cruelty woven into it, things that had ugly faces and smiled ugly, selfish smiles.

The side of your bed where Wilhemina usually slept was unmade. You picked up her pillow, pressed it to your nose and breathed in her scent. Then you walked into your bathroom and saw with relief that her things were still there, the toothbrush and makeup products she always left at your place and whose sight you cherished every morning more than you cherished that of the rising sun.

You turned, walked into your living room. Her coat was gone, so were her shoes. There was no note on the table. In the sink still lay the two mugs you had been too lazy to wash the evening before.

On the verge of panic you picked up your phone and dialed Mutt’s number. He was a friend of a friend, and it had been thanks to him that you had first met Wilhemina all those years ago. Mutt’s idiocy and complete lack of maturity had, strangely, grown on you. You two sometimes spent drunken evenings together, watching movies and screaming at the screen every time something happened that was scientifically impossible. In the company of Mutt it was easy to be stupid, and gross, and mean. So, you thought, as you listened to the ringing tone, Mutt was the kind of person you needed right now: someone to confess your sin to without fear of being judged, for without a doubt he had, at one point in his life, done worse; someone that would give you such ridiculously bad advice you could, if you were lucky, withdraw a few crumbs of wisdom from the madness.

“The fuck, asshole,” Mutt barked into the phone, “have you seen the time?”

You closed your eyes, wincing. You could almost smell the alcohol in his voice. “Sorry, Mutt. I really need to talk to you.”

Mutt yawned, groaned, fell silent. All you could hear was the quick beating of your heart. The clamminess of your hand made the phone slippery, and your eyes were starting to sting.

“I, um,” you started. Took a breath, released it shakily. “So, possibly, I fucked up.”

There was a noise like another distorted yawn. “Babe, why am I not surprised.”

“Did something happen at work yesterday?” you asked.

“Yeah, Lily spilled her Starbucks on Jeff’s laptop and it made all the arms go ballistic –”

“I mean,” you cut him off, sniffling, “I mean with Wilhemina.”

Silence. A noise, as if Mutt was moving.

“Mutt?”

“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking. No, nothing that I can remember. Hey, did you know that –”

“Are you sure, Mutt?” you insisted. You felt the hot, wet lick of a tear as it trailed down your cheek. “Nothing that someone said that made her snap? Are you sure nothing –”

“She snaps at everyone 24/7, how am I supposed to know,” Mutt grumbled.

“I fucked up,” you sobbed into the receiver. Your body bent forward with the force of the guilt that finally washed over you. “Mutt,” you whined, “when she comes to work, could you tell her to call me?”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” Mutt said.

“Tell her to call me. Lock her up in her office or something until she agrees, Mutt, please. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N, and it’s too early for this shit. But yes, yes, ok, I will. Not the lock her up thing. I don’t want to be caned.” There was a pause, as you sniffed and sobbed, not even caring to wipe your cheeks and nose, then Mutt added tentatively: “There’s a football game tonight if you want to come over and watch it with me. Don’t call, just barge in. Goodnight.” And with that he hung up.

You called in sick at work. You spent the day pacing up and down in your flat, occasionally throwing yourself on your bed or couch to sob.

Your phone never rang. Not that y ou really expected it to. But still – you had hope.

When the hands on your clock announced 3pm, you decided you couldn’t wait anymore, and drove to Kineros. You parked your car on the sidewalk. Somehow you managed to reach Mutt and Jeff’s office before security caught up with you. They narrowed their eyes at you, but sent the security guard off.

“When I said barge in,” Mutt started, “I meant my place.”

“I’m here to see Wilhemina,” you panted. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah, but she warned her assistant not to let anyone bother her and I think –”

“I won’t be long,” you cut him off, rushing out of the room. One second later you were back. “Show me the way?”

Wilhemina didn’t look up as Mutt and you walked down the long corridor that led to her office. You scanned her figure worriedly, noting the vacant look in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the tight line that was her mouth as she typed quickly on her laptop.

“Babe,” Mutt started, “there’s –”

Wilhemina cut him off, slowly raising her head. “Do not let yourself think for a second that just because you –”

Her eyes fell on you.

Slowly, her mouth closed. You almost stopped in your tracks at the rage that ignited in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds deal with your things, then,” Mutt said with a nervous laugh, before turning on his heels. You barely registered his departure.

For a few, long, painful seconds, you stood frozen in front of Wilhemina’s desk, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt, holding Wilhemina’s burning gaze and your whole body vibrating with love and fear and regret; and then, something in your chest burst, and you lurched forward.

“Mina I –”

“I told Lily to wait for you in the room next door,” she cut you off, voice low and so terribly slow.

You blinked. “Who’s Lily?”

“Mutt and Jeff’s favorite pleasure giver. Just the kind of human scum you need, as you made very clear last night.”

“You pushed me to it,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Wilhemina heard you.

Slowly, performing the precise balance exercise she had rehearsed thousands of times before, she stood up.

“Because you refused to speak to me,” you were quick to add. “You’re a human being, Mina, not an oyster –”

“You’re so fucking eloquent,” Wilhemina taunted. “If only you could control your emotions as well as you can express yourself.”

You took yet another step forward, your stomach pressing against the edge of her desk, as you felt the familiar hot tingle which meant anger had fought its way through the crowd of all the other emotions battling inside you, and had now reached the stage.

“If only you could actually express yourself,” you spat back, refusing to lower or avert your eyes no matter how painful it was becoming to hold her gaze. It was too intense, too furious and too dark. “Why are you doing this? Why are you shutting me out all of a sudden? I feel like we’re back on day one.” You leaned towards her in exasperation – and in hope, that maybe you could still reach her. Your eyes widened in a plea, your hands closed around the edge of her desk. “What’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Wilhemina’s face closed up even more at your words. The anger in her eyes disappeared under a thick veil.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, still as terribly, terribly slowly.

“I’ll go find Lily, then,” you fumed.

“You do that.”

Wilhemina’s eyes still expressed nothing at all, and it broke your heart, for that nothing wasn’t here to hide her anger. She had no problem letting anger show. That nothing was here to hide how badly she was hurting.

It made you want to break something. Anything, but mostly the walls around her heart. To hit your fists against them and to tear them down brick by brick and to crash your way into her.

And above all the rest rose a sense of helplessness, for you had no idea how to fix this. You had shot a perfect shot, hit the center of the target, the arrow’s head tearing through the heart. And as the hunter bends over their kill, you held Wilhemina’s blank, glazed eyes, and caught a glimpse of the damage you had done.

And then, a wave of revolt. For she had hurt you, too. Had refused to let you in and spat bitter words at you.

There were just too many things happening inside of you, too big a crowd of emotions. You were boiling and you didn’t know how to cool down.

You turned on your heel and were about to storm off when the crowd suddenly held its breath. Anger had bent down and helped frustration up onto the stage.

You turned around, fists clenched and eyes stinging. “I’m sure Lily will tell me more about herself in five minutes than you ever will in five years!” you burst out.

“Then why are you still here?” Wilhemina growled lowly. “Or are you too stupid to understand how one walks? One foot aft-”

“Because I love you!” you burst out. “This past year with you has been the best in my whole goddamn life and it kills me, that you won’t let me in.” You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes against the emotion that you could feel bubbling out of you. “I want to love you but you won’t let me,” you whined.

Wilhemina didn’t reply. She turned a shade pinker, but her lips stayed tightly shut and her eyes stayed veiled as she processed your words. When finally she spoke, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“You seem to think of yourself as the victim,” she said slowly, and a flicker of anger made its way out and shone in her eyes. ”I don’t know much about being loved,” spitting out the words as if they could kill her, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt like this.”

At first you thought the words had slipped unbidden from her lips. It still surprised you when she would confess to being in pain, physically or mentally. Of course there were signs you had learnt to recognise, a clenched jaw, glazed eyes, wanton snapping, but Wilhemina rarely gave her pain a voice. Pain was shameful. It had to be ignored and never, never to be processed.

But then, as you watched her, stunned, and her body hunched up as if she wished she could disappear, and her eyes turned vulnerable, the certainty settled inside you, painful but incredibly warm. It hadn’t been an accidental push, but a voluntary jump.

There was no uprising. Anger, frustration, the stage, suddenly vanished.

Without thinking you stepped around her desk, but stopped when Wilhemina took several steps backward.

Her name left your mouth in a broken plea, but she shook her head and then all of a sudden her façade shattered.

The quiver in her voice when she spoke next made your heart ache.

“I know I cannot ask for much but I thought – I thought in a relationship at least the most basic respect –”

She trailed off, jaw and mouth still working to form words her voice refused to carry.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. All the fight in you had disappeared; all that was left was a terrible sense of dread and guilt.

“No no no, Mina I… sweetheart of course you can ask for everything, I…”

Tentatively you took a step forward. This time, Wilhemina didn’t move. She was peering at you, chin uncharacteristically tilted downward, eyes getting shinier by the second.

You held up both hands in front of you.

“I didn’t mean it,” you heard yourself say. “You’re not inadequate, I – I didn’t mean any of it, Mina. Look at me,” you added forcefully, as her eyes moved to some random thing over your shoulder and threatened to glaze over again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I got mad, and I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Certainly your last few words were what Wilhemina had been dying to hear, for her shoulders suddenly slumped. Tears pooled in her eyes that she harshly wiped away before they had time to stain, and she let out a long, trembling sigh that seemed to take her strength away with it.

A strangled, mirthless laugh burst from your lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides.

You were too scared to even dare breathe properly. Scared that Wilhemina would order you away and refuse to ever see you again, or, more likely, that she would shut you out and retreat behind her walls, pretend she was alright, that nothing had happened and that she hadn’t even felt the prickle of the needle. But her face stayed open, her eyes vulnerable as she wiped at them repeatedly in an attempt to maintain her composure.

“Will you, uh.” You shifted your weight on your feet, unable to stay still for the sight of her so unguarded made you desperate to reach out and hug her. Gather up the pieces and glue them back together. “Will you let me pick you up from work tonight? I can drive you back to your place, and we can, if you want, talk.” Your chest hurt. You leaned towards her, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can make it right, Mina, I know I can. Please let me in – I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She nodded, and when her hand came up again to wipe her eyes, tears rolled between her fingers and down her cheeks.

Without thinking you extended your hand towards her, and briefly brushed her wrist with your fingertips.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding, fingers still swiping at her face.

You peered up at her hopefully. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” you laughed, so incredibly relieved you felt like bursting into tears.

A laugh left Wilhemina’s lips, too, sad and half-strangled. She moved her arm until it met your hand. Your fingers automatically wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her skin as she swiped at her eyes.

She looked smaller, and so much younger, a little girl who felt too much and had been unwillingly shoved into an adult’s body. You wondered if this was her with her soul stripped completely naked.

You had expected high walls built higher and stronger, defensive armies gone mad with wrath at the blow you had dealt - not an open gate. What had you done to deserve it? This was so unhoped for, so dearly cherished, whatever had triggered it, be it trust or love or both.

You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude. Weren’t sure you were worthy of such a precious thing as her trust. Your hands had never held a baby bird that fragile before.

You gave her wrist a squeeze. “I’ll leave you alone now,” you whispered, “and –”

“Actually would you mind –” She cut herself short. Her gaze searched yours for a second, pleadingly, begging you to understand without her having to resort to words.

“Yes?” you breathed, body leaning closer to hers so there was no more than one inch between her and you.

Her eyes met yours again, dark and sad and something in your chest like a string attached to your heart pulled towards her, desperate to hold with healing hands and soothing warmth.

“Could you –”

Again, she bit her lip against the words she wouldn’t allow herself to utter. You searched her eyes to try and understand as frustration flicked across her face, nails digging into flesh, lips twisting; until finally she released a breath and with it burst out, terrified and angry and shaking, “Would you mind just holding me for a second?”

She winced at her own words, her nails digging deeper into her skin in disgust as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. With your heart in your throat you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

How easy it would have been to burst into tears and wail pitifully in her arms. God knew how badly you wanted to. But Wilhemina was being so brave, and you had to make it up to her for the way you had behaved, so you swallowed back your tears and forced yourself to take a deep breath to ease the ache in your chest.

You buried your face in Wilhemina’s hair, squeezing her so tight in your arms part of you was terrified you were hurting her - the other part didn’t care. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, and hers clutched the back of your shirt, her lips grazing the skin of your neck but not daring to press a kiss.

Her eyes were red and puffy when you met her gaze again. Gently you cupped her face, and dropped a kiss on each of her burning cheeks – then, tentatively, brushed your lips against hers.

A noise that was half a sob, half laughter pushed out of Wilhemina’s mouth and then her lips pressed against yours, hot and wet and needy but with a shyness to them, so hesitant, as if this was your first kiss and she was expecting rejection. You pressed your chest against hers to show her you were not going anywhere, slid your hand up her back and pushed your palm against her spine, a silent I want you, all of you. So Wilhemina nipped your lower lip, and only let herself relax when you hummed appreciatively.

You held her hand as she fought to regain her composure; straightened her shoulders, veiled her eyes, and shielded her heart. You accompanied her to the nearest bathroom, and gave her hand one last squeeze before you let go of it.

Mutt and Jeff peered up at you as you stomped into their office, collapsed into Mutt’s arms and finally let yourself burst into tears.

Mutt gave your back several awkward pats as you sobbed, clinging to him and wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. Jeff’s awkwardness was almost palpable, and when you pulled away from Mutt, still sobbing, all he could think of was to offer you some coke, and then a drink when you refused.

“No,” you whined, “no, I need to stay sober. I need to make it right.”

“Jeez, did you kill someone?” Mutt asked, with a glance in Jeff’s direction and a guffaw to hide his nervousness.

“I thought about what you asked me,” Mutt went on after a few seconds. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened yesterday.”

To kill time you went on a walk, and ended up buying a huge bouquet of roses and dahlias for Wilhemina, as well as two boxes of fancy dark chocolates, a very fluffy lilac blanket, and two bottles of Wilhemina’s favorite wine. You stacked all those gifts in the backseat of your car, and walked back into Kineros at 6:30pm sharp.

Wilhemina was waiting for you in the lobby, sitting very straight on a chair, both hands tightly wrapped around the head of her cane.

“Oh shit,” you whined, “was it 6 today?”

She nodded. You poured out apologies, which she didn’t seem to hear as she slowly pushed herself up from her chair. You fell silent when you realised she had waited half an hour for you, despite it all. Something nice fluttered in your chest.

In the car Wilhemina’s eyes fell on her gifts, then shifted to you, questioningly, and her cheeks reddened when you explained it was all for her.

The drive was awkward. You turned the radio on to fill in the silence, opened your window because the air felt too hot, fidgeted on your seat and drummed on the wheel every time you had to stop at a red light. Several times you opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Wilhemina’s hand was shaking when she opened her front door. You dumped all the gifts you had bought her on the sofa and hurried to help her out of her coat, and did she want you to make her some tea? Was she hungry? Would she rather you ran her a bath? You could make her dinner, her favorite dish, and if an ingredient was lacking you would run to the store so if she needed anything else you could buy it too, and -

“I don’t need anything, Y/N,” she cut you off, not meanly, but with a firmness to her voice and an absence of warmth that effectively made you shut up.

You stood still in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do and mind running a mile a minute. While Wilhemina tended to the flowers, you decided to fluff and rearrange the pillows on her couch, and when you were done and couldn’t find anything else to do, you hurried to her and planted yourself at a safe distance behind her as you blurted out, “Mina, I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stilled for a second over the flowers. She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge your apology.

“What I did yesterday was terrible and I don’t know how to make it up to you,” you pushed on, voice quivering but still loud, for you were determined to mend whatever you could still mend. “I - I don’t know how to apologize properly to you, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

Silence. Your body felt hot suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire within you. You ran one hand over your forehead nervously, heart drumming in your ears, peering at Wilhemina’s shoulders. Her ponytail fell neatly down her back, red frizz grazing the pale skin of her neck just below her hairline.

Silence lingered. Your eyes fell hopelessly to the floor.

“The gifts were a nice touch,” Wilhemina said.

You looked up at her, automatically took a step forward.

“Were they really? I’m so glad. I didn’t know if -”

“Nothing happened yesterday.”

You cut yourself short, mouth still open as you stared at her in surprise. From where you were standing behind her, you could only see the sharp lines of her left jaw, cheekbone and brow. She was staring fixedly at a rose, hands resting on the table on either side of the vase and supporting most of her weight.

“I passed a couple on the sidewalk and they laughed, and I couldn’t help but –” Her voice faltered, eyes closing in frustration. “I thought they were laughing at me.”

Quickly you closed the distance between her and you and leaned forward to take a better look at her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed.

“Because it’s so stupid,” she spat, eyes still closed, anger making her voice tremble. “It’s so fucking stupid, Y/N. I know they could have been laughing at anything, but my stupid, stupid…”A hiss, one hand coming up to press her palm against her forehead.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard yourself say. Your fingers brushed her arm, a silent question, hopeful, tentative, your skin drawn to her warmth always. And just as she had done a few hours ago, she leaned into your touch, and your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“It made me so incredibly…There was so much…” Her palm hit her forehead as a sob pushed out of her mouth. “It shouldn’t have affected me like that. I shouldn’t have let it. But there was so much… I couldn’t even bear you touching me like that,” she breathed.

“So much what?” you whispered, grazing your lips over her shoulder.

A long, shaky breath. You could almost hear the words screaming in Wilhemina’s head, pushing against the dam in her throat but not strong enough to break through it. Instead, she removed her hand from your grip, reached into her pocket, and slipped a small piece of paper into your hand.

“What’s this?” you asked.

You unfolded the piece of paper to find a phone number in Wilhemina’s handwriting.

Wilhemina sniffed, took a breath to speak. “It’s Lily’s.”

You looked up at her confusedly.

“For the days like yesterday,” Wilhemina explained. Her gaze fled yours, sad and ashamed, before meeting it again. The hand that had been touching yours mere seconds ago now wrapped around the head of her cane and dug into it. “For the nights I can’t satisfy you.”

For a moment you stared at her, unable or unwilling to process her words, while she shrank back further away from you. For a moment there was only white noise in your head.

And then something hot rose inside you, familiar and hated and too strong.

So, hold on – hold on.

“Is that what you want?” you said – too angry. You were losing control again, brain filled with smoke and it felt like you were listening to yourself speak instead of thinking the words. “You want me to fuck somebody else?”

The words boomed through the room. Louder and scarier than thunder. Wilhemina and you were left staring at each other, too small and too helpless to face something that big and that powerful.

You watched as Wilhemina’s face hardened by the second, drawbridge being raised against the assault. “Of course not,” she said.

“Then why the hell would you give this to me?” you spat, waving the piece of paper in her face.

Wilhemina fought for a second more, before her face crumpled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, arm coming up to hug herself.

The gesture made something break in you. Some of the smoke in your brain cleared out through the crack.

“You’re a blithering idiot,” you heard yourself hiss. It sounded half-convinced, but it made Wilhemina wince anyway. “If you think I’d want that,” you added.

“And you’re as stupid as you look,” Wilhemina hissed back weakly, “if you get mad at me for trying to help you.”

“I’m mad because you seem to have such a low opinion of me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I know there are human needs, which one who is in a relationship is expected to-”

“My ‘human needs’ do not control me.”

A faint, mirthless laugh. “Of course they don’t.”

“They don’t.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right.”

Silence.

The last of your anger was fizzling out. You could still feel it crackling faintly in your upper body, but the last embers were being stifled by something colder and heavier.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

Stubbornly you held Wilhemina’s gaze, trying to look mad, but your fists were unclenching, and it was sadness – it was sadness, taking over. And with it came a sudden sense of exhaustion.

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to pretend everything was alright, close your eyes and go to sleep. And in the morning the sunshine would have driven out past mistakes, selfishness and hurt, and you would get up with a happy heart and music in your head.

Your gaze wavered. You pretended to examine the piece of paper in your hand, but your vision was swimming, and the clamminess of your palm had smudged the ink. There was a shape that must have been a zero but now looked like a battered eight, and the last two numbers you couldn’t venture to guess what they had been.

You ran your thumb over those broken remnants of Wilhemina’s neat handwriting. Wondered what she had been feeling, when she had pressed the nib of her pen on paper, and had her hand shaken at all? Some people talked with their hands, Wilhemina’s had a language of their own. They would fidget and brush and grab and claw, and they would shake – and you would hold.

Always, dear Lord, always – you had promised.

You glanced up at Wilhemina again, to find her looking back at you, tears flickering their way down her cheeks.

“Should we, er.” You paused, looking down at the floor again. “Should we have dinner?”

You weren’t sure Wilhemina would play along. But when you gathered enough courage to glance up at her, she was wiping her cheeks, and she nodded.

Wilhemina disappeared into the bathroom while you cooked pasta. Your hands moved on auto-pilot, your brain too numb and too tired to think. You were dumping bits of butter into the pasta when Wilhemina emerged, hair down and body wrapped in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, thin periwinkle nightdress you had bought her a few months ago.

The fact that she had chosen this nightdress in particular made fresh tears pool in your eyes. It felt like a peace offering, an extended hand you were only too eager to hold. You placed a plate on the table in front of her, and whispered something about her looking very nice. Wilhemina acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

She played with her food until you coaxed her into actually eating some of it, and then you took your turn in the bathroom while she did the dishes.

In front of the bed you hesitated. You didn’t know whether Wilhemina wanted you in there with her, or if she’d rather you slept on the couch, or worse, if she wanted you to drive back to your place. Would she play by the rules? You eyed her as she walked around the room rearranging things and closing the shutters, and planted herself across the bed from you.

Your gazes met. You were trying your best not to chew on your lower lip. Wilhemina’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. For a few, painfully long seconds it went on like this, until Wilhemina lifted the sheet and lay down underneath it.

You waited for her to settle and then, deciding her silence was an invitation, slipped under the sheet yourself.

Wilhemina reached out and turned off the bedside light.

