#for someone who has spent the entire night in a fitful sleep worried about lower intestines (mostly the unknown nature of my own but also)

[fazcinatingblog]

Waking up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat because I told my mum about buying full priced Skechers and she told me she got Skechers recently for $50 at DFO. Sigh. Live and learn.

[jungkxook]

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Delight in Misery (ao3) - part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6

- Chapter 7 -

“Why are you covered in feathers?” Jiang Cheng asked, and then immediately afterward added, “On second thought, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.”

Lan Wangji checked himself over and brushed off the few feathers that had ended up on his shoulder. “Are there any others?” he asked solemnly. “They might be evidence.”

Jiang Cheng’s eye twitched, as Lan Wangji had intended. “I don’t want to know,” he repeated, and Lan Wangji believed it about as much as he’d believed it the first time Jiang Cheng said it – which was to say, not at all. “I don’t want to…okay, fine, tell me.”

“You don’t want to know,” Lan Wangji informed him, and Jiang Cheng looked as though he was considering strangling him. “I will explain later. For the moment, it is best to pretend as if you know nothing.”

“I really don’t know anything,” Jiang Cheng said.

“That will make pretending easier.”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes at him, but stopped arguing, and Lan Wangji felt warmth in his belly at the instant capitulation. All of his life experiences had conspired to make Jiang Cheng an untrusting person, suspicious almost to the point of paranoia and constantly afraid of losing everything to the unknown, and yet he chose to trust Lan Wangji without question.

“Is there anything else I should know?” Jiang Cheng asked with one of his friendlier scowls, crossing his arms over his chest. “Or not know, as the case may be?”

Lan Wangji considered for a moment. “Don’t count the number of Jiang sect disciples leaving with you,” he suggested, and Jiang Cheng’s eyebrows shot up. “Consider storming out in a fury the next time someone insults you.”

“You were right,” Jiang Cheng said. “I didn’t want to know.”

Lan Wangji heard footsteps and put his hands behind his back. “Naturally, Sect Leader Jiang is entitled to change his mind. I understand it happens often.”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes narrowed. “You must be struggling with coming out of seclusion, Hanguang-jun,” he remarked. “To come mucking around with the rest of us after spending so long on - avoiding worldly matters, let’s say.”

The sect leaders passing by sped up with expressions suggesting that they were dreadfully curious but did not want to get involved in a repeat of the fight that was rather infamously had throughout the Lotus Pier, with all of the attendant property damage (that they’d paid for later, but still).

Once they’d passed, Lan Wangji gave Jiang Cheng a look that suggested he did not appreciate the joke. Jiang Cheng appeared undeterred.

He also appeared, on closer examination, somewhat tired.

Lan Wangji frowned and stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You have not slept.”

“I’m fine,” Jiang Cheng said, and realized his mistake at once – such excess vehemence meant that he was lying, and badly, too. “It’s your fault, anyway.”

“My fault?”

“Entirely your fault. I can’t eat my lunch without wondering why you’re not plucking away on your guqin the way you normally do at that hour, I can’t finish my paperwork without trying to find you to ask for your views, I can’t sleep without hearing you making noise next door…who made you fit yourself in so well at the Lotus Pier?”

“You,” Lan Wangji said dryly, ignoring the warmth he felt. Surely it was wrong to feel touched when someone’s unhealthy co-dependence with you was mentioned. “When you kidnapped me.”

“It was only technically kidnapping,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “And only at first, anyway…really, it’s no big deal. Just had a few bad nights.”

Jiang Cheng’s nights fell on a scale between decent, mediocre, bad, and genuinely horrific, and he generally only conceded that something was ‘bad’ when it fell toward the lower end of the scale – when his thoughts kept scattering like a flock of bird being chased off their perch, returning to circle around sore subjects and drill worries into his skull, when there would be blood and bile and panic and his mind would linger on anxieties he had long ago put aside in the light of day.

He hadn’t had one of those in months – and now he had had a few?

“Because I…?”

Jiang Cheng shook his head. “A-Ling had a temper tantrum last week,” he explained, voice low and more than a little helpless. “I think he misses you and A-Yuan, and he’s at the age for pushing his boundaries, too…he told me that his Wei-jiujiu wouldn’t have made him eat his vegetables.”

He would have, of course, Lan Wangji reflected. He remembered how Wei Wuxian had been with A-Yuan, always mercilessly teasing him. Wei Wuxian had a spine when it came to children, one that wouldn’t crack into a thousand pieces at the first sob – that was Jiang Cheng, who was all bluster and bark without the slightest bit of bite.

But that wasn’t the issue, not when Jiang Cheng’s soul was a patchwork of ragged wounds and insecurity, a lifetime of being second-best and second-loved, and on his worst days he would voice doubts that he’d even been esteemed as much as that.

By his father, by his mother, by his sister, by Wei Wuxian himself –  

“Maybe he would’ve done better,” Jiang Cheng murmured, his eyes already blank with self-hatred – no doubt this was what had kept him up on those bad nights, the angry whispers of a too-fragile mind that said why did he leave me, why wasn’t I good enough, he said he’d stay by my side and then took the first chance he could to leave me behind, that said it couldn’t have been him that did all those things and betrayed me like that, no, he must have died earlier on and it was my fault for not noticing, that said if it’s all my fault then it all makes sense, it’s always because of me, no one ever stays with me.

That said if it’s my fault then it’ll happen again.

Lan Wangji did not like those nights.

“Mm,” he said mildly. “And then A-Ling would also know how to hide dirty pictures in awkward places.”

Lan Wangji had never been good at comforting people, having always been the one being comforted, and his failure to convey his feelings to Wei Wuxian during his life spoke volumes regarding his ability to communicate – but he knew Jiang Cheng.

After so long living together, he knew him.

(Jiang Cheng wasn’t the only one who had difficulty sleeping without those familiar sounds next door.)

Sure enough, Jiang Cheng choked, his eyes clearing up, and he spent the next few breaths struggling not to burst out laughing. “We’re supposed to be arguing,” he hissed at Lan Wangji, who smirked – from a distance it would certainly look as though they were arguing, Jiang Cheng’s cheeks all red and his shoulders shaking in what a stranger might mistake for rage. “You stone-faced bastard, that’s not funny.”

Lan Wangji disagreed. Jiang Cheng’s reaction was, in fact, extremely funny.

“We will need to diversify our collection of such things,” Lan Wangji said thoughtfully. “Given the inclinations of our future house guest…”

“I am not buying Mo Xuanyu pictures of – ! He can buy it himself if he wants…wait, you’re really planning to have him come with us?”

“He will die if he remains,” Lan Wangji said simply, because it was that simple. Their conversation, however brief, had been extremely informative. “And so he must not remain. We have concocted a plan.”

“We? I wasn’t involved in this.”

“Myself, and Nie Huaisang.”

Lan Wangji was expecting some sort of reaction to that – what, he wasn’t sure, possibly disbelief or ridicule or even panic that they were entrusting themselves to the most useless fop to grace the current generation of cultivators – but instead Jiang Cheng relaxed, looking pleased. “Oh, well, Nie Huaisang,” he said, as if that explained anything at all.

“You trust him?”

Jiang Cheng shrugged. “I don’t not trust him?” he hazarded, and seemed rather helplessly puzzled by his own ease with the situation. “He’s terrible at anything a sect heir ought to be good at, but he’ll come up with the wildest sort of things if it’s nonsense he’s after, and he usually gets his way in the end. He’s a pretty good judge as to how likely his chances at success are, too.”

“He’s smarter than he looks,” Lan Wangji agreed, his voice neutral.

“Don’t tell me you fell for his ‘who, me, a person capable of doing anything, surely not’ act,” Jiang Cheng said, looking vastly amused. Lan Wangji might normally object to such teasing, but if it got Jiang Cheng away from his dangerous self-hatred, he’d take it – even if the idea that Jiang Cheng, master of obliviousness, had correctly judged a person that he himself had misjudged seemed just plain wrong. “He just does that to anyone he thinks might squeal on him to his brother.”

Lan Wangji probably would have, too. Still, he felt that Jiang Cheng should have warned him better.

He glared.

“Second Young Master Lan has no grounds for complaining at his own lack of perception,” Jiang Cheng said, and Lan Wangji noted again the presence of people in their vicinity. “It’s all that navel-gazing you do in the Cloud Recesses, no doubt – should I start to worry about A-Yuan?”

“Lan Yuan,” Lan Wangji said snippily, then added, “Lan Sizhui.”

Jin Rulan, Jiang Cheng mouthed at him, and both of them were forced to briefly avert their faces in sheer amusement. Poor Jin Ling – no one would ever call him by his courtesy name, not if even his two guardians weren’t able to keep a straight face.

(Well, comparatively speaking. Lan Wangji was well aware that his own expression of deep amusement looked, to the uninitiated, exactly like his neutral expression but for a very slight narrowing of the eyes.)

The footsteps passed, and Jiang Cheng relaxed once more. Lan Wangji was pleased to see it, but acknowledged that if they were to keep up the pretense of disliking each other, deplorable political necessity that it was, they would need to do better in the future.

“Today will be a disaster,” Lan Wangji murmured, a warning. “But beneficial in the long run. Do not take what they say to heart.”

He would not have said it if Jiang Cheng was not more fragile than usual. Normally, Jiang Cheng could, after years of practice, let insults flow off his back like water from a duck, unmoving and uncaring – he was a flawed man in many ways, Lan Wangji acknowledged, but he generally only had to make a mistake once to learn from it.

For instance, he would never again allow the poisoned words of others to interfere with those he loved.

Not when he still tormented himself for not having done more for Wei Wuxian, as if there had been more Jiang Cheng could have done without losing everything else he held dear – not even Lan Wangji, who was helplessly and hopelessly in love with Wei Wuxian and couldn’t keep himself from sometimes playing Inquiry in search of him, summoned his ghost into their lives so often as Jiang Cheng did.

“Sometimes I wonder what goes through your head,” Jiang Cheng remarked, glaring at the perceived commentary about his lack of emotional resiliency no matter how accurate. “And then I realize I don’t want to know.”

“Lying is forbidden.”

“I am not a Lan. And, yes, fine, it’s a lie. If I could crack you open and crawl into your head, I probably would, but that doesn’t make you special or anything. I’d do that to most people.”

Lan Wangji believed it – Jiang Cheng was just that insecure.

He didn’t let Jiang Cheng change the subject, though, continuing to stare at him until Jiang Cheng shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, rolling his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll prepare for a calamity and storm out as quickly as possible. What are they possibly going to say about me now?”

They said he was like his father.

It was usually meant as a compliment, but not always. In this case, it was the latter: the implication that Jiang Cheng would, like his father, eventually forget to care for the child he already had when another, better one came along put an especially ugly expression on his face.

As Nie Huaisang had gleefully predicted, Jin Guangshan was enraged to the point of maddening by the prank they had pulled and framed Mo Xuanyu for. Nor could he be blamed, the prank was positive infantile, and highlighted Mo Xuanyu’s relative youth and immaturity, losing his father and sect face in the process. Everyone had wanted to talk about that, about how extremely obvious it was that Mo Xuanyu’s only use was to humiliate the already legitimized Jin Guangyao, but in deference to their host they turned their conversation onto past examples like Jiang Fengmian – and, of course, the more recent example of the ongoing fight between Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji over Lan Sizhui.

Jiang Cheng had had no choice but to ignore it, no matter how his face purpled in rage at the suggestion that he might neglect either Lan Sizhui or Jin Ling in favor of the other.  Still, no one had really questioned it when he left in a huff not long after in response to an extremely unfortunate comment by the ever-feckless Nie Huaisang (of course: Lan Wangji shouldn’t have doubted him) about the ability of young men to handle child-rearing, returning to the Lotus Pier in a fury with a parting shot about how the Lotus Pier, at least, did not follow the Wen sect in encouraging the indoctrination of children – a vicious and unwarrented smear regarding the Lan sect’s lectures that made Lan Qiren almost visibly see red and Lan Xichen frown but which Lan Wangji thought was rather useful to their ultimate goal.

When later it was discovered that Mo Xuanyu had apparently run away – and based on the clues that had been left behind, that he must have pulled off his escape by disguising himself as part of Jiang Cheng’s retinue – Jin Guangshan was so angry that smoke nearly poured out of his ears, to the point that Jin Guangyao hastily came up with some excuse to briefly remove him from the scene.

Nie Huaisang winked at Lan Wangji from behind his fan, looking pleased with himself, and he looked so ridiculous that Lan Wangji had to forcefully remind himself once again of his personal revelation that the second young master of Qinghe Nie was far away from being the useless waste that he presented himself as.

Far more effective a reminder, though, was Jin Guangshan’s announcement later that day that he would indulge Mo Xuanyu’s desire for a little bit of freedom – natural in a boy of that age, he’d chuckled, playing the indulgent father – by requesting that Jiang Cheng keep him for some time at the Lotus Pier to tutor his young cousin Jin Ling in the ways of Lanling Jin.

Just as Nie Huaisang had so enthusiastically and confidently said he would.

“And with Hanguang-jun there to supervise, there will be no question of misconduct,” Chifeng-zun said, nodding in approval at the proposal. “Your son and grandson will benefit twice over! I think our younger generation is stronger for having all gathered together in one place, whether learning at the Cloud Recesses or resisting the oppression of the Wen sect…”

“That requires there to be a younger generation,” someone in the crowd interjected, as they almost always did when someone of their present generation mentioned the next. “Sect Leader Nie, don’t you think it’s time you settled down?”

“Why are you looking to me?” he demanded, looking annoyed. “Zewu-jun is equally unattached, and he ranks first on the list of women’s hearts, doesn’t he?”

“On the list of young masters, of which I no longer count,” Lan Xichen stressed hastily, holding up his hands in a vain attempt to ward off the discussion topic. “At any rate, I’m far too busy to be interested in courting at the moment – anyway, wasn’t Sandu Shengshou trying to set up a match some time back?”

“Didn’t he get blackballed?” Sect Leader Qin, ever Jin Guangshan’s faithful dog, interjected, always on the look-out for a way to denigrate the other Great Sects. “I didn’t even know that was possible –”

“At least he’s demonstrated the ability to care for a child –”

Lan Wangji decided that that was an excellent time to make his escape. This was one situation in which he especially did not want to get held up as a positive comparison.

His uncle went with him.

“Very cleverly done,” Lan Qiren remarked as they strolled into one of the many gardens that peppered Lanling City and Jinlin Tower in particular, and Lan Wangji looked at him sidelong. “Matchmaking and children are the favorite subjects of old men; by the time the noise dies down, Sect Leader Jin’s decision as to his newest son will be considered as settled and unquestionable. It was good of your brother – and Chifeng-zun, of course – to throw themselves on their swords for you.”

Lan Wangji put his hands behind his back, uncomfortable. “I did not ask them to act.”

His uncle said nothing. He didn’t need to – if perhaps Chifeng-zun was somewhat opaque to them both, his sheer straightforwardness ironically enough serving to conceal any subtle thoughts he might have, Lan Xichen was as clear as a calm lake. He had jumped into the conversation at just the right moment, saying words that would only inflame the situation rather than calm it, displaying just enough dismay to be humorous without actually appearing, to those that knew him well, to be surprised at all.

“It was Nie Huaisang’s idea,” Lan Wangji added, and that did get Lan Qiren’s eyebrows to rise up in surprise. Probably wondering, just as Lan Wangji was, when exactly Nie Huaisang had had the opportunity to rope the Venerated Triad into his scheme – as far as Lan Wangji could tell, he hadn’t had any opportunity to speak to them.

Still, however intriguing the speculation was, it wasn’t enough to dissuade his uncle from his target.  

“The motivation was yours,” he said, the question implicit.

“Mo Xuanyu requested Jiang Cheng’s assistance,” Lan Wangji explained. “He is – unhappy, in Lanling, and ill-suited to it. Jiang Cheng feared that he might one day bring harm upon himself if he remained.”

His uncle nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “Having him at the Lotus Pier to teach Jin Ling the ways of Lanling Jin also means that there is no urgent need for Jin Ling to return to Lanling himself. He can remain with Sect Leader Jiang.”

“Yes.”

His uncle huffed out a breath and leaned down to smell one of the flowers. “I will give you some books before you return to the Lotus Pier,” he said. “Mo Xuanyu is already past thirteen; it is not at all the same as dealing with small children. You will need to be prepared.”

Lan Wangji looked at his uncle, a little surprised. He had expected more resistance to this scheming plot, which was not at all in line with Lan sect principles.

“Mo Xuanyu is old enough to make his own decisions,” his uncle said, his eyes still fixed on the flower. “If he cannot happy here, he should go to where he can be.”

Lan Wangji’s heart trembled within his chest. He’d thought – his uncle, who had led the charge at the Burial Mounds, who had been the most disappointed at all of his choices–

“I am sorry that we did not suit you, Wangji.”

Lan Wangji exhaled, hard, feeling a stinging feeling in his eyes and nose.

He had not expected an apology.

It didn’t change everything all at once, of course. He was still angry, still spiteful, still furious, fill of bile and bone-deep rage at how his own family had so thoroughly failed to trust in him that they would take away even his right to choose. His belly was heavy with his resentment at how they disapproved of him, how they were ashamed of him, and it would take more than mere words to liberate him from it.

But still, he had to admit – there was something more complicated about it now.

It had been easier, he thought, to be merely angry.

“It was not you,” he said, a small concession. “If the circumstances were different, I could have lived my whole life at the Cloud Recesses with no dissatisfaction.”

“But they aren’t,” his uncle said, bowing his head in understanding. “And you can’t. I – do not understand, and I do not like it, but that is not necessary. It is still my dearest wish for you to be happy and safe.”

Lan Wangji wasn’t sure that being truly happy was possible in a world that lacked Wei Wuxian – a world his uncle had helped bring about with his own two hands – but he knew that the life he had built with Jiang Cheng in the Lotus Pier, warm and tightly packed and full of worries as it was, was as close as he would come, and a life of solitude and distance and tranquility at the Cloud Recesses would only be worse.

“I have another month left before I return,” he pointed out, seeking to change the subject.