Hoping you could fall asleep was stupid. Every inch of you was thrumming with nervousness. You wondered if Wilhemina could feel the quick beating of your heart, so loud it seemed to make the whole bed shake.

What time was it? You had no idea. You forced yourself to lie as still as possible, with your hands folded on your chest and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. When you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you turned on your side, facing Wilhemina.

Blue light seeped through the shutters behind her. So the sun had barely set. What had Wilhemina been thinking, when she had closed the shutters and seen the light still clinging to the sky? Had she ignored it, resigned on playing pretend, that this was a happy night with bright twinkling stars in the sky and on her left the pale halo heralding the rising of the moon? That she wasn’t bleeding inside but warm, and that sleep would find her and press a kiss to her eyelids like a gentle lover.

Wilhemina’s eyes were wide open, shining in the dark. You raised a hand, hesitated.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed.

Something growled. You were not playing by the rules. In this ideal world you and Wilhemina had silently agreed to live in, there was no need for asking. Permission was always granted. Your fingers were to press against her skin freely and there was no need for checking because everything was always fine. This was how you were supposed to play. Cheaters would be kicked out of the room.

Wilhemina shifted, settled on her side, facing you. The distance between you two was small, less than the length of your hand.

She nodded.

Your fingers grazed her shoulder first, a safe place, before moving until they reached the edge of her nightdress. They jumped over her neck to land on her chin, and then spread out, cupping her cheek.

Wilhemina leaned into your touch and let out a sigh at the familiar softness and warmth of you. She made a movement as if to shift closer to you, stopped herself. For a moment you simply stroked her cheek, and then you continued your exploration of her, hand slipping down her chin to brush past her collarbone and down between her breasts.

There had been nothing sexual about your caress, but Wilhemina reached for your hand anyway and kept it still over her heart. Her eyes met yours, sad and ashamed.

“I know, baby,” you breathed. You offered her a smile you weren’t sure she could see in the dark. Laced your fingers with hers, gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

Wilhemina bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. You pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” you breathed against her skin, before pressing another kiss on it.

The thing growled again. In the ideal world you had agreed to live in, it scolded, your hand should have slipped lower and moans should already be filling the room. But in this ideal world, one more piece of Wilhemina would be breaking, and one piece of you would start to rot.

Wilhemina draped one arm over your waist, and when you felt her tentatively nudge your collarbone with her nose, before nestling her face in the crook of your neck, when you felt her shift so that her thigh pressed against yours, nightdress riding up and her skin warm and soft, you closed your eyes to block out anything that wasn’t her and you, and the space your bodies occupied.

And how it made your heart swell, the trust her actions told of. Pressing herself against you like that, and trusting that you would be true to your words, and not seek to take it further. Or was her need for affection so strong she was willing to take the risk? You decided to believe in the former.

Your hand that had been on her heart slid up her chest and underneath her nightdress to feel more of her. You buried your face in her hair.

“I don’t mind whether we make love or not,” you whispered. You cleared your throat and said it louder, in case she hadn’t heard the first time, or had refused to hear. “I really don’t. What matters to me is that you’re happy – or at least, that you feel safe.”

Your hand started tracing lazy circles on her skin. Wilhemina’s lips pushed against the skin of your neck, nose blowing hot air on it.

“If I reacted the way I did yesterday,” you pushed on, “it was only because I got mad at what you said, and because I knew you were holding something back from me.” You swallowed, drew a nervous shape across her shoulder. “Sometimes… sometimes it gets so hard for me to control my anger. It’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you so you understand what happened. I know I never should have reacted the way I did.”

You pulled away then, determined to have her look at you before you uttered the next words. You had forgotten it was very likely she wouldn’t be able to see your expression in the dark. It seemed to you honesty shone of its own light.

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet yours. You cupped her cheek and offered her a smile. It was quivering, burdened by guilt and remorse, but it was there still.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, loudly, because you felt a whisper wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to scream the words out.

Wilhemina nodded, made to hide, to bury her face in your chest but you gently held her head up so she could look at the honesty in your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from breaking down, but her chin was trembling in your palm, and soon enough you felt tears slip down between your fingers.

Angrily you pushed your forehead against hers. “You’re not inadequate,” you breathed. “You’re not inadequate. Do you hear me?” She nodded, a sob pushing out of her just as her lips caught yours so it petered out in your mouth. You kissed her back, spoke the next words between her teeth. “I don’t think I’d ever been made love to before you. It felt nice, but you… every time you as much as touch me I feel a thousand raptures. Do you hear me?”

Her tongue pushed inside your mouth, despair making her too brutal, and she was still choking on tears and sobbing into your mouth as her hands grabbed at every part of you that she could reach. You kissed her back, hands holding her waist, until she had bit and nipped your lips swollen and stolen all the air from you and you had stolen all the air from her, and you both pulled away at the same time, breathless.

You both stayed silent as you caught your breath, blowing air into each other’s mouth. One of your hands let go of her hip to swipe at her cheeks and stroke across her brow. Wilhemina sniffed, pressed her forehead against yours again, and let go of a long, hot, moist breath.

And then, because you had agreed to tell her your failing, she agreed to share her secret with you.

She held your face in her hands and tilted it so her mouth was brushing your ear, and you reached for the sheet and pulled it over your heads to hide from the game masters and because it had always been easier for Wilhemina to communicate in complete darkness. When no one could see her and her failure, and she could stop performing for there was no one to intimidate.

She described harmless things first, the color of the dress the woman had been wearing, how the man’s arm had been wrapped around her waist. He’d been wearing glasses and her hair had been tied up.

Then she said how, when she had looked up at them, they had been laughing, their heads almost touching, and how the woman’s eyes had scanned her face first, and then the man’s. And how the woman had nodded at something the man had whispered in her ear, her lips twitching with amusement.

They had passed her and they had walked on and out of her life. And she had walked on and out, too, but her steps had faltered.

And she shouldn’t have let it, she whispered in your ear, as the air beneath the sheet grew warmer, she really shouldn’t have let it, but the laughter had sunk into her and crawled all the way up and down her, hurting everywhere – except her heart. Her heart had gone numb to protect itself.

She’d carried the weight of the laughter crawling and hurting inside her and she’d carried on her day, completing all the tasks she had had to do, and then she’d driven home, taken off her coat and accepted the cup of tea you had slipped into her hands. The laughter had still been weighing her down when you’d told her about your day and she’d tried but failed to listen, and later when she’d helped you cook dinner, forced her food to stay down, let you neglect the dishes and fled to the bathroom where she’d locked the door behind her.

She had locked the door behind her, she confessed in a small voice. Because she had been craving for solitude, because your fond smiles and worried looks and tender touches had hurt her as much as the laughter had.

And then in bed you had pressed yourself against her with a renewed promise of love and tenderness and her heart had roared back to life, crying out that this was too much, that it couldn’t handle any more. It revolted against love and desired to burn itself out. It shall step through fire and burn down to ashes and it would not allow anyone to save it.

You let her speak. Your throat was too tight to let out words anyway. Until Wilhemina sniffed and said she knew there would be more nights and days like this, and that was why she had given you Lily’s phone number – at that, your voice forced its way out to growl that you would never, it would kill you and even if you could bear it, it would kill her too and that you would never allow.

Wilhemina lowered her head and sobbed.

After you two had emerged from under the sheet, you got up to get her and you some water, and opened the window to air the room. Outside it was finally night. You looked at the dark, silent street and wondered if tonight could still be saved, after all; if it could still be made into something Wilhemina and you wouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to remember.

But then, as you lingered at the window and Wilhemina called out your name, sleepy and soft, and you turned to see her lying on her side with her arms opened, you realized tonight had already been saved. So you quickly closed the window and crossed the room to her, and breathed a “Thank you” into her hair as her arms closed around you and pulled you close.

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#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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masterofmunson · 3 years

Text

look after you (3)

TFATWS Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Sam asks you to join him and Bucky on a mission in Madripoor. When you get injured, Bucky feels the need to remind you more than once that he’s supposed to look after you now that Steve’s gone.

Warnings: sexual themes, language, typical marvel violence, blood, death, murder, just to be sure that i cover all the basis this is 18+. minors dni

Word Count: 5.1k+

Author’s Note: Hello!!!! I am really sorry that this part took me forever to post. The last month has kicked my ass but now everything’s a little calmer. As always, enjoy and tell me what you think! Comments, reblogs, and asks are encouraged and greatly appreciated.

When you return to Latvia nearly a day later, you’re more than eager to get back on your feet. Despite the overwhelming feeling of exhaustion running through your body, you’re glad to be back at it with Bucky and Sam. You’re somewhat rested, and you take the opportunity to visit one of the refugee camps to see if you could find any information on Donya Madani.

When you enter the camp, you try your best to keep a low profile. You don’t draw attention to yourselves and try not to ruffle any feathers.

“We should split up, cover more ground,” Zemo stated.

Bucky glares at him, shaking his head. “No. Absolutely not. You’ll just take off.”

You press a hand against Bucky’s shoulder. He looks over at you and you smile gently at him. “I’ll go with him,” you said.

His blue eyes stare into yours. It makes your heart race and your knees weak. Warmth spreads across your entire body. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. He knows you’re more than capable of taking care of yourself and keeping a watchful eye on Zemo. It’s why he doesn’t argue.

The four of you split in two and you and Zemo begin walking in the opposite direction. You’re on high alert, watching the refugees carefully. They don’t seem too concerned with your presence and avoid you entirely when you speak and attempt to approach them about Donya Madani. Although you tried connecting with them in the native language, no one wanted to talk.

You’re silent for the most part, taking in your surroundings. You walk past a makeshift classroom and the teacher and his students hurry away from you. This wasn’t what you hoped and wasn't successful. It started to piss you off.

“Have you and Sergeant Barnes been together for long?” Zemo asked, breaking the silence between the two of you.

Your brows pinch together and you stop in your tracks. Zemo turns to look at you expectantly. You take a careful breath. The last thing you need is for Zemo to get under your skin in a place where no one trusted you and away from Sam and Bucky. You begin walking again and Zemo falls into step beside you.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” you justified with a calm tone to your voice, “but we’re not together.”

You feel Zemo’s smirk beside you as he looks over at you. You grit your teeth and squeeze the inside of your palms harshly. You can’t react. You have to lay low. Do not cause a scene. Don’t bring unwarranted attention. Do not stand out.

“But you care deeply for one another, correct?”

That much was obvious. You’ve always cared for each other. At the beginning it was because of Steve. Anyone Steve loved and cared for, by extension, you did too. It was also how you felt towards Sam when you were introduced to one another.

But something changed along the way. You sought each other out. You relied on him as he did with you. You’d grown incredibly close prior to the blip, and if it hadn’t happened, maybe things would be different. Bucky would always be there to help Sam, regardless of the indifference he shows towards him. You’re tired of fighting. It’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t do it anymore.

Bucky feels the need to repent and right his wrongs even though he was tortured and brainwashed to commit such heinous acts. He won’t stop fighting. He needs to help, to protect, to be good for the world. It’s all he’s ever wanted and it had been taken from him for so long.

You nod in reply. You say nothing else. You weren’t about to spill your secrets to the man that brought Bucky incredible pain. He is not your friend and you don’t owe him anything.

Thankfully, Zemo says nothing and you eventually regroup in the courtyard of the camp. You’d come up with nothing valuable and neither had Sam and Bucky. You would be leaving empty handed.

You watch Zemo approach a young girl as you stand beside Bucky. You feel his gaze against the side of your face. You don’t say anything. You’re still reeling from your conversation with Zemo.

Your heart beat picks up and the stress you feel gathers on your shoulders. Bucky whispers your name and this time you turn to look at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

No, you wanted to say. He made your mind a jumbled mess. You couldn’t think clearly with him so close to you. He makes your body tingle with want and desire. You wanted James Buchanan Barnes to ruin you completely, if only for a night, consequences be damned.

You swallow the lump in your throat and push down the desire in your chest. The corners of your mouth twitch upwards in a soft smile. You nod, looking back over as Zemo rejoins the group.

“I’m fine,” you said with as much conviction as you could muster and take a step away from him.

Lie, you hissed to yourself. You’ve never lied so blatantly to Bucky before. It made your chest ache painfully.

What could you say? You make me feel like a fool. No one’s made me feel like a fool, not even Steve. But you didn’t want Steve. You didn’t desire him the way you do Bucky, dare you say loved him in the way you think you love Bucky.

Your mind races with imagination. The feeling of his hands on your waist. His lips pressed against the junction of your neck and shoulder. The contrast between his warm, calloused right hand and the coolness of his metal arm trailing along your body and pulling your clothes off.

You needed to get away from him, and fast. You can barely breathe with him beside you.

You’re the first to leave the camp and Sam, Bucky, and Zemo trail after you as they bicker at one another. Yet again, Zemo was one step ahead and holding the information hostage.

As you make your way back to the townhouse, you freeze in the middle of the street. The uniform is unmistakable. You’d seen it on posters, on television, and even on public buses. John Walker, the man you had no desire to meet, was approaching you with his buddy right beside him.

His voice thunders in the street, causing locals to stop what they’re doing to look at the new Captain America. He stops in front of you and looks you up and down. Just as you were sizing him up, he was doing the same to you.

“Is this the reason why you won’t return any of my messages? You’re too busy slumming it with Wilson and Barnes, as well as a known terrorist? I thought you knew better.” Walker asked.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “I’m on vacation,” you said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Just so happens that Sam and Bucky are in town at the same time I am. Crazy coincidence, right?”

“Watch your mouth, Walker,” Bucky growled at the man.

John’s eyes narrow as he stares at you, ignoring Bucky completely. You’re being childish and petty but you don’t care. Walker is an asshole. His eyes challenge yours, but you square your shoulders and stare him down. He doesn’t scare you. You don’t answer to him.

“We’ll take it from here. Zemo is coming with us.”

“No, he’s not,” Sam said. “We have somewhere to be and Zemo is the only one who can take us there. This is the only time that we may be able to reason with Karli, she lost the person closest to her.”

You resume your trek up the street and the boys fall close behind you. Bucky’s quick to join your side and Walker runs ahead to stop you from moving any further. His gaze flickers between you, Sam, and Bucky. You roll your eyes and let out a scoff.

“You’re really going to let your partner do this, Bucky?” Walker asked him, looking between the two men.

Bucky and Walker bicker back and forth and you and Zemo slip between them when you notice the same girl he had spoken to earlier. You follow her quietly through a back door and slip inside the building. You watch Sam disappear around the corner and you lean against a metal beam in the boiler room. You pick at your nails and ignore Walker pacing the length of the room, looking over at Bucky every now and then as he guards the door.

Walker huffs impatiently and takes a step towards the door. You stand up and Bucky shoves Walker back. You swallow the lump in your throat as the two men stare at one another. At the mention of the serum in Bucky’s veins, rage runs through you. He didn’t ask to be the Winter Soldier. He didn’t ask for the serum. The serum had taken so much from him. It’s not something that he’s proud of.

“Don’t you dare say that,” you hissed at him, shoving him away from Bucky. You were so close to clocking him in the jaw. “You have no idea how much he has lost because of the serum.”

There’s a glint in his eyes and he looks between you and Bucky. “What are you, his guard dog?”

“I can say the same thing about Lemar.”

“We’ve waited around long enough. It’s time to go.”

He shoves himself past Bucky and Lemar does the same. You and Bucky run after them into the main room where Karli and Sam are. Her brown eyes widen in panic and betrayal as she looks from Sam back to John. Sam attempts to reason with her again and you run straight between them in an attempt to block John’s attack.

Karli’s super strength sends you and Sam flying into the nearby table and she takes off. Bucky runs after her and you scramble to your feet. You split off from Sam and back track into the boiler room. The handcuffs are empty and you curse loudly before racing down a flight of stairs. Your heart feels as if it’s beating out of your chest and the adrenaline rushes through you. The ache in your shoulder is the least of your concerns as you creep up to the basement door.

With a gun in one hand, you reach for the handle and twist the knob. It doesn’t budge under the pressure of your hand as you attempt to jiggle it open. The sound of gunfire rings through your ears on the other side of the door. You point the gun on the lock and fire until there’s a hole in the door. You shove your body against the door and it caves under your weight.

With your gun raised, you climb down the steps before relenting at the sight of Zemo unconscious on the floor with John looming over him. You tuck your gun in the back of your jeans and look over the room. Shattered glass vials are all over the floor and you glance at Walker suspiciously.

“What happened?” you asked.

“Zemo shot Karli and destroyed the vials that contained the serum,” he answered before turning his back on you and climbing up the stairs.

Sam and Bucky join you several minutes later. You stare up at them against a cold metal crate beside the unconscious Baron. Bucky crouches in front of you and looks at you carefully.

“You okay? What happened?” he asked.

You nod your head and tell them what supposedly happened while you were attempting to get to Zemo and John Walker before anything worse happened. It made you feel uneasy and you have a gut feeling that Walker was lying to you.

“Do you believe him?” Sam questioned, looking over at Zemo.

You shook your head. You run a hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “No. I don’t trust him. Something about the way he looked at the broken vials makes me nervous. I don’t think he was telling me the whole truth.”

Silence falls between the three of you before Sam speaks again. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll regroup back at the house.”

You nod and get back on your feet. Sam and Bucky pull Zemo from the floor and drag him out of the basement out of the camp to the main street. You return to the house and Zemo is placed on the nearest couch. Bucky disappears out the door once more and you join Sam at the kitchen counter. You fish around the liquor cabinet and pour two glasses of whiskey for you and Sam.

You take the time to shake off the stress and anxiety in your shoulders and enjoy the brief silence covering the room.

It doesn’t last long, and soon Zemo begins to stir back into consciousness. He groans loudly and grasps at his head. Sam wordlessly grabs an ice pack from the fridge and hands both the pack and the glass of whiskey over to him.

You sit down in one of the loveseats and kick your feet up on the coffee table. Within seconds, Zemo starts spewing his self righteous bullshit.

“Jesus Christ, do you ever shut up?” you snapped, downing the rest of your whiskey.

Sam smiles and a low chuckle from Zemo fills the room. You sigh softly and ignore him once more. Bucky returns several minutes later and practically rips off his leather jacket. It makes your cheeks flush and you watch him pour himself his own drink into a glass.

“There’s something wrong about Walker,” he said with a huff.

“You don’t say,” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Well, I know a crazy when I see one, because I am crazy.” He takes a sip of his whiskey.

You bark out a laugh and Sam does the same. “Can’t argue with that.”

There’s a beat of silence that falls over the room and Bucky sighs deeply. “You shouldn’t have given him the shield.”

You jump to your feet and step between the two men. Your hand presses against his chest. “You know he didn’t give the shield to him, Bucky.”

A flash of hurt and anger appears across his face. You had never been on the receiving end of his hurt and anger before. It makes your chest ache as you look at him. He takes a step away from you and glares. Your heart leaps inside your throat and you attempt to reach for him again. He pushes your hand away. He had never rejected you so blatantly before.

“How can you say that? After all that Steve’s done for you and you’re so casual and flippant about the shield! How dare you!” he yelled at you, his voice thundering off the walls and into your ears. It makes you wince and you’re fighting back tears.

“He’s gone!” you shouted back. “Why should I care about something that was left behind by someone who abandoned me!”

His eyes darken as he stares at you. He shakes his head in disbelief and a bitter laugh leaves his throat. “Sam should have never asked you to come.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, but I won’t abandon Sam the way that Steve abandoned me. I’m willing to sacrifice what needs to be done, even if it makes me unhappy. I’m not a coward. I don’t want to be here more than you do,” you hissed, your body filling with rage. “I’m more than happy to leave.”

“Good! Then go!”

“Fine!”

Just as you’re about to gather your things and storm out of the house, the doors burst open and John and Lemar storm inside. He points to Zemo and says, “He’s coming with us. Hand him over.”

Sam and John argue with one another and you step away from Bucky. You’re pissed and hurt and you have no energy to join their bitching contest. You cross your arms over your chest and just seconds pass before the Dora Milaje walk through the doors.

You watch with a smug smirk as Walker reaches a hand out to Ayo. You hold your breath as he places a hand on her shoulder. A split second passes and John and Lemar are both getting their asses kicked. You stand out of the way and gleam as they struggle against the Dora Milaje. One of the spears slices through the air and pins the shield against the kitchen table.

“Looking strong, John!” Bucky exclaimed.

If you weren’t pissed at him, you would’ve laughed. Sam says his name disapprovingly and Bucky rolls his eyes as he attempts to stop Ayo from doing anymore damage. Sam soon follows suit and you sigh before joining them.

You had spent several long months training alongside the Dora Milaje when you were on the run after the Accords. They had helped you perfect your technique and made you an ever better fighter. You block the jabs of the spear with the outside of your forearms and quickly side step out of the way as one of the women aims at your gut.

With all things considered, you were fairing far better than both Sam and Bucky combined, and you hadn’t been keeping up with your training regiment.

Another spear nearly sideswipes your face and your reflexes take over as you spin out of the way. You’re growing tired and out of breath, and they still haven't been able to get you to yield.

Soon you were overpowered and you fell on your back with a loud crash. The wind is knocked out of you and you see stars at the corners of your eyes. Your head turns towards the bathroom doors and you can see an outline of a sewage drain. Zemo had escaped in the middle of the fight.

John and Lemar are the first to leave, followed by the Dora Milaje. Bucky lends a hand down to you and you slap it away. You could be petty and angry too. You pretend not to notice the flash of hurt and surprise on his face as he adjusts to his metal arm again with a roll of his shoulder.

“You okay?” Sam asked you.

You grunt in response. “Fine.”

“Let’s go.”

You leave the house and trail behind Sam and Bucky as you walk down a number of streets with no particular destination. You’re silent and fuming as you listen to Sam talk on the phone. He stops up ahead and glances down at his phone.

“That was Sarah. Karli threatened my nephews. She wants to meet and said for me to come alone,” Sam said, staring at the coordinates on the screen.

“We’re coming with you,” Bucky said. There was no room for discussion and Sam didn’t argue.