“Not after that conversation,” Lan Qiren said, looking reluctantly amused. “You will be sent to the Lotus Pier as soon as can be managed to make sure that everyone is being properly supervised.”

“Jiang Cheng can supervise.”

“Jiang Wanyin won’t.”

Lan Wangji bowed his head to hide a smile. His uncle wasn’t wrong.

And he had to admit - he wouldn’t miss Jiang Cheng dealing with a teenager for the world.

[nafeary]

“Love And Reason Keep Little Company Together”

⚬ Pairing: Napoleon Bonaparte/Reader

⚬ Character/s: Napoleon Bonaparte

⚬ Warning/s: Cursing

⚬ Word Count: 1.7k

⚬ Occasion: @delicateikemenmemes BDay 💜💜💜

✧✎ Synopsis: You’d think that—after fulfilling the chore of waking le monsieur de wahaha almost every day—rising in the former emperor’s arms would loose its charm over time, but every morning you two got to share together was special. Special, indeed.

✧✎ A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL! I’ve been meaning to start this like... one and a half months ago, but I only really did so around last week in my true procrastinating fashion. Btw, I derived the plot of this scenario from an idea Sara provided me with upon asking what her ideal cuddle scenario with Sir Baenaparte is. I didn’t end up using it, so it was the perfect opportunity to be a bit sneaky hehe.

And massive thanks to @fairy-marshmallow for beta-reading this! I wouldn’t have posted this if it weren’t for you 💜

I hope you (and everyone else) will have a great day, and remember to drink your water.💧

He had tried staying awake; certainly, he had.

But as soon as you had stood up to crank a window open, he was knocked out cold—the gentle puffs escaping his lips the only sign keeping you from seeking out the resident doctor. It was in an effort to chase away the uncomfortable humidity inside his room that you permitted the cold drafts to stream like rivers of rimy icicles, creating the perfect climate to fall into a deep slumber.

You didn’t mind him breaking his promise to fall asleep together. On the contrary, you were elated that you ended up winning the bet.

“Nunuche… I want to fall asleep with you today,” he had muttered, forcing his droopy eyes to stay open (which resulted in an awkward succession of repetitive blinking).

You could only chuckle at his adorable enthusiasm. “You don’t have to, Leon… I doubt you could even manage.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps.”

While you hadn’t decided on your prize beforehand, being able to slip beneath the duvets to cuddle into the former emperor’s side seemed like a fitting reward.

Despite the heavy set of blankets, shivers crawled up your spine at the rain wafting icy fronts throughout the room. You had just woken up, absentmindedly inhaling a tantalizing scent, something reminiscent of violets. Your mind felt numb for a moment and you nuzzled your head further into the mattress; it was comfortable and warm, but oddly hard.

Slowly blinking your eyes open, you came to realize that you were tightly cocooned by Napoleon’s arms. His breathing was steady, the rise of his chest every few moments a rhythm more serene than Mozart’s nocturnes. You could feel more than hear his heartbeat as your head rested just above it. With your arm draped over him, you acutely realised that your leg was wedged in between his.

Grasping for every bit of heat you possibly could, you snuggled deeper into his warm arm-cocoon—the window could wait, and you’d gladly risk frostbite if it could prolong this moment of pure tranquillity.

You dared to peek at your lover’s face, and your heart slammed into your throat, a plethora of memories and emotions reigning your thoughts. While you might not have been in a relationship for long, the experiences you two have gathered upon the way spoke tales of spent decades. You remembered how he’d called you a chore, and other infuriating terms (but you could pardon his 19th century mindset), you remembered how he’d do his best to hide his dark side from yourself, yet how he opened up—exposing the deepest shadows within his mind.

But most of all, you remembered all the trivial moments, the at-times domestic life you were blessed with. You remembered how he told you of his heart racing a little too rapidly at the sight of you, and how you noticed that his lashes couldn’t stop flicking up and down and how his hazy eyes gleamed after your every move.

Just as he had done, you allowed your gaze to inhabit his features, the innocent expression on his face contradicting his bloody past, the gentle pout on his bruised lips making him appear so much younger than he actually was.

Napoleon was entirely too gorgeous, and you sometimes wondered whether he wasn’t actually an angel or a demon—if not both. The things he made you feel with a single look or word compelled you to each and every sinful bidding of his, a commander in every sense. And you’d submit to him readily. Your trust ran deeper than blood ever could, and you knew he’d do the same for you. Despite your shared history, some doubts still infested your mind, a maudlin area of your thoughts you assayed to part from. But it was almost impossible not to spend time contemplating whether you were truly compatible for instance.

A morning yawn halted your reminiscing, the following shrill mewl escaping Napoleon’s mouth prompting you to giggle slightly. Sunlight unfurled in golden ribbons, prompting his lashes to flutter in protest as they hesitated to fully open.

“Parbleu...” he mumbled drowsily, tense muscles screeching for release as he stretched his limbs down to the tips of his toes, like a cat who had just awoken from a well-rested nap. After a few moments of motionless silence, his brain finally warmed up to the idea of waking up.

When he turned to face you, all your worry faded at the sight of his genuinely handsome, if not slightly crooked, grin. A glimpse was more than enough for you.

Burying a hand in your hair, he leaned forward and your lips extinguished any remainder of the autumn air that plagued the room, coming together in a zephyr-like kiss. You could feel his lips stretch into an ever-so-gentle simper, making your toes dance with happy feelings. Once he had miraculously gotten rid of his waking-up habits (“how could I ever kiss someone else when I have my nunuche to help me out?”), his morning kisses—the conscious ones—never failed to make you feel cherished. They were the sweetest kind that numbed your mind and enriched every sense.

You parted rather reluctantly, but he continued his assault down your neck as he encompassed you within his strong arms once again, the heat of his body flush to your back all the more prominent. Eventually, his face came to rest near you nape after a few delicate kisses to your lobe, his muffled words barely legible to you. “I didn’t understand a word you said, ‘Leon.”

“Bonjour, mon amour,” he said with a blinding smile, lifting himself slightly off your neck... only to be interrupted by a completely unabashed fit of laughter.

“...you’re laughing at my hair again, aren’t you?”

He ceased his hysterics, just enough for him to talk, that is. “Your “bedhead”, I believe you called it, is extraordinaire, I’m sorry.”

You were about to reply, but his fingers combing through your hair distracted you from all ire. He took his time with each stroke, carefully fighting his way through any knots while also making sure that he doesn’t end up hurting you.

The sun had risen considerably the next time you paid attention to it, noticing that you’d completely driven off to dreamland. It was your boyfriend’s voice that interrupted your nap. “Nunuche?”

“Hm?” You mumbled drowsily, grabbing onto his forearms to ward off the creeping cold.

Noticing the goosebumps scattered across your skin, he pulled his blankets further up your body. “I don’t need this much. That’s your blanket anyway— hey!” Ignoring your furrowed brows, he tucked the fabric all the way to your chin, refusing your protests with a smirk.

You couldn’t help but grumble a little. “Happy?”

“I am.” His actions did produce a feeling of petulance creeping up your throat, like so many other residents managed to, but the affection and glee burning in his eyes quickly dissolved it—a gentle burn across your cheeks the only remainder of your exasperation.

Sighing slightly, you asked, “Weren’t you saying something?”

“Ah, of course,” he said, propping himself above you with his arms before commencing, “have I ever told you how much I adore waking up to your voice? How grateful I am to see you next to me first thing in the morning?”

His words chased away your exasperation, butterflies erupting within your stomach begging to burst free, carrying their messages of euphoria for the entire world to experience. If it wasn’t for the blanket fort restricting your every movement, you’d be throwing your arms around him—consequently squeezing every tiny bit of negative thoughts out of him.

Napoleon seemed to notice your wish, gradually lowering himself right above your face, so close, you could feel his hands indenting the mattress beside your face, feel his lashes brush your cheeks, feel his breath fan across your face. And as trivial as it might have sounded, you didn’t catch yourself minding the odour of his unwashed mouth, nor the sleep crust inhabiting the corner of his eyes. This moment felt so domestic and mundane—yet so important.

You were completely and utterly whipped for this man.

“You deserve the world,” you managed to breathe out, captivated by your love for this man, and intoxicated by the feeling of being desired and cherished.

His quiet laugh shook his chest. “Considering that you are my world, that’s all I could ever hope for.”

Just as his lips were about to meet your own, your eyebrows lifted your lids, only to come back down in absolute annoyance. You couldn’t believe the timing of the worst morning aspect nature has graced humans with—worse than morning breath could ever be.

Your bladder was calling for relief.

In a desperate attempt to make a run to the en-suite bathroom, you wriggled beneath the vampire’s arms (taking a short moment to admire the veins running along them before proceeding your mission). However, he snug his arms around your waist, still clad in the heavy duvets. “Is everything alright?”

Glancing at his slivering pout, you internally cursed Sebastian for asking you for a late night tea session. “Don’t worry, I just need to use the toilet real quick.”

Instead of releasing you, he only pulled you closer, the blankets forcing you back onto the mattress into an ungrateful burrito-like form.

“It’s too cold and early to stand up.”

No matter how much you wriggled within his tight lock, he didn’t relinquish his siege on your body and only continued to press you to his chest.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Reason and rationality were apparently not included in the monsieur’s dictionary. “Napoleon Bonaparte,” you craned your neck as far back as possible, “if you don’t let me go right now, I WILL consider peeing all over you.”

That seemed to stupefy him, granting you enough time to roll out of his reach as he processed your outburst. He could only blink as you sprinted past him, throwing the door into its hinges behind you.

Napoleon stared, stunned, after his girlfriend, perplexed—if not amused—by your unusual ways. Nevertheless, he had enjoyed the show, laughing as he buried himself into your pillow, feeling luckier than ever to be loved by someone so endearingly unique and adorable.

Tag list: @juminly @kisara-16 @sweetlittlemouse @thesirenwashere @nad-zeta @delicateikemenmemes

[chrysalispen]

#1 - Foster

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33640546/chapters/83598181

"She's getting so big," Vittora cen Remianus says. 

"She is." 

L'haiya agrees more to make conversation than aught else. The Miqo'te's two-toned eyes flicker in the direction of that little head with its riotous crown of rolanberry-gold curls - now bent studiously over a modest tower of wooden bricks - before turning her attention back to the drawn, exhausted face of the child's mother. Vittora has never really been what one would call robust, but at least the composer's pallor had been offset by a bit of spring in her step once upon a time. There is color in her cheeks, of course, a bright rosy flush, but L'haiya suspects the credit for it belongs to artifice and a half-bell spent before a dressing mirror, not to improved health.

"And so very, very bright." There is a note of quiet pride in the Garlean woman's voice, one which L'haiya has previously only heard from her when she speaks of one of her completed commissions premiering in the state playhouses. "I aim to have her brought to my studio on her fourth nameday. She is old enough now to begin pianoforte lessons."

"I wish you good fortune. You will need it," L'haiya laughs. "Small children are rarely wont to sit still for long, especially if something of greater interest catches their eye."

Vittora's shoulders lift and drop, the movement loose and listless, as though her arms are lifted by marionette strings. "Then I shall simply have to be the most fascinating thing in the room," she says, and L'haiya's brow creases before she can stop herself. 

"You did not call me here to talk about Aurelia's piano lessons, surely."

The statement, faintly accusatory, falls like lead from her lips. Were it anyone else, she would not have dared to speak thus. The layers of social hierarchy in the Garlean Empire are many and complex, like the fine layers of sponge in a princess cake: upset even one, and it can upend the entire concoction. Vittora is of common stock, but common or not she is still a true Garlean, and one married into one of the realm's most powerful military families at that.

But if the lady of the house is in any way offended by the boldness of her social inferior she does not show it: a rueful smile curves her thin lips. The light in her eyes seems muted, as though refracted through green bottle-glass. "I did not, but this matter very much concerns my daughter."

There is no hiding her worry. Vittora has had occasional spells of illness as long as they have known each other: brief and always fleeting, never longer than a day or two. But the physical strain of carrying a child and the long and difficult labor she endured to bring Aurelia into the world--these have left her a shadow of the sprightly, ambitious woman she once was.

Mingled with the pride in her eyes is sorrow: sorrow, and bone-deep fatigue.

L'haiya swallows past the sudden constriction she feels tightening her throat. "Well," she manages at length, "out with it, then."

"Julian has requested an audience with his brother and with his superiors." L'haiya waits patiently while Vittora coughs into one thinned palm, the sound of it shallow and dry. "The head of the family thinks it best if we take our leave now that Aurelia is old enough to travel."

"...You mean to go to the provinces with him?"

"I do. We were to leave the capital at the first opportunity that presented itself and now that day has come. 'Twas ever a condition of the family's agreement not to disinherit Aurelia for our indiscretion. I fear they have only delayed due to my ill health, and I would not see my child subjected to the ignominy of being declared a bastard." 

For the trouble which I have brought upon them. Vittora's self-recrimination hangs between them unspoken and L'haiya does not press further. She is well familiar with the heavy price that her friend has paid, in both her career and her reputation, to marry for love. It does not bear repeating.

"I will do what needs must for her sake, L'haiya. And in this case, those needs coincide with mine own."

"I don't understand."

"The chirurgeons believe that the harshness of the winter months has greatly contributed to my... present deterioration. Master Severus has advised Julian that if at all possible, he should seek a second villa in the southern provinces." After a moment's hesitation, she adds, "He suggested Rabanastre."

L'haiya's homeland. "And you want me to come with you."

"Yes. Now, I know how you feel about Dalmasca-"

"You don't. Not truly. But that is neither here nor there, I suppose."

Vittora's brow knits with her consternation. "...You would not have to see her if you did not wish it. The villas where officers and their families reside are well removed from the rest of the city."

That is not the problem L'haiya faces, but it is not one Vittora would understand. Many have chosen to resist imperial occupation just as there are many who chose to accept their altered circumstances, and L'haiya has seen and heard what the various splinters and pockets of Dalmascan resistance scattered throughout the Estersands do to perceived traitors. "I fail to see why my presence is required in Rabanastre."

"Someone must care for Aurelia."

"Aurelia has her mother. She needs her mother," L'haiya says flatly. "She does not need me." 

The Garlean woman folds her hands in her lap, eyes half-shut with her lowered gaze. 

"I think I shall not be in her life for very much longer, L'haiya."

"Vittora-"

"You can see the way of things- how it is with me." Leaf-green eyes, seeming enormous in that drawn face, gaze at her with a silent plea in their depths. The distant sorrow has returned and with it a gleam of fear. "The chirurgeons are very careful not to voice their thoughts, but every night when I close my eyes to sleep I can feel another piece of my strength slip away. One more piece I know I shan't have back. They don't need to tell me what I already know."

Understanding strikes her like a bolt of wild levin- or perhaps a brutal punch to the gut. Looking at Vittora with this newfound discovery she can see a knowing look in her friend's eyes. It is as though Vittora can sense the spectral hand of her own mortality reaching forth from some as yet unwritten future to claim her for its own. 

"L'haiya. Please." Vittora's voice is soft, conciliatory. "Julian goes to these lengths because he is not yet willing to face the truth. I need you to be there for her when-"

Vittora doubles over, wheezing, clutching at her chest with one hand. The commotion startles the child out of her play, and L'haiya sees a flash of gold and wide, anxious eyes of a curiously dark blue. Immediately the little girl shoves her toys aside with a loud clatter and clambers to her feet with the clumsiness of the very young. In moments she has reached the grand high-backed chair where her mother sits wreathed in a nest of blankets and soft sheepskin. 

"Mama," she tugs on Vittora's sleeve, tiny features crumpled with anxiety. The motion bounces her hair; her still-developing third eye is visible for just a moment beneath that cap of curls, a sliver of pearlescent white no larger than the tip of a fingernail. Her mother's coughing fit recedes, surf pulled away from the shore by a rising tide. 

"All is well, sunshine." Vittora's hand falls back to her lap and she raises her chin. Her lips are suspiciously reddened, but she smiles at her daughter and runs her fingers through her hair. Tears stand in her eyes but do not spill. "See?"

"Up, Mama." Heedless of aught save her own desire to give and receive comfort, Aurelia attempts to drag herself onto Vittora's lap. L'haiya gently plucks her fingers from one of the coverlets piled atop her mother's legs, then hoists the child into her arms only for her to make her displeasure known with a thwarted whine. "No!"

"Your mama needs her rest."

"Mama," Aurelia insists, her lower lip wobbling. It's a trick she's used on countless servants and even her own parents in the past but L'haiya is unmoved by it, and merely adjusts the girl's weight from her arm to her hip. As the toddler squirms in her arms, the Miqo'te turns her attention back to the child's mother.

"Since it's clear you'll badger me until the decision is made in your favor, pray consider it done," she says at last, somewhat testily. 

"I am eternally grateful." Vittora's smile is in turns sad and knowing, and she cannot bear it for more than a few moments. "Thank you, L'haiya."

Her eyes turn to the wall of white swirling in the storm beyond the window. Somewhere beyond it are the slow blinking lights along the walls that separate the imperial palace complex from the rest of the city, and L'haiya forces herself to shove down the sudden surge of bitterness. 

What else is there to say? To do? She knows she could not have refused. She loves Vittora Remianus with the surety of a beloved sister, and she knows what she would do for her own half-sister should such an unlikely circumstance ever occur, and so she will raise this child for her friend's sake. Of course she will. And just as every other citizen of the Empire must do when called to bend to the whims of its rulers, her own dreams are not so much relinquished as they are flung into the darkness, to be discarded along with all the other parts of herself she has sacrificed to fill an imperfect mold.

She feels as though she has just given her life away. She knows she has.

Outside, the northern wind howls around the villa's steel eaves like a despairing scream.

[0paperairplane0]

Pain

Summary: Loki’s struggling with his mental health and one day, Thor notices his brother’s scars.

Warnings: Self-harm, suicidal thoughts, mental illness, angst

Words: 2259

A/N: I was thinking one day that Loki’s obviously dealt with mental illness before and wanted to write a little bit about it idk. This is very angsty and does have self-harm so if that triggers you, don’t read. I’ve never written angst before so sorry if it’s a bit sloppy! I’m really sorry if you’ve ever had to go through anything like this and I really, really, really hope it gets better.