You��re nearly out of breath when you arrive at the correct coordinates. You attempt to control your breathing as you creep up the stairs with Sam in front and Bucky behind. Sam yells for Karli and she steps in front of one of the white pillars. You stand beside Bucky just far enough that it doesn’t make it seem like you’re a threat. Her eyes flicker over to the two of you before returning to look back at Sam.

You shift nervously on your feet and the sound of Sharon’s voice rings through your ears. She had found John. Karli takes off and it takes a split second for Bucky to run after her. You cling to Sam and he takes off in the air.

“Brace yourself!” Sam shouted at you.

You cling to his back and use his shoulder for cover as he breaks through the glass ceiling. You shake off your legs and Sam squeezes your arm reassuringly.

Suddenly a body flies through the closest door and hits the wall with a crack. To your own horror, John walks up to the man, a man that has super soldier strength, like it’s nothing. It scares the shit out of you as you watch with wide eyes as Walker bends a steel pipe in half before sending the Flag Smasher to the ground once more.

You glance over at Sam and he’s just staring at John. “What did you do?”

You both know that you didn’t need him to answer to come to the right conclusion. Somehow John had managed to snag a vial of the serum. You were right back at the memorial. Something was wrong and it had been John all along. He had knocked out Zemo and stole the last vial before it could be destroyed.

You feel a sense of responsibility for it. If you had reacted quicker than you did down in the basement, maybe then Walker wouldn’t actually have the serum running through him. You could’ve stopped him and you didn’t, and it was all because of a locked door. You could hold your own against John without the serum, but now that he has it and he’s always so full of rage, you don’t know if you would be able to. He had the strength to kill you.

You follow the two men in a daze in an attempt to find Lemar. Everything was quiet and still. It sends you on edge. You step into an empty workshop. Tables are flipped on their sides, chairs everywhere, and scraps of paper and wood litter the floor.

Sam pushes you out of the way as a Flag Smasher jumps from the overhead balcony straight towards you. You stumble slightly before regaining your bearings and joining the fight. Your body screams in protest but you push through it. With every kick and punch finding its intended target, you’ve lived to see another second.

One of them kicks you in the backside, cornering you with another partner. The force of the kick nearly knocks the breath out of you. You shake it off and dodge a stab to the face. You quickly disarm the knife from your opponent and use their surprise to your advantage.

You may not have super serum in your blood, but you put up one hell of a fight. You easily avoided and stepped away as your attacker spins in the air. You wait for an opening and kick your leg up high, sending them backwards. You throw the knife down just inches from their head as a warning.

As you turn on your back, you quickly stumble as another opponent reaches to stab you. Bucky comes barreling in with an iron fist and the man goes flying and crashes into a nearby table. You have a split second to react as Bucky drags you back on your feet.

You don’t know how much longer you’d be able to fight, especially defensively. If any of the Flag Smashers noticed that you were favoring your left side more than your right, they would use it to their advantage and kill you. Your right shoulder throbs and you taste blood and sweat on your tongue.

You spin on your heels as you watch Karli barrel towards you, nearly taking your head off. You were tired, but you were still fast on your feet.

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Lemar miraculously appears and throws Karli off balance. For a brief moment, he was holding his own.

Until he wasn’t.

Karli punches him with so much force that the sound of the pillar cracking underneath his weight vibrates through your ears. Everything stops, even Karli and her followers stare at the man pinned against the pillar. A number of sounds and voices fill your ears as you watch John crouch beside his partner to try and find a pulse. He shakes his head but nothing happens. There’s no response.

Lemar’s gone. Lemar is dead.

Sam nearly drags you with him as John jumps out of the building at the closest window. Your legs burn, screaming for rest as you run alongside Bucky and Sam through the building towards the growing sounds of screaming in the courtyard.

Bucky stops you and grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. There was nothing you could do but watch as John publicly executed someone with the shield. A shield that used to mean so much to the world was now and forever tainted. It’s legacy is gone.

The civilians that had gathered starred in complete awe with their phones out as they witnessed Captain America slaughter a man that wasn’t responsible for Lemar’s death.

He just stares off into the crowd, breathing hard and heavy as the blood from his victim stains the shield. He takes off, running away from the crowd, presumably to get away from Sam and Bucky.

You take a step, intending to run after him, but Sam stops you. “We’ll get him later. Right now we need to talk to the police and paramedics. If the countless videos aren’t enough proof of what John did was wrong, our statements will.”

You nod but don’t say anything as exhaustion takes over. Your knees buckle and Bucky nearly carries you to the nearest ambulance. A blanket is wrapped around you and you’re given a bottle of water. Bucky leans against the ambulance door and your eyes watch another team of paramedics take care of the body underneath the statue.

He’s placed on to a stretcher and a cloth is draped over his body to give the illusion of privacy, even in death, despite the number of people that watch.

A police officer approaches the ambulance you’re sitting in and asks if you’re ready to give a statement. You nod as you gulp down your water. You tell the officer everything that happened that led to the tragic event that followed just several minutes earlier. You leave out any mentions of the serum. The US government would find out soon enough.

The officer thanks you for your time as another one approaches to take Bucky’s official statement. His is nearly identical to yours, apart from the times that you had split up and separated over the last two hours. He’s gruff and fuming and his arms are crossed over his chest. If you weren’t still angry at him, you would tease him, but now wasn’t the time. The officer thanks him again before scurrying off.

Sam reappears and adjusts the gear on his arms before shaking his arms. “There’s a ping on Walker’s location. He’s at some abandoned warehouse in a wooded area in the outskirts of the city.”

You nod and slip the blanket off your back. Your exhaustion could wait. You jump from the ambulance and Bucky rests a hand on your shoulder. You quickly brush it off.

“You better think long and hard before you open your mouth, Barnes. If it’s anything other than “you’re coming with us,” keep it to yourself,” you snapped at him.

He stares at you with wide eyes and parted lips, and does exactly as you asked. He says nothing.

You walk in silence towards the outskirts of the city to John’s location. Your muscles burn with each step and you’re struggling to breathe, but you push through it. You have to for Sam and Bucky’s sake.

You hold your breath as you enter the warehouse. John’s back faces you and Sam throws an arm out in front of you to stop you from getting any closer. He turns to look at the three of you and you rock back on your heels.

“You don’t want to do this,” John said. His voice is casual and condescending.

Bucky rolls his shoulders. “Yeah, we do.”

The shield flies through the air just inches from your head. You double back as Bucky and Sam tag team against Walker.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight and sound of Bucky crashing into one of the electrical beams. He remains still and it sends you into a panic. You’d never seen him like that before.

You run straight towards Walker. You use your weight and momentum to leap up and choke him with your thighs, a move Natasha had taught you all those years ago. His fingers dig into the tops of your thighs with all his strength. Your own hands are too busy scratching and squeezing at his throat.

Walker throws his back into a steel pole and it makes you lose your grip on him. The force of the impact sends you crumbling to the ground. Now it hurts to breathe.

You land with a loud crash. You’re in a daze and can barely see straight. Black specks and stars cover the corners of your eyes as you fight off unconsciousness.

John stands above you, his arm pulled back with the shield in hand. He was going to kill you, just like he did to the Flag Smasher, and there’s nothing you could do to stop him.

You’re too weak and injured to fight. You’re on the brink of physical exhaustion. You can’t mask the pain any longer. You’re going to die before you have the chance to tell Bucky how you feel.

You throw your hands up, a futile attempt to stop the shield from blowing your brains out.

Sam knocks John off balance just as the shield moves towards your head. Sam uses the strength of his wings and jet pack to kick John in the stomach while Bucky knocks him from behind. For the first time, John’s on the floor.

Sam and Bucky use all their combined strength to rip the shield from Walker’s grasp. There’s a loud crack that fills your ears and he howls in pain as his hand loosens around the shield.

He swings at Bucky with his uninjured arm and Bucky punches him right in the face. This time John doesn’t get up and Bucky grabs the shield and tosses it beside Sam’s head as he lays on the floor near you. Several silent seconds pass as the three of you catch your breath and attempt to regain your bearings.

Bucky crouches in front of you and gingerly threads his fingers through the hair at the back of your head. You’re not bleeding anywhere on the top of your head.

Although you couldn’t see straight, you know his deep blue eyes find yours. Your head spins and you feel like you’re about to puke.

“The shield,” you slurred, “did you get it?”

His soft laughter fills your ears. He wipes away the blood collecting under his nose. “Yes.”

You hum in approval and your vision begins to clear up. You blink rapidly and Bucky carefully wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to your feet.

Yes, you were still mad at him, but the way he held you against his side as you walked out of the warehouse made your stomach flip. It nearly makes you forget about your argument just hours earlier.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes imagines #bucky x reader #bucky imagine #Bucky imagines #look after you #my writing

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btswrckd · 3 years

Text

War of Hearts II

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions o weapons, mentions of blood, slight angst, next chapter will be smut

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Taehyung isn’t sure how you can sleep through the night after the little stunt you’d pulled, but he finds himself tossing and turning through most of it. When he does finally manage to fall asleep at the fun hour of 3 o’clock in the damn morning, he’s woken an hour later by the dipping of the bed from your side. “Going somewhere, princess?”

“I have to pee,” you snap, “or will you be holding my hand to the bathroom as well?”

“Is that an invitation?” He grins, tucking one arm behind his head. Huh. Maybe you aren’t as well rested as he thinks. Maybe you’d spent the night just as frustrated. At least he isn’t alone in that.

“Shut up, Tae.” You stomp across the room and slam the bathroom door behind you. You can hear him laughing from the other side and silently contemplate shoving him off the bed when you return. You hadn’t slept, body anticipating his touch every time he moved but it never came and then you’d deflate in disappointment. You don’t know what time he plans on starting his day and hope it’s soon because you need space. You need room to think back on last night and figure out where the hell your sudden boldness came from. Where had you gotten the idea to touch him from? You were pretty bitter about the incident in the living room, sure, but to play a dangerous game like that? 6 months ago, you wouldn’t even dream of it. Now you’re panicking in the privacy of your personal bathroom because what, you actually want to sleep with your husband? You’re fairly sure you won’t be the first woman having sex with her own husband, but still, it was Taehyung. Tae. The chubby cheeked little kid who’d been your partner in crime at boring dinner parties that both yours and his parents attended. What kind of audacity did he have becoming so fucking attractive? Who allowed this?

“Are you going to actually use the restroom?” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he leans against the doorway. “Or can I brush my teeth?”

You didn’t hear him open the door. You hadn’t even locked it like you usually do. You’d forgotten and that irritates you. It means you’re letting your guard down when you can’t afford to. Not today of all days. You look at him, see the hunger swirling in his eyes, and your stomach drops because it’s been a very long time since any man has looked at you like that. “What time is it?”

“4:30,” he responds with a sigh, rolling his neck to release the tension that built overnight. “Why are you up so early, princess?”

“Why are you?” you fire back quickly and see him grin. He’s always known that you have a habit of deflecting when you can’t answer a question or explain yourself. His eyes drift down to the purple bruises around your neck, a lasting result from his mouth yesterday, and he smirks. You step back when he pushes off the door jamb and stalks forward, lightly gripping your chin.

“I wasn’t able to sleep,” he answers your question, “because my wife likes to play games and leave me with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had.” He watches your breath hitch and his smirk grows wider. “Then she runs into the bathroom and forgets to lock the door after winning said game from last night. As if I won’t come in, bend her over the sink, and play my own little game.”

“Just brush your teeth, Taehyung!” you squeak, shoving at his chest and rushing out of the bathroom before your mouth has a chance to ignore your brain, and most likely ask what kind of game he’s talking about. You throw yourself on the bed and burrow beneath the blankets in hopes of disappearing.

Taehyung doesn’t actually brush his teeth. He didn’t really need to. It was the only excuse he had for checking up on you after 30 minutes of silence. He does, however, splash cold water on his face to cool the heat spreading through his body. Last night is still very fresh in his mind and just being near you sets him off. He makes his way back to bed, falling onto the mattress and praying he’ll get a few more hours of sleep.

You peek out from underneath the blankets when he sighs, burying his face into a pillow. His nose scrunches up in discomfort. You know that it’s because he can’t fall asleep, can’t stop thinking about last night, despite having to be up soon to do...whatever the hell he does. Truthfully, you won’t be falling asleep either, even though you really need to if you’re going to pull off what you have planned for the day. Scooting closer, you see his eyes drift open in silent question, but you dip beneath the weight of his arm and tuck your head to his chest. His breathing stops for a moment before his hold tightens and he shifts onto his side, nuzzling his face into your hair. It’s this way, snuggled up to Taehyung, that you finally fall asleep to the sound of his steady heartbeat.

The shrill ringing of the alarm clock has you jumping in Taehyung’s embrace. You swear you had just shut your eyes before the screeching woke you, but looking at the time, you see that it had actually been 4 hours later. Taehyung blindly reaches for the clock, pressing random buttons until it finally quiets down and wrapping his arm around your waist once more. The shuffling of feet outside the bedroom door alerts him to Jungkook’s presence and the hushed tones of someone asking how he’s still alive alerts him to Jimin’s company as well. Right. He’d forgotten that they’d be taking you on another book haul after he’d ruined the one from yesterday.

At first, he had shut down the idea entirely when Seokjin texted him after his shower. Seokjin insisted that you be out of the house by the afternoon and Taehyung insisted on tearing his head off if he kept on with that nonsense. But Seokjin had just gotten a call from Namjoon and Hoseok that they were on their way back, and that they’d contacted Cecil for a meeting. To which Taehyung responded by reiterating that you needed to stay in the house until it was dealt with. He doesn’t remember how Seokjin had convinced him to let you go, but he had, and now he’s supposed to wake you up to get ready when he doesn’t want to.

“Princess,” his voice is groggy and barely audible, but you stir nonetheless. “Jungkookie and Jimin are going to take you somewhere today.”

“Where?” you mumble into his chest, brushing the tip of your nose beneath his chin.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.” You shift against him, tossing one leg over his hip.

“This one you will.” He smiles against your hair and presses a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s not like you to deny going out.”

“When I have more energy to burn, I like going out.” You don’t know why, but you’re working your mouth against the skin of his neck, teeth playfully nipping at him. “Not when I’m running on 4 hours of sleep.”

“Even if it means getting to pick out a new book?” He teases, and you’re up in a flash, stumbling to the bathroom to get ready. Your love for books and knowledge rivals Namjoon’s and between the two of you, Taehyung isn’t sure how there’s not a daily debate on whatever topic either of you bring up. Yesterday, when you’d rifled through half the shelves at the store, you resembled a kid in a candy store.

“Boss.” Jimin knocks on the door as Taehyung gets out of bed to answer it. He grins at Taehyung when he sees the look on his face. “Morning, boss. How’d you sleep?”

“Don’t let her out of your sight,” Taehyung snaps at him in return, yet Jimin merely laughs. “I don’t care if she brings home the whole fucking store, as long as she makes it home, am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin nods, side eyeing one upset looking Jeon Jungkook and gesturing to him. “If it makes you feel any better, Taehyung, you’re not the only one who thinks she should stay in.”

“Are you saying she should be out and about with everything that’s going on?”

“I’m saying that despite whatever progress you’ve made as a couple,” Jimin clarifies, “if she continues to feel suffocated, she’ll lose her mind. You’ve seen it happen.”

Taehyung opens his mouth to argue with him when you duck beneath his arm, fresh faced and dressed in a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt, a jacket hanging over your arm, and the backpack you’re sure to fill with books. You step up next to Jungkook, nudging his side with your elbow and not so subtly tilting your head Taehyung’s way.

Jungkook looks like he’d rather vomit than say whatever is lingering on his tongue, but you pin him with a look that says he’d better spit it out. “Yesterday,” he clears his throat and looks to his feet as he addresses Taehyung, “I was out of line, boss.”

Jimin reels back in shock, Taehyung following his lead. Jungkook is still young and while he makes for a great marksman and an even better fighter, his mindset can be hard to crack through. Though he’d never been defiant against Taehyung, he could still be stubborn in his ways and would sooner chew off his own arm than admit he was wrong. So, this is what you were up to last night. Taehyung had known you’d been texting Jungkook, he just didn’t know what about and had honestly forgotten all about it until now.

You give Jungkook another hard nudge and when he shakes his head, you stomp on the top of his foot. Both Jimin and Taehyung raise their brows at the way you dig your heel in until Jungkook finally caves and lifts his foot to get you off.

“Arlight!” Jungkook hisses in pain and resists the urge to kick off his shoe to see if you’d broken any bones. “I shouldn’t have overstepped and it won’t happen again.”

“Let’s go,” you announce with satisfaction and shoulder past Jungkook, who limps after your retreating figure.

Jimin waits until you’re both out of sight to throw his head back and roar with laughter, nearly toppling over as he wheezes. “Sh-She really made him apologize. She got the most stubborn person on the planet to say he’s sorry. Oh, my God, I really think she’s my new favorite person.”

“She most likely did it for his benefit more than mine.” Taehyung is still unable to fully process what just happened. “Losing Jungkookie as her bodyguard would devastate her.”

“Even so,” Jimin gasps as he tries to catch his breath, “she still got him to admit he was wrong. That was gold. I should have recorded it.”

“Yoongi probably already did.”

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Namjoon and Hoseok arrive back at the house not long after you leave, refusing to believe Yoongi’s tale of Jungkook’s apology.

“No way.” Hoseok shakes his head. “Jungkook would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit he was wrong.”

“Hobi’s right,” Namjoon agrees with a nod. He’s sitting in the chair next to Yoongi’s in the security room while Taehyung and Seokjin prepare for Cecil’s visit. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Then I suppose it’s a good thing I got it on camera.” Yoongi snickers, pulling up the feed from this morning and pressing play.

Namjoon and Hoseok simultaneously wince when you shove your foot into Jungkook’s and put a good amount of pressure on it for some time. They listen to Jungkook apologize without really using the words ‘I’m sorry’, but it seems to be good enough for you. It’s when he limps after you that Namjoon and Hoseok share an amused look before bursting into laughter.

“Jimin is so lucky he was there.” Hoseok wipes at an invisible tear as Seokjin steps into the room with a questioning look.

“Do you 3 mind getting your asses in gear and getting the hell out here?” Seokjin scolds them. “Cecil just pulled through the gate.”

Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi right themselves before following Seokjin to the living room where Taehyung is already waiting. They move to stand behind him just as Cecil strolls in through the foyer. All but Taehyung sneer at him and the two men at his side.

Cecil is an old, sweaty, greasy excuse of a man that couldn’t be more than 5’5. He’s balding, though he attempts to cover it up with a toupee, his stomach hangs over the waistline of his pants, and he smiles with crooked and yellow teeth. Even his appearance could be looked past if he wasn’t such a piece of shit person. Before Mr. Kim had gotten involved, Cecil had dabbled in human trafficking, mostly targeting women and girls 13 and older. When Mr. Kim had begun building his empire, Cecil was desperate to work underneath him, but Mr. Kim had demolished the trafficking ring Cecil had run in response. Cecil had exploded and accused Mr. Kim of being a hypocrite when Mr. Kim himself had dealt in drugs and assassinations. Mr. Kim admitted to being an awful person, but neither he nor anyone wishing to work with him would ever deal in people. Needless to say, Cecil had never gained Mr. Kim’s trust and very few people chose to work with Cecil anymore. Everything about this poor excuse of a man is nauseating.

“Kim,” Cecil greets with a sneer of his own, “you’re very much like your father, aren’t you? Sticking your nose in my business where it doesn’t belong.”

“Your business with the Seong family is my business, Cecil.” Taehyung peers at the two men flanking either side of Cecil. “What do you want from them?”

“Who says I want anything?” Cecil taunts. “I saw a pretty face and wanted it for my collection. I wasn’t aware she was a Seong girl.”

“And my wife,” Taehyung informs through clenched teeth. “You were aware that this is my home, and that she lives here, so why the fuck are you really circling around here, you greasy son of a bitch?”

“I knew this was your home when my boys scoped it out.” Cecil nods, observing the living room carefully. “I just thought the Seong brothers put her under your protection. I had no idea she was your new whore.”

Fire flashes in Taehyung’s eyes, nostrils flaring, as he steps in Cecil’s direction. “My original plan was to find out what you wanted and be done with you. Now the only way you’ll be leaving here is in pieces.”

Namjoon and Hoseok advance on the two men Cecil has with them. The men fight, but they’re no match for Namjoon and Hoseok, going down quite easily. Seokjin and Yoongi draw their guns quickly, both cocking back the firing pin as Cecil panics.

“I’m not the one that’s after her!” Cecil admits, hands raised in surrender. “I don’t know who is!”

“Don’t fuck with me, Cecil.” Taehyung raises a hand to stop Seokjin and Yoongi from pulling the trigger.

“I’m not!” Cecil insists. “It’s like this, okay? I’m sitting in my office one day, giving over some books for a new product I want to move when I get a call from a number that’s untraceable. They tell me to look into the Seong family, that there’s only one living girl left, and they want to get their hands on her. They tell me I’m the only one who can get it done, and they wired $1 million into my account as payment, but by the time I got to the Seong brothers, the girl was gone. She’d been moved and I told them that the next time they called. They were the ones who told me where to find her, they were the ones who set up the plan to trick your cameras, I just had the perfect lackey, that’s all.”

“What else do they want from her?” Yoongi is the one to ask, hand shaking with rage at the thought of someone getting to you.

“They didn’t say. Just that they wanted her.”

“Boss.” Namjoon looks panicked, and Taehyung is about to ask why when the sound of the front door opening hits his ears.

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, swiftly barreling into the foyer. He relaxes when he finds that his father is the one coming through the door. “Dad, you should have called.”

“I did.” Mr. Kim pats his son’s shoulder. “Y/N said she was out and that you’d be busy at home.”

“Why did you call Y/N?”

“Because she’s my daughter-in-law,” Mr. Kim states as if that should have been enough of an explanation, “whom I happen to adore very much, so if you’re done lecturing me, then shall we proceed?”