Speech = Bold

Thoughts = Bold + Italic

——————————

It was hard, but he was used to it. For centuries, all he did was fake. Fake a laugh, fake a task, fake a smile. It was easy for him. It brought him comfort. The thought always made him laugh. Going through stress, anger, pain every day yet, pretending everything was okay and lying, brought him comfort. It was familiar, to lie and pretend, so it helped. Going through his day with perfect posture, everyone thinking he was proud and in love with himself. Often, he found himself saying “I, Loki of Asgard, am burdened with glorious purpose.” Most think he’s just narcissistic and full of himself but, the opposite. He tells himself he’s great because he knows it’s not true. He’s the monster parents tell their children about at night. He hated himself, but it was easier to let everyone believe he loved himself, and maybe one day convince himself of it as well.

This was just another day. He got out of bed, brushed his teeth, made his hair, and changed his clothes. He was ready to leave his room. He reached for the doorknob and walked out. He headed towards the kitchen where no one was to be found. It was predictable considering it was 4:45 am. He’s always been a person who enjoys mornings. They’re calm and quiet with no one awake. He also doesn’t sleep much. He’ll go to bed at 1:00 and wake up at 4:30. It was a schedule and it was enough sleep for him. Nightmares also didn’t help.

He grabbed the kettle and put it on the stove where he made some tea. He put it in a teacup and added some milk but no sugar. He put two fingers against the bottom of the teacup. It was hot and burned. He left his fingers there as he picked up the teacup and headed to the counter, still feeling the pain in his fingers. He sat down and took out a book with his magic and flipped to the page he left off on, occasionally sipping his tea.

He’d finished his drink in about 10 minutes but wasn’t hungry enough to eat anything. He got out of his seat, put the teacup away, and sat back down at the counter, continuing to read in the dark. After what he’d predicted to be about 40 minutes, he started losing interest in reading and sat up. He picked up the book and it disappeared in his hands as he put it away using his magic. He checked the clock, it was 5:20. His teammates would wake up in about an hour. He left to go to the training rooms.

Once he was there, he trained. After he was done with his fitness, he threw some knives and shot some arrows, working on his aim which was still perfect whether he was looking or not. He would fight with Thor later to work on his combat but, for now, he was done.

He headed to his room, walking past a few avengers on his way, giving them a nod. Everyone was awake by now. He undressed and hopped into the shower.

After he put on some clothes, he brushed his hair, then went to leave his room. He reached for his doorknob, but something stopped him. It was like he couldn’t move. He was stuck. He forced himself to swallow the lump in his throat as he began understanding what was happening. His hand started shaking. It was subtle but noticeable. He began feeling anger towards himself. Why is this happening if nothing has triggered it? He asked himself. It happened often. Sudden bursts when nothing was wrong. His breath became heavy and his whole body felt as if it would drop. He felt heavy like he was drowning. He told himself to breathe and went to his bathroom, trying to keep himself composed.

He went inside and splashed his face with some water. Slowly, he raised his head and looked at the mirror, staring daggers at his eyes in the reflection. Why was he like this? He’s always been so… different. There was no reason for it. He left the bathroom and returned to his room. He put his face in his hands and began crumbling to the floor. He backed up against a wall and wanted to cry, but couldn’t. He never cried. Not because he was tough, but because he had no tears left to cry.

He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at his arm. It was covered with his sleeve but he knew what was underneath the leather. His mutilated wrists, the victims of centuries of hate, anger, pain, regret, confusion. He rolled up his sleeve slightly and stared. This was the side of him no one knew of. He’d gone two entire days of not hurting himself, but it was too much. He summoned a small dagger with his magic and just stared. He wanted to do it, but he shouldn’t. It’s not good for me he told himself. He lowered the dagger against his skin and slashed. Pain, but the physical kind. The bearable kind. He slashed again. And again. And again. And again. He watched as his blood rolled down his arm. He moved on to the other arm. I am a monster slash, I hurt people slash, I don’t deserve to live slash, I deserve nothing slash, slash, slash, slash. He stopped. He felt better. It was fine. He put down the dagger and stayed on the floor. He looked around his room and found a place where his eyes stayed. He stared at that spot of his room.

He kept staring, thinking. He didn’t hear the knock on his door. “Brother? May I come in? I have to speak to you of an important matter.” More knocking, but Loki heard nothing. “Brother? I’m coming in.” Thor opened the door and saw Loki, sitting on the floor. A dagger inches away from him and bleeding wounds all over his arms. “Loki?” Thor asked, fear in his voice. That, Loki heard. He looked at his brother and their eyes locked. “Hello, Thor.” Loki said. “What- Are you- Loki? What happened?” Thor asked, concerned as he walked into his brother’s room and closed the door behind him. Loki began laughing. Thor didn’t find any of this humorous.

“Brother, this is no laughing matter. What happened-”

“Do you truly not know what you’ve walked in on?” Loki asked, sarcasm in his voice. Thor didn’t reply and walked closer to his brother. He grabbed his brother’s wrists and Loki didn’t protest. The wounds were clearly fresh but that wasn’t what concerned him. Loki’s wrists had many scars. There was barely any space where there weren’t scars. Some cuts looked like they were maybe a few days old and others were merely scars that looked years old. Something in his mind clicked. “How long have you been doing this to yourself?” Thor said, his voice serious. Loki grabbed his arm back and smiled. “Centuries.” He replied. “Why?” Thor questioned. “Because it helps”, Loki replied, the smile fading from his lips. It was Thor’s turn to laugh. “Help? How could this possibly help, Loki?! You’re hurting yourself!” Thor’s voice was angry yet concerned. “You don’t understand-” “Then make me understand!” Thor cut his brother off and yelled.

“You really want to know?” Loki said, smiling sarcastically. “Yes! I want to know why my brother has been hurting himself! For centuries!!” Thor replied. “Very well”, Loki said, still smiling. He stood up and rolled down his sleeves.

“Think”, Loki said. “What?” Thor replied. “Were you or were you not there when I let go and fell into the void?” Loki asked Thor. “How does this have anything to with-” “Answer the question if you want to know.” Loki cut his brother off. Thor questioned his brother’s methods but listened. “Yes, I was there when you fell into the void.” Thor finally answered his brother’s question. “And why do you think I let go?” “Because you were angry? You found out of your true parentage.” Thor answered again. “Now tell me why you hurt yourself.” Thor demanded. “Fine.” Loki answered, with poison in his voice.

“I hate myself and always have.” Loki blurted out. “I- I was always different from everyone else but never knew why. You would enjoy yourself with friends while I would watch. I tried so hard to fit in with everyone else but it never worked. People have hated me everywhere I’ve ever gone. “He’s the dark prince! D- don’t go near him! He’ll bite your head off!” Everyone always loved you but they hated me. I was the little boy living in the shadow of his big brother. The little prince with no future. Father always preferred you over me and I never knew why! I wasn’t good enough no matter what I did. I was always a failure who could never do anything right! I thought there was something wrong with me and I guess I was right. I’m a monster. I hurt people everywhere I go. I’m a murderer. I’m just a burden to you and everyone who knows me!” Loki poured his feelings. His face was no longer holding a smile and tears were welling up in his eyes. “And to answer your question, I hurt myself because it helps. It’s easier to deal with physical pain than emotional pain. Also, if I don’t do this, I lash out at others, hurt others. It’s effective.” Tears were now running down both Loki and Thor’s faces.

Thor looked shocked. “Loki… I had no idea”, Thor said. The sarcastic smile on Loki’s face reappeared. “Of course not, you never notice anything.” Loki said. He wiped his tears and fixed his hair, checking over himself in the mirror. “Very well, I’ll be on my way then.” He left the room with his perfect posture and Thor did nothing to stop him, still struck by Loki’s words.

<><><><><><>

Loki spent all day worrying about what his brother saw. He was sitting in a chair in the library and reading, or at least he was trying to. He kept on re-reading the exact same paragraph over and over again. He couldn’t focus on the words. What if Thor were to confront me about it? Or tell someone? He was dreading what may happen.

After some time of re-reading the same paragraph, he got up and left the library in search of Thor. He had to be the one to bring up the topic, not Thor. He would not let himself be cornered.

He looked around the headquarters for some time, in search of his brother. Finally, he found him in a common room with Steve Rogers. “Brother?” Loki called and cleared his throat. “May I speak with you?” He asked with a cold voice. He saw as Steve looked at Thor with concerned eyes and his brother did not hesitate to look back at the soldier, equally as concerned. “Yes, of course”, Thor said, getting up. Loki worried that Rogers may know what Thor saw but discarded the thought, not wanting to be distracted. He had to appear unbothered.

They headed to a different room with Loki leading. He walked in and Thor followed. Loki closed the door and turned the lock. “Loki, if this is about what I saw....” Thor said with a look Loki hated. “I want you to forget what you saw.” Loki demanded quickly, keeping his voice steady and his face serious. “Loki, I cannot just forget that. It was-” Thor started. “Scarring?” Loki finished his brother’s sentence with a still face. He feared his brother may reject him after all he saw. Thor lowered his head in shame.

“You know what? Never mind, this was a bad idea.” Loki turned around and began walking to the door to leave. “Brother”, Thor began. “What”, Loki growled with poison in his voice, quickly turning around. He wanted this to be done with. “Please, please just make me this one promise.” Thor said softly, as if he may break his brother. Loki’s face looked calculating, studying Thor’s expression. “Please just promise me that you will not…. That you will not hurt yourself anymore.” Thor pleaded with desperation in his voice. “And why would I do that?” Loki asked, a sarcastic tone tracing his voice. “Please just”, Thor looked down into the palms of his hands. “If you won’t do that, at least promise me that you’ll come to me if you ever feel the need to hurt yourself.” Thor slowly looked up at Loki with a face full of emotions.

“I don’t want your pity.” Loki spat at Thor and looked away. “And even if I wanted to inform you every time I felt that way, I couldn’t. Sometimes it comes in uncontrollable bursts I cannot anticipate.” Loki said with tears in his eyes. “Then, tell me afterwards? I want to help you brother.” Thor looked at his brother with pleading eyes. Loki looked up at his brother. For a moment, he looked innocent and it made Thor’s heart ache. “Fine. I will try.” Loki said, looking away. “Thank you!” Thor said, crushing his brother into a hug which Loki hesitantly returned. “I love you”, Thor whispered, hesitantly. Loki laughed, pulling away. “That’s enough emotions for today. Goodbye brother.” Loki said, hesitantly patting Thor’s shoulder. He went to walk out of the room and stopped at the door. He turned around. “Thank you brother, truely”, Loki said quietly, giving Thor a small, genuine smile. He left the room with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his chest.

——————————

That’s it! This is also my first time writing angst and I hope you enjoyed it!!

[unholyplumpprincess]

Winner Winner Porkchop Dinner

Cryptage commission for @trashyoctopus !

Summary: Crypto and Mirage are set up on a blind date, with neither knowing that it was each other. Rivalry COULD have gotten in the way, if Elliott wasn’t too fucking pretty for his own good.

(Older content)

Reblogs > Likes. It costs zero dollars to reblog the fics you like :D Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked!

Relationship: Crypto/Mirage

Fandom: Apex legends

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, both Crypto and Mirage are cis, anal sex/fingering, Crypto being a bottom baby, tears, overstimulation, fucking on the floor

Words: 3.2K

_______________

Dating for legends was rather difficult. In a world that saw you as stars, people could become rather obsessive. Crypto was no stranger to the ‘starstruck’ vision upon seeing a legend. He had been one of the people who had set up the drones to broadcast them all fighting, after all. It was no different to him to pick and choose favorites.

Except now he WAS a legend. Walked among them the same way they walked with him. Partners or rivals, it didn’t matter.

Dating, again, for legends was rather difficult- and yet, Elliott Witt, better known as ‘Mirage’, famous trickster of the arena. Well, he got along just fine.

Or so he had made it seem.

~Rest under the cut~

Elliott talked a big game. Had a big mouth, for that matter. Talked about both men and women he could charm, even those who fit neither category. Last, of which, he boasted whilst making finger gun motions at Bloodhound who had waved him off with a ‘shoo’ motion as if he was a horny dog.

Something Crypto thought to be rather amusing when the flirty legend had pouted in response.

Being among them all, he’s learned they’re all much like a family. Romance could blossom between specific people within their circle, he’d seen it himself with Wraith eyeing Anita from across a room. Only to look away the second the woman’s eyes looked back at him and he’d pretended he’d never seen her looking.

Because loving while being part of this bloodied sport wasn’t an option. To stay available and don’t let feelings get in the way of how brutally they could kill each other. Only to wake up again like it never happened, except now you hold a grudge in your heart for the pain one caused you.

All for sport- entertainment.

Yet, the sponsors seemed to go crazy if they could see one of the legends being soft. The media loved it too. When someone like Wraith had seen her teammate, Bangalore, get knocked- normally she wouldn’t have thought twice about gunning down those around her and going back for the beacon. However, you could see her hesitate, flick her head back and run for her downed squad mate with an open portal to safety.

This is when Crypto truly began to get interested. Media where he was from- if someone was that popular, they would have been KILLED for daring to date someone. It wouldn’t have made them ‘available’ for minds all around. But, it seemed media across all planets alike delighted in the idea of love blossoming in war.

He’d watched it himself online. Different articles popping online. How Wraith would huff and throw a magazine across the legends’ lounge room or toss it at Elliott who’d playfully tease her about it.

It affected legends as well.

And when he’d picked up the magazine and looked at the headline, with a still of Wraith and Anita making eye contact whilst picking one another up, with the words ‘LOVE IN KINGS CANYON?’?

Well. Maybe he wouldn’t mind it if something like this affected him either.

It’s why he agrees to this stupid blind date thing. A mutual of his, someone he didn’t quite trust but she was at least a nice enough person, had a brilliant idea of a blind date. Said she knew someone who was JUST his type. There was no need for awkward ‘do you like girls or boys?’ conversations to happen, thankfully he knew it was at least a man he was meeting.

Crypto could only feel anxiety when he woke up that morning. Twisting in his stomach about who they could be. What did they look like? Would they mind if he was a quiet person? Would they worry and fret too much over him not talking the whole time? Would they be funny? Would they have curly hair- long hair- were they kind?

So many questions.  

The unknown made him paranoid.

The woman leads him to a nice café. Crypto, for the date, adorned an oversized black hoodie that’s left unzipped, a lower black face mask with a filter on it, a low cut white shirt and ripped black skinny jeans. He felt more punk than anything, but it was casual for a setting like this. Except, perhaps, all of the jewelry he wore around his neck.

She guides him to the back to sit down, a nice little area while she excitedly chirps that she’ll be right back with his date.

Crypto’s on edge the entire three minutes and twenty two seconds she is gone. Fussing with a little fidget toy in his pocket to keep a hand busy and keeping his other resting on the table in case he needed to jab at someone.

Prepared, not paranoid.

The chatter of the café is quiet. The music is soft, and yet his shoulders are taut.

But then he sees her walking back over, someone behind her, taller, curly hair-

“Oh! Hey, buddy!” Comes from the man as he comes padding over excitedly like a dog, sitting in front of Crypto with a big, dimpled smile on his face.

Elliott Witt.

No fucking way.

Crypto’s eyes widen, and he looks up at their mutual friend who passes him a wink and a, “Have fun, boys!” Before she’s off.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Elliott continues with a bit of a laugh exhaling from him. Fiddling with his hands uncharacteristically in his lap. Nervous, it appeared, as Crypto’s eyes smooth over his frame. “S-so ya’ like coffee? No- no it was tea, right? I can order for us! Er, Wraith was saying sometimes you come out at night and make tea?” Definitely nervous.

He cleaned up well enough without wearing his sponsors or his gear for that matter. A v neckline on a black t-shirt that was form hugging, a yellow and black printed flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbows to show strong, hairy forearms. Form fitting black jeans hugged him just as well and his hair was styled to the side. Curls looking washed and fresh with their fluffy texture.

He cleaned up extremely well.

Elliott is fussing again, nervously displaying his hands out on the table as he fusses with his hands. Crypto can’t help but think it’s kind of...endearing.

They’d been rivals on the battlefield ever since their first match together. Mark on the scoreboard, he supposed that may have been his fault for counting and rubbing it in Elliott’s face. But...

“Tea would be nice.” He finally speaks up, cutting Elliott off as he pulls his mask down to rest around his neck so he could prepare.

He watches Elliott’s eyes light up like an excited dog’s, nodding his head quickly as his curls move with the motions. “Yeah! Y-yeah, yeah of course, gimme a sec. Preference?”

And that’s how they spent that afternoon. Not as legends, or as rivals. But as two people set up on a blind date and enjoying one another’s company. Even laughed when Elliott had sputtered and quietly shout-whispered the question of ‘YOU HAVE A TONGUE PIERCING?!’ when Crypto had stuck his tongue out.

Crypto hated to admit it. But he had a great time.

And then an even better time the time after that, and then the next. Aaaand another.

Until the new headlines were now saying ‘LOVE BLOSSOMING IN NEW “MELTDOWN” ARENA?’ with their faces on it.

--

Their relationship was under wraps. No one knew, no one was allowed to know in full, but the media could speculate. That much Elliott allowed. Little teases to the public whilst Crypto preferred not to do interviews.

Their relationship blossoms from there. They become close- turns out they both had missing family members. Crypto opens up about his sister, Mila. While Elliott opens up about his brothers. He speculates they may have passed in war, but that he holds out hope. While Crypto opens up that he worries that she was killed, and that if she wasn’t, that she was not in agony.

There, they build their foundation on. Trust and love. Opening up to each other slowly. Elliott is much easier to open up about himself and his interests, Crypto is harder. He doesn’t talk anymore on his past from his sister or his mother, only bits and pieces. He allows Elliott into his life slowly, more and more until one another cannot stand to sleep alone.

Wraith teases Elliott nowadays on who is making goo-goo eyes now. Crypto over hears it through the walls and tries not to smile at their antics.

It’s in the ring they have to be more mindful. After the first guess of their relationship, Crypto had to explain to Elliott that though his partner may have loved the cameras, Crypto did not. The attention became too much, and Elliott immediately made that all die down. With his charming smile and a joke about how if he had chosen someone to settle down with, don’t you think he’d be all over them?

Oh, he was all over them. Crypto couldn’t go a day without hands jerking him close. Even if at first he had rolled his eyes and huffed at it, Elliott quickly found out that this tough cookie was just giving him a rough time. Especially when Crypto would give up the ruse and lean back into him.

No, it’s in the ring they have to be careful. Otherwise, anywhere else? Free game. Other legends could shut their lips.

Hence why this match was going rather roughly.

Mirage, Crypto, and Lifeline all on the same squad. Ajay makes a joke about ‘old times’ and how they should keep score again. Playfully bumping Crypto’s hip with her own and earning her a bit of a smirk before it’s turned to Elliott with a cocky look and a soft hum of, “I am sure that the old man has learned his lesson.”

Which earns him wide eyes, a gaped mouth, and, “Hey! Not that again!” Before Ajay is shoving them both off the dropship for round two.

The teasing in the ring could be seen as rivalry. They do count the kills, oh they do. Crypto keeps the lead by one point as Ajay keeps score. They bicker and huff the entire time, especially when Ajay takes down a newbie that was hanging in the back and trying to get a drop on them.

At some point they are under squad fire, a grenade heading their way and rolling on the ground. Ajay calls it out from afar, Crypto is the one who spots it.

His fingers twist in Elliott’s coat, yanking him close to his body and throwing their bodies to the side so it only can get a fraction of their shields.

The tension in the corner of the room with Crypto on top of him, both panting and looking into each other’s eyes. So close and so good-

Is their ultimate down fall when they’re shot in the back.

Ajay at least laughs about it in the med bay, saying that, “Ya looked like a proper married couple. Keep ya heads down, ya hear me?” With a tease.

And then a call back, “Oh! Crypto? Two points in the lead.”

--

There’s a gasp as Crypto’s back hits the door of Elliott’s dorm. Inside his room as Elliott fits a leg between his thighs, grabbing his chin and tilting it down ever so slighty so he could devour his mouth. They were about equal heights, with Crypto maybe being an inch taller. Something he took a bit of amusement in.  

But right now, that’s not on his mind. What is, is the pressure on his cock through his pants. How Elliott’s tongue licks into his mouth. Feeling over the piercing on Crypto’s tongue and groaning in reply when Crypto’s hands fists into his jacket and yank him closer.

Their mouths move in sync. Having kissed each other a hundred times over, they know their pace. Crypto presses, sinking his teeth into Elliott’s full lower lip just to hear him let out a shaky breath through his nose in response. His hands come up, fisting Elliott’s curls and tugging him closer with a growl.

The knee between Crypto’s thighs presses up, grinding until he’s pulling back with a whine, head thunking back against the door. This leaves him open for Elliott’s mouth to kiss at his exposed neck, mindful of where the cybernetics were most exposed and aiming for the sensitive wiring. His teeth lightly bite into the flesh feeling silicone, feeling Crypto yelp in reply with pleasure as his leg hitches around Elliott’s waist.

He’s biting his lip, keeping quiet and stubbornly trying to yank on Elliott’s hair. That won’t do.

“Think you can embarrass me like that in the ring, baby?” Elliott’s voice is steady in situations like this. His stutter maintained if he tried not to think about it too hard. His breath hot on the shell of Crypto’s ear as his tongue follows, just to feel him shudder against him.

He’s melting. He couldn’t stand being a brat for too long.

“T-think you just- ah- can't keep up.” Is Crypto’s haughty reply, followed by a huff when Elliott’s hand moves from caressing his cheek to his hair. Yanking on it to pull his head to the side to expose the other said of Crypto’s neck for another onslaught of kisses and hot bites. Pushing at his jacket with his other hand until it falls to the floor and Elliott can bite at the crook of his shoulder instead. Sucking a dark bruise there.

“Really?” Elliott breathily laughs. Tripping up Crypto behind his knee before pulling him by his hair to the floor. Watching him hit his knees almost too easy and looking up at Elliott with a dangerous gleam in his eyes. “Because from what I saw, you just about bent over for me in front of a camera.”

A sniper position, one so open that Crypto wouldn’t normally take. Lying prone to get a good shot- that's what he’d told Ajay. But he knew exactly what he was doing when he shifted his hips eeever so slightly for the trickster behind him.

He huffs through his nose, embarrassed at being caught, looking to the side. But, Elliott coos under his breath, catching his chin and dragging his gaze back up. “No, no, none of that. C’mon, kitten, you can make it up to me, can’t you?”

The nickname has Crypto’s cheeks flushing red to his ears. Surely spreading down over his chest as Elliott works on his own pants. Pulling out his cock, the head shiny with pre-cum when he smooths his hand over it a few times. Pumping to show how hard he was, pulling back foreskin and making Crypto’s mouth water.

He huffs again through his nose, followed by a whine. He about chokes when Elliott smirks, “Theeere’s my good boy. See? Can’t be mad at me for long.”

No, no, he couldn’t. Especially with his mouth stuffed full of cock and his fingers desperately pawing at Elliott’s hips not a few minutes later. Cryptos own clothing removed and his own cock aching as Elliott cradles his jaw, fingertips pressing lightly to feel the bulge in it every time he slides into his throat. Another appreciation for his piercing met every time he swipes it over the swollen head.

Crypto’s sure he’s drooling. Even by the time Elliott pulls out and is calling him a good boy. Even with the bed in the next room, Elliott can’t seem to wait. Lying Crypto down on the living room floor on his belly as he finds lube left behind on the coffee table from their LAST root around. Squirting a generous amount onto his fingers and working one into Crypto. Caressing his hip with his other hand and petting, telling him he’s a good boy, good baby.

Crypto hums in reply, cheek resting on his crossed arms under his head like a pillow. Cock jumping under his body, trapped and caged. By the time two fingers are in him, he’s sure he’s going to leave a stain on Elliott’s rug. Rocking his hips both into the rug for friction and back onto his fingers.

“Yeah, just like that. Keep it up, sweetheart.” Elliott is full of praise when he slips in a third finger. Making Crypto bite into his arm and shudder with each twist of fingers, scissoring them outwards and crooking them upwards.

A spurt of pre-cum leaves his cock and he can’t help the sob as his hips jump a bit as if stomping his foot. “Fuck me! Just- just fuck me, Elliott, I can’t take this!” Crypto hisses out, earning him a laugh from his boyfriend and an ‘alright, alright’.

He’s rolled onto his back. From there it’s a blur. The slow enter of Elliott leads to his legs around the trickster’s hips, arms around his neck and burying his face into his shoulder. No clothing between them, naked chest to naked chest, heartbeat to heartbeat.

Crypto’s cock is jostled with each thrust. Grinding up against Elliott’s slightly fuzzy abdomen and providing enough friction to keep him very much interested. Even if Elliott is hitting just right to where pleasure bubbles in his abdomen like butterflies.  

His teeth sink into Elliott’s shoulder just as Elliott begins fucking him harder. Whining into Crypto’s ear in response when the other tightens his hold around his waist. Biting at the shell of his ear, nuzzling at his hair, murmuring praise just below his ear where his lips brush and his stubble scratches pleasantly.

Crypto cums suddenly and without the warning of budding heat. It happens with a shock and his nails rake down Elliott’s back with a cry. “I love you- I love you I love you--” Escapes his lips in soft sobs as his hips buck upwards into Elliott’s abdomen. Smearing the cum there, which will make for a mess to clean up later.

Instead, Elliott only groans at the sudden tightness and whines back, “Fuck, I love you-” As his hips piston into his boyfriend beneath him.

It’s all too much. Crypto’s eyes are welling with tears from overstimulation. His legs tighten even further, giving Elliott not a lot of room to work with except grind. And even then it’s all too much.

He sobs as a dry orgasm wracks his frame, just in time to hear Elliott deliciously moan in his ear like a whore as he cums. Pressing a hard kiss to Crypto’s temple as they hold each other through it all on the floor.

With a satisfied sigh and tension leaving both their frames, Elliott carefully peels back to assess the damage. Looking down at Crypto splayed out, legs still locked around his hips but looser, his hands resting by his head and his head turned to the side. Face flushed, eyes teary, lips wet and swollen.

He looked beautiful.

Elliott says so too, with a soft sigh of, “Absolutely gorgeous.” As he cups Crypto’s chest with one hand. Running his thumb over a nipple just to watch him jerk and moan softly, smacking at his hand with a grumble.

He may have lost in the ring, but in the bedroom, Elliott ‘Mirage’ Witt always won.

Always.

[fallinnflower]

lucky one(s)

jackson x reader (soulmate!au)

a/n: omg what’s this? me finally filling a request?

Your soulmate’s name is Jackson. 

He speaks at least five languages fluently, has a body you thought could only exist in magazines, and is simultaneously the most and least intimidating person you’ve ever known. 

You’ve only met him in your dreams, but that’s how everybody does. 

Most people start dreaming of their soulmate around the time puberty hits. Early dreams tend to get interrupted fairly often, usually cutting soulmate meetings short — over time they find some regularity, but that could mean months or years of faulty connections. Some people like to construe that the quickness with which a bond stabilizes serves as a forewarning to the stability of the relationship in the long run. If that’s true, and you’re not sure you believe it is, then you and Jackson must have one of the most stable soulmate bonds in the world. 

Jackson is a stable person, to be sure — he’s been your rock since you met, always ready to provide whatever you need the moment you enter your shared dreamscape — but as for yourself, you’re less sure. 

The thing about Jackson is that he’s so wonderful you can’t imagine him being anything but a dream. 

You and Jackson don’t live in the same place. 

The bond doesn’t keep you from sharing personal information, perhaps because human inhibition is enough to keep most people from blurting out a street address and most pre-teens can’t just buy a plane ticket to their soulmate. If anything the bond being the way it is pushes the meeting date further out for most people, as it’s so convenient. 

You and Jackson have always spoken about meeting, the abstract when forever a topic of conversation. He’s ambitious, hyperactive and optimistic while never overstepping your boundaries, but it’s his patience that always makes you feel the most guilty. Jackson is the ever-present Sun at the center of your universe, waiting for you to orbit close enough to him to satiate his thirst for more. 

He’s eager as ever tonight when you approach him, practically vibrating in his seat. 

“So?” He asks, dark eyes blown wide in anticipation. You bite down in your lip to try and keep yourself from giving away the news so soon — you have to admit it’s a little fun to keep Jackson in suspense at times like these. 

“Well...” you start, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater as though you’re nervous. Jackson leans off his chosen seat towards you, craning his neck, and you can’t hold your smile back any longer. 

“I got in! I’ll be going to Korea next semester—” Before you can continue, your breath is knocked out of you by the force that is Jackson, sweeping you off your feet and into his arms. 

“I knew it!” He says, spinning you excitedly. You think he’s even more pumped than you were when you read the email mere hours ago. He sets you down but his hands stay on you, reaching up to cup your face in his hands. His dark eyes are curved like his smile, and for a moment as his thumbs brush gently along your cheekbones you think he just might kiss you—

Instead, he draws you into his arms again, clutching tightly at you. 

“I knew you could do it. They’d be stupid not to accept you.” You giggle against his chest, nuzzling your face into his shirt. 

“Thanks.” You allow yourself to bask in his presence, memorizing as you do almost every night his scent and the shape of his body as it fits against yours. You’re so focused on this that if it weren’t for the rumble in his chest, you may not have noticed he was speaking again. 

“You know what that means, right?” He asks, lowly. You furrow your brows but remain in his arms, content. 

“What?” You ask. Jackson gently cards his fingers through your hair, his cheek pressed to the top of your head. 

“We’ll both be in Korea,” he states, simply. Suddenly, you feel choked up again for an entirely different reason. Jackson’s body makes it too warm, too hard to breathe, and you wrench yourself out of his grasp until the only connection is his hands on your shoulders, gazed locked. His gaze is too intense to hold, and so you look away, fidgeting nervously. 

“Jackson...”

“I know it’s scary, Y/N, but—”

“I don’t know,” you interrupt, still unable to look up at him. He gives your shoulders a squeeze, imploring, and you press your trembling lips into a thin line. 

“What are you afraid of?” He asks. When you don’t reply, he lowers his voice and his body, coaxing you, making it easy like he always does. 

“Talk to me, Y/N.” There’s an unspoken please hanging in the air, and you can’t hold the tears back any longer. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly, and the moment you feel Jackson’s fingers brush against your cheeks you open them again — this time to the ceiling of your bedroom. You turn your face into your pillow, trying in vain to stop the tears. 

“I’m afraid,” you breathe shakily, sheets rustling as you curl in on yourself. “I’m afraid of disappointing you.”

Who’s to say when you orbit closer that Jackson’s light it won’t simply illuminate your flaws and leave you burned?

Only the silence follows in reply. 

You put off going to sleep for the next few days, stalling the inevitable meetings with Jackson. He’s not pushy, never pushy, but you can’t bear to see the look in his eyes. Jackson wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s not the type to say it, but you know you’ve let him down, and it breaks your heart even as you think it’s the best way. 

You always dreamt of meeting your soulmate when you were your best self. Even if Jackson is meant to see you through everything, you want to be what he deserves, someone as shining as he is seemingly without even trying. 

You should apologize. You think about it all the time, but the words get lodged in your throat so that all that escapes your lips are pleasantries and trivial bits of conversation, parading yourself around the elephant in the room like a carousel horse. 

Most nights he just stares at you intently, letting you blather on about whatever you want. Sometimes you wonder what he sees in you, who and what you look like to him. Jackson is a beacon of light for you, a soft place to land and a sturdy supporter — and what are you? Especially now that you’ve shown him your weakness, you wonder what he thinks, wonder if he’s not pressing the issue because seeing your childishness has changed his perspective so drastically he no longer wants to meet you. 

Things are so easy in your dreams. You can be any type of yourself you want to. He doesn’t have to see you at your lowest if you don’t want him to, you don’t have to be totally honest — and have you been? 

You’ve been lying by omission. For all the years you’ve known him you’ve tried to prove yourself capable, independent, worthy of his love, and yet the moment that you should have taken initiative you backed down in an instant. A shrinking violet beneath the sun’s warm, welcoming rays. 

You wake up every morning more exhausted than the last, more disgusted with yourself each time. The words to explain yourself won’t come, because even as you know Jackson to be open and loving and wonderful you can’t help but fear the repercussions of saying “I’m afraid I won’t be what you want me to be. What you deserve.”

So you stick to your silence and Jackson does the same, falling further and further out of sync with one another until some nights are spent purely in silence. 

“My flight is tomorrow.”

“Be safe,” he says. All the lines of his body speak to his desire, and his eyes especially implore you in the same way a child’s might. And yet he remains respectful of you as ever, even to his own detriment. You swallow thickly, nodding. 

“I will.” The silence is heavy. You think you might just be crushed under the weight of it, buried alive in your sleep. 

“Do you—” Jackson cuts himself off, shaking his head. He looks back at you with a sad attempt at a smile. “Never mind. Just, enjoy yourself, okay?”

“Thank you.”

You go to Korea. You rush to settle yourself in at Yonsei, to learn the ropes so that you don’t get swept away by the tides of classes, and yet you’re never as prepared as you want to be. 

It’s only his back that you see and you know that it’s him. You’re not ready, you tell yourself, and yet you can’t bring yourself to walk away. Instead, you stand dumbly on the edge of the sidewalk as the sun rises above the horizon, lingering near the door of the cafe you were about to enter. 

You will yourself to run. You will him to turn to you. 

He’s walking amongst friends, most of whom you’ve probably heard of over the years of spending every night with Jackson. He turns his head to look at one of them and you catch him in profile, the slope of his nose and the curve of his cheekbones, the smile lines at the corners of his eyes you know all too well. He’s more beautiful in person, somehow, and you feel tears springing to your eyes, your heart swelling so you think it will burst and then the shell of you will float away on the wind. You can taste his name on your tongue but can’t seem to open your mouth. 

And then he looks back. 

Someone bumped into him, and it’s as his eyes leave their face after assuring them everything is alright that his eyes catch on yours. 

You swear, the world stops. 

Suddenly he’s pushing back through the crowd towards you, his expression unreadable, and you begin to worry about your hair and your clothes and the stupid look on your face—

Jackson comes to a stop right in front of you, not touching but certainly close enough to. You feel frozen, soaking him all in desperately and trying to get some kind of grip on reality. 

“Fuck,” he breathes. Your heart sinks, gaze dropping as your knees go weak; you were right to be worried—

“Oh my god, you’re here. You’re really here.” You whip your head back up and see that his own eyes are brimming with tears, in contrast to the broad smile on his face. If you’d thought you were emotional before, oh no. 

“Don’t cry,” he implores gently, reaching towards you with trembling hands before hesitating, and that’s all it takes for you to step forward and wrap your arms around him. You can hear his heart pounding just as fast as yours where you press your ear. 

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup, muffled by his shirt. His arms quickly tighten around you, and you can feel him shaking his head. 

“What for?” He asks, laughing. 

“For being stupid,” you reply. Jackson pulls away, wiping at your tears and only making you cry even harder as his tenderness. He looks so happy to see you that you can’t seem to do anything but cry at the emotional high of it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay. You’re not stupid, you shouldn’t talk about yourself or your feelings that way.” You shake your head, sniffling loudly. 

“I just— I thought— I don’t know, I thought you wouldn’t like me in real life—”

“I’d love you no matter what, Y/N,” he reassures you, tilting your face up to look at him. “But I understand. I was scared, too.”

“You were?” Jackson nods, laughing. 

“Of course.” You take in every inch of his face as he gently tucks some errant strands of your hair behind your ears. The dark brown of his irises seem to be aglow with fondness, and although you think your heart should be skipping beats instead you find yourself enveloped in a calm like you’ve never known — although you still feel giddy as you gaze up at him. 

“I’m so lucky,” he murmurs, as though his thoughts are your own, his eyes finally making their way back up from tracing the contours of your face to meet your own. 