Taehyung guides his father back to Cecil and his unconscious men, nodding his head at Namjoon when he’s met with a questioning raise of Namjoon’s eyebrow.

“Mr. Kim.” Hoseok beams at Taehyung’s father as he looms over one of two beaten men.

“Always a pleasure, Hoseok.” Mr. Kim returns his smile fondly before turning his attention to Cecil. “I’m not at all surprised that you’re behind this, Cecil. I am, however, surprised that you were stupid enough to believe you could get away with it.”

“My men are expecting me back soon,” Cecil informs the room and is less than enthused to find that Mr. Kim’s smile has not faltered. “If I’m not back, they have orders to swarm this place and swoop down on your girl, Kim.”

“Of course.” Mr. Kim nods at his declaration in the same way a mother would do to a child that’s spouting a lie. “I believe you, Cecil, I truly do. Unfortunately for you, there are no men left to wait for you.”

“What have you done?”

“It’s been brought to my attention that perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you and that I’ve killed men for far less than you’ve done. I plan on fixing that, starting with the complete eradication of your entire syndicate. Well, what’s left of it, anyways.”

“This is your son’s mess,” Cecil bellows, feeling his knees shake at the new information being given to him. If what Mr. Kim said rings true, then he won’t be able to rebuild. He’d already been hanging by a thread as is. “But here you are to clean it up for him while he runs around playing ‘boss’. Pathetic.”

“This isn’t a mess,” Mr. Kim corrects him with a dangerously straight face. “Nor is it something for my son to handle on his own when it affects the entire family. This is us coming to a solution for a problem that will soon cease to exist.”

Hoseok and Namjoon rush to Cecil with a wave of Mr. Kim’s hand, gripping him by the shoulders and dragging him back through the front door to Mr. Kim’s waiting car. They wrestle him into the back seat where two of Mr. Kim’s men sit patiently.

“You’re sure all of his men are dead?” Taehyung asks his father.

“Every single one,” he assures. “We’ll handle Cecil from here. It’ll get bloody and your mother’s used to seeing it on my hands. Y/N hasn’t had to clean you up after a job yet, I’d like to help you keep it that way.”

“Cleaning him up isn’t exactly what she’d do,” Hoseok jokes upon his return to the living room. “More like make him sleep on the couch.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes while his father and Hoseok share a laugh. He doesn’t argue against Hoseok’s joke because it’s true. Though it would be more from being pissed off that he’d get into a fight in the first place than it would out of concern for staining an expensive set of sheets. When his phone rings, he barely hears it over the ruckus that is his father and idiot friend, but he fishes it from his pocket when he finally does hear it. “Jungkook.”

“She’s gone,” Jungkook is panting from having run around the entire bookstore and then around the entire neighborhood.

“What the fuck do you mean gone?!” Taehyung’s voice booms so loud that Seokjin and Yoongi drop the two men they’d been working on disposing of. “Where?! How?!”

“She went to the restroom, but never came out.” Jungkook can feel his chest tightening with each passing minute. He needs to find you. Not just for the sake of his own life. For the desperate need to make sure you’re still alive yourself. “We took all the precautions. No one was in there when she went in. We kept watch, boss, I swear on my life. She just never came out.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to be told to hop onto his tablet and tap into your phone. His fingers are already racing across the screen when Taehyung turns to him. Mr. Kim is rushing out with his own phone to his ear, barking orders to search the entire city, shut it completely down if need be. Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin feel helpless when all they can do is wait for Taehyung’s command. They could attempt to hack your phone, but that’s what Yoongi’s for, and if he can’t find you then they for damn sure won’t be able to.

Taehyung is running through every possibility in his head and finds nothing to clue him in as to where you could be. Yoongi’s frantic ‘I found her!’ has everyone gathering around him, Taehyung’s nostrils flaring at the location on the screen. He still has Jungkook on the phone, informing him that, “We know where she is, Jungkook, calm yourself now. Get Jimin and meet me back at the house as fast as you can. We’re going to pick her up.”

“You want us to ride with you?” Namjoon asks, the concern in his eyes quickly morphing into anger. If anything had happened to you…

“No,” Taehyung sighs as he hangs up the phone. “I want Yoongi and Hoseok to go talk to the Ahn brothers. They have eyes and ears everywhere. I’m sure they can give us some answers.”

“I’d rather go with you,” Hoseok chimes in. “Y/N has a tendency to listen more when I’m there.”

“Everyone has a tendency to listen more when you’re around, Hoseok,” Seokjin points out.

“Which is exactly why you’re going with Yoongi to the Ahn brothers.” Taehyung begins dialing his father’s number into his phone, hoping to stop him before his men turn over the entire city.

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It’s the second month of your marriage when you finally get your phone and laptop back. You comb through both of them to make sure they still work the way they’re supposed to. Yoongi had promised that he didn’t delete or alter anything and you’d snorted in denial. Taehyung had taken them for a reason and if Yoongi was the one returning them, then they’d both definitely been tampered with. You were holed up in your room for hours, answering emails and text messages, scrolling through Instagram and Facebook to catch up on your friends’ lives, editing pictures that you’d promised Soyoung weeks ago, and called the HR department of your job to confirm if you even still had one. They had seemed confused by your questions and had let you ramble on like an idiot before informing you that the leave of absence paperwork you’d submitted had been approved, and they were looking forward to whenever you were ready to return. It was after the phone call that you realized Taehyung had been the one to submit LOA papers on your behalf. That sneaky little son of a---.

“Y/N?” The tapping of Jungkook’s fingers on your door startles you. “Dinner’s ready. You haven’t eaten all day. If anything’s gone wrong with your phone or laptop, Yoongi will fix it. So, please come out and eat something.”

Your heart melts at his tone, looking to the bedside alarm clock to find that it was nearing 9 o’clock in the evening. Resisting the urge to face palm, you scramble out of bed and race for the door, throwing it open. “I’m sorry, Jungkook, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Is everything okay?” He steps back to give you space to move, shutting the door behind you and following along to the dining room. “Is there a problem with your stuff?”

“No, no,” you sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your already messy hair. “I just lost track of time catching up on some things. I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“Didn’t you get hungry at all?”

“Not when I get busy doing things,” you explain and laugh at the expression on his face, a memory coming to mind. “Namjoon gave me that same look the other day when I was reading a book I borrowed from him. I guess I hadn’t been out of my room all day and missed lunch and dinner, so he came looking for me. I told him that when I was a kid, my mom used to lose her head when she couldn’t find me. At the time, I didn’t fully understand how dangerous it was to wander off by myself. Anyways, her and my dad would tear the house apart looking for me. Turns out, I’d ended up being curled underneath my bed with a book in my hands. The second I learned how to read, I never stopped. It drove my parents nuts because I would become so engrossed in a book that I wouldn’t pay attention to the world around me. They complained that I needed real friends, not imaginary ones, and set up playdates with their friends’ kids. I didn’t have the heart to tell them that I actually had made friends, through the equal admiration and love for a specific book.”

“You must miss them,” he notes and winces at the sheer stupidity of it. Of course you miss them. “I’m sorry. That was a dumb thing to say.”

“No,” you smile at him. “I miss them very much. I was 14 when they died, so they didn’t get to see me grow into adulthood. Some days it’s a little harder than others.”

“I’m sure they would have been very proud.”

“Not if they knew what a huge nerd I stayed,” you joke and earn yourself one of his rare bunny smiles, teeth, dimples, and all. “They never met any of the friends I still have now. Soyoung, Yunhee, and Bora are the same girls who’ve stuck by me for so long. Soyoung was actually the girl I met who loved the same book she’d caught me reading like a loner during recess one day.” You laugh fondly as you recall the start of your friendships. “Or attempting to read, I should say. A few annoying boys from our class had taken the book from my hands and played a little game of keep away. Soyoung saw them, came over, knocked the biggest one to the ground, and challenged the rest of them to a fight. They ran away and Soyoung spent the rest of the time sitting with me to make sure they didn’t come back.”

Jungkook isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve the retelling of a happy memory, but he doesn’t stop you from talking, even when he finally steps into the dining room where Taehyung is already waiting. When he sees Taehyung, he attempts to interrupt your story, though he doesn’t as Taehyung shakes his head with a slight smile on his lips.

“That was the first time I knew what protection was,” you continue while staring off into space, not yet noticing Taehyung standing from the table. “Sure, my parents had their own version of it, but having their security guards around wasn’t the same as having someone around that actually listened to you.”

“Princess.” Taehyung almost laughs at how high you jump in place. “Are you ready to eat something?”

With your trip down memory lane on hold, you walk past him to sit at the table. You think maybe you shared a little too much with Jungkook. For two solid months, you’d managed to hold off giving up your friends’ names, even when Taehyung had offered to have them brought over to stave off your boredom. Nothing had ever sounded so tempting and had you said yes, it would have undoubtedly been an amazing day. Still, you can’t risk their lives for your own selfishness. You look down to the plate filled with carbonara, your favorite, and bite back a smile because you know it was Taehyung’s idea to have it served. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing you smile when he had held your phone and laptop hostage for two months.

Taehyung sits beside you as Jungkook stands just a few feet away and Jimin comes in to stand at the other exit. He sees your eyes squint with suspicion and almost tells you that he’s expecting a guest. Instead he taps gently on the table to get your attention. “Is there a specific reason you didn’t eat anything today? Or so much as leave your room?”

You give him a sideways glance, jamming the fork left for you in the pasta. “You had my phone and laptop for the last two months, Taehyung, things piled up.”

“And catching up was more important than eating or seeing the sun?”

“I wasn’t hungry and I prefer the moon to the sun anyways, so yes, catching up was more important.” Only half of that is true and just barely. It’s not that you weren’t hungry at all, it’s that you didn’t notice you were hungry until Jungkook had come to fetch you.

Taehyung rests his elbows on the table, rubbing at his temples and hearing Jimin snicker in the corner of the room. “Princess---.”

Suddenly you lean in close, propping your chin in the palm of your hand and hoping neither Jimin nor Jungkook can hear the next words about to come out of your mouth. Your gaze drops to Taehyung’s lips and then flickers back to the intensity of his eyes, the corners of your mouth tilting up. “Will you fuck me, Tae?”

Taahyung chokes on his own spit as you sit back, satisfied at having rattled him. He’s 100% sure you’re not serious and it’s payback for what he pulled the day he took your computer and phone. Lifting a hand to his mouth, he clears his throat and peers at Jungkook, then Jimin, who hadn’t heard what you said but laughed at Taehyung’s expense all the same. When his eyes land back on you, they’re met with a cat-like grin on your lips, your teeth biting down on the steel fork as you shove pasta into your mouth.

“Cute,” he comments dryly. He’s not completely unamused but he won’t be cracking a smile soon either. You had called him ‘Tae’, a nickname reserved solely for you to use when you’d gifted it to him as children. As a kid, it melted his heart when you would call out his nickname and he would do anything you asked. Now, it brings on an entirely different reaction and he’s adjusting the way he sits, and he knows you know why he’s squirming in his seat.

“Something wrong, Taehyung?” You pretend to be worried, hearing Jimin take a step in the direction of the table in case something was wrong with Taehyung. “You look uncomfortable.”

“I know you’re fucking with me,” he rasps through grit teeth and Jimin freezes in place. “But on the off chance that you’re not, the answer is ‘yes’, princess, I will fuck you tonight. I’m so glad you asked.”

Jungkook lets out an awkward cough as a deep blush creeps up your neck. He looks over at Jimin, the older man nearly doubled over in glee with a hand covering his mouth. He thinks he should step in and give you an excuse to flee, but truthfully, you really should have known better.

“You get on my fucking nerves, Kim Taehyung,” you hiss and hear Jungkook hiccup at the bold way you speak to Taehyung. With a quick glance, you can see his eyes go wide and jaw drop before he looks at Taehyung in a panic.

“Relax, Jungkookie,” Taehyung chuckles darkly, completely abandoning his food in favor of reaching out to grip the back of your neck to pull you close. “I’ve killed for less, you know.”

“Then by all means,” you challenge, have no qualms about matching his glare, “kill me, Taehyung.”

“How charming,” someone quips from the dining room entrance and you snap your head up to look for the unfamiliar voice.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung leans back in his chair and lets you stew in panic for a minute. “You finished your assignment early. You’re not due back for another few weeks.”

“I got impatient.” Hoseok shrugs in response, eyes darting to you. “Ah, so you’re Y/N. I have to say, you’re much prettier than Taehyung gives you credit for.”

“Is that so?” You manage to relax at the familiarity between your husband and this new stranger.

“He really doesn’t do you justice,” Hoseok teases, watching Taehyung tense. “Relax, boss, I’m not going to steal your wife. Though if she happens to fall for my charm then it’s really not my fault.”

Taehyung hears you bite down on a laugh and rolls his tongue against his cheek in irritation. With your attention still on Hoseok, he takes the opportunity to invade your space by leaning in close.“Finish your food, princess, and then go to bed.”

“I’m not a kid, you know.” You turn to him, breath hitching at his proximity. Moments ago, you’d been too pissed to care how close he was, not to mention how mad he was himself. But his face had softened in the last few minutes, now looking at you as he always did.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Taehyung offers, hand coming up to twist your hair in his fingers. “You finish your dinner and I’ll give you anything you want. Sound fair?”

“I want to go back to work.”

Taehyung sighs and leans back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Anything but that, Y/N.”

“That counts as anything, Taehyung,” you argue through clenched teeth. “You don’t get to change the rules because you don’t like what I’ve asked for.”

“It’s not safe for you to go back to work right now.”

“Then I’ll take Jungkook with me.” You’re not opposed to begging, not if it gets you back to work. “My cousins used to have men watch over me at my job all the time. As paranoid as Joongki is, he still let me go to work, that’s a testament to how uneventful that place is.”

“The answer is ‘no’.” Taehyung’s voice is firm as he sets his jaw. There are many things he’d be willing to bend on. You leaving the house is not one of them. “Don’t pout at me like a child or like I’ve kicked your puppy. You asked, I answered, and now you deal with that, am I clear?”

“Are you, really?” You push away from the table with so much force that the chair nearly falls backwards in the process. “Or are you going to change your mind when it suits you?”

Jungkook moves behind you quickly should Taehyung decide he’s had enough of your attitude and goes back on his promise to never harm you. He isn’t allowed to stop whatever Taehyung may do, but he is allowed to stop it from going too far.

“Sometimes I think you forget how hard I can push back.” You glare down at your husband. “And how painful that can get for whoever I feel like putting in their place.”

Hoseok lets out a whistle of appreciation after you storm out of the dining room with Jungkook hot on your heels. He looks at Taehyung, chuckles at his tired state, and sits at the table while Jimin decides to join them. “She’s a handful, Taehyung. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“She’s not a handful,” Taehyung counters lamely because what Hoseok just saw definitely seemed like a handful. “Y/N’s lived like this her entire life and, unlike most of us, doesn’t embrace it.”

“Certainly sounds like she does.” Hoseok plucks the glass of water from where you previously sat and takes a sip. “Or does she only talk like that when she’s throwing a fit?”

“Believe me when I say if she plans on putting someone in their place,” Jimin finally speaks up, “she’s going to do it brutally. You’ll feel pretty stupid afterwards, too, so you should do what you can to avoid arguing with her, Hobi.”

Hoseok snorts. He won’t be intimidated by some girl who thinks she can handle the cruelties of this life just because she’s grown up around it. So has he, but he’s never been arrogant enough to throw out an attitude like that, especially not to a fucking boss of all people. Maybe if Taehyung wasn’t so whipped, he’d teach you what respect is.

“I’m serious, Hoseok.” Jimin is no longer smiling when Hoseok turns back to him. He recognizes the look in Hoseok’s eyes and doesn’t like it. If Taehyung, the one who actually gets a say in how you’re treated, says to never lay a hand on you no matter the circumstance, then all of the boys are to keep their damn hands off. His friend is far from abusive, Hoseok simply respects the chain of command with more passion than anybody. If something threatens that, then he’ll do what’s necessary to protect it. “If you can’t handle Y/N’s attitude, then you stay the hell away from her.”

Hoseok watches Jimin march out of the dining room, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek before facing Taehyung. “First Jungkookie looks ready to throw himself between you and her in the middle of a fight, and now Jimin thinks he can just go around threatening anybody. That girl’s power trip must be contagious.”

“We’ve been friends for a long time, Hoseok.” Taehyung curls his hand into a fist on the table and notices Hoseok’s eyes dart to the action. “But if you can’t respect Y/N, then I’ll toss you right back where I found you, rotting in the gutter.”

Hoseok looks down at the table and smiles, not at all bothered by Taehyung’s threat. “She reminds me of your mom. Y/N’s so much like her that I flashed back to the Christmas of our senior year in high school. Remember that?” He doesn’t wait for Taehyung to answer before he continues. “Your father had promised that year’s Christmas to be a work free one, but when she’d caught him on the phone, dealing with another shipment, she lost her mind. She screamed at him, hit him, threatened to disappear from his life if he didn’t get his shit together.”

Taehyung laughs at the memory. “Everyone had been home that Christmas. My grandparents, my aunts, and uncles. They all watched my big bad father get chewed out by a woman who could barely reach his shoulders. They likened it to a pitbull being afraid of a chihuahua. I think that’s why my mother loves Y/N so much, because she doesn’t take anyone’s shit.”

“So she has momma Kim’s seal of approval, huh?”

“The only girl who ever has.”

“You did bring some pretty mean trainwrecks through her house.” Hoseok teases him, though his smile drops as he becomes serious once again. “I know Jimin thinks I’ll hurt Y/N if I think she’s overstepped, but I won’t. If anything, I look forward to watching you cowering under the hateful gaze of your wife. It’ll be the most entertaining thing that’s happened in a long time.”

“All of the boys are excited to watch that happen.” Taehyung shakes his head.

“Are you going to let her go back to work?” Hoseok tilts his head in question. “It won’t be too bad if Jungkook’s with her. Maybe she’ll even let Jimin tag along.”

“I can’t take that chance right now. Joongki might have let her work, but there weren’t any threats against them at the time. Now someone’s after the Seong brothers and if they can use Y/N to do it, they will.”

“This is the Y/N you’ve been obsessed with since you were a kid, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t obsessed,” Taehyung insists. “At least not in a creepy way.”

“She’s married to you,” Hoseok points out. “The girl you’ve been hopelessly pining after since you were a teenager is now your wife. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a creepy stalker.”

“Shut up, Hobi.”

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Standing across from Taehyung in the break room of your workplace, you grip the strap of your backpack tight and clench your teeth. You should have known better. Honestly, you almost didn’t run off because you knew he’d come chasing you down eventually. Even more honestly, if you didn’t actually want him to know where you were then leaving your phone somewhere miles off would have been the best idea. You’re aware of the ‘discreet’ tracking app that Yoongi had installed on the phone, hiding it amongst the music files as if you hadn’t memorized each and every one.

Coworkers gather around to watch the spectacle Taehyung has created. Some have the decency to pretend they’re not being nosy while others whisper to each other about the handsome stranger you’re facing off with. Most women are trying their hardest to catch his eye, but his focus is solely on you. It drives the women nuts and you almost smile at the thought until Jimin and Jungkook flank Taehyung on either side.

You almost flinch at the look of betrayal on Jungkook’s face. He was in charge of you, of your whereabouts and needs, and you ran from him. You’d snuck off from right under his nose and sent him into a panic, leaving him with no other option than to dial Taehyung. His anxiety subsided when Taehyung calmly explained that he was sure of where’d you be, thus leading them to this moment. You want to explain, to tell him that deceiving him was one of the hardest decisions you’ve made in a long time. There’s relief in his eyes, obviously, but there’s also anger and pain. “Jungkookie, I---.”

“Y/N?” Your friend and ex-boyfriend, Seojun, questions as he enters the break room. He scans over Taehyung, Jungkook, and Jimin, sensing the anger rolling off of you in waves. He steps in your direction to make sure you’re alright. Being broken up doesn’t mean he can’t still care about you. When your eyes cut to him, he catches you wince before the deep bass of Taehyung’s voice recaptures your attention.

“Princess,” Taehyung grits out in irritation when your attention shifts elsewhere. A smirk lights up his features when your eyes dart between him and the man who’d just called your name, panic crossing your features. You don’t want him to know who this is and that’s something he can use to his advantage. “You could have easily avoided my being here if you hadn’t snuck away from Jungkook. You really hurt his feelings, sweetheart. Look at him, he’s heartbroken.”

“Shattered into a million pieces, boss,” Jungkook deadpans, earning himself a spiteful glare. Tilting his chin and raising a brow, he silently questions why you’re the one who’s angry when he’d been running around like a chicken with his head cut off for the past two hours.

“Something of his will be broken soon, but I can assure you it won’t be his heart,” you snap, making Taehyung grin his rare boxy smile that you’d possibly return on any other day. Now though, now you want to slap the smile off his annoyingly handsome face. You see Jimin take a cautious step away from Jungkook in hopes of protecting himself and admittedly, it almost makes you giggle. Jimin always knows how to make you laugh even on the darkest of days, yet as he stands at Taehyung’s side, you know who he’ll always remain loyal to.

Taehyung’s heavy sigh slices the tense air and he’s in front of you in a matter of seconds, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. He can see the internal struggle you have to not recoil at his touch or slap his hand away. Maintaining a public image is something drilled into someone as soon as they step into the mafia life, but he figured you’d be angry enough to not care in front of your coworkers, and expecting you to blow up at him. When you don’t, he suspects it has something to do with the women who haven’t stopped ogling him since he first walked in. “Interesting,” he voices aloud and you jump at the way his fingers slide along the length of your jaw before he tucks his thumb, tilting your chin upward.

Your breath catches in your throat as he steps closer, bridging the gap between you two. It takes everything in you to not bite the thumb currently skimming across your bottom lip. The last time you’d done that, Taehyung had taken it upon himself to return the favor by biting down on the pulse point of your neck. You don’t need a repeat of that incident in front of your coworkers. A sigh escapes you when he wraps his free arm around your waist and nuzzles his face in your hair.