“Can I kiss you?” You can’t keep yourself from smiling, your response coming out on an excited breath as you’re already leaning in to meet him halfway,

“Absolutely.” 

As his lips press softly against your own, bodies molding together, you can’t help but think that you’re the lucky one. (And maybe people are onto something with that whole stability of soulmate bonds thing.) 

[the-awkward-outlaw]

I was just playing the mission where they clear out beaver hallow and it made me want to request something where healthy! Arthur rescues a reader in the cave and the aftermath where they fall in love and what not 👀😬🥰 pretty please

Yay, I was so happy to write this one! So happy I went and wrote like 13 pages 🙄 Anyways, enjoy. 

Warnings: blood, gore, witnessed rape, but I make it up with a lot of fluff!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

Cold. That’s all you feel. Physically, mentally, emotionally. The entire world has grown cold. How can you believe in warmth and light and love or kindness in a place like this? You’re surrounded by constant darkness, only occasionally broken up by the firelight of torches, hidden somewhere around the bend of the giant pillar holding the ceiling of this massive cavern. If only you could leave, but you’re trapped in this steel cage, the door bound tightly shut by thick ropes. 

It’s impossible to say how long you’ve been here. There’s no way for you to tell between night and day, and therefore you haven’t been able to count. It feels like an eternity though. All the others you were with, your brother and his horrible wife and spoiled daughter, they’re all dead. Why you were spared by these murderers is a mystery. Maybe because you were the only grown woman who showed no signs of being spoilt by another man, maybe it was just a random choice. 

Not that the others in your caravan were killed immediately. Some of them were, sure, shot down by the rifles in the Murfree’s hands, like your brother for instance. He hadn’t even seen them coming before those men put a bullet in his skull. You, the other women and a few of the men were bound and dragged to their cavern while a few stayed behind to butcher the others. If only their screams were the only ones you heard. 

After being dragged into the cavern, the Murfrees took the three of the four men left alive and began to attack them, cutting off bits and pieces of them, gutting one and skinning the other. It was bad enough to hear and see what was happening, but then you watched, held down by a Murfrees boot, as your sister-in-law was stripped, raped and then cut into pieces. Her massacred torso was shoved onto a spike, a warning to travelers of what was waiting for them. She was an evil, horrible person, but she didn’t deserve that. 

You and your niece were two of the four left alive. Another woman and the last man were dragged inside. All the women, including your niece, were thrown into this cage while the man was taken somewhere else, apparently meant to be tortured slowly. There was no rhyme or reason to this savage attack, but as time passed and you picked up bits and pieces of the Murfrees talking, you gathered that they viewed this area as their territory and would defend it however they deemed fit, and that was through extreme violence and foul savagery. 

As the days passed, though you could not count them for lack of light, the Murfrees began to prey upon the other two women in the cage with you. They picked the oldest one first, dragging her out, shearing her hair off, raping her. Apparently she was too old for their taste and they killed her only a few hours later. 

Your niece, though spoiled rotten and one of the worst people you’ve ever known, you would never wish any of this on her. They picked her next. They dragged her from the cage, strapped her to a rack and left her naked. Every once in a while, some of them would gather around her, rape her, cut her, whip her. Her screams were the worst as she was little more than a child. YOu were glad she didn’t last long. But her death meant that it was your turn. 

However, the Murfrees haven’t done anything just yet. They’ve come up to the cage, rattled the bars, screamed all sorts of horrible things at you, stuck in their hands to try and grab you, but they haven’t done anything. It’s clear why. This waiting, the anticipation for the inevitable horrors lying ahead for you, is a form of torture. And torture it is. You wished they’d just kill you already. 

It’s impossible to say how many tears you’ve shed. Your throat is cracked, dry and painful from the lack of water and the hours you’ve spent screaming for help. Your captors haven’t bothered to offer you food or water, but that’s the last thing you’re worried about. You know they’re capable of far, far worse. 

Your niece must have died days ago. They still haven’t bothered to remove her corpse from the rack on the other side of the cavern from your cage. The smell of this place is choking. The stench of her decay, and the decay of other rotting bodies, overwhelms you. That mixed with urine and feces threatens to make you vomit what very little nourishment is left in your stomach. 

At one point, a Murfree walks past your cage. You look out with a tear-stained face. “Kill me, please!” you beg. 

He just chuckles, showing rotten teeth. “Oh not so fast there, little girl. Your friends died way too quickly. We plan on making you last a while.” 

You try to make him angry, to spur him to kill you, but he doesn’t fall for it. You try everything you can think of, but nothing comes of it. They’ve left you in nothing but your underclothes. If you weren’t already so terrified of them raping you and leaving your naked body on display, you’d strip yourself out of your chemise and hang yourself. As time goes on though, that idea becomes more and more appealing. How much longer can you last? 

Finally the cave falls silent. There hasn’t been any screams for some time, all their other victims must be dead or incapacitated. The Murfrees are quiet too. Maybe they’re sleeping, or out scouting for fresh blood. This gives you the opportunity to lay on the back wall of the cage that’s right against the pillar, meaning no one can grab you through the bars. Despite the fear and pain in your bruised body, you manage to fall into a light sleep. 

Suddenly someone screams out, jerking you awake. It isn’t the scream of someone getting tortured or murdered. There’s words in them. 

“Someone’s in the cave!” it says. 

You stand up, your heart in your throat. A gunshot echoes through the cavern making you jump out of your skin, and it’s followed by more screams. Murfrees begin to swarm towards the gunshots, screaming and calling out threats. They’re armed with machetes and guns of their own. 

After several minutes, the air finally falls silent. Then the face of a man comes into view. You’ve never seen him before. His intelligent eyes glitter from a dark face and he calls behind him. 

“There’s someone alive, she’s in a cage.” 

All you can think of is that they’re new captors, and that they’re just as bad or possibly worse than the Murfrees. A whimper escapes your lips as you try clinging to the back wall of the cage, looking for somewhere to hide. 

The man comes back into view, followed by another man. He wears a leather hat and he slings a gun to his back before approaching. 

“S-stay away from me!” you yell out, your voice surprisingly strong. 

“It’s okay, we’re here to help,” the white man says. He gets close to the door, despite you pleading for him to leave and then pulls out a knife. You begin screaming, your legs turning to jelly as you sink to the ground in the corner. This is it. You’re going to have a number of unspeakable things done to you and then you’re going to die. 

“Shhh, we ain’t gonna hurt ya,” says the man, quickly cutting through the rope that locks your door. He sheaths it immediately and holds his arms up. His voice is soft and gentle. 

“Easy, easy. We’re here to help.” 

“Please leave me alone,” you sob. Your hands are over your ears as tears sting your eyes. He’s getting closer, causing your heart to beat painfully. Your head drops to your knees so you don’t have to see him anymore, hoping he’ll go away. 

Something gently touches your shoulder, but you flinch as though stung. It touches you a little harder, but there’s no pain to it. When you uncover your eyes, you see it’s his hand. Blue eyes meet yours and he talks gently again. 

“It’s okay. I’m here to help ya. Gonna get you home.” He slowly gets closer, enveloping his arms around you. Despite your intense fear, you lean into him, burying your face into his chest. He smells good, but that’s in comparison to the foul stench of the cave. Heat emanates from him, allowing you to escape from the cold, and you shiver. 

“A’right, let’s get ya outta here.” The man stands up, but you cling to him, suddenly afraid of his absence. Contrary to what you believed a few moments ago, this man represents safety, light, warmth and hope. You cling to his hand, sticking close as he begins walking through the cavern, accompanied by the other man you first saw. 

“So, where you from?” your hero asks. 

“Valentine. But… but… I don’t…” You blanch as you see the fresh corpses of the Murfrees spread around. 

“It’s okay,” he says, squeezing your hand. “They’re all dead. You’re safe.” 

You swallow, your lower lip trembling, sticking closer to him as you both walk towards the mouth of the cave. Your feet scrape against the cold rock and small bones of animals that are strewn about. Light hits your eyes suddenly, harsh and painful, causing you to wince. After a moment, you adjust to it and look around the uncomfortably familiar clearing, littered with bodies and broken bits of wagons. You avoid looking at the pike holding what’s left of your sister-in-law. 

Your hero stands next to a horse and he looks back at you. “You okay to ride a little? I’ll take ya home.” 

You begin shivering and then break into tears, crumpling to the ground. “My family…. There’s…. There’s no one left.” 

The man walks over and gently picks you up so you’re standing. He offers himself as a support for you and you lean into him, wishing this was all nothing more than a horrible nightmare. 

“You sayin’ you ain’t got a family no more?” he asks softly. 

You nod into his shirt. “They’re gone. They’re gone.” 

“Well… ya can’t stay here. Let me take ya home, then you can figure out what ya wanna do.” 

Slowly, he lifts you onto his horse and then climbs on in front. You cling to him as though your very life depends on it, which it partially does. He bids his companion farewell and then kicks his horse into an easy gallop. 

“You okay, miss?” he asks after a few moments. 

“They’re… they’re animals!” you say with a harsh sob. 

“I know, but you’re safe now.” 

“I haven’t slept in days! My family, they killed them!” You bury your head into his back and cry, exhaustion ripping through you. The weight of the last few days is finally slamming into you. All you want to do is curl up and sleep, never to wake up again. Part of you wishes this man would take pity on you and just put a bullet in your head. It would be easier. But amidst your crying, you don’t have the strength to ask him. 

He rides on, giving you encouragement every once in a while. When he passes O’Creagh’s Run, you guide him to your cabin, which isn’t too much farther away. Once there, he helps you down from his horse and you stare at the cabin miserably. 

This cabin, you thought it had been hell before. After your parents died, you had nowhere to go but your brother’s, with his horrible wife and worse daughter, all of whom are now dead. If you’d had the money, you would’ve left a long time ago. Then, your brother got a job in Boston, which was why you were caravaning up to Annesburg, to board the train and go there. That is what led to you ending up in the Murfree’s clutches. 

The cabin lies cold and empty now. Your hero walks up to it with you and you open the door, finding the very little furniture that was left behind, including your rickety bed but it has no blankets. Only the lumpy mattress you slept on. The man looks around, clearly worried about your predicament. 

“You sure there ain’t no where else I can take ya, ma’am?” 

You shake your head. “I don’t h-have anyone else, mister.” 

He sighs and nods, then goes to his horse where he pulls off his bedroll. He hands it to you. “Here. I know it ain’t much, but sounds like you need something warm to sleep in. You gonna be okay?” 

Your lip is trembling again and more tears are swelling up, but you nod. He looks at you, his eyes saying he doesn’t believe you. 

“Here, why don’t you lay down, try gettin’ some rest. I’ll um, see if I can cook you somethin’ to eat.” 

You’re so tired and confused that you can do nothing else but obey him. He sprawls his bedroll on the old mattress and you climb into it. All you want to do is fall asleep now that you’re warm and protected by this stranger, but the memories and the screams come back to you, preventing you from doing so. Soon, the smell of cooking meat fills the cabin and you look up. 

“I got some venison cookin’ up for ya.”

The thought of eating any kind of meat, after the things you witnessed, makes you want to gag. He sees your green face. 

“Somethin’ wrong?” 

“I… I can’t eat that. Not…. not like this. Not now.” 

Realization dawns on his face. “That’s a’right, I’ll eat it later. Well here, I got some beans, canned fruit. Here, got this too.” 

He reaches into his satchel and pulls out a chocolate bar and hands it to you. Despite having not eaten in days, you’re really not hungry. You take the candy and just hold it, sniffing lightly. You hear him sigh and then he drags the one chair left in the house over to you, sitting down so he can look at you. 

“Ma’am, I know you seen some bad things back there. I know those bastards killed your family. I’m real sorry, about all that. But… well, you’d make me feel a lot better if you’d eat somethin’.” 

Tears streaming down your cheeks, you open the chocolate up and take a bite, though you don’t really taste it. He pats your knee, making you flinch. 

“What’s your name?” 

You tell him and he nods. “Arthur. Arthur Morgan. You, uh, you gonna be okay here?” 

You just shrug your shoulders. Although you’ve no appetite, you’re starting to feel better now that your stomach has something in it. When you’re finished eating, Arthur offers you some peaches but you deny them. You really don’t think you can handle any more food. Instead, you lay down to try and get some sleep. Arthur stands up and begins heading for the door. 

“Wait,” you say, your voice shaking. “Arthur, will… will you stay with me? At least until I… I’m not awake anymore?” 

He turns and looks at you. It’s obvious from his face he’s got something heavy weighing on his mind, but he nods and sits back down in the chair. “Sure. Guess I can do that.” 

You lay back down, your eyes unable to close for fear of seeing the horrors you witnessed. You can’t stand to watch your family get butchered again, hear their screams. Arthur pulls out an old journal from his satchel and begins scratching at a page with his pencil. The sound, and the exhaustion, finally lulls you to sleep. 

Contrary to your surety, you end up having no dreams. Perhaps your mind’s so tired it can’t muster up the energy to dream, or maybe it’s trying to block the memories out. You don’t care though, you’re just grateful. You wake up after a few hours. It’s dark outside your window. Arthur’s gone and you’re all alone. 

You feel like crying again, but you’re extremely thirsty. A result of having nothing to drink for God knows how long. You go out into the family room and kitchen of the cabin and find something lying on the cold stove. There’s several cans of food, a full waterskin,  a bundle of money and a letter. Reading it, you see it’s from Arthur and he begs you to take care of yourself as best you can and that he’ll try and check on you in a few days. The thought of him returning sends a jolt of hope through your chest. 

After drinking nearly half of the waterskin’s contents, you try going back to sleep, but you’re afraid. Afraid of the isolation, the darkness. You light a candle, but it does little to help. Shadows flicker along the walls, the silhouettes of the leaves outside play tricks on your eyes. 

You know that not all the Murfrees were in that cabin when Arthur saved you. There were still plenty out there, alive and probably angry. Would they hunt you down? Would they hunt Arthur down? You have more questions than answers. The fear that they will track you and find you here tears through your chest. Should you leave? If Arthur returns, should you ask to follow him? He must have a group of people he lives with, but the thought of living with strangers makes you afraid too. You’ll be lucky if you ever trust another person after this. How can anyone be good when you just witnessed such extreme brutality? 

***************************

A few days pass with no sight or word of another person, which is lucky for you. You talked yourself into going to the stream not far from the cabin and bathing, happy to strip the dirt and the blood from your skin. You rubbed yourself raw, as though convinced that by stripping your skin as much as you could, you could strip away the memories. 

You struggle to sleep, and when you do, it’s very light. The slightest sounds wake you. If only Arthur were here, you felt safe with him. However, you doubt he’ll return. Why would he? You don’t know each other, he owes you nothing and you’ve nothing to offer him in return for his services. Still, you count the days until you see him, happy that you can see the sunlight. 

The day after you came back, a young stag started to visit your house. Your home has always been frequented by deer, of course. But none of them ever stay long. The stag, though, seems to like this spot. You’ve caught him napping beneath your bedroom window a few times. He seems to have no fear of you, nor does he seem aggressive. In fact, he seems curious about you, liking to watch you pick through your sister-in-law’s garden, which is beginning to grow wild. The stag is a welcome companion. You know his senses are far more powerful than your own, and if he’s afraid, you should be too. He never gets worried though, until the fourth day. 

You’re out picking some ginseng from the garden when the stag looks up from his grazing and bolts off into the trees. Looking up, you see Arthur walking in on his horse. He waves to you in greeting. A sigh escapes your lips and your stomach unclenches. You’d been afraid it’d been one of the Murfrees coming down the path. 

“Hello, Y/N,” he says, dismounting. 

“H-hello, Arthur,” you say with a croaky voice. You haven’t spoken a word since you last saw him. 

“How are you?” he asks, stopping a few feet away. “Ya look tired.” 

You shrug again. “It’s… it’s been hard to sleep.” He just nods, not expecting you to go into detail as to why. You notice from his eyes that he seems tired himself. 

“I’d… Let me cook something up for you,” you say. “Afraid all I have is the food you left for me. Thank you for that, by the way.” 

“It’s not a problem, ma’am, and you don’t need to do that. By the way, do you know how to feed yourself out here?” 

It’s clear he means hunting, and you shake your head. “I don’t think I can do it. Maybe before all this I could’ve, but now…” 

He nods, understanding what you mean. “Give it time, Y/N. But I brought more food for you. Thought you might need it.” 

You invite him inside, stammering your thanks. Of course, there’s really not anywhere to sit, but you and Arthur do by sitting on the floor, eating out of the cans. You’re both quiet for a time, but then you ask Arthur what his life is like, desperate for a distraction from the hell that is your own life. 

He tells you that he’s an outlaw, that he’s running with a gang. They’ve run into the worst of times, which is what led to him and his friend Charles to Beaver Hollow where they found you. He finishes by saying they’re all holed up there now and they’ve cleaned it up. 

“You’re not afraid of the Murfrees coming back?” you ask, your eyes wide. 

He chuckles. “Trust me, they’d be damn stupid to do that. With how my gang is right now, they’re nastier than those Murfrees.” 

“I don’t believe that for a second, Mr. Morgan. You… you don’t kidnap and butcher people,” you say slowly, still getting used to talking again. 

“No, but we’re all turnin’ on each other like a pack of wild, starvin’ dogs. The gang leader, Dutch… he’s… gone crazy or somethin’. His girl came back, drunk and mad, sayin’ she betrayed us. Our matriarch, Susan, shot her dead. I wanted to spare Dutch’s girl, but they killed her anyways. I honestly have my doubts that she betrayed us. Think she was just heartbroken, woulda said anythin’ to hurt Dutch like he hurt her.”

You don’t really know anything about what he’s saying, but it sounds like his gang’s in trouble. You swear you recognize the name Dutch though. 

“What… what is Dutch’s last name?” you ask. 

“Van der Linde. Why?” 

Your eyes widen again and you stare at Arthur with a new sense of recognition. “You’re with Dutch’s boys? The gang of murderers, train robbers and bandits?” 

He sighs and just nods. 

“I read about the Blackwater heist, the Valentine massacre. Were… were you involved with those?” 

“Not the Blackwater heist. But I helped shoot up Valentine, Rhodes, Saint Denis. I’m afraid I ain’t the hero you believe I am.” 

Even though you know you should be appalled and disgusted with the man sitting beside you, you don’t. Instead, you put your hand on his knee. “You saved my life, Mr. Morgan. You killed those bad people, brought me home. Not only that, you’re here now to make sure I’m okay. You can’t be all bad.” 

“But I ain’t all good neither, Y/N. Trust me, I killed just as many folks as those bastards who put you in this situation.” 

You pause and withdraw your hand. “Did you like it? Killing those people?” 

He sighs. “No. I ain’t never liked it. But I had to with most of ‘em.” 

“Then you’re not as bad as those Murfree bastards. They… they liked it.” For the first time since you returned, you willingly delve into those memories, trying to get Arthur to see your point. “They said they’d do horrible things to me, Arthur. And I believed every single one of them because I watched them do those things to my family. My brother and his family weren’t good people, but they didn’t deserve what happened. Forgive me, but I don’t see you skinning a man and laughing as he screams. I can’t imagine you raping a girl as young as my niece. I can’t believe you’d mutilate a woman and put her body on a pike for display.” 

He swallows. “No. No I’d never do that.” 

“Then you ain’t a bad man, not like them. You… saved me and you don’t even know me.” 

He looks at you and pats you on the knee. “I’d save you again, miss. Listen, even though things are bad with my gang and I got a lotta work to do, I… I’m hopin’ you’ll be a’right if I stay here every few days?” 

You smile for the first time and squeeze his hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Mr. Morgan.” 

****************************************

As Arthur promised, every few days he returns to your cabin and usually stays for a day or two. He sleeps out in his own tent during the night, resting in a new bedroll since you still have his old one. You offered it back but he told you to keep it. 

After his third visit, he brought tools he bought from Valentine and started making you furniture. You had no means to get it yourself, and you were incredibly embarrassed that he’d do such labors as that, but you were grateful. He made a table first and then a chair to go with the single one you had. 

Every time he comes, he brings food and often leaves you with some money. You ask him to keep it, of course, as you haven’t gotten the courage to go to town. However he ignores your pleas and does it anyways, stating you need it more than he does. 

Along with this, he decided to teach you how to shoot a gun, stating it’s useful knowledge in case the Murfrees do track you down. You don’t like it much at first as the bang always makes you jump. When you grow used to it, it gets easier. Arthur ends up leaving a carbine repeater with you so you can have some form of protection when he’s gone. 

When Arthur isn’t here, the young stag always returns. You find great comfort in the deer’s company, almost like he’s watching over you when Arthur can’t. He always leaves when Arthur visits, but within hours of his departure, the stag comes back every time. 

As the weeks go by, your memories slowly begin to grow less harsh and you start recalling them less. You still don’t trust strangers and any sight of one from the trail sends you running into your cabin. The threat of the Murfrees still hangs heavy over your head. The nightmares started some time ago and you still aren’t able to sleep very well. You notice you sleep best on the nights when Arthur’s visiting. 

You look out your kitchen window and see him coming down the trail now, making your heart lift. Opening the window, you call out to him and he waves, a big grin on his face. As he dismounts his horse, he looks over at you. 

“What you cookin’?” he asks. 

“Just some turkey. I shot one earlier.” 

“Did ya?” he says, pride in his voice. He tried getting you to eat some eat a couple weeks back but with no success. However, even you can’t deny how much weight you’ve lost since the cave. Even though you’re eating enough beans, vegetables and fruits, it’s obvious you need to eat some meat to keep going. 

He walks into the cabin, sniffing appreciatively. You can’t help but blush. The more you two have gotten to know each other, the more you’ve grown to like him. Not only that, you’re quickly developing a crush on him. You have an idea that he might like you too. After all, why else would he keep visiting you like this? 

Just as you’re setting dinner down on the table, the cabin is suddenly illuminated by and quickly followed by a huge bang, causing you to jump out of your skin. 

“Easy, easy,” Arthur says, his hand planting on the small of your back. “It’s just lightning and thunder.” 

You blush at his touch and nod. He goes over to the window and looks up at the sky. “Hmm. Looks like a pretty good storm.” 

You pause. You’ve no bed to offer him, but you don’t want him sleeping out in the rain either. 

“You can, um, take my bed if you want,” you offer. “You’re the guest, after all.” 

“No, miss, I’d never kick ya out of your own bed.” 

You think to offer him sleeping with you in the bed but you quickly dash away that thought. No way would he go for it and you doubt you’d be comfortable with that. 

However, as the night sets further in, the storm grows stronger. The lightning and thunder last for a long time, even to the point where you’re huddled in bed and shivering. You’ve never been a huge fan of thunder during the night, but after the Murfrees it’s even worse. 

After a while of heart-wrenching fear of the storm, you get out of bed and look out in the kitchen, where Arthur’s laid his bedroll out on the floor. 

“Arthur?” you whisper. 

He grunts over the howling wind, letting you know he’s awake. 

“Arthur, will… will you come be with me? I can’t sleep over this.” 

He sits up and nods. Before he stands, you go back to your bed and huddle against the wall, still cold. He comes in, his eyes glancing at the lit lantern on your bedside table. You never sleep without it anymore. Silently, he crawls into bed and lies down on his back. At first, you give him his space, but the lightning and thunder persist. This sends you to pack yourself against him, your head buried into his shirt. He doesn’t seem to mind though, in fact his arm wraps protectively around you. 

After this night, things noticeably change between the two of you. Arthur’s much more likely to touch you and he spends most nights in your bed. Despite everything you saw happen to your sister-in-law and niece in the cave, it doesn’t take long before you end up having sex with Arthur. It had been in the morning and he’d been spooning you. You’d shuffled your hips a little and felt his morning wood. Being already attracted to him, you couldn’t control yourself and one thing led to another. He was the first person you’d slept with too, but he was gentle and did his best to make sure you felt good. 

You were honestly surprised with yourself about sleeping with him. You hadn’t even kissed and yet there you were with him between your legs. However, you wouldn’t deny that it felt right. After the deed was done, the two of you talked for a while about what would happen between the two of you. Both of you admitted your feelings for one another. It was the best thing to have happened to you since Arthur saved your life. All the walls came tumbling down. He told you the details about his gang and how bad things had become. You told him about your past too, the abuses you suffered at the hands of your brother and his family, which explained why you weren’t devastated by their deaths, though disturbed by them. 

Since that morning, sex between the two of you has become a fairly regular thing. Arthur’s careful, not wanting another situation like Eliza and Isaac. Your feelings have quickly spiraled out of control. You wish he was around all the time but understand when he has to leave to try and help what remains of his gang. 

Arthur says he loves you, but it’s not until one night that he discovers he’s never loved anyone more. The two of you had just finished fooling around and he’d collapsed on top of you. Things had been so hard in the gang lately, he and Charles had aided Eagle Flies, the Wapiti chief’s son escape prison, and Dutch had found out. He’d been irate when he discovered Arthur was helping the Wapiti behind his back. Things had hit an all time low, so being with you was the greatest form of relief for him. However, as he settled on top of you, you held his head to your chest and stroked his hair. 

Never before had you lay with him like this. From the beginning, it was him who held you, him who brushed your hair, him who comforted you in the night. But here you were, with his head on your shoulder, whispering in his ear that things would be better. No woman in his past ever did this, and he knew he’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you. 

****************************************

Arthur rides down towards your little cabin with the heaviest of hearts. The betrayal crushes down on him, and the pain of everything sags his shoulders down. When he sees you out in the garden, looking so beautiful as you sing to yourself with the sun glowing on your hair, he feels like crying, knowing you’ll accept him with open arms. 

When you spot him, you break out with your big smile. The one he loves so much. When he embraces you, burying his face into your hair, you know something real bad has happened. You ask and he tells you how the Wapiti attacked the oil fields in retaliation to all the horrible things the army and Cornwall have done to them. He tells you how Dutch used the Indians to get rich, how he himself had been knocked down and nearly killed. Dutch had a chance to save him but abandoned him. 

“He was like my father,” he sniffs into your hair. “Him and Hosea, they raised me. But now I see I’ve never been anything other than a means to an end for him. I’m expendable. All those goddamn years. Wasted.” 

“What will you do?” you ask softly when he composes himself. 

He leans up, his hands still on your waist. “I ain’t goin’ back. I’m done breakin’ my back for that fool. If… If you’ll have me, I’d like to stay here with you. Try for a… a new life.” 

You smile and brush his cheek with your hand. “Nothing would make me happier, Arthur.”

The kiss that follows is one you’ll never forget. 

[iwantutobehapppier]

Nobody Loves No One (1/?)

Pairing: Bucky x Enhanced Female Reader

Summary: You know one thing, James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy and you weren't. When he inserts himself into your family drama and past can you show you're worthy of his trust or deign to hurt him as most of life has?

Word Count: 4,312

Warnings: Eventual Smut, night terrors, angst, verbal abuse, implied abuse, canon typical violence, and cursing. 18 and older only

A/N: This is something I’ve been working on for a while. I really hope you all enjoy it. I’m not sure how many chapters it will break up into. I am still working on the 2k requests I promise! I just really wanted to get this out there after months of working on it. I once saw a note on an AO3 story where it said “Continues to aggressively ignore canon” that's how it is here. Steve didn't go to the past, Avengers Compound rebuilt and everyone is alive. I hope you all enjoy! Reblogs and comments welcomed!

There wasn't a moment you knew him that you didn't trust him. The harsh realization that you never felt this way about anyone else, family included, made keeping him at a distance the only option but hard to follow through with. 

He noticed right away, after all, he was trained in the art of reading a situation. Honestly, you weren't trying to be subtle just trying to protect. This only made him seek you out more.

James Buchanan Barnes was trustworthy, you weren't.

You killed for fun in the past, enjoyed the hunt and more than anything lived for the warmth of your enemy’s blood spilling down your hands. Winter Soldier didn't have a choice in his killings but you did and you always made the right choice, at least when you got older.

You became an Avenger to circumvent jail time and the killing became more methodical and less for pleasure. It was to complete the mission not bask in the trail of destruction you could cause. The first time you killed someone like the old days on a mission was in front of Steve and Bucky. 

Blood from your broken nose covered your upper lip and chin. When the HYDRA agent punched you square in the jaw you screamed out, not in pain. 

With a glower, you grabbed the startled agent by the shoulders and chucked him to the ground using your superhuman strength.

You whipped your boot knife out and fell on top of them using the momentum of your fall to push the blade completely into their chest. A gleeful smile pulled at your lips, your eyes dilated in pleasure watching the light fade from the shocked face of your adversary.

Steve calls out your name, you look up to the sight of him and Bucky charging towards you.

"We heard you scream," Steve’s voice trailed off, he slowed his approach at your blood-stained teeth on display in a sadistic smile. 

Bucky continued forward, the deranged look did a lot to him but never a deterrent.

"You alright Toots?" You cocked your head to the side at the sound of his voice. The smile slipped from your face looking down in practiced shame.

"I'm fine." A hollow whisper.

Bucky stood next to you placing his metal hand under your chin forcing you to face up.

"Come on, there are more goons you can stab like a lunatic." You stood up your eyes hooded as an unhinged smile pulled at the corner of your lips.

They saw you in your most primal and pleasure-filled state, where Steve was cautious Bucky became fascinated.

He spent more time with you outside of missions, even had you watch movies during your joined insomnia fits. You learned he had a sweet tooth but only if cherry flavored or chocolate. He loved documentaries, he had watched Cosmos five times. When you introduced him to NOVA the two of you spent an entire night watching your favorites.

He told you about HYDRA late nights when the majority of the team would be away on missions, the violence and how it hurt when they'd wipe the slate clean. He only felt safe sharing in isolation, worried others could overhear even across the compound.

You joked once that it didn't matter after the data dump everyone knew. He was hurt at first but understood you were only trying to spare him the need to hide who he had been.

"Tell me somethin’ no one knows." He leaned into you on the bench at the lake dock. The stars and waning moon illuminating your furrowed brow in memory.

"I was 13 when I killed someone for the first time." The shame you had trained yourself to feel when enjoying death didn't come. Instead, you felt that smile Bucky liked to see on missions pulled at your lips.

"13 eh? What'd they do?" His eyes drifting towards you, that smile made him want to kiss you. Your lack of shame and his abundance something that drew the two of you together. A dysfunctional balance.

"Short version?” You ignored his gaze knowing he would look but never touch inappropriately. “He was touching a friend of mine in a way no adult should so I made sure he couldn't touch anyone ever again." You felt him tense as you leaned against him sharing the bench. A fleeting thought of maybe you shouldn’t have shared this chased away when his metal arm wrapped around your shoulders fingers so gentle curled around your shoulder.

"That was the first time I learned someone could bleed out. I didn't mean to kill him honestly just wanted him to stop." Your tone petulant.

A rough chuckle fell from his lips causing your body to shake as you remain against him. His arm pulled your back almost flat to his chest.

"Well Toots I'm sure ya learned real quick how to let 'em bleed without dying on ya"

You nodded your head in agreement, lesson learned indeed. You laid down, your head on his lap, a hand behind his head you toy with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Before Bucky would be embarrassed at the sudden intimacy but now he closes his eyes, an unconscious soft rumble pulled from deep in his chest past his lips. 

Touching him with such ease was a slow progression that only happened in private. Neither of you ashamed but both apprehensive to show such affection openly. You could recall a time he would remain tense when your hand would rest on top of his. The ease in which you touched him slowly opened him to reciprocate and now you often found each other in such intimate but innocent embraces. 

"You?"

"What people assume is a Nazi back in '43," there's a pause, gauging whether he could trust you as you trusted him. Like a fool he did.

"The truth is?" You implored he huffed, pushing your hair from your face he rested his metal arm on your stomach the other at the top of your head gently caressed the furrow wrinkles on your forehead.

"A guy Steve tried to stop from knifin’ this lady in an ally. He nicked Steve's arm and I lost it." Bucky took a deep breath, his metal hand on your stomach bunched up your shirt in a fist.

"I was so scared of Steve bein’ killed...I couldn’ stop myself. I only realized the guy was unconscious when Steve started yellin’ my name." Bucky swallow audible. "Saw his obit' in the paper a few days later."

"So we both didn't mean to." A short laugh escapes your lips.

"Accidental murders?" You shake your head at the idea.

"No never an accident. Always with intent even if I didn't know he'd bleed out I never regretted what I did to him." He was silent at that, you both knew he couldn't say the same there was too much unintentional and innocent blood on his hands. 

"So how'd a 13-year-old girl get rid of a body?" You grimace and turn to face the lake, his metal hand slinking up your raised shirt. The cool metal hand resting on your lower stomach. He never pushed boundaries, though you would never admit it out loud you wished he would.

"Uh, so my father's a butcher and well he had this industrial meat grinder." Bucky's brows shot up.

"Oh, please tell me you pulled a Sweeney Todd?" Bucky’s love of musicals endearing especially when you’d catch him humming or the rare chance singing under his breath.

"My father would have killed me," you paused Bucky noticed the far off look in your eyes as you took in the softening hues of the horizon. 

"I told him the next day after I put the remains in the dump.” You trailed off remembering your father’s tantrum. “He was upset don't get me wrong but I think that was the first time he was proud of me." With a bitter laugh, you sat up. Bucky pulled his hands from you with remorse, he wished he could remain in an intimate embrace forever, even if he didn't deserve such pleasures.

"But daddy issues will have to be for another night because looks like dawn is breaking." You nodded your head across the lake.

"Hmm, I like a girl with daddy issues." Bucky joked but you were fairly certain he meant it.

"I've got more than you can handle Barnes." You both stand stretching out your stagnant muscles before making way back to the compound to start another day with minimal sleep. Walking ahead you missed his last remark.

"You've got no idea how much I can handle toots."

Late one night you returned from a mission with Natasha. Parting ways you made your way to your quarters when halfway down the hall you hear soft whimpers, pausing you listen for where they could be coming from. 

An agonizing cry carries through the door to your right. Bucky. Your heart began to race as you put your hand on the door handle. If he was hurting you didn’t want him to be alone. But was it your place to encroach in his personal life like this? You two were friends, close friends, but was this a boundary you could cross?

The whimpering starts back up and before you can think further you’re entering the room. It’s dark, but you can make out Bucky’s form tossing on his bed. You place one knee on the bed leaning over him, trailing your hand up to his flesh arm gently, trying to rouse him from his inner demons.

“Bucky,” The docile tone barely carries but it's enough for him to still, with your other hand you brush his hair off his damp forehead. His brow softens and you hate the way your heart flutters in response. 

He rolls over to his side, his back to you and you remove your hand from his arm hoping this was enough to ease his demons for the night. A metal hand quickly wraps around our wrist. You try not to react, keeping yourself calm.

“Stay,” His voice is sleep ridden, the deep richness much more alluring than should be possible. He tugs your arm and you fall onto his bed. Your chest against this back.

“Please” You ache, his voice shaky and vulnerable, you wrap your arm around him, placing your palm center in his chest and rest your head on your bent arm. 

“Of course,” Is all you can muster as he burrows into you. His breath evening out quickly. 

When morning comes you aren’t sure what to expect but it certainly wasn’t this. Your fingers curl into a soft shirt as sleep began to fade, laying on your stomach your cheek pressed against warm firm muscles. Your eyes snap open and lookup.

Clear blue eyes peer down at you, Bucky halfway propped up against his headboard. The soft side smile curling on his lips makes stupid fluttering in your chest again. Oh, this was not good. Bucky’s arms curled around your back pushing you into him. Or was this perfect?

“Morning Toots,” the timbre of his voice pulls you back to reality. 

“Morning,” Slowly sitting up to one side of the bed you stretch your arms above your head looking around. It hadn’t been even 4 hours since you crawled in bed with him but it felt like you had a full night rest. Looking out the corner of your eyes you catch Bucky still watching you. 

“Thanks for last night,” A warm hand rests on your back, it's comforting in a way you can barely remember feeling in your life. 