“You don’t want me,” Taehyung whispers in your ear, playfully nipping at it, “but you don’t want them to have me either, do you, princess?”

You grit your teeth, dropping your forehead to his chest, and using your hair as a curtain to hide your mouth. “I don’t care if they want you, Kim Taehyung. You could take any of them home right now if you wanted to and I wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N,” he growls low and it’s then that you realize how angry he truly is. Taehyung doesn’t use your real name with the exception of introductions during a dinner party, charity event, and when you get too stubborn in your ways. “If you want me to take a girl home and fuck her brains out while you sit and stew in your own denial, then I will.”

You stiffen in his arms, the mere thought making you nauseous. You know damn well how eager any one of these girls would be to jump in bed with him. Suddenly, a certain presence looms over the room, something dark makes the place feel smaller than it already is. “Seojun,” you breathe with realization. It’s him, his stare nearly burning a hole into the side of your face as his jealousy blankets the room.

Taehyung grits his teeth, hand sliding up to tighten at the nape of your neck and knotting the hair there. His fingers twitch against your scalp as he’s about to move away to face whoever the hell Seojun is. His grip loosens and fear strikes the air before you’re looping your arms through his to lock together at his back. The embrace is seemingly romantic to everyone else, but he knows that it’s to keep him in place.

He sighs once more and skims his fingers down to massage the tension in your neck, lips brushing against your cheek as he pretends to ignore what you’ve just said. “Can I kiss you, princess? And then every girl in here will know who I belong to. Sound good to you, baby?”

You’re on the tips of your toes, gripping the back of his neck, and tugging him down into a kiss as soon as he finishes the question. The hand in your hair tugs on it gently, silently asking for you to open up to him, but you’re already pulling away before it goes too far. Public affection is never something you could bring yourself to like but Taehyung makes it a little more tolerable. Even so, this was still your place of work and it requires a level of professionalism that you’re one more kiss away from throwing out the window.

Taehyung grins against your mouth as your chest heaves and he straightens up to take the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He tosses the bag to Jimin, who immediately digs through it in search of your work vest. With Cecil’s men dead and Jungkook on a new level of awareness after your disappearing act, enough of the threats to the Seong family have been eliminated for you to work peacefully. You’re not entirely out of the woods just yet, there’s still the matter of finding who paid Cecil, but he’s already spoken with your boss about Jungkook hanging around and keeping an eye on you. He’ll send Jimin down to help after the house has been cleaned up.

Jimin produces your vest and tosses it to Taehyung after swiping the name badge clipped on the fabric. He hands Jungkook the backpack to rifle through the contents, catching a quick peek of your puzzle book. Such a nerd, he thinks as a fond smile spreads across his face.

“I could murder her,” Jungkook mumbles from beside Jimin. “Scaring the shit out of us like that. Almost getting us killed because Taehyung was so pissed.”

“You have to admit that her determination is admirable,” Jimin jokes, nudging Jungkook with his elbow. “Come on, Jungkookie, don’t stay upset with her for too long. You saw the look on her face when we came in. She didn’t like sneaking away from us, but did we give her any other choice? No. So stop pouting and hold down the fort until I get back.”

Jungkook snorts in response. He’s still pissed off at himself for letting you slip through his fingers like that. Jimin only chuckles under his breath and Jungkook is left rolling his eyes. He catches the sight of Seojun in the process, the man’s mouth parted with confusion and brows pinched together in anger. Jungkook looks Seojun over and notes the way his eyes never leave you and Taehyung. Elbowing Jimin to get his attention, he gestures to Seojun, and Jimin clocks the way Seojun’s fists curl at his sides.

Taehyung is too busy swinging the vest around your shoulders to pay any more attention to Seojun. Pulling the zipper up to secure your vest, he tugs you a step closer and fiddles with the pull tab while pressing his forehead to yours. “You can stay, sweetheart.”

“I can?” You break out into a smile before you can stop yourself, pulling back to see his face. If he’s pulling a cruel joke, you’ll kill him. You will 1,000% murder your husband on the spot. But no, he’s not teasing you. “Seriously?”

“Under the condition that Jungkookie stays with you,” Taehyung clarifies, setting his jaw. When you bite your bottom lip in attempt to stop your smile, he tests your giddiness by leaning in for another quick kiss that you happily return. “Jimin will be back in about an hour to help him keep watch. So don’t try to run away from either of them.”

“I promise!” You throw your arms around his shoulders and squeeze him close. To a normal couple, being told that one actually has permission to do their job would be cause for concern. So it was understandably confusing for your coworkers when you practically vibrated with excitement at being allowed to work, of all things.

Taehyung presses another kiss to your lips, holding it just a bit longer than the previous two and smiles as you laugh against him. He’s surprised to find that he can easily slip his tongue past your parted lips, and that you eagerly accept him. When he finally pulls away, you’re looking at him like he just gave you the world, and it dawns on him that this, this is all you asked for. The freedom to make your own choices and keep at least a little bit of your previous life didn’t seem like an option with your cousins and now he was doing the same thing they had. He’s keeping you from enjoying the little things like the job you didn’t necessarily have to keep anymore.

“Thank you, thank you! I’ll see you at home, bye!” You rush past your husband, quickly snatching the name badge Jimin was holding out, and dancing in place as you swipe it through the time clock. Jungkook is basically sprinting after you in an effort to keep up with your newfound energy.

Jimin steps up beside his friend as Taehyung tries to compose himself by shoving one hand in his pocket and clearing his throat. He rolls his eyes as Taehyung uses his thumb to swipe away the chapstick you’d left behind on his lips. “You look like a kid in a candy store, you weirdo.”

“She called it home.”

“Yeah, for now,” Jimin snorts and it’s Taehyung’s turn to roll his eyes. “I give it two days before you fuck up something else.”

“Thanks for the support, asshole.”

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

You don’t explore much of the house until about the 4th month into the marriage. You've seen most of the first floor and so far, Namjoon’s miniature library is your favorite place. The second floor consists of the guys’ rooms and you find it odd that Taehyung would have them sleep an entire floor away from you. They’re meant to protect you should anything go wrong, so why?

“Find what you’re looking for, Mrs. Kim?”

You jump and whirl around to face Hoseok, your heart nearly beating out of your chest. “Jesus, Hobi. You scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs, though he doesn’t seem very apologetic at all. He’s drenched in sweat, hair is matted to his forehead, and he’s unraveling tape from his knuckles.

“You were boxing,” you point out with admiration. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“No, I was done anyways.” He waves his hand dismissively, but notes the way your lips part in curiosity. “Do you want to try?”

“I didn’t know Taehyung had a gym in the house.” You immediately change the subject. Yes, you want to box. Not exactly ‘try’ because you have enough training to defend yourself. This newfound knowledge of a home gym has you excited. The idea of being able to let out your frustrations on a punching bag is thrilling.

“Jungkook requested it before the house was built.”

“Kook did?” You reel back in surprise. If Jungkook was around before this house was built then… “How old is this place?”

“A few years, I believe.” Hoseok finishes unwrapping his hands and crumples up the used tape. “Taehyung had it built for you when he found out your cousin wanted to merge the families.”

“Right.” You clench your jaw. You often forget how long this plan was in the making before judgement day. Or your ‘wedding’, as some would call it. Still, that Taehyung would go through such effort to build a home just for you, almost brings a smile to your face. Shaking the thought from your head, you take the tape from Hoseok’s hands to keep your own occupied. The itch to pick at your cuticles is clawing its way to the surface and you need to stop it before it takes over. “It’s flattering, I know that, but it’s also a reminder of the life I didn’t intend on having.”

“A safe one?” Hoseok quirks one of his brows, watching you fiddle with the used tape and catching the tiny scabs on your cuticles.

“A different one,” you say as the ball of tape is tossed back and forth between your hands. “One where I didn’t feel like a prisoner.”

“What happened?” He quickly snatches one of your hands and the tape falls to the floor. There’s a hint of dried blood on the cuticles of your nails and the skin around the pads of your fingers look to be gnawed on. “How long have you been doing this?”

You try to pull your hand back but it’s useless when it comes to escaping Hoseok. You learned this after spending a month with him as your bodyguard instead of Jungkook, when Taehyung had insisted you build a friendship with Hoseok before the rest of the guys. You had asked why and it had become clear after Hoseok was the one to track you down in a matter of minutes during your first attempt to run away.

“Hobi,” you grunt, twisting your wrist out and away from his hold with ease, instead wrapping your own fingers around his wrist to shove him away and he stumbles back. You laugh at the shock on his face. “Sometimes when I get too nervous or antsy, I chew on my fingers. It’s not very ladylike, is it? I didn’t do it for awhile after my teen years, but recently---.”

“How did you do that?” He interrupts your explanation. “Get out of my grip like that?”

Of course, he knows how you did it. His question is more about who trained you to do it, who taught you to defend yourself, and who taught you to fight. It’s the first time he’s seeing anything like it from you and he’s sure that Taehyung and Jungkook, or any of the guys for that matter, have no clue you can do it either.

You shoot him a teasing smile and pick the tape up from the floor. “My grandfather always wanted to make sure I could do at least the bare minimum if I was attacked. So, he had some of his men teach me to fight alongside Joongki and Jeonghan. I’m sure I’m nowhere near any of your guys’ levels, but I like to think I could hold my own against you if need be.”

“You’re really something else, aren’t you?” Hoseok questions with awe. He doesn’t mean it in an offensive way and he’s glad you realize that as your shoulders tremble with more laughter. “Taehyung always said you were amazing, but I thought it was because he’s so in love with you. Not because you’re a genuinely amazing person.”

You pale at the words ‘in love’ because although you’ve always known about Taehyung’s affections, you’ve never known how deep they truly run. Up to this point, you thought his feelings were more infatuation and lust than anything else.

“Enjoying your little tour, princess?” Taehyung comes from around the corner, leaning against the wall.

“You’re back.” You resist the urge to go to him. The space he’d given you when you first moved in was welcomed, and then you’d gone and given him a reason to revoke that privilege by trying to run away. After spending time together now that he’d been sleeping in the same room, that you had come to learn was actually the master bedroom and he’d been gentleman enough to leave it to only you, you found that you would actually miss him when he was out. There are nights when you sidle up to him as soon as he steps in the door, and you know he’s aware of how dependent you’ve become on his presence because Jimin did you the not so kind favor of pointing it out.

“I’m home,” Taehyung confirms, the ends of his lips almost tugging up into a smile. The way you basically wait for him to come home every day tugs at his heart. He didn’t think it would only take a few months for you to warm up to him, slowly, but definitely surely. He’d calculated that it would take you at least a year to want to be around him. Maybe two, maybe even ten given how stubborn you are. “Finally found your way upstairs, huh?”

“I was bored.”

“I know.” He pushes off the wall and comes to take the tape from your hands. He finally looks at Hoseok and nods. “Did Hoseok teach you anything?”

“Apparently there’s no need,” Hoseok explains while crossing his arms. “Did you know that she can fight? Not that sissy slap fight that some people do. I mean, real fighting, Taehyung.”

“You’re exaggerating, Hobi.” You roll your eyes and try to snatch the tape back from Taehyung, but he’s quick to pull it out of your reach. “You make it sound like we just went a full round of sparring. I was just able to get out of your hold, that’s all.”

“That’s the most important part,” Hoseok says as you and Taehyung begin a playful game of keep away. He’s sure you don’t notice the grin on your own face when you jump for the piece of trash in Taehyung’s hand. “Even if you can’t actually fight, being able to get away and run as fast as you can is the deciding factor in whether you live or die.”

You’re not listening anymore. It’s not to be rude or simply because you’ve heard it already. It’s because you’re trying to pry the tape away from your husband and you don’t even know why. Perhaps because you had it first? It’s childish thinking, you know it, but it’s what makes this part so fun. You make one final lunge for the used tape and Taehyung grabs your wrist, not prepared for you to counter it so quickly. Clamping down on his wrist with your free hand, you pry it away from your own and duck. You twist around, never letting up on his wrist, and pin his arm gently behind his back. A triumphant grin breaks out on your lips, but it’s short lived.

Taehyung spins around on his heel and is able to quickly back you against the wall. His fingers are already curling around your forearm to press against the plaster. He feels the push of your other hand to his chest and he’s shoved away with more force than expected. His chest rises and falls rapidly, winded from the surprising amount of energy this small little tussle took from him. You don’t rush to him like he thinks you will, instead clutching something in your hand that you open to reveal the balled up tape.

“Whoa,” Hoseok whispers, having been present the entire time rather than giving the two of you privacy like the other guys usually do. He was simply too curious to see how this would pan out. He’s going to say something, not entirely sure what words to use, when he looks back at Taehyung to find an all too familiar look on his face.

Taehyung’s pupils are blown wide as he drinks you in. From the cat-like curve of your lips, to the useless tape balled up in your palm, and down to the heaving of your chest. He’s always been an adrenaline junkie, he knows that, but never had a scuffle turned him on. The fact that you’re his wife and not some bulky, sweat drenched man definitely contributes.

“Well,” Hoseok chimes in uncomfortably, “I’m going to go anywhere that’s not here. You guys have fun.”

You don’t even realize Hoseok is still there until he breezes past you to make himself scarce, watching him disappear from the hallway. When you look back at Taehyung, he’s already in front of you and running the back of his knuckles across your cheek. The affectionate touch makes you blush, heat spreading across your entire body as he leans in so close that his nose bumps yours.

“Will you welcome me home, princess?” he rasps against your lips and it snaps you out of your own thoughts.

“Your home, Tae,” you whisper back and bump his nose gently, “not mine.”

“You are my home, Y/N.” His lips brush yours with every whisper before he fully presses against your mouth. A tiny kiss that somehow leaves you wanting much, much more. But then he’s pulling away and kissing your cheek next. “I know you hate being here, and the idea makes you want to puke, but this is your home. Always.”

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

Later, when you basically skip into the living room with a very tired looking Jungkook and Jimin, Taehyung is surprised when you plop next to him on the couch. You’re equally as exhausted as the guys, but it’s a good kind of tired, like you’ve accomplished something.

“What did you do to Jungkookie, princess?” Taehyung plays with the locks of your hair. He looks to his youngest member and almost laughs at the way Jungkook’s shoulders are slumped forward, his hair is matted with sweat, and like he’s on the verge of passing out.

Jimin is standing next to him looking pristine as ever, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth at Jungkook’s state.

“I didn’t do anything to him.” You roll your eyes and laugh. “He was just having a hard time keeping up, that’s all.”

“Retail workers are animals!” Jungkook bellows, throwing his arms out in frustration. “And the customers who shop there are even worse! Who raised these people, savages?!”

“Kook, you’re in a gang!” You look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Yeah well, nobody I’ve ever pointed a gun at has yelled at me for giving them the wrong color sweater, alright?” Jungkook runs his hand down his face before rubbing his tired eyes. “I need a nap.”

Taehyung chuckles as Jungkook stalks upstairs to his bedroom. His shift is over now that you’re home anyways, so the least Taehyung can do is let the poor kid sleep.

Jimin bids the two of you goodnight, making his way to the staircase and quickly following after Jungkook.

“I think Kook’s traumatized.” You turn your head to Taehyung just as he leans in and brushes his nose against yours.

“We should probably get him an emotional support animal,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Did you have a good day, sweetheart?”

You tilt your chin up as his mouth travels lower, leaving open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. Nodding in response to his question, you ask, “did you?”

“It’s boring in the house without someone to argue with,” his tongue snakes out lick at your skin before he’s pulling on it with his teeth.

“I’m sure Yoongi could have kept you entertained if you pushed his buttons enough.”

Taehyung knows that his being able to touch you within reason is basically a reward for granting you basic human rights. He didn’t like to think of it as keeping you a prisoner in your own home, but he knows there’s no other way to describe being locked inside almost 24 hours a day. He wanted to think you were finally understanding the rules and would stop fighting him. That wasn’t the case, he sees that now, because he practically falls to his knees every time you allow him to touch or kiss you. Little by little, you’re breaking his resolve with how defiant you can be, and then turning him to mush when he apologizes for making you feel a certain way. You’re practically training him like one would a new puppy.

“Tae,” your moan breaks his train of thought, and he pulls away to find that at some point he’d leaned you flat on your back. His hand had dipped into the waistband of your jeans and he was quick to pull back in case you were uncomfortable. You giggle and sit up to cup his jaw, giving him one more kiss before retreating to the bedroom.

“She’s happy,” Yoongi observes as he steps into the living room. “What did you do to deserve that?”

“Why doesn’t anybody in this house ever take my side?” Taehyung readjusts the way he sits on the couch. He beckons Yoongi closer and takes the tablet from his outstretched hand.

“Because it’s easier to take Y/N’s side.” Yoongi smirks. “It’s certainly more entertaining.”

“This Seojun guy,” Taehyung swipes through photos of your ex, most of which consisted of you by Seojun’s side or tucked underneath his arm. “Who is he?”

“A nobody, really.” Yoongi throws himself on the couch next to Taehyung. “Just some guy who was lucky enough to be hired fresh out of high school. He’s been with the company for 7 years now. He and Y/N dated for about a year before breaking up. Jimin asked around and found out that Seojun didn’t like how secretive Y/N was when it came to her family. So he broke up with her.”

“She didn’t look too happy when I showed up today.” Taehyung grips the tablet tighter when a picture pops up of you and Seojun from his instagram. You’re in a bed with Seojun’s arms wrapped tight around your waist and his face tucked in the crook of your neck.

“She never looks happy to see you,” Yoongi counters and earns himself a sneer.

“I’m saying she didn’t want me to know who this guy was, smartass.” Taehyung tosses the tablet back to Yoongi. He runs a hand through his hair and moves for the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “Did you get anywhere with the Ahn brothers?”

Yoongi pulls up more images on his tablet and hands it to Taehyung. “The Choi family isn’t happy with Joongki and Jeonghan. It seems your family wasn’t the only one hoping to merge with the Seong’s.”

Taehyung stiffens as he swipes through photo after photo of you with Joongki’s men, but there was someone else trailing you. They weren’t close enough for you to think anything of it, and maybe your cousins hadn’t pieced it together yet either, but Taehyung knows this man, and he clenches his jaw. “Meaning?”

“Mr. Choi had been trying for months to convince Joongki to hand off Y/N to his oldest son, Hyunwoo, and he almost did before your father stepped in and told him the truth about the Choi family.” Yoongi leans against the kitchen counter and drops his voice to a whisper as the opening of a door echoes down the hallway. “Joongki didn’t want to scare Y/N or his brother, so he didn’t tell them why he was so quick to go to your father. Neither of the Seong brothers are the actual target. Y/N is.”

“What about me?” you pipe up, stepping into the kitchen while running a towel through your damp hair. You grab the glass full of water and take a few sips, eyeing Yoongi and Taehyung suspiciously. “What are you two up to?”

“Taehyung was curious about your friend Seojun,” Yoongi is quick to throw his boss underneath the bus, crossing his arms and tsking at Taehyung. “Jealousy is not a good color on you.”

“Sometimes I think you really forget what I’m capable of, Min Yoongi.” Taehyung pushes Yoongi out of the kitchen with a hiss. “Don’t think I won’t get you back for this, you son of a bitch.”

You hoist yourself onto the counter, running your hand through the tangled mess of clean hair. It should probably piss you off that Taehyung had Yoongi dig up information on Seojun, but your ex isn’t exactly your favorite person. After he’d broken up with you, he had made it pretty clear that unless you fessed up about your family, he wouldn’t be coming back any time soon. Six months after that, he’d heard about your marriage but was yet to know who your husband was. Protecting him from Taehyung earlier was more out of instinct than anything else. Taehyung just doesn’t have to know that part.

“You don’t like Seojun.” You swing your legs back and forth gently as Taehyung makes his way back into the kitchen.

“I don’t like any man that’s touched you before me.” He takes the cup back and downs the rest of the water. “I imagine you wouldn’t like meeting the women I’ve been with either.”

“Your one night stands aren’t comparable to the relationships I’ve had.” You glare at him with the hope that the side of his face will catch on fire. “Your women were just placeholders in your bed. They were there to warm it, not to become a permanent fixture in your life.”

“And you were planning on being a permanent fixture in Seojun’s life?” Taehyung turns to meet your glare with a sneer of his own. “Were you going to marry that pathetic little nobody, share a mediocre life, and live in comfort rather than luxury?”

“Your definition of luxury is burying someone in the most expensive gifts and then leaving them to their own vices.” You jump off the counter with a huff, snatching the towel you’d set down. “Maybe the women you’ve slept with could live with that, but I can’t. Seojun may not have millions of dollars to throw at anyone he wants, but he makes due with what he does have. And unlike you, his father wouldn’t have to step in to get me to marry him.”

Taehyung braces his hands against the counter as you saunter off, his shoulders tense and chest heaving with anger. He hears the slamming of the bedroom door and he bangs his fist against the counter before he’s storming down the hall after you. When he reaches the door, he’s even more pissed to find that you’ve locked it, and he’s seconds away from tearing it off its hinges when a piercing whistle catches his attention.

Jimin is standing at the end of the hallway, leaning against the wall and swinging a key ring around his finger. “Man, I really should have bet a few hours before you fucked things up instead of betting two days. I can’t wait to see how your wife reacts to you lying about having only one key to the master bedroom.”

Taehyung snatches the key from Jimin and growls out, “if you don’t want to be the next person I murder, then I suggest you walk away, Park.”

Jimin only shakes his head with a laugh, raising his hands in surrender and doing as he’s been told. It wasn’t the first time Taehyung threatened him and it certainly won’t be the last. He makes it back to his room in one piece where he finds the rest of the guys waiting. He grins as he looks around and says, “I think Y/N is my new hero. Nobody’s been able to piss off Taehyung like that in a long time.”

“She’s ballsy, I’ll give her that.” Yoongi looks up from the laptop he’d been typing away on.

“She’d make one hell of a leader,” Seokjin chimes in and Yoongi chuckles low in his throat.