“Of course,” you mutter feeling uncomfortable with your own emotions. Bucky raises a brow at the shift, clouds forming over his eyes insecurity at seeing and hearing about his night terrors two different things.

“I mean,” You try to recover, not wanting to hurt him with your own damage. “Of course I’d be there for you.” looking at your lap you finger the hem of your sleep wrinkled shirt. “There’s  no one I’d be there for more,” you look back at him bitting your lower lip, “Thank you Bucky.”

Something shifted, his eyes softening with an easy smile. You squeak when he pulls you back into the pillows. 

“Alright Toots,” he mutters, your head below his chin both facing upward. “Let’s watch some morning cartoons then maybe breakfast?”

You nod your head unable to utilize your voice at this intimacy. 

"I told you I'd take care of it just like I told you never to call me." Bucky paused at your cracked door, alarmed by the uncharacteristic rush of words and panic in your voice.

"They aren't gonna do shit," he knew he shouldn't be listening on what was clearly a private conversation but he could never stop himself when it came to you.

"Pops, they know if they pull anything I'll take them down and this time it won't be innocent getting hurt. They're all plenty guilty." Bucky could hear your teeth grind together spitting the words out.

Bucky could make out an older male voice saying your name with worry over the phone thanks to the serum enhancements. Worry over what was still unclear.

"They came round last night is all and gave their cryptic bullshit." Loud coughing came through on the phone  "I thought you should know. Don't let me stop you from playing the superhero."

When the cell phone beeped for end call Bucky made his way towards his room. 

He didn't see you again that day until he came to your door to see what movie you'd like to watch later. You were pulling your worn leather jacket on and the look on your face told him he wasn't going to like whatever you had to say.

"I'm sorry Buck but I gotta take care of some personal matters and I don't know how late I'll be." You pull your bottom lip between your teeth in worry. Missing time with Bucky seems like a crime considering how close you two had grown over the months.

He wanted to say I heard you on the phone don't do whatever stupid thing you might be doing alone but all he could get out was "That's alright, you want some company?"

"Nah, I think I should go it alone. Maybe next time?" You offered. Wouldn't it be nice to introduce him to your family? Pretend for a moment both of you weren't cracked pieces but instead friends with normal nuclear families.

But you didn't play pretend, not anymore.

"Be safe Toots." You left with nothing else.

He followed you if you wouldn't invite him along he'd at least keep an eye on you. Bucky knew you would only be upset if he got in the way but also knew if you needed help you weren’t someone to ask for it. Your tone on that call left him feeling uneasy about you going alone, while you didn’t need protecting Bucky couldn’t help the way he felt. 

He almost lost you right away when Steve just had to show him this cute video he found online.

"I've gotta go, man!" Bucky's knees bounced erratically as he sat at the table waiting for Steve to pull the video up on his tablet.

"Jeez, where do you even need to be?" Steve muttered navigating the tablet.

"I've got stuff going on outside this place." Steve eyed Bucky but nodded his head. 

"I can't find it right now anyway. Go on and stop acting like you've got ants in your pants." Bucky took off before Steve had even finished.

By the time he caught up, you had passed Hackensack and still heading south. Where you going into the city? He knew you were from the city but not sure where.

Keeping a safe distance you both made it to Staten Island. He shook his head taking in the sights of what used to be bustling areas of Staten Island now run down with some abandoned industrial buildings and overpopulated projects.

When you stopped in front of a butchery he knew this was the place and grabbed his trusted Betsy, useful in keeping a proper eye on you and safe. Not that you needed a lot of help with the latter. Looking across the street at the destitute multi-family building he decided that would be the most advantageous. 

You walked into the brick worn store feeling nostalgia and apprehension all at once with the dinging of the doorbell atop the door frame.

"Pops?" You called out trailing your fingers across the wrapped hanging meats. He hadn't moved the unsold meat to the walk-in yet. You remembered long-lasting bruises from beatings over not getting the meat back in the chiller before dinner.

Your name was called out from the back but it sounded strained. Your brow creased, slowly making your way to the back end of the establishment.

Taking notice of the walk-in fridge door open and the yellowed overexposed strip curtains flapping you called out for your dad once more and his response sounding strained still from inside the fridge.

Standing a few feet in front of the barely see through curtains you could make out what appeared to be your dad in a chair. If you weren't suspicious before you knew now, things weren't right.

You took one step closer to the walk-in before someone charged out, a pipe in hand. Grabbing the pipe before it could impact, you head butt the would-be assailant gaining a sick satisfaction from the sound of their skull cracking. Your enhanced strength and skeletal makeup always fun for taking out bad guys.

A forearm wrapped around your neck from behind, you managed to get one hand between the arm and your neck to keep direct pressure off. Feeling the muscle in the arm and chest now pressed against your back you knew this one would take more work.

With a macabre smile, you began to charge the two of you back to the front of the shop slamming their back into a meat display case. Once the grip loosened from the behind, you flipped him from behind by holding the back of his neck, letting him land on his ass in front of you. Without missing a beat you snap his neck and release him to crumple on the floor.

"How many more?" You grunted.

"I don't know shithead maybe 20? They went upstairs." Your father's hoarse voice called from the walk-in. As you passed by and lifted a curtain slat to make sure he was alright you noticed the worn lines along his face you were unfamiliar with. In the past decade of your life, you had avoided him as much as possible, unwilling to subject yourself to his verbal abuse.

"You gonna die on me old man?" Helping him stand you took a catalog of his wounds nothing seemed severe, appearing they only roughed him up saving the lethal force for you.

Making your way up to your father's flat just above the shop you tried to quell the fluttering in your chest at the thought of all the carnage you were about to unleash. Seeing the light underneath the door you were almost giddy with excitement. No Avengers here to see the delight you took in pain.

Rolling your shoulders back and cracking your neck you whipped out two knives and kicked the door in, sending it off its hinges and into the room. The men inside are dressed in the typical mog sleaze attire you almost roll your eyes but knew better. They charged and you retaliated. 

The sound of a window shattering followed by bodies drop you around you and high power rounds freeze your assailants in place but you fall to the floor for protection. 

They brought a sniper?!

You were stunned as the men sent to attack you had bullets flying through their skulls. With a grimace, you stood back up realizing who was behind the gun. 

"Bucky," you hissed in agitation.

Taking out a guy charging to your right from the kitchen with a quick uppercut feeling the jaw crush at impact and foot to the chest cracking ribs and sending them flying into a wall, you made your way over the pile of bodies to the shattered window.

Stilling you heard the baseboards behind you creak, ducking you whip your head back and smiled at the sound of a whizzing bullet flying through the air. The man behind you falling to the ground.

Standing up straight you lifted the holey curtain to the side looking up at the rooftop across the street. 

Under the cover of darkness, you could make out his metal hand giving a two-finger wave and his stupid handsome boyish smile. Nodding your head in thanks, you made your way back downstairs to your father, assured Bucky would be there in no time as well.

You found your father dragging a body from the front end of the shop towards the basement access leaving a trail of blood. Rolling your eyes you lifted the body up with ease then proceeded to toss it down the basement stairs.

He stared you down, keeping eye contact you raised an eyebrow challenging the old man to say a word. Before the traditional verbal sparring could start between you two the sound of boots crushing on broken glass interrupts.

Your father puts his fists up at Bucky's dark shadow leaning against the frame between the front and back of the shop. Bucky studied the body language between the two of you. Your father was a short man and the only visible familiarity the scowl you both pointed his way.

"Pops, this is a friend. That's my job right?" Your father side-eyes you, one that used to scare you as a child now reminds you how much you hated him as a kid.

"We need to call the team," Bucky made his way towards the two of you.

"No!" Your father and you echo. Bucky's brow rises in suspicion, stopping mid-step.

"Listen, Barnes,” Bucky frowned at the formality. “I don't expect you to understand but I've got old contacts that can help me take care of this." You try to keep it vague knowing he'd press you about it later if he felt it was pertinent.

"Yeah Barnes," your father's chest-puffing out and you roll your eyes at him trying to assert dominance. "They're pretty good at cleaning up these messes shithead makes."

"My mess?!” Your face written with disbelief. “ Pretty sure you made this one all on your own." He really hadn't changed over the years, never any culpability. Arguing you missed the way Bucky's eyes narrowed on your father. 

"Now shithead," Bucky’s hands curled into fists at your father’s disparaging words. "I may have caused the situation but you laid the bodies down."

The animosity in the back of your father's butchery was palpable. Just like growing up. The only new piece in the aquation being Bucky’s steely glare pointed at your father. You didn’t have it in you to wonder why he held such a hard look for a man he just met. Though your father didn’t really instill much camaraderie in strangers, let alone in his own family.

"Call them and clean up the shop old man."  Walking past your father he grabbed your upper arm, looking back at him, his eyes softened in an abnormal manner. 

"Don't be dumb," his voice full of concern caught you off guard. Not knowing how to handle this side of a man you only knew as rough you pulled your arm from his grip.

"It's all I know how to be right?" Looking at Bucky you nodded your head to follow him out the front. Missing the remorseful look of your father.

Standing in front of the store with Bucky you feel nervous. When he steps in front of you keeping eye contact you lift your head up and feel your heartbeat faster but not from the adrenaline of a fight.

His eyes locked onto the blood marring your check, his right hand comes up to wipe clean. You stop breathing for the briefest of a moment at his touch.

"You're dad's a real charmer, Toots." You chuckle shaking your head causing his hand to fall away. "I'm starting to see why you killed so young, dad like that would drive anyone to violence." 

You can't help the glare you direct at him.

"He didn't drive me to murder, not at first at least." Bucky opened his mouth to clearly inquire what that meant but you cut him off.

"I appreciate your help Buck," you rest your hand on his left shoulder squeezing gently where metal meets flesh "I really do but I've gotta do the next step on my own."

"And what's that?" Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and you sighed, it was hard to refuse those beautiful blue eyes.

"If you're gonna come with I'm afraid you'll get more red on your hands." Bucky shrugged his shoulders with a flare of dramatics your hand slipping off. 

"I'd hate to miss seeing that little crooked smile you get when you enjoy a kill." He takes a step closer, your breaths mixing. "Really gets me going." His words and smirk that slides over his face pull a gasp from you. 

"James Barnes!" Your tone hushed with an indiscernible tone, "your momma know you talk to ladies like that?"

His smile only widened, skin folding at the corner of his eyes. 

"What she don’t know won't hurt 'er." He lifted his hand gesturing towards his car. "Betsy's secure in the back waiting to see what other shenanigans you can get her into tonight." You snickered at his nickname for his m249. 

[justanotherlifeff]

Levi Ackerman × reader

Genre: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, matured themes, slowburn

Warning: There's mentions and descriptions of underage rape and suicidal themes and self harm and other triggering stuff.

(Y/N) POV

The wind made my hair fly vigorously. It has gotten longer and I probably will have to cut it. I'll ask Levi if he prefers it long or not. I could see the wall in the distance as we galloped towards it. Wall Rose, our home. The winter was almost over, the snow will melt by the next month. As soon as we give the news of our success in eradicating all titans in Wall Maria, the refugees would start preparing to go back. That would take about a month and everyone would start moving out by spring.

A month will also be required for the Garrison to start cleaning the bodies out. They would do it as soon as we bring the news of success. The two teams that were surveying the inner walls reached near Trost in formation as soon as we were near the door. "You all wait a second. I'll take a briefing from them." I told my squad before going towards the survey corps squad. Being the squad leader of one of the four commanding squads gave me a certain amount of power in the scout regiment.

[Author's note: The ranking of the survey corps is pretty vague, so I made my own version. Before Erwin's death, Levi was the captain, Hanji was the section commander, Mike Zacharias and Dita ness were two high rank squad leaders. The four of them made the commanding squads, the squads that held a certain amount of power over all other squads. Levi and Hanji's ranking held a similar amount of power, only, Hanji was Erwin's successor to commander and Erwin's right hand. Levi held the same amount of power on other squads as Hanji but he wasn't Erwin's successor. Mike Zacharias and Dita ness held equal power on other squads as eachother but less than Hanji and Levi. Now, Hanji is commander but Levi is still captain. Hanji didn't choose a section commander yet, so there are three remaining high rank squad leaders including (Y/N).]

"Oi! How are things here? Any deaths or titans spotted?" I asked the squad leader. "No Squad leader (Y/N). No titans were spotted and no one died. It seems like all of them were killed in the last expedition." The squad leader replied. "Good. I'll be off then." I told him before returning to my squad. The lifts were already lowered. I led my horse to the horse lift and stepped in the other one with my squad. We will be going back to Wall Maria and beyond the walls soon. Maybe we would get to see the ocean that Armin talked about. There were so many possibilities even if the entire world was our enemy.

The people of Trost welcomed us in. I was happy to give them the news that I just got from the squad outside the wall. I gave my squad the permission to do whatever they wanted for now before travelling towards the Capital Mitras to give the supreme commander the news of no enemy being spotted in Shiganshina. It was highly unlikely that the others would spot any enemy either. I reached Mitras at night to find that Levi, Hanji and Mikasa were there too. We all reached at the same time. As I got down from my horse at the stable, Levi approached me. "(Y/N), I need to talk to you in private." he told me, giving a brief look towards Mikasa and Hanji, who were also at the stable.

"Well, we will go report to the supreme commander. I'll tell him you two will be there shortly." Hanji briefly told Levi after I nodded at him. Levi took me behind the stable in an empty corridor and before I could say anything, he kissed me. I didn't hesitate kissing back either because I missed him. I wish I didn't have to face Uncle Erwin alone. After a somewhat long and passionate kiss, Levi broke it and touched his forehead on mine, our eyes still closed. "I was worried." he muttered. I understood how he felt. He wasn't too good with words but I knew how he felt.

"I'm here. I'll always be here" I whispered to him. To that, he pulled me in a tight hug. The warmth of his hug made me struggle to keep myself from falling asleep while standing because I was exhausted. I didn't get any sleep on the wall as I was constantly worried about getting ambushed. After all, I made a promise. "Levi, I'll tall asleep if you hug me any longer. I'm really tired." I muttered to him and he pulled away. "Well, let's report to Zackly." Levi answered to that and we headed towards the building.

The supreme commander seemed happy with our reports and even offered us wine which we politely declined. We had to get back to Farlan and just go home to take some rest. Levi offered that we could take a wagon in case if I felt too tired but I avoided it as I had no intention to sleep on a hard piece of wood and every intention to pass out on a comfy bed with Levi's arms around me. By the time we reached Trost with Farlan, it was dawn. We knew that we would get a day off and I ordered my squad to look after Farlan for a while so that Levi and I could get our well deserved rest. The month passed quicker than expected. The survey corps and Garrison declared Wall Maria to be titan free.

The Garrison was in charge of cleaning up the mess of Shiganshina and repairing all housing. Whatever remains left of the fallen soldiers in Shiganshina were collected and given a mass burial back in the army burials of Capital Mitras. Everyone got a combined headstone. Uncle Erwin's body was also recovered and as the 13th commander of the survey corps, he received a separate grave. I finally had the chance to give Uncle Erwin a proper funeral.

Many civilians showed up at the funeral, a rather modest one without much arrangements for food or refreshments. They didn't care though. He was that one person that made many notable achievements for humanity...or just our kingdom of Paradis. We wouldn't have known that we weren't alone, the extent of how strong our enemies are without his help. The entire survey corps were there, along with many from the Garrison and some from the military police, all in their uniform. Only civilians dressed in black. The funeral went through the standard army procedure, we all saluted to the great man who attained the respect of all his comrades.

After the army procedure was done, everyone was allowed to come forward and speak a few words about Uncle Erwin. Historia was the first to go as queen. She mentioned how Uncle Erwin allowed her to land the final blow on Rod Reiss, her father. How he was concerned but believed in her. The Supreme commander went next and told of his experience on dealing with the cunning commander. How Uncle Erwin never failed to impress him and how he thought Uncle Erwin was a very interesting man. Pixis was called after that and he did something that I never expected.

"Erwin Smith was a man who I knew I could trust as we saw eye to eye on most matters. He helped me out in various occasions and I don't think I have quiet paid the debt back. You see, many years back, I found out that I had a daughter. A man needs some release at times and I made the mistake of going underground for it. I didn't know about her till it was too late. She was found at an underground brothel, almost sold off, during a survey corps raid. I think all of you have a fair idea about who I am talking about at this point.

Yes, (Y/N), also known as the strongest woman in humanity, though that title brings serious doubts now given that there are people living in the world besides us, she is my daughter. I could've taken her back then but seeing how much of a terrible father I have been, I decided she would be better off in a family. I was wrong and everyone knows the rest. I never intended for her to find out about me but she did and I decided I should face reality instead of trying to hide behind the walls I made for myself. As the commander of the Garrison, I do have the tendency of not crossing the walls. Erwin took really good care of (Y/N) when I wasn't present. The (L/N) couple were a good fit for her but as much as I know, (Y/N) spent more time with Erwin, training, reading... Erwin helped her grow as a person, something that I should have done. I'm always going to be thankful towards Erwin for taking care of my daughter and there was no way to pay him back. That's all." he said.

Levi POV

I personally was surprised by the fact that Pixis came clean about (Y/N) in front of the public. Did he drink too much? He must have drank too much. (Y/N) looked equally as surprised as I did. The reporters from the newspapers had a new glint to their eyes. We would have to deal with their shit after the programme is over. Thankfully, Hanji, who was in charge of arranging the programme, got the situation under control and gave Nile Dok a chance on the stage. No one really cared about his cadet corps days with Erwin after what Pixis mentioned. It was Hanji's turn after him and then it was my turn. I got up, went to the stage and started talking.

"Erwin Smith found me when I was in a very shitty position in life. He took me in the military, helped me get a better life. I can't be thankful enough for that. He was a man who never thought a second time before throwing away lives for humanity as we knew back then, but perhaps, if he didn't become a demon among the normal people, we wouldn't have known the truth of the world now. I personally decided that it was time for him to rest that day in Shiganshina because we pushed the man into becoming a ruthless soldier, someone who wasn't allowed to have feelings. I knew how hard that was after I met my wife. He didn't deserve it, no, we didn't deserve a man like him." I ended my speech before returning to my seat next to (Y/N). It was her turn now. I gave her a reassuring look as she headed towards the stage. The crowd, as well as the reporters seemed much more eager about listening to her speech.