“You’re lucky if Taehyung doesn’t have you tossed in a river with weights tied around your ankles for starting that fight,” Namjoon scolds Yoongi and gestures them closer to see what he’d been working on. “The Choi family is gaining quite the reputation for all the shit Hyunwoo keeps pulling. We’re talking gambling debts, jail time for street brawls, even a few women accusing him of sexual assault. I mean, this guy is close to costing Mr. Choi his whole empire. Nobody wants to work with them, even their supply is suffering. They’ll be left with nothing soon.”

“Choi wants to use Seong’s climbing reputation to save his own ass.” Jimin skims his eyes down the screen of Hyunwoo’s rap sheet.

“It goes a little deeper than that,” Namjoon frowns as Yoongi pulls up a different tab. “Hyunwoo went to high school with Y/N, had the biggest crush on her, but she always rejected him. I talked to her friends and they said that Hyunwoo couldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Whenever Y/N snubbed him, he’d corner one of them and threaten their lives if they didn’t try to talk Y/N into dating him. He was obsessed with her, still is. So I’m guessing he promised Choi that he’d clean up his act if he got Y/N.”

“Choi must have pursued Joongki for a long time.” Jungkook stretches his arms above his head until his back finally pops. He rolls his shoulders next as if preparing himself for a fight. If they go to Taehyung right now then they’d certainly be gearing up for one.

“He was close, too.” Yoongi curls his hands into fists at the thought of where you’d be now if Mr. Kim hadn’t stepped in. “Joongki almost agreed to the marriage because he was under the impression that Choi still had a good following.”

“So what happened?”

“Mr. Kim happened,” Yoongi explains, letting out a slow breath. “Nobody’s loyal to Choi anymore. Some of his men branched off and told other bosses what the plan was for the Seong family. Luckily, one of them came to Mr. Kim and he was able to get to Joongki before anything became final.”

“Does Y/N know any of this?” Jungkook questions while looking back and forth between Yoongi and Namjoon. When both men shake their heads, he scoffs. “Don’t you think she should? She’d probably be more inclined to fucking listen to us if she knew what was really happening.”

“Or she’d run away and disappear off the map.” Seokjin offers an alternative. He knows you well enough by now and if you knew how much danger you were truly in, then there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d leave. “We can’t take that chance, Kook. She’s our family now and we take care of family. So we’ll deal with Choi soon and be done with it.”

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

“I’m not really sure what you think you’re doing,” you interrupt whatever Hyunwoo is doing at your locker and he whirls around to find you a few feet away, “but it’s not going to happen, Choi. Move on.”

He steps away from your locker, giving you space to open it and shove your books inside. He gives you a greasy smile and leans against the locker next to yours. “You always say ‘never’ Y/N, but I’m pretty sure I can change your mind if you let me.”

“The only way I’m going to give you a chance is if you let me push you off a cliff.” You slam the locker closed just as your friends approach. “What’s your deal, Hyunwoo? Why don’t you get it by now? I don’t want anything to do with you.”

“Most girls would kill to be by my side,” Hyunwoo slaps an open palm on the lockers, rattling them enough to make your friends jump, but you stand strong.

“Then you don’t really need me, do you?” You turn to walk away with your friends only to have him clap his hand on your shoulder, and you’re shoved against the lockers. You wince at the impact, the combination locks dig into your spine, and Bona runs off to find help.

“I don’t need your permission to have you, you know?” Hyunwoo hisses in your face, his forearm rests gently on your collar bone, not heavy enough to cut off your air supply, yet. “My father will give me anything I ask for and if that’s you, then you don’t get a choice anymore. I suggest you come willingly while I’m still asking nicely.”

“There’s not a fucking thing nice about you, Hyunwoo,” you sneer and stomp on his foot, digging your heel into the top of it. It’s enough for him to release his grip as he jumps back in pain, and you’re already cocking your arm back to land a solid punch across his jaw when Bona comes rushing back with Jeonghan in tow.

Jeonghan moves for Hyunwoo but you step in front of your cousin before he does anything to get himself in trouble. He stiffens as Hyunwoo straightens up and uses the back of his hand to wipe away the blood dripping from his mouth. Gripping your arm, he gets ready to pull you behind him if Hyunwoo gets any closer.

You shrug Jeonghan off and take a step toward Hyunwoo. “Your daddy may baby the shit out of you, but make no mistake, Hyunwoo, you’re a trash human being. If you keep this up, you’ll run your father’s reputation into the ground and then where will you be? Certainly daddy won’t keep you around if you’re useless.”

Hyunwoo is seething, and if steam could come out of his ears, you’re pretty sure it would. He lifts his hands to grab you once more, but a teacher’s voice stops him. His eyeline is blocked by Mr. Lee, a math teacher that won’t have a job tomorrow if Hyunwoo can help it.

Mr. Lee directs both you and Hyunwoo to the principal’s office, stopping every so often to ask why Jeonghan is following behind him. He gets a mere shrug in response and he sighs, letting your cousin do as he pleases. He sits you in a chair far away from Hyunwoo before entering the principal’s office and explaining the situation.

Jeonghan stays plastered to your side, concern written all over his face as you goad Hyunwoo from across the room. You certainly had grandmother’s temper and, not for the first time that day, Jeonghan wishes you were a little less fierce. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Hyunwoo sneer at you, bloody gums and all. You tilt your head mockingly in response, leaving Jeonghan to nearly facepalm. The only thing that stops him from slapping his own forehead is the rapid footsteps of Joongki, grandfather, and one of grandfather’s men.

Mr. Choi and his right hand man come barreling in next. They blink in surprise at Hyunwoo’s busted lip and your completely unruffled response to him. Mr. Choi is about to ask what exactly is going on when the principal steps out and calls everyone into his office.

“Mr. Choi, Mr. Seong, thank you for coming down.” Principal Chang settles in the chair behind his desk, swiping the glasses from his face to rub at his temples. “Seong Y/N, I wish I could say it’s a surprise to have you here, but it’s really not, is it?”

“Y/N,” your grandfather sighs tiredly in the cramped space, “what have you done now?”

“Nothing that wasn’t prompted,” you defend yourself wholeheartedly.

“You assaulted Hyunwoo, did you not?” Principal Chang looks at the bruise forming on Hyunwoo’s jawline. He wouldn’t voice out loud how impressed he was given that Hyunwoo is twice your size. Unfortunately, his actions speak for him as he nods his admiration for you.

“I didn’t assault Hyunwoo, I defended myself when he nearly choked me to death.”

At this, Joongki snaps his head up to look at the boy in the other chair, rage building underneath the surface. “He did what?”

Mr. Choi lays one hand on Hyunwoo’s shoulder and uses his other to grip his son’s chin. “Look at this. My son is the one bloodied and bruised, and you mean to tell me that you’re the victim in this?”

“Your son doesn’t understand the kindergarten concept of keeping his hands to himself.” You grip the sides of your chair and lean forward to taunt Hyunwoo. “I was simply reminding him of what happens when he doesn’t respect someone else’s boundaries.”

Your grandfather grips your shoulder and hauls you back into the seat. “Stop it.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such an uptight bitch, then I wouldn’t bother you.” Hyunwoo fires back and tries to get in your face as you did him.

Daeseong, your grandfather’s most trusted man, steps in front of you and effectively cuts off any access Hyunwoo might have had. He stares down at the kid with a quirked brow until Hyunwoo seemingly shrinks in his seat. “You’ll refrain from using such language when it comes to Ms. Seong.”

Mr. Choi sputters at the blatant way his son is being intimidated and looks to Principal Chang for some kind of interference. “This girl damages my son’s face and her bodyguard has the audacity to try and scare him. Yet you want me to believe she’s done nothing wrong?”

“Believe what you will, Mr. Choi,” your grandfather’s voice holds the kind of authority that grown men usually cower at, “but given how your son just spoke to my granddaughter, I think it’s quite clear who the antagonist here is. Admittedly, it’s my fault she’s so headstrong. You see, Mr. Choi, my family doesn’t believe in ‘when you’re dead, lie down’, so my granddaughter obviously found it necessary to correct your son’s behavior.”

“You’re aware of who I am, Seong,” Mr. Choi seethes, attempting to be just as vicious. “I suggest you get that delinquent under control before I have to.”

“You’re also aware of who I am, Choi, so I suggest you watch your tone and be careful of who you threaten. Whatever happened here today is just a glimpse of what my granddaughter can do, and unless you want to find out what more there is, then you’ll get your poor excuse for a son under control before I have to.”

Your grandfather is bluffing and it really takes every muscle in your body to keep from reacting. The strength behind your punch is literally all you have, though after today, you’re sure you’re about to get some new self defense lessons. You’d throw your head back and groan if it didn’t give away his obvious lie. Thankfully, Principal Chang’s dismissal of everyone from his office so he can ‘think on your punishment’ saves you from embarrassing your grandfather any further.

Mr. Choi stops you from getting too far by gripping your arm, quickly letting it go as Daeseong latches onto his wrist in return. “You must think you’re so precious, don’t you, little girl?”

“No.” You don’t flinch away from him and you can tell he hates it. “I just know what it means to be a decent person. You’ve taught your son that the world would fall to his feet if he so much as commands it, but he is neither king nor god, Mr. Choi. Hyunwoo doesn’t get to demand the world only to throw a fit when he ultimately breaks it, and then you come in to clean up his mess. The longer you let him believe he’s untouchable, the more likely he is to fall harder than anyone else.”

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

Taehyung watches you stomp around the room, pacing back and forth while tugging at your hair because he’d lied about there being one and only one goddamn key to the master bedroom. Tomorrow he plans to do away with the door completely if you so much as think about locking the fucking thing again. He’s sitting on the bed, dressed in sweats and a plain t-shirt, waiting for your tantrum to be over. “Are you done, princess?”

“No, I’m not fucking done!” you screech, picking up the nearest object and hurling it his way. Another frustrated scream bubbles from your throat as he easily catches the bottle of perfume headed towards his skull. “You asshole! You said there was one, one fucking key to this room, Taehyung, and you lied to me!”

“This isn’t about the key, Y/N, you and I both know that.”

“It’s certainly not about the array of women you’ve paraded through here!” You pick up a bottle of lotion, your favorite to be exact, and launch it at him. When he skillfully dodges it, you begin picking up anything and everything that isn’t nailed down and try your damndest to cause him some kind of damage.

“I’m not bitching about Seojun, am I?!” Taehyung counters and peers around for any more loose objects. “I’m not throwing the disaster of that relationship in your face!”

“It wasn’t a disaster!” Your chest is heaving from exertion and you’re sure that if your pulse raced any faster, you’d have a heart attack. “Seojun was the best thing that happened to me and my cousins ruined that! This life ruined it! And yes, Taehyung, if Joongki hadn’t pimped me out to you then I would have absolutely married Seojun. We’d get married, leave this godforsaken city, have some kids, and live happily ever after.”

Taehyung knows you’re trying to get under skin, knows you’re trying to work him up so you’d have an excuse for your cousins to pull you from his home. Truthfully, your words do hurt, they pierce his heart and piss him off at the same time. Joongki didn’t pimp you out to the Kim family, and he for damn sure wouldn’t have let you marry Seojun and take off. The idea of you having kids with your ex-boyfriend makes Taehyung’s blood boil. The mere idea of Seojun putting his hands anywhere on your person is enough to have your husband close to pulling out his phone and calling for a hit on the poor guy.

You can see the gears shifting in Taehyung’s head, the cold calculation of whatever he’s about to do, and you know that if you didn’t diffuse the situation soon, you’d cost Seojun his life. “Stop it, Taehyung. You don’t get to be an asshole about Seojun and then get mad at me for calling you out on it. You for damn sure don’t get to be pissed that I wanted some space after you were the one who lost your shit over nothing.”

“It wasn’t nothing,” he growls low in his chest and shuffles up the bed to get comfortable. “It was that you felt like you had to protect him in the first place. You really think I’m some kind of monster that would have him killed because he dated you? Far from it, princess. I’m glad you were happy, but he’s not part of your life anymore. You’re my wife, mine, so you’ll forgive me if I get a little testy when you brag about some other man giving you a better life than I can. Especially when you haven’t even given me the fucking chance.”

“Hauling me into this house and then locking me in is not a better life, Taehyung. It’s barely even a life at all. You can say it’s for my own safety, I’ve heard it a thousand times before, but I know that it’s more about your pride than anything else. That the great Kim Taehyung has what someone else wants and no one can get to it.”

“You think if this was about my pride that I’d keep you locked away? There is nothing more that I want than to show you off to the world, Y/N. To show whoever wants you that you’re protected and safe from them, not because they can’t have you. My pride stems from the fact that I have one of the strongest women by my side who isn’t afraid to put me in my place. Not everyone finds that in this life, so yes, I’m proud to have you and no, I will not apologize for whatever kind of blow your ego takes because you can’t stand to be wrong.”

You walk up to the bed, and for a second Taehyung heaves a sigh of relief that the fight is finally over, but you simply strip the mattress of its sheets and turn to leave the room.

He’s on his feet, striding across the room and boxing you in against the door before you can yank it open. “And just where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

Whirling around to face him, you hiss, “I’d sooner sleep under a bridge than in the same bed as you right now, Kim Taehyung.”

“That can be arranged if you want it, princess.” Taehyung is done. He’s jealous, he’s pissed, and he’s exhausted, so if you want to throw out empty threats then he’ll match you vicious word for vicious word.

“Then do it,” you challenge quickly. If he wants to toss you out because you fought him so hard then that’s all the opportunity you need to disappear.

His hand comes up to slap the door, landing dangerously close to your cheek, but you aren’t afraid of him or his outburst. He curls his lip up in a sneer before he bites down on his bottom lip and takes in a deep breath to compose himself. “We can fight, we can yell and scream at each other all you want, but at the end of the day this is the bed we’ll be sleeping in. You and I, because it’s ours and I’ll be damned if you curl up elsewhere, understand?”

You swallow the lump in your throat when he presses his forehead to yours because damn it, you’re supposed to be mad at him, not craving his stupid touch. You understand perfectly well, but he doesn’t need to know that, nor does he deserve a verbal response. Shouldering past him, you spin around and hold your hand out. “I want the key. Both of them.”

“There’s two for a reason, sweetheart.” Taehyung explains, turning to lean his back against the door and crossing his arms. “If you lock yourself in here and something happens, either me or one of the guys needs to be able to get in here. In fact, for that reason, I think I’ll be giving one of the keys to the boys and keeping the original copy for myself.”

Your fingers curl against your palm and you clench your teeth. “If I could, I’d drown you, Kim.”

“I know that you’re perfectly capable of it,” he smirks and crosses the room to the bed, “yet I’m not afraid to sleep in the bed as you.”

You try to crawl onto the bed next to him, but unlike most nights, he’s chosen to occupy your usual side of the bed. You huff and try to shove him over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Sleeping.” He pretends to yawn and bury himself into the mattress.

“I sleep on this side, Taehyung, you know that.”

“Not tonight, princess.” He smirks and closes his eyes, knowing how much you hated sleeping with your back against the wall. The bed was pressed into a corner of the very large room simply because after he moved into the room, he’d keep you pinned between him and the wall so you couldn’t run off in the middle of the night. After a few weeks, you’d complained about feeling claustrophobic and he’d relented, granting you the open side of the bed.

“I won’t do this crap again, Taehyung,” you warn with your hands on your hips after giving up on trying to move him. “Move over.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, instead tucking his arms behind his head and crossing his legs at the ankles to make himself comfortable. The bed dips unexpectedly and his eyes shoot open to find you swinging one leg over his frame as you settle yourself in his lap. He wastes no time in gripping your hips to keep you from falling if you lose your balance. “What are you doing?”

“You didn’t move.” You shrug your shoulders, sitting your full weight on his crotch and bunching your hair up to pull into a bun. “The only way for me to get to that side is to climb over you.”

He isn’t paying attention anymore, his hands grip you with a bruising force as your chest juts out with the way you pull your hair up. Your hips circle ever so slightly and he hisses through clenched teeth. This is payback, he realizes, and doesn’t have time to react before you’re rolling off and throwing the blankets over your body.

You hear him grumble something under his breath, but can’t tell what exactly it is. He’s angry, but it doesn’t stop him from turning on his side and snaking his arms around your waist. You nearly lose your breath when he harshly tugs your back to his chest so you push back against him in retaliation.

“You’re being a child,” he growls into your ear, “and if you plan on pushing against me all night, then you should also plan on not sleeping.”

You turn in his hold, coming face to face and bumping your nose against his. “You’re the one being a child, Taehyung. Not that you need to know, or even deserve it, but Seojun isn’t someone to be concerned about. I may not like that we’re married, but I’m not going to go out and violate the sanctity of our marriage either.”

You duck your head and nuzzle it beneath his chin before he can see the blush forming on your cheeks as you whisper, “I’m yours, Tae, no one else’s.”

He freezes and knows that if you hadn’t been embarrassed about admitting as much, then he would kiss you until you both struggled for breath. Your lashes flutter against his neck and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair and placing a kiss to your head.

#kim taehyhyung fic #kim taehyung smut #war of hearts fic #bts mafia au #bts smut #bts mafia smut

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sequinsmile-x · 3 years

Text

Serendipity

This was originally a prompt on here that I promised a follow up to, but got carried away.

The original prompt is in italics, so you can refresh yourselves on what it was!

Words: 3.6k

Rating: Mature

Read over on ao3, or below the cut.

Let me know what you think!

It should never have happened. Emily hadn’t intended for it to, and she knew Aaron hadn’t either. They hadn’t meant to fuck at JJ’s wedding, hidden in Dave’s guest bathroom as Aaron’s girlfriend danced with his son downstairs.

Things shifted between them that night. The dance they had shared, his hand in hers and his breath against her neck had ignited her skin, set something on fire that she had tried to ignore. Emily had tried to walk away, to put some distance between them. Aaron had followed her, knocking softly on the bathroom door when she had been in there a little too long.

Emily wasn’t entirely sure who kissed who first, but she remembered him pressing her up against the counter. How it felt when he pushed her dress over her hips, her own hands not idle as she undid his shirt, wanting to feel his skin against hers.

The aftermath had been awkward, but that hadn’t stopped it from happening again the following day. Him coming to hers for the coffee they had promised each other, ending up on the couch instead, clothes shed and desperate hands palming against each other's skin.

She stiffened when he said he had broken up with Beth, the gentle hope in his voice breaking her heart. Emily still remembered the look on his face when she said she was still going to London, his cheek against her hand.

She had been in London for two months before she called him, lied and said she was in town for a consult. Aaron obviously didn’t believe her, but he came to her hotel room anyway. Emily realises she should have known it would be inevitable, that they would have sex again. She wants him as much as he wants her and she has spent so much of her life denying herself the things she wanted. It isn’t lost on her that this is the first time they have done this in a bed, and she sits up as he gets dressed, the silence in the room deafening. She pulls on one of the robes hung up in the wardrobe, pulling the tie tight around her waist.

“Aaron, we still need to talk.”

He looks at her, his face stern. “Are you staying?”

Emily opens her mouth, unsure how to even begin to answer that question, to say what she needs to say. Aaron takes her hesitance as an answer, shrugging on his jacket as he shakes his head at her.

“I should go.”

“Aaron, please.”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.” He says, his voice full of defeat and she hates that she's the one that put it there. That she caused the man who she cares for more than she should to feel anything other than happiness. Aaron turns to leave, his hand on the door of her hotel room and a heavy sigh escapes him. “See you next time you’re in town, Emily.”

Emily closes her eyes and wraps her arms around herself, pulling the robe she had put on tighter, as if it could hold her together in the soft material whilst she tells him what she came here to say. What she couldn’t bring herself to tell him on the phone.

“I’m pregnant.”

Aaron turns to look at her. Her eyes are fixed on the floor, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

“Emily.”

She looks up at him, a small smile on her face. “I think it goes without saying it's yours.” She clears her throat awkwardly when he just stares at her, clearly trying to figure out what to say next. “We should sit down.”

She moves over to one of the armchairs in the corner of the room. She curls up into the chair, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Emily feels relief ease some of the tension in her chest when he joins her, sitting in the chair next to hers.

“Are you ok?” He asks, and it makes her smile. Any frustration he had aimed at her had melted away, replaced by confusion and something she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m ok.” She answers. “Although morning sickness is the most poorly named thing on the fucking planet.” He laughs at that, and it’s nervous, making her raise an eyebrow at him. “Are you ok?”

He nods. “I think we have a lot of things to discuss.”

“Yeah.” She replies, swallowing against the lump in her throat. “We do.” ____________

The flight back to London is rough. Her constant nausea makes the hours drag by, her desperation to just be on solid ground almost overwhelming her.

She’s never been more grateful to see her apartment, the place still not quite feeling like home yet. She sinks into her couch and groans when her cell phone immediately rings, rolling her eyes when she sees Clyde’s name on the screen before she answers.

“Do you track me or something? I’ve only just made it back.”

“That's for me to know and you to wonder about, darling.” Clyde says, smugness in his voice that made her smile despite herself. “How did our dear Agent Hotchner take the news that he’s going to be a father again.”

“Quite well given the circumstances.” Emily answers, unwilling to divulge anymore of her conversation with Aaron to her friend, knowing if there was one person on the planet he wouldn’t want her to talk to about this it would be Clyde Easter.

“You’re going to go back aren’t you?”

Emily laughs, frustrated that he could read her so well even over the phone. “I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

“You always have a choice.”

“Not now.” She replies. She looks down at her abdomen, still flat with no indication of the life growing underneath her skin showing yet. “I can’t keep the baby from him, or him from the baby. He’s a great dad.”

“You left DC for a reason.”

Emily places her hand on her belly and smiles to herself. “And now I guess I have a reason to go back.” ____________

Aaron visits her a month later. His insistence on coming to London for a long weekend made her laugh. She feels nervous when she picks him up at the airport, but it fades away when she sees him.

It’s strange, having him there in her apartment, like two very distinct worlds were colliding. She liked it though, couldn’t help but smile as he walked around and made himself familiar with where she lived.

“I had a scan this morning.” She says, smiling at him nervously when he turns to look at her, his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Would you like to see the picture?”

“Of course.”

She beams at him as she digs the scan photo out of her purse and hands it to him. “Everything looks good, even if I am a ‘geriatric mother.’’ She said, using air quotes as she spoke.

Aaron has the gall to laugh at her, which makes her raise her eyebrows at him. He steps towards her, ultrasound scan still in hand, and he hugs her. She hugs him back, breathes in the scent of his cologne. She pulls back enough to look at him, and before she can think better of it she leans forward and kisses him. It crosses the delicate line they hadn’t crossed since he had left her hotel room a month ago, still reeling from the life changing news he had told him. They’d been in contact every day since, exchanging texts and phone calls around both of their gruelling work schedules. They’d been acting like friends, nothing more, but her hands grasping the back of his head, pulling him closer to her, changed that.

“Wait.” He says against her lips, pulling away so he could look at her. “Is this a good idea?”

Emily heaves in a breath and licks her lips before looking at his. “Maybe not.” She presses another quick kiss to his lips. “But it’s not like you can knock me up again.”

He stares at her for a second before pulling her back into him, kissing her fiercely as she drags him to her bedroom. ____________

They don’t talk about anything important until the day he leaves, neither of them wanting to ruin the little bubble they had created in her apartment. It’s him that tentatively brings up her plans over the breakfast they had ordered in.

“When are you coming back?”

“In three months.” She says as she takes a sip of her tea. “That’s when my replacement can start here, and when the role at the DC Interpol office opens up.”

Aaron frowns at her. “The DC Interpol office?”

Emily nods. “It’s essentially what I’m doing now.” She senses his confusion and clears her throat as she sets her mug back down. “I was never going to be coming back to the bureau, Aaron.”

“It’s your choice, I just thought you would have mentioned it.”

Emily can feel her temper flaring, annoyance rising up in her before she can stop it. “We’re not in a relationship, Aaron. Just because we fucked a few times and accidentally made a baby doesn’t mean I have to run everything past you.”

He stares at her, a hard look on his face. It seems to take him a moment to speak, and the way he carefully chooses his words pisses her off even more. “Would you even be coming back if it wasn’t for the baby, Emily?”

She looks at him, her fury written all over her face. “No. I wouldn’t be.”

He leaves pretty quickly, claiming he needs to get to the airport even though his flight isn’t for another 12 hours.

____________

After that they speak less often. She updates him on the baby and he asks her how she is, how both of them are doing.

When she starts to show she takes a photo of her bump and sends it to him. The next day a package from Amazon arrives full of pregnancy skin care, a gift note from Aaron that tells her Haley had sworn by the bump cream. The tenderness of the gesture makes her cry, the affection she feels for him almost bursting out of her chest.

She calls him when she finds out they are having a boy, her enthusiasm seeping down the phone and filling his voice with wonder.

As she boards the plane to DC 3 months after she last saw him, all of her belongings shipped, she feels something a little bit like hope bloom in her chest. ____________

Aaron comes to visit her at her apartment almost as soon as she gets back, a smile on his face and a bag of takeout in his hand.

“Hi.” She says, almost shyly as she lets him in.

“Hi.” He kisses her cheek before he thinks about it, pulling her into a hug. He steps back and looks down at her abdomen. “Wow.”

Emily laughs, her hand landing on her belly. “Yeah, he’s getting big.” She takes the bag of food from him. “We should eat.”

They eat and make conversation, and it’s as if 3 months of awkward conversation between them hadn’t happened. He asks her about Sergio, and she says Penelope would be keeping him for now, but that she had full visitation rights.

Aaron clears up the plates, and she rolls her eyes at him as he tells her to put her feet up. She feels the awkwardness seep back in when he sits on the couch next to her, the unanswered questions hanging in the air.

“I’ll get you your own key.” Emily says, tearing her eyes from her lap to look at him. “It makes sense for you to just be able to come over, see the baby whenever.”

He nods, an awkward smile on his face. “I’ll get you one to my place too. Jack keeps asking when you’re coming over.”

“That’s sweet. I missed him.”

“He missed you. We both did.” It’s awkward again for a moment, and she can see the second he decides to simply say whatever he had been holding back for months. “What are we, Emily?”

She sighs. “I don’t know, Aaron.” She grabs his hand and squeezes it. “I care about you. So much. But if we hadn’t had sex at JJ’s wedding we wouldn’t even be here right now. How is that the foundation of a relationship?”

“By itself it might not be, but we have a lot more than that.” He cups her cheek. “We’ve known each other for years. I know I’m not the only one who has felt that there could be more between us.”

Emily closes her eyes and rests her forehead against his. “There is so much more at stake now.” She puts their joint hands on her bump. “We can’t mess anything up for him, or Jack.”

“Don’t we owe it to them, to us, to try?”

She pulls back enough for her nose to brush against his. Emily decides that she’s going to let herself have what she wants. She nods before she kisses him, sighing as they both lean further into it. She breaks off with a laugh when she feels the baby kick against their hands.

Aaron looks down at her stomach in wonder. “He’s kicking?”

She nods at him. “He’s kicking.”

For the first time since the test came back positive she genuinely feels like everything might work out. ____________

By the time she's 8 months pregnant she is spending the vast majority of her time at his apartment, even when he was away on a case, and she tries to ignore what that means. That she’s 2 months into a relationship with a man and practically living with him and his son. Whilst being pregnant with his second son.

Her mother had always told her that she didn’t do anything by half.

Emily is sitting on a park bench, watching Jack play on the swings, with her hand pressed into her belly when she feels it. The familiar feeling of being watched. She feels a shiver run down her spine, goosebumps raising over her body.

Her first instinct is that it’s Ian. All of her logical thoughts that he was dead, that she’d watched him die, being beaten by the anxiety coursing through her. Every reason she had left DC in the first place comes flooding back and she has to take several deep breaths. The feeling doesn’t go away, she looks around the park quickly. She can’t see him, can’t see anyone that looks like they’d be associated with him, but she feels like she needs to leave. Like she needs to get Jack, and her baby, back home as quickly as possible.

She’s about to walk over to Jack, make him leave his friends so she could take him home, when she hears a familiar voice.

“Emily?” She whips round to see Beth standing next to her, an awkward look on her face as she takes in Emily’s appearance. “I saw you from across the park, I thought it was you.”

“Beth. Hi.” She tries to smile. “How have you been?”

“Good.” She nods. She looks at her again, eyes landing on Emily’s bump. The unspoken understanding from the other woman that she was pregnant with Aaron’s child. “You look well.”

Emily’s smile falters. The last time she had seen Beth had been at JJ’s wedding, the night she’d had sex with Aaron when his girfriend was just downstairs. Beth would know that. Emily knew that Aaron was a good enough man to have told her everything when he broke up with her.

“I am really sorry, Beth. For how everything happened.”

Beth laughs and sits on the bench next to her. “That is almost exactly word for word what Aaron said when we got back to his place after JJ and Will’s wedding.” Beth looks over to where Jack is playing and smiles. “I knew something had happened, neither of you were very subtle.”

Emily feels her baby roll in her belly and she presses her hand to it, hoping the gentle circles soothe her son as well as herself.

“I...I guess saying we didn’t mean for it to happen won’t mean much.”

“It doesn’t.” Beth says, a wry smile on her face as she turns back to Emily. “But are you both happy?”

Emily doesn’t even have to think about it. “Yeah. We are.”

“Then maybe it was all worth it.” Beth says as she stands. “I should get going, tell Jack and Aaron I said hi.”

“You should say hi to Jack.”

“It’s ok. I don’t want to confuse him.” Beth smiles at Emily one last time. “Tell Aaron I’m glad he’s happy.” ____________

Aaron gets back to his apartment, the case he had been on two days too long for his liking, to find Emily fast asleep on the couch, wearing one of his shirts and a pair of leggings, with her hand pressed into her stomach. He smiles as he hangs up his keys and sets the alarm, setting his briefcase down on the side. He walks over to the couch and sits on the edge of it, gently waking her. She opens her eyes and looks at him.

“You’re home.” She murmurs, the roughness to her voice giving away that she’s been asleep for a while.

He hums in his throat as he strokes his hand over her head. “Why are you on the couch, you know it doesn’t do your back any good.”

“I was waiting up for you.” She sits up slowly, accepting his help to get her upright. Emily leans against his side as he sits next to her, smiling when he puts one of his palms on her belly and kisses the top of her head. “I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He tilts her head and kisses her properly, feeling her smile against his lips as the baby rolls in her stomach. “How are you?”

“Good.” Emily answers. “My entire body is sore. But good.”

He hums his sympathy and rubs his hand over her stomach, the baby forever active in a way he knew had caused Emily to lose sleep.

“I’d like to take you on a date.” He says, smiling as Emily pulls back from him, a look of curiosity on her face. “I realised today that I've never taken you on one.”

“Aaron.” She replies, a smile on her face. “I’m 8 months pregnant with your son, I think we’re a little past dating.”

“True, but you have only just agreed to be my girlfriend.” He laughs when she scrunches her nose at him, leaning down to kiss the tip of it. “What?”

“The word ‘girlfriend’ makes it sound like I’m 14, not in my 40s.”

Aaron smiles at her again and kisses her, smiling against her lips. “Well, I’d propose to you so you could call me your fiancée, but I worry that would send you running back to London.”

Emily laughs, kissing him again quickly. “I wouldn’t run away, but I might check if you were feeling ok.” She rests her head against him again. “I saw Beth today.”

He stiffens, his arms tightening around her. “How was that?”

“Awkward.” She answers, turning her head to kiss his shoulder through his shirt. “But she was very nice. Nicer than I might have been in her shoes.”

“I’m glad.” He kisses the top of her head. “What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“What else happened?”

She scoffs. “Can’t keep anything from you.” She sighs. “I could tell someone was watching me, and before Beth came over I thought it was Ian.” He doesn’t say anything, and it spurs her on. “I know he’s dead, that I don’t have to be afraid anymore, but I was for so long.” She feels her emotions rise in her chest, tears flooding at her eyes as she was at the mercy of her hormones. “And I have so much more to lose now.” She wipes her face. “You, Jack. The baby.”

He kisses the top of her head again, then her temple, holding her impossibly tighter. “You aren’t going to lose any of us, sweetheart.” He tilts her chin so he can kiss her properly. “This is it now. Forever.”

She ignores the voice in her head that tells her he can’t promise her that, and she nods.

“If that’s a proposal I’m leaving.” She jokes and it makes him laugh, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Trust me, baby. You’ll know when I’m proposing.” ____________

He takes her on a date the following week. She lets him take her to a restaurant and spoil her, and he doesn’t make any comments when she orders enough food for at least 3 people for herself.

He takes her for ice cream after, going into the store and getting it himself so she doesn’t have to get back out the car, her ankles sore and swollen.

That night they lay in his bed, the one she really knows is theirs, and as he runs his fingers up and down her bare spine she drifts off to sleep.

“I love you.” She whispers into the room, the first time she has said it to him.

She stays awake long enough to hear him say it back. ____________

It should never have happened, but when their son, Benjamin, is born three weeks later Emily is so glad it did.

#hotchniss #hotchniss fan fic #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss fanfiction #Season 8AU #fluff #angst #family #accidental pregnancy #this has it all folks

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brownandblackpearls · 3 years

Text

🦇𝒯he 𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader)

PART 1 SUMMARY:

While trying to escape the clutches of criminals and cutthroats, you stumble across a castle beyond imagination. The corpses staked at the front aren’t enough to keep you out. But after entering, you begin to wonder what you got yourself into, and what the castle is hiding within its walls...

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── TW// slight gore, general mentions of rapists// Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

You fight through the underbrush of the woods, hurrying as quickly as your feet will allow.

They’re on your trail.

You’ve been evading these criminals from the last town you’d passed through, but they just keep stalking after you. They’d been all too eager to see a lone, beautiful woman traveling with no companions, no guides, and no guardians.

They had tried and failed to corner you alone several times in the town and on the roads, but you haven’t made it this far on your own without some learned skills. A finger-bolt of lightning at one’s eye, a fire-heated palm tight on another’s wrist, swings of sharp dagger at all of their torsos, their throats.

Anything and everything to escape. It’s not your first sticky situation, and it probably won’t be your last.

You know how to be quiet. How to hide. And when it comes down to it, you know how to swindle and how to fight, if need be. You try not to resort to that, not out of compassion or concern for the heathens that try to best you...no. You just know that you’re not as skilled as some of the rigorously trained ex-militia and rogue bandits that prey on loners in towns and off the roads.

You don’t know exactly what they want. A woman to toss around between themselves and torture before they descend on you like wolves? A new girl to sell on the black market? A pretty decoy to get carts and wagons to stop on the roads, allowing them to abush, raid, rape and kill as they please?

Whatever it is that they want, you’re not giving it to them.

‘They’ll have to catch me, first.’

You duck and dodge branches, bobbing and weaving through the trees before the forest finally begins to clear. You keep your hand on your dagger’s hilt, just in case.

Who knows what hides in the woods?

Finally, you come to a clearing run through by a small creek. The dense woods have seemed to disperse here, and now all that you can spy are peaceful glens and swaying flowers. Deer jump away through the grass, hares run into their holes, and fish shine from the stream.

It feels…safe.

But you’re not one to be foolish, and so you continue on. Hoisting your basket closer, you can’t help but spy a garden as you pass through the glen.

Fat tomatoes hang on vine, bright orange carrot tops sprout from the soil, green onions, zucchini, berries and fruits….

…Someone has made a garden here. Hopefully if they’re the gardening sort, then they’re the safe sort. You quickly fill your basket with a few items, tuck some coins hidden near the stalks in apology for your ransacking, and carry on.

Finally, the glen ends, the forest stops entirely, and you stumble upon something entirely unexpected.

'A castle...? Out here in the middle of nowhere...?’

A grand, gothic castle of castles, spirals up towards the clouds in the sky. You gaze up at it in awe, sure that there is nothing else in the world quite so large or so spectacular. You’re certain that had the woods not been so oppressive and thick on the way in here, so wide and strenuous, that you would’ve spotted the castle for what it was miles and miles and miles ago.

You whistle low, impressed as you step forward. You take only a few steps before you stop.

A ripple in the wind draws your eye.

Two barely clothed bodies impaled on stakes tower before you, death etched onto their faces. The spikes go through them, hidden by the soiled shifts they wear and rising high up and out through their mouths. It is a grisly sight indeed. Unfortunately, you’re no stranger to ‘grisly’ in these lands.

You move slower, more carefully than before.

Assessing the bodies, the blood is long dried on the stakes and the petrified flesh. Most of the meat is gone, pecked away by crows most likely, and the flesh that remains is hard and dried out.

You have dealt with your fair share of monsters, but you’re not too sure you want to risk running into the one who did this. It was done with malice, strength, and a raw fury. A nonchalance for human life, it seems. Much like the same nonchalance shared by the evil men you run from.

You hear faint voices call from the trees.

They’ve tracked you. And they’re coming closer.

“We can’t come here. It’s cursed ground. Don’t you know who this castle used to belong to?”

“Yeah, and they’re dead. No one’s seen em’ for ages. But I see little footsteps. Have a feeling the lass went this way.”

You freeze, glancing between the bodies, the huge castle door before you, and the mouth of the forest.

It’s the castle and its possible hidden horrors, or the men on your trail.

“Skin like ebony, that one. Pretty mouth, doe eyes. She’d sell for a pretty penny.. We wouldn’t have to raid for months.”

“…Or we could keep her to warm the cold nights.”

Your mind races, trying to choose.

You could fight the men, still. But there are many of them, and just one of you. Your magic is somewhat abysmal without knowledge to guide you, and your dagger won’t measure up to prove the little sword skills you do possess. Your words will probably not get you out of this one, either. Not this time.

“I’d rather make her scream.”

“You would like that, wouldn’t you Macon? But you did that to the last one, and now we’re out here hunting a new lass instead of enjoying the old one.”

‘That’s it,’ you decide.

The castle it is.

You sprint away from the woods as fast as your billowing cloak and dress will allow, ignoring the foul smell of decay and passing between the bodies. You feel as though you’ve irrevocably crossed a line that shouldn’t be crossed, a decision made that can’t be taken back.

You will live with it, you decide. Better that, than capture.

Racing to the front of the grand doors, larger than the largest buildings you’ve witnessed in life before this day, you bang raptly against the wood and stone.

For a moment, nothing happens and you feel as though you will be caught right at the footsteps of this castle.

Then, you hear a doldrum, a creak and whirring of machinery and mass movement. The door shifts open just slight enough for you to slide through, making a gigantic noise in it’s wake.

Quick as wind, you push through and fall to the floor, turning to see the grand door begin to shut closed behind you.

The men stand before the staked bodies, unwilling to pass them and watching you as the doors close you out of their sight.

“You’d be better off with us murderers and thieves, woman!” One shouts futilely. “For even our hearts aren’t as black as the monster’s in those walls!”

The door shuts him and the rest out. You harrumph and stand, wiping the dust off your dress and looking away.

Fuck him. And fuck his threats, and fuck his horrible little friends. Any black-hearted beasts you come across, you could handle well enough.

At least…that’s what you tell yourself to keep a brave face. Better that than nothing.

You look around.

The inside of the castle is larger than life, grand, and dark. Everything is clean and without dust as you would’ve expected from such a structure…an army couldn’t keep this clean…yet it feels unlived in.

For a moment, there is nothing but heavy, oppressive silence. You listen for a breath, a sound, but can hear nothing outside of your own increasing heartbeat.

You turn, looking to the top of the staircase.

Your eyes tell you there is nothing there, but your instincts tell you something else.

Suddenly, the lights of a thousand candles sweep on throughout the grand hall, illuminating a massive stone staircase and a figure standing at the top of it. You have very good sight, but the room is so large that you can barely make out the figure, even with the candlelight.

Nothing is said, the figure is motionless, and you begin to tremble. This must be the one who lives in this place…not an intruder or a vagrant. You don’t know how you know, but the figure is too large, too looming, and too confident even in its vagueness of detail for you to assume it to be anything other than the owner.

The one who likely staked those unfortunate souls outside the walls.

You feel as if the mysterious figure is waiting for something, and you don’t know what to say. But something must be said.

Your voice is as steady as your fear will allow.

“My name is ———. I come from afar. I am…I am seeking refuge…if you will have me.”

“Refuge from the men outside.”

The voice carries through the empty hall, lilting, low, and deadly. You hear hints of refinement in the speech but they are not enough to hide the white hot lethalness you sense underneath. A rage that you cannot even begin to place or name.

“Y-yes,” you stumble embarrassingly, affected, “from the men outside. They followed me here. I have nowhere to go.”

“And so you feel entitled to my protection.”

“No!’ You exclaim, shaking your head. You stopped expecting assistance from people long ago. The life of a lonely wanderer is just that...lonely. “I inconvenience you, and for that I apologize sincerely. Just…just refuge. I can be on my way after they depart.”

“To where...?” The disembodied voice says as calm as a pond at night, yet you feel the ripples that lie beneath.

“Nowhere,” you breathe.

“…And you come from?” The figure disappears like a mist, yet the voice remains.

“I…nowhere,” you gasp honestly, truly afraid now.

“Lies.” The voice spits viciously, sounding closer then far away, as if it’s bouncing around the space of the great hall.

“It’s t-true!” You insist, your trembling hands reeling in towards your chest in a futile attempt of protection from the unseen danger. “I hail from nowhere! I belong to nowhere! I have little. Just refuge, sir. A night, even!”

“I could grant you refuge,” the voice assumes, “or I could send you back out to those men and be bothered with none of you.”

“You wouldn’t,” you breathe, daring a chance to hope.

The voice chuckles humorlessly, dry as dead leaves.

“Perhaps,” it toys. “But I also wouldn’t allow a mysterious woman of mysterious origins to stay in my castle, learn of my ways, only to run back to the outside world and send a horde of farmhands sprinting over to slay me. Wouldn’t be the first time. No, I think I’ll keep you instead. Are you willing to make that bargain with the Devil?”

You pause, your mind blank. You search for an answer to reason with this...this...your thoughts race.

“Look, I know I’ve come into your abode unannounced and rather…rather rudely, making demands, but I must implore you—“

“—Answer me!” the voice barks, making you nearly jump out of your skin.

'That’s it.’

“You’re a prick, you know that?!” You blurt.

“…” You can hear the confusion in the empty air. “…Pardon?”

You push on, figuring that if you’re going to be staked by the unseen castle-owner or given up to the men outside, or toyed with any longer by any of this nonsense, that you may as well speak your mind one last time.

“You know good and goddamn well that I am not running into a fantastical, creepy castle of myth decorated by corpses on the front porch for the fun of it! As if I care or even believe some farmhands could handle much less defeat you when you can clearly impale full grown adults and work such a place as this—!”

“...”

“—And how dare you tease a woman scared out of her wits, can you even pretend to try to put yourself in my place?! Do you know how long I’ve been running from those idiots? If I had your strength I’d’ve staked them myself and added them to your lovely, little welcome collection as a visiting gift, because believe me, I’m sick of running from morons and monsters! I’m not above spilling blood! But as I said before, I possess little, and come from nothing, and journey towards nothing. From that, you can figure I can’t do much in terms of protecting myself besides running into large, spooky places and begging their arrogant owners for some rest—”

“.....”

“—So, I’d very much appreciate if you stopped toying with me and make your decision on whether you’re going to kill me, kick me out, or keep me, because I’m tired of trying to figure this all out by myself and I’m tired of the anticipation. So what’ll it be Mr. I-Like-to-Leave-Corpses-Outside-My-Castle-and-Harrass-Visitors?”

You huff after your rant, waiting.

The voice is silent for a long, long moment, before an accusing tone reverbs back to you.

“You’re the one who barged in—“

“—You’re the one who opened the door!” You return, throwing your hands out in frustration.

“I didn’t, the castle did.”

“Oh, well fuck me, then. I suppose I ought to thank the ‘castle’ and head back out to let those hoodlums try their worst. So long, strange sir! It was interesting, arguing with you.”

You turn on your heel, over this entire day, and knock at the door raptly. You tap your foot as you wait on the castle, arms crossed and dagger in your hand to strike the nearest hoodlum that likely awaited outside. What a day, you couldn’t believe this shit.

The machinery whirs once more and the door barely opens before a large, leather gloved hand reaches past your head and slams the towering door back, closing it shut. The strength the act takes is incomprehensible, you think.

Inhuman, you realize.

The hairs at the back of your neck raise long after the presence behind you appears. You feel no breath on your neck, yet you know someone stands behind you. You can’t look away from the large, gloved hand on the door. You’re afraid to see exactly who stands behind you.

A man...? Or something else entirely….?

You try to speak but gasp instead, short and shocked.

Silence reigns before you get a hold of yourself and choke something out.

“Y-y-you’ve made your decision then…I presume...?” You stammer into a squeaking volume, your anger long gone and replaced by fear once again.

“Don’t make me regret it…” The voice sneers, close enough for the breath of it to shift your hair and the baritone to reverb over your skin. A chill runs up your back and you can do little to hide it. You feel as though the figure behind you is impossibly tall, imperceptibly assessing, and spying every single thing you do.

You feel the presence lean in over your shoulder, a mouth right next to your ear.

“…or you will regret it, visitor. That, I can promise.”

You gulp loudly, nodding your assent without turning around. You feel frozen to the spot. The hand withdraws and your shoulders unclench only a fraction. You feel as if a predator had been standing behind you, and has decided not to destroy you...for the moment.

You wonder if you are right, and why your cheeks suddenly feel so hot when your heart is beating so fast in terror...?

“I’m going to clean the trash off of my porch,” the voice states eerily. “Don’t touch anything until I return.”

As quick as a blink, the presence disappears entirely.

You finally turn around, alone and confused.

There is nothing but the large castle hall, looking back at you.

───────────━┿──┿━──────────

AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

Lover

Day 8, Story #2 is by @adenei

Title: Lover (or, five times Lavender felt Ron slipping away, and the one time she didn't)

Author: adenei

Pairing: Ron Weasley x Lavender Brown, but also heavy insinuations on Ron x Hermione

Prompt: 5+1

Rating: T (for fabricated insinuations)

TW: Teen heartbreak and all the drama that comes with it.

Author's note: While I am primarily a Romione writer, I could not get this idea out of my head. So, here's a little Lav redemption. After all, she was only a girl who fell for a boy and pursued a perfectly unattached boy.

******

9 November 1996

I think he knows his hands around a cold glass

Make me wanna know that body like it’s mine.

-I Think He Knows

The Gryffindor common room was aglow in crimson and gold, filled to capacity for the celebration of today’s victory against Slytherin. Seamus and Dean managed to smuggle in a boatload of Butterbeer for everyone, which masked the two bottles of Firewhisky Seamus was passing around their inner circle. Parvati and Lavender were lounging in the same armchair on the far side of the room.

Lavender’s never been one to pay close attention to a Quidditch match. Sure, she was all about the parties and house spirit following a match, and if Hogwarts had a cheer squad, she’d be the first person to sign up. But sitting in the stands, watching a match for an indeterminable amount of time? She could think of at least five other things to do that didn’t involve the wind claiming victim to her hair as players whizzed by on broomsticks.

Now that they were inside and out of the crisp November air, she could enjoy the party with her friends. Though, it’d be much more enjoyable if a certain redhead would stop flashing a grin in her direction and just come over to talk to her instead.

“You're staring again,” Parvati chided.

Lavender sighed in response. She couldn’t help it. He’d filled out over the summer, and Quidditch training had been kind to his physique. Red hair wasn’t a feature she ever gravitated to in the past, but freckles and those bright blue eyes were her downfall. Not to mention his infectious smile and the way he was always able to make everyone around him laugh. Ron Weasley was a good guy, and Lavender wanted to get to know him better.

“He’s single, right?” Her fingers twirled her curly blonde hair between her fingers as she watched him take a swig of Butterbeer from the cold glass in his hands.

“As single as the last time you asked me,” Parvati responded with an air of nonchalance in her tone.

Lavender wasn’t surprised by her bored tone. There was only so much they could talk about when it came to Ron, considering neither knew that much about him. She contemplated Parvati’s response, weighing the options of trying to pursue something. A voice in the back of Lavender’s mind was screaming at her to ask what her other roommate’s thoughts were on the matter concerning Lavender asking Ron out, but Hermione was nowhere to be found.

Besides, did it really matter what she thought? Hermione has had all the time in the world to make a move on Ron if she really wanted to. She had no claim on the redheaded Gryffindor. As far as Lavender knew, he was fair game, and at the rate Ron kept glancing in her direction, she was sure it meant something.

So, Lavender swiped the bottle of Firewhisky from the space between Parvati’s legs and the arm of the chair, where she’d been keeping it hidden, and took a large swig. She’d need the liquid courage for what she’d just decided to do.

“What are you—” Parvati started to ask before Lavender cut her off.

“I’m going for it.”

Without another thought, Lavender hopped off the chair and marched over to Ron, who had just set his empty glass down on the table behind him. She still hadn’t made up her mind about whether she was going to say anything or not and let the wide lopsided grin that erupted on his face decide for her when he saw her approaching.

“Hey, Lavender! What’d you think of the—”

Lavender didn’t wait to hear the rest of Ron’s question as she threw her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his lips. His eager response paired with his hands finding a home on her hips egged her on as she refused to break the kiss right away. It was sloppy, and he was inexperienced, but he didn’t pull away at her advances.

I can teach him a thing or two and whip him into boyfriend material in no time.

When they finally did pull apart, it was to a chorus of catcalls around the room. A coy smile passed over her lips as she asked, “should we find someplace a little more private?”

♚

20 December 1996

Kiss me once, cause I know you had a long night

Kiss me twice ‘cause it’s gonna be alright

Three times ‘cause you waited your whole life

~Paper Rings

“So, what do you want to do tonight?”

Lavender bounced up and down on the sofa next to Ron. It was the last night before the Christmas hols, and she wanted to make the most of it since she wouldn’t get to kiss him for two weeks. But something was off. Ron seemed distracted, and he kept looking past her, which was beginning to grate on Lavender’s nerves.

“Er, I don’t know. I’ve got a lot of packing to do still, so I’m not sure if we should really—”

Lavender was taken aback as Ron threw himself at her, lips clashing together even though he was just in the middle of telling her he was too busy to do anything. Lavender cracked an eyelid open to see Hermione shoot them a disgusted look as she crossed the room and waited by the portrait hole. She clamped her eyes shut a moment later when she sensed Ron’s twitch.

She wasn’t going to complain about snogging her boyfriend in the middle of the common room, but she kept her ears open.

“Ah, Granger, looking delicious as ever.”

Hermione was going to the party with Cormac? She must really be desperate to want to go with that sleazeball.

“Let’s get going,” Hermione responded in her usual clipped tone. “I’d rather not be in the vicinity of that much longer.”

Lavender tried not to be offended by Hermione’s icy words. Ron didn’t deserve to be treated like rubbish, and neither did she. It’s not like Hermione had laid any claim on Ron. She tried to refocus her attention on the snog, but Ron pulled away as soon as the portrait hole closed.

Huh, well, that was odd.

“Well, I should go and get packed, then. I’ll see you in the morning?”

What just happened? Is he really going upstairs after snogging me like that?

Lavender was thoroughly confused by Ron’s actions. Nothing seemed to match up tonight, and she didn’t want to leave things like this at the train station tomorrow. She needed to know what was going through his mind.

“Won-Won, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t seem like ‘nothing'. Why’d you start snogging me when Hermione came down the stairs?”

“What? I can’t snog my girlfriend? It had nothing to do with Hermione.”

Ron sounded convincing, but Lavender was still hesitant to believe it.

“Are you sure?

“Yes.”

Lavender noticed how Ron’s ears turned a bright shade of pink and wondered if he was hiding something. Even if he was, he was her boyfriend, and she decided to trust him. Switching gears, Lavender asked him the other question that was weighing on her mind.

“Not that I care who Hermione’s going to the Slug Club party with, but why McLaggen? Everyone in Gryffindor knows to stay away from him.”

“Dunno. Why do you say that?”

“You don’t know? McLaggen doesn’t like to be told ‘no’.”

“He—what?” Ron groaned and rubbed the back of his neck while his nostrils flared in annoyance. Or was it anger?

“I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, she shouldn’t be going with him in the first place.”

“Why?” Lavender peered intently at Ron, waiting for an answer.

His cheeks were flushed as he shook his head, eyes darting to the boy’s staircase as if he was looking for an escape.

“Er, no reason…”

“Won-Won,” warned Lavender.

“I—er, I think I was supposed to go with Hermione tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

Lavender sensed his immediate attempt to backpedal the conversation before he even spoke. He was already standing and moving around to the backside of the sofa. Even as he attempted an explanation, Lav gathered the impression that he was trying to convince himself more so than her.

“Well, she never officially asked me! Besides, we got into a huge row, and now I’m with you, so it doesn’t matter. Look, Lav, I’m tired, and I’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Without another word, Ron disappeared up the boy’s staircase, which left Lavender on the sofa, reeling at his words. How had she not known that Hermione had asked him—or tried to ask him—to the party? He wasn’t trying to get back at Hermione by using Lavender, was he?

No, that’s ridiculous! He fancies you! You wouldn’t have spent a whole month together if he was trying to get back at your roommate.

Lavender pushed her discomfort over Ron’s actions to the back of her mind. She’d know if he wasn’t interested. He probably just misses his friend. It was really a shame Hermione couldn’t be happy for Ron, or Lavender for that matter. But Lav wasn’t going to do anything about it, not while she had Ron all to herself. Maybe she was being selfish, but Ron was her boyfriend, and she intended to keep it that way.

♚

5 January 1997

Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true

I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you

~Cruel Summer

Lavender was chomping at the bit to spend time with Ron upon their return to Hogwarts the Sunday after New Years, but obligations kept getting in the way. Apparently, Ron was busy with rounds and Prefect meetings during the entire train ride back to the castle, and then Harry had scheduled a team meeting after dinner. She’d given up the hope of seeing him that evening and settled on waiting for him to go down to breakfast the next morning.

Lavender hoped Ron wasn’t embarrassed because he never bought her a Christmas gift. They were only together for a month, and there wasn’t a Hogsmeade weekend where he could have gone to buy her anything anyways. And since Harry was staying with the Weasleys, she assumed there were more safety wards in place, so the chances he could get to Diagon Alley to shop for her were slim too.

It’s not like she intended on getting him a gift, either, but when she saw the opportunity to get two lockets at buy one get one free, she couldn’t resist. She’d purchased one for Parvati’s gift, and her mother had always taught her to never pass up a deal, so she’d had the locket engraved with ‘Won-Won’ and sent it to him for Christmas.

When Ron came barreling down the stairs the next morning, Lavender was so excited that she pounced on him, which caused him to flail backwards and almost topple over.

“Won-Won!” She left a sloppier than intended kiss on his cheek as he turned his face.

“Hey, Lav. Er, sorry about yesterday.”

“It’s fine, are you ready for breakfast?”

He nodded as they exited the portrait hole. They were halfway to the Great Hall when Lavender attempted to engage him in conversation again. She knew he wasn’t a morning person, but she wasn’t willing to wait another few hours.

“So, how were your holidays?”

“Huh? Oh, they were good. Yours?”

“Wonderful! I love going home for Christmas. My younger brother was so excited to see me. I picked out a toy broom for his gift this year, and he spent the whole two weeks riding on it! I was so sad to say goodbye to him again, but Easter will be here before we know it. Maybe you can come home and meet my family for Easter hols.”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, sure.”

Lavender could sense from Ron’s lackluster response that he wasn’t paying attention. So, she followed his gaze, and of course, there was Hermione, most likely darting off to the library or wherever she went to avoid her former best friend. Her blood boiled at the way she was treating Ron. At least that’s what she was telling herself. She certainly wasn’t jealous of the way Ron was watching her.

Lavender reached up and gently turned his face back to focus on her. “Did you like your gift?”

“Y-yeah, it’s great.”

“Are you wearing it?” Her hand slid down to feel his chest. Maybe it was concealed under his uniform.

“Er, no. I—uh—I’ve got it tucked away under my pillow for safekeeping.”

“Why? You aren’t embarrassed of us, are you?”

“N-no! I just like to—uh—keep it close when I’m sleeping so I can dream of you!”

Lavender suppressed a laugh at his attempt to give an excuse to not wear it. It was sweet, no matter how ridiculous it sounded. She threw her arms around him and squealed in response to his reasoning. The last thing she wanted was to make him feel uncomfortable, so Lavender figured a positive reaction would make him feel better about the whole ordeal.

“That’s so sweet, Won-Won! I’m glad you liked it!”

His face turned a blotchy red as they entered the hall and found a seat at the Gryffindor table. Lavender chose not to press the issue anymore as she turned to her thoughts instead. Maybe the locket wasn’t the best idea to give a boyfriend of only a month. But she’d never felt this way before. Seamus had been a fun fling, but with Ron, she felt different. He made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and she hoped she hadn’t given him the wrong impression with the gift.

She’d just have to make it up to him in other ways. Yes, that was it. Lavender would make sure he knew how much she cared while also making sure his eye didn’t continue wandering toward her roommate and his former best friend.

♚

14 February 1997

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

~Lover

Lavender sat alone in the empty classroom, waiting for Ron to show up after rounds. Rounds! Why did he have to have rounds today, of all days? It was completely and utterly unfair. He promised her he’d meet her in the empty classroom near Gryffindor tower as soon as rounds were over, but it was already ten past eleven, and he was nowhere to be found.

She hadn’t gotten him anything this time for fear it might embarrass him again, just like the locket. Oh yes, she’d heard Harry telling Neville about his Christmas present while she was searching for a book in the library, and she heard every excruciating detail of how mortified Ron was by it. Apparently, it wasn’t under his pillow after all. It was hidden in the bottom of his trunk. So, for Valentine’s Day, she opted to give him something he could hang onto in his mind instead.

At least, that’s what she planned. Lavender took to pacing the classroom for another ten minutes before resigning to the fact that Ron wasn’t coming. A pang of disappointment rippled out from her heart, and she tried to convince herself that maybe he’d forgotten. But ever since they’d returned from Christmas hols, she felt Ron pulling further and further away. Before the two week break, they’d gone off to spend time together every night, snogging in empty classrooms and broom closets, and sometimes even a late-night walk around the castle. Now, she was lucky if she could pry him away from his studies twice a week to spend some quality time together.

Sure, they ate meals together and sat next to each other in their shared classes, but it wasn’t like they ever talked that much. Come to think of it, every time she’d try to ask about his life, he’d always deflect to her. And of course, Lavender never had a problem finding something to talk about with her family because she wanted to share everything she could with Ron. Yet now, she was wondering if he actually cared or if he was just being polite.

Thoughts consumed her mind as she walked silently back to Gryffindor tower. By the time she entered the common room, it was deserted. Part of her thought about checking to see if Ron was back in the dorms, but the other side told her it wasn’t worth it. It’d be his own fault if he got caught sneaking around after hours without her since he’d ditched her on what was supposed to be the most romantic night of the year.

The last thing she wanted to do was go up to her dorm and face Hermione’s smug look when she found out Ron ditched his girlfriend tonight, but she wasn’t about to hang around the common room like a rejected piece of garbage.

Ron is still yours. Not hers. Even if tonight didn’t go as planned, still make her remember that.

So, when she entered the girl’s sixth-year dorm, Lavender plastered a smile on her face. Parvati was sitting on her bed while Hermione’s curtains were closed tight.

“Hey! I was wondering when you were going to show up. Have a good night?”

“Oh, it was the best!” Lavender gushed. “Ron was so sweet and romantic. He gave me some chocolate frogs, which I know are his favorite, and I gave him...well, you know.”

She made her voice sound as suggestive as possible, and if Hermione was listening, then that was her own fault.

“I need to freshen up now. I’m rather sweaty from all that we got up to. And then I should head to bed. We’ll talk more in the morning, Par, I promise. Ron thoroughly wore me out, I’m exhausted.”

What neither girl realized, though, was that Lavender let out a good cry in the shower instead. Because her boyfriend ditched her on her favorite day of the year.

♚

2 March 1997

Cause I can’t pretend it’s okay when it’s not

It’s death by a thousand cuts

~Death by a Thousand Cuts

“I’m sure he’s just on a lot of potions, Lav. I wouldn’t think too much of it.”

Parvati was attempting to comfort her best friend. Lavender had had a rotten weekend. Ron was poisoned yesterday, on his birthday of all days! Not that the day mattered. He was still poisoned, and he could have died!

What did make it worse was that nobody thought to tell her until well into the afternoon. She’d burst into the Hospital Wing to find his best friend, sister, and her sitting vigil at his bedside. Lavender didn’t think she’d ever been so livid in her life. And then he’d croaked something out in his sleep that sounded like a name, but it was not hers.

She felt the entire relationship slipping through her fingers. When did things start to take a turn for the worse? What went wrong? Surely he still fancied her because if he didn’t, then why hadn’t he called things off?

Because he does still fancy you. Of course, he does! Don’t worry about her. She means nothing to him.

Lavender tried with all her might to believe it, but it was becoming harder and harder every day. And despite her best friend’s attempts to make her feel better, it wasn’t doing any good. Parvati wasn’t outside the Hospital Wing with Lav when she overheard Ron talking to Harry and asking for Quidditch magazines. There was no question that he was awake, but as soon as she walked in, Ron ‘magically’ appeared to be sleeping again. And Harry had the audacity to cover for him!

She’d tried to go see him two more times that day, and both times he was ‘sleeping.’ Something happened, and he was avoiding her, and it hurt. But how could she call him out on it when he was ‘asleep’?

She thought about whether she should confide in Parvati or just internalize her feelings. Parvati had been there through everything, but Lavender decided she wasn’t ready to bring up her speculations until she had more proof. So instead, Lavender chose to keep her thoughts to herself.

Did she want to break things off with Ron? No. Was she willing to do what it took to keep him around? Yes. So, Lavender resolved to do whatever it took to keep Ron interested. She’d back off, not be as needy, and keep things cool and breezy. They could make this work. She was sure of it.

♚

2 April 1997

And I don’t want you to (go) I don’t really wanna (fight)

‘Cause nobody’s gonna (win) I just thought you should know

~Miss Americana and the Heart Break Prince

Lavender entered the common room after Divination to see Ron sitting on the couch next to Harry. The two were furiously scribbling on parchment, and Lavender couldn't help but roll her eyes at what she assumed to be a last-minute attempt to finish one of his assignments. Even so, she figured she’d surprise him and see if he could be persuaded to take a break and go for a walk instead.

She dropped her bag behind the sofa and covered Ron’s eyes with her hands. “Guess who!”

“Oi!” Ron flung his arms back, sending ink droplets flying over his and Harry’s parchment, as well as the table and upholstery of the sofa in the process.

Lavender ripped her hands off his eyes and apologized with a pout. “It’s only me, Won-Won. I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh, er, sorry, Lav. I’m busy right now. I need to finish Snape’s Defense essay.”

The words sounded apologetic, but the lack of sympathy in Ron’s expression caused unease to bubble up in Lavender’s stomach. Usually, he’s better about hiding his disinterest in showing affection around his friends. But the way he’d acted just now made her feel like he was downright repulsed by an innocent touch.

“But that essay isn’t due until tomorrow. I still have to put the final touches on mine as well. Maybe we could go for a walk now and work on it together after dinner?”

Sure, the snogging was brilliant, but that’s all they ever seemed to do. She wanted to make things work between them, and after five months, she knew they’d never have a successful relationship if it stayed strictly physical. Besides, that clearly wasn’t working in an effort to keep him interested anymore.

“Sorry, Lav, I can’t. I’ve got rounds tonight.”

Another pang of hurt emanated in her chest at his rejection. “Oh, well, maybe I could work on it with you now, then?”

She knew what his answer was going to be before he said anything. He was already packing up his things.

“Er, maybe on another assignment. I’ve got to hit the library before dinner and see if I can find one more source. I’ll meet up with you later, though, yeah?”

Ron was already out of his seat and headed for the door without bothering to wait for a response, which further solidified Lavender’s suspicion that it was an offer he didn’t intend to follow through on. Ordinarily, she would have given him the benefit of the doubt, but it’d been three weeks of him avoiding her ever since he and Hermione had reconciled. With a heavy sigh, she picked up her bag and headed for the girl’s dormitory, where she passed Hermione on the stairwell.

“Let me guess, Ron’s busy?” Parvati asked, saving Lavender from having to retell the excuse.

“Yeah. He has rounds tonight, I guess.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

“Hermione has rounds tonight, too. Padma said they switched back for the month.”

Lavender felt as though a fifty-pound weight had been placed on her chest as her heart constricted at Parvati’s news. She knew this was coming but refused to believe it, choosing instead to turn a blind eye to all the signs. A tear escaped out of the corner of her eye as she tried to come to terms with the fact that no matter what she did, Hermione was going to win. Which led her to wonder whether Ron had ever truly been hers at all.

Well, good. If Ron’s not interested anymore, then he can be a man and break things off. And if he’s too much of a coward to do it on his own, then I’ll do everything in my power to help push him along, all while reminding Hermione that he’s still mine in the process.

Maybe it was spiteful, but Lavender no longer cared. Deep down, she knew their relationship was probably doomed from the start, but that didn’t lessen the pain. Perhaps she never stood a chance, especially knowing his relationship with Hermione never was a typical friendship, but Ron could have told her no all those months ago if that was the case. Their fleeting relationship may have come to pass, but at least Lavender had the memories of time spent together to look back on when he had cared. Because he had cared once, right?

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #ron x lavender #implied development of romione #tw: teen heartbreak

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