"Well, I had a speech written down but seems like I won't be using that. Commander Pixis stated how my childhood was already and I wouldn't comment much on that but I would definitely say that Erwin Smith, the man who was like a father figure to me, made me see hope in this cruel world countless times. He trained me to defend myself, he introduced me to my love towards reading, he was the reason I kept on living after everything was taken from me. He might not be alive today but his memories live on. The day I saw his dead body for the first time, I realized that the body was only a proof that he lived. What mattered most was his contribution towards all of our lives, specially mine." (Y/N) stated, her face etched into a light frown but stoic nonetheless.

The other speeches were dull and uninteresting. That was until a civilian mentioned that his brother, someone who died on the mission to retake wall Maria, had felt how Erwin felt during the 57th expedition. I remembered that one, I gave him Petra's batch after he lost his friend trying to recover another friend's body.

"Levi, you couldn't have had his friend's batch." (Y/N) mentioned in a low tone beside me. "Yes I know." I answered, curious about why she seemed angry. "I saw you take Petra's batch. Was that her's?" (Y/N) asked, her tone sounding more sad than angry. "Yes. It was her's. Are you okay?" I asked (Y/N), concerned about her. "Why did you take her batch? You told me you didn't have feelings for her..." (Y/N) muttered, looking down at her hands. "(Y/N), I didn't have feelings for her. I never did and never will do. I felt guilty that the last conversation I had with her was the one where I rejected her. I felt like I should have changed her squad instead of giving her a chance. I thought about changing her squad too. I felt like she died because of me and I needed to give her father something that belonged to her. Something other than her dead body. That's all there was to it." I explained. "Oh" she answered, with a hint of smile on her face. She still didn't regret her death did she?

One Month later

The refugees returned to their newly repaired and cleaned homes in Wall Maria. Farlan was three months old now and if we thought his crying was bad enough before, it was like living in hell now. I was always used to 3 hours of sleep a day but now, even I get sleep deprived. I'm never having children again. (Y/N) always manages to calm him down but the woman needs some sleep too. I feel bad for her sometimes and try to take care of Farlan but he keeps shrieking like a banshee. God knows what the fuck I do wrong. The expedition outside wall Maria was coming soon enough and my table was filled with stacks of paperwork.

Hanji was kind enough to give (Y/N) a comparatively less amount after she got baby sitting duty when (Y/N) and I had to go and talk to the nobles about expedition budget. Apparantly being the strongest soldiers among Eldians gave us some benefits. Other than that, we recently found out that (Y/N) had a talent of managing people. She probably got that from Pixis. This was discovered when (Y/N) was being interviewed by the newspaper reporters about the revelation by Pixis. (Y/N) answered their questions on point and as short and informatively as possible, without letting out too much or making it seem too mysterious thus getting rid of all the sudden public attention.

Hanji decided that she should go talk to those filthy nobles after that and I, of course, volunteered to go with her as I didn't want anyone else hitting on what's mine. We still lived at Trost, making an hour long travel to Shiganshina everyday, with (Y/N) strapping Farlan to her while going to work. She hated leaving Farlan out of sight except when we are in bed, which isn't happening too often as he seems to start shrieking every time (Y/N) leaves him alone. I understood why she did that though. She just wanted to make sure Farlan has the best childhood and is always cared for. That woman is the perfect mother. I'm not too sure about myself. The new headquarters were at Shiganshina, making it easier to travel out. The expedition was to take place next week.

One week Later

(Y/N) POV

We were standing on top of the wall, the lifts lowering our horses. Only the two special operations squads and Hanji were going on this expedition as no titans were spotted outside of the wall. Both Hanji and I had a theory that all the titans were already inside Wall Maria and we took care of them. Everyone except Levi and Hanji seemed excited to finally leave Wall Maria, and that included me even if I didn't show it off. Uncle Erwin's formation technique would be used so that we could avoid any titan, if any came into view. The plan for now was to go to the end of the island to ensure Eren's father's information were right or not. There must be the so called ocean at the end of the land. The plan after that was eradicating any remaining titan that were on this island and creating a base near the ocean so that Marleyans couldn't throw more titans in here.

Hanji was right. We didn't encounter any titan on our way. Just one which wasn't able to move. "That's one of our compatriots. Someone who'd been sent to 'heaven'. We're close. I'm sure of it." Eren stated before following Levi and galloping forward. After travelling a small distance, we came across a wall. A man made wall. "This is where the Eldians were turned into Titans." Eren stated again. We trotted past it and saw something that was utterly unbelievable. A huge blue wherever my eyes went. Water everywhere. As if it didn't have an end. This was the ocean.

Everyone was already in the ocean. My squad, Sasha, Connie and Jean were playing in the water. Armin stood in the water, looking at something near his feet while Eren was looking at the horizon. Mikasa was struggling to take her shoes off. Hanji was already experimenting and I was tempted to join her. However, it could be dangerous... "Woahhhh! Is this really all salt water?! Huh?! I see something!" she exclaimed and that was enough to catch my attention. I swiftly got my shoes off and went towards her. "What is it?" I asked her, curiosity clear on my face.

"Watch out, both of you. Don't touch it. It could be poisonous." Levi voiced my concerns. I wasn't going to touch it anyway. While Hanji fiddled with some black weird things, I looked over at Eren and the others. Mikasa and Armin were smiling but Eren had a melancholic expression. "I'll be back." I told Hanji and Levi and walked towards the trio. Mikasa and Eren were good friends, specially Mikasa. Armin was more of an intellectual competition to me but he had my respect too after everything that happened.

"And on the other side of the ocean is freedom. That's what I always believed. But I was wrong. It's enemies that are on the other side of the ocean. This is exactly as I saw in my old man's memories. Right? Those enemies on the other side of here, if we kill them all, does that mean we'll be free?" I overheard Eren. "They took everything from me too. I'd kill them at the first chance I get. We will have freedom and justice." I spoke from behind Eren. Eren chuckled at that and said, "You're the last person I expected to hear that from.". " Why is that?" I asked him, confused. "Well, I thought you didn't care about things like freedom or people." he answered.

"Well, seems like you were wrong. I would kill anyone who tries to harm my child. I would try my best to protect Levi. I do care. I cared about Uncle Erwin and I will help Levi keep his promise to kill that ape." I answered, my eyes murderous. "Uh.. I thought we were having fun?" Armin meeked in, looking slightly intimidated. So much for the colossal titan. "Yes, I'll leave you to that, I answered before going back to Levi. He didn't get into the water. Clean freak... I held his hand as I looked into the horizon. When he looked at me and raised an eyebrow, I gave him a smile and squeezed his arm. He awarded me with a smirk before looking at the horizon himself. We looked at our squads having fun. This was only a calm before the storm but I, (Y/N) Ackerman, can tell you that I have never been happier.

To be continued in your imagination....

Taglist: @reality-is-often-disappointing, @kingtamakimurder

[ineffably-good]

Prompt: Old Fashioned

Today’s thirtieth anniversary Good Omens Celebration Theme is Old Fashioned. And here’s my contribution!

Read the whole set on AO3...

-- 

Aziraphale didn’t get many chances to feel like the modern one in his relationship with the demon known as Crowley. No matter how he tried to stay on top of things, it always felt like the demon had gotten there first. If there was a new invention, a new technology, a new food – somehow, the demon found out about it and made a big to-do of introducing it to the angel. He didn’t seem to do it to prove anything; in fact, he seemed to enjoy the process of finding new things for the angel to experience and try. It was… almost sweet.

But just once, just one time, Aziraphale wanted to be the one who was a few steps ahead. Which is why, after he discovered that Crowley had dealt with their argument by going to sleep for a long, long time, he decided to take advantage of this -- his big chance to get out in front of things, so to speak.

He spent the rest of the 19th century, after it became apparent that Crowley wasn’t planning to wake up anytime soon, scanning the papers, attending lectures at the explorers’ clubs and science societies, and dropping in on technical expositions wherever he could. And whenever he learned about something new and interesting that could fit into his bookshop or lifestyle, he became – what was the phrase? An enthusiast. An investor. What would someday be called an early adopter.

He had one intention in mind through all of this. When that miserable demon got up from his fifty year sulk, he was going to walk into the bookshop and feel like a visitor from the stone ages. And he, Aziraphale, guardian of the eastern gate, was going to enjoy that moment very much.

--

He knew, of course, the instant when Crowley woke up. He’d been keeping an eye on him for quite some time now. What he didn’t know was how long it would take the demon to get in touch with him. He could, after all, still be angry about the holy water incident. Or he could be embarrassed about the whole thing, not sure how to proceed.

Aziraphale had thoughtfully taken care of this, however, by having a lovely upright phone installed in Crowley’s home. He’d been certain to get the one with the loudest possible ring, for maximum effect.

Which, after giving the demon an entire three days to make contact with him in some other way, he decided to use.

After going through the necessary steps to place the call, Aziraphale held the receiver of his own phone to his ear and listened to the thunderous ringing taking place on the other end.

A loud rattling noise a few moments later indicated that the receiver had been taken off the hook.

“Hello? Crowley? Hello?” he called.

He heard, instead of a voice returning the greeting, a vague and distant sound of hissing and the clatter of what sounded like a rather expensive telephone hitting the floor.

“Aziraphale?” a voice shouted from far away. “Aziraphale where are you? I hear your voice!”

“In here!” Aziraphale called out. “Pick up the – the small black handle-shaped thing on the floor!”

“Aziraphale!” the demon shouted, sounding frantic. “Have you been discorporated? Oh god, I slept too long! Don’t worry, I’m coming to find you!”

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. This was not going as planned. But as long as Crowley showed up at the bookshop in relatively short order, he supposed it was all tickety boo.

 --

The demon came slamming through the front door of the shop not twenty minutes later, looking incredibly spooked.

“Ah, awake are we?” Aziraphale said wryly from his seat at the desk.

“Angel!” Crowley said frantically. “I thought you were discorporated! Your voice… was in my apartment… but very faint… and – and what on earth is going on in here?” He blinked and looked around. “Why is it so bright in here?”

Aziraphale lowered his reading glasses and peered at Crowley over the top of the frames. “I assure you I’m quite well. I wasn’t a ghost, I called you on the telephone. See??”

The angel pointed to a large, black contraption on his desk that looked to Crowley like a combination of a very ugly vase, a few bits of yarn, and some kind of misshapen drinking glass.

It looked, he realized, exactly like the thing that had made the awful noise in his apartment earlier in the day. The thing that he had then smashed to bits on the kitchen floor when it wouldn’t stop shrieking. Right before he heard the angel’s disembodied voice, he realized.

“A – a telephone?” he asked. He shook his head trying to clear it. He always felt a little slow on the uptake after a long nap.

“Yes indeed,” Aziraphale said. “It’s the latest thing! I can pick up this bit here,” he said, demonstrating, “and click this bit a few times, then speak to someone who is in an entirely different place! Nearly everyone is using them!”

“You – you had one of these things installed in my home? While I slept?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, straightening his waistcoat superciliously. “I know how you like to be kept up to date. And you’ve missed rather a lot.”

Crowley frowned and took a good look around. There were strange fixtures hanging from the ceiling and emerging from sconces on the wall that burned much too brightly and steadily to be gas-lit. It was all a little too intense, to be honest – it made his eyes hurt to look at some of them. Crowley’s eyes had been formed in the times when it was sunlight during the day and firelight at night – they were not meant for this – this incandescent disaster. He winced and dug around in a pocket for his sunglasses.

“Oh, my dear, does the new electric light hurt your eyes? It does take some getting used to; I do hope it doesn’t give you a headache,” Aziraphale said kindly. “But if it does, they’ve invented the most wonderful thing called aspirin! Shall I get you one? It will fix you up as quick as anything!”

Crowley blinked and looked at the angel, who blinked back at him innocently. The demon was not fooled. The angel, blast him, was enjoying something about this whole scenario, and enjoying it immensely.

“What,” he said slowly, “is going on.”

Aziraphale shuffled the papers together that he’d been working on and ostentatiously pulled out another new invention – one he was rather personally fond of, the brilliant little paper clip! – and made sure Crowley was watching as he fastened the pages together into a neat pile. Then he pulled out the newly minted fountain pen to mark something with on the topmost page – he’d made sure to buy at least ten of Waterman’s first 200 pens, as soon as they hit the market in 1885, and always kept one at hand.

Crowley continued to stare at him.

“Nothing is ‘going on’, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “You simply made a decision to sleep through some very important years! The world moved on while you were sulking – I mean sleeping, of course -- and it’s going to take you a while to catch up.”

Crowley gaped at him, starting to get the picture.

The angel capped his pen and smiled warmly at Crowley. “Don’t worry, though,” he said. “I’ll help you.”

“Ah,” Crowley said. “So that’s how this is going to be, is it?”

Aziraphale gave him a look of absolute innocence. “Whatever do you mean?”

“You’re aggravated with me about sleeping for so long so you’re going to rub my face in each and every thing I missed?”

The angel had the gall to look wounded. “Why no,” he said, seemingly sincere, “not at all! I can’t wait to share with you a few of the things they’ve come up with! Why you haven’t seen the gramophone yet – or, or moving pictures! And oh, you’ll love the zipper! So much fun, all that up and down movement! And, of course, there’s all kinds of horrible new weaponry that your side probably had a hand in; I won’t be showing you those. And then there’s the combustion engine. Why some people even say that horses will soon be obsolete, and we’ll all be zipping around town in one of these mechanical carriages!”

Crowley sat down heavily. Perhaps sleeping hadn’t been a great idea.

“Is there still wine?” he said blearily. “Or has that been improved, too?”

Aziraphale hopped up. “Of course there’s wine! How silly of me, I should have offered you refreshment right away. You sit there quietly and let me get that for you.” He bustled off towards the kitchen, then stopped and called back cheerily. “Oh, and I’ll just get you that aspirin too, shall I? You don’t look at all well.”

Aziraphale allowed himself one triumphant grin as he walked towards the back room. Time to select the best vintage from the last fifty years and begin making peace with his old adversary.

[nam-nam-joon]

by the sea

Pairing: jeon heejin/reader; kim seokjin/reader

Genre: inspired by this post by @kurara-black-blog​ ; selkie! AU

Wordcount: 6.7k

Warnings: someone opens a door in only underwear (partial nudity); implied consumption of alcohol (this does start in a bar)

Summary: the night is dark and the tiny town by the sea storm-swept when you make your way into the local bar; to meet Heejin and catch up. who could've guessed a chance encounter could extend your horizon far beyond what you thought was normal - real?

Thunder clapped overhead as you shut the pub’s door behind you.

It wasn’t the first summer storm that raged high above the little town by the sea, but it was among the more vicious ones, and you were glad to even have found the bar in this downpour.

The coat rack by the door was overflowing with oilgear in all shades of black, grey and yellow; depending on the age of the garment. In the dim orange light they mostly looked the same anyways.

Not wanting to lug the drenched coat around with yourself you dove between the jackets, arm outstretched to feel if there was a hook under the mountain of cloth that could still hold one more – your knuckles brushed surfaces both smooth and rough, canvas and wax, and then, fur.

It was very soft but came so unexpected you froze, until you remembered someone probably left their heirloom mink or something. The hook next to it wasn’t blocked yet, and with great difficulty, you managed to wedge the loop of your coat over it. The fur brushed your hand again, and then the previously unseen garment landed in a soft heap in front of the worn Blundstone’s on your feet.

It wasn’t mink, as you’d thought, and it didn’t look like your run of the mill fur coat either. It was a vest with applications of some sort; The fur only on the inside for insulating purposes, probably. What it was doing here in the middle of summer was beyond you; you hadn’t seen anyone wear anything heavy like this the days you’d spent here over the summer. The chance to dwell on the matter longer was taken from you when-

“Hi.”

You turned, vest still in hands. You couldn’t make out much of the stranger, but he was very tall and had wet eyes.

“Hi!” You spoke back, over the backdrop of the noisy bar. “Sorry – Is this yours?” You held the vest up. A glass smashed and cheers erupted somewhere deeper into the room, and the stranger twitched, shoulders sagging down.

“Um, ye-“

“I’m so sorry I dropped it!” You had to shout now, as claps and more cheers arose. “I hope it’s not dirty!”

And you brushed it off half-heartedly and held it out to the other.

Around the stranger’s side you could spot Heejin close enough to the bar that the many many candles burning on it illuminated her face.

“Alright, sorry, got to go. Sorry about dropping it, again!” You patted the stranger’s lower arm, smiled up at the wide eyes and made a beeline for the small table Heejin was sitting at.

“Heyy!” She greeted you, lifting her bottle and looking visibly relieved. “Thought you’d drowned in the storm! What took you so long?”

“Haha!” You huffed, not really angry. “The streets are swimming, I had to make sure I didn’t accidentally walk off a cliff!” That seemed to settle her, and she took a swig of her drink.

The air inside the bar was warm and filled with noise by the people inside it – likely most of the tiny town’s residents. It would’ve been stuffy, too, if it weren’t for the windows that were all propped open the smallest bit to let the breeze smelling like sweet rain and salty sea be blown in.

“What’s with the candles?”

Heejin leaned in close to hear you before nodding.

“Power went out. They really need to fix the lines and the generator, this is the second time it’s happening during storm. The salt gets to the lines, you know.”

You nodded and caught the eye of the bartender. She nodded and, pleased with your work, you settled back into the crummy chair.

Around three the storm calmed down, and it was around that time you and Heejin decided to head home, too. Leaving before the barkeeper kicked you out was always a good thing and meant you knew your limits which automatically put you on the good list of any respectable bartender, and besides, it wasn’t like Heejin and you didn’t have something to go home to.

Dawn was far beyond the horizon, especially with those thick clouds still covering the sky. Not even gulls were awake yet as you and Heejin walked with your arms around the other’s back, breathing in the fresh scent of the town scrubbed clean.

“You should come by more often.” She sighed, putting her head on your shoulder. You smiled.

“I would, but I do have a degree to finish and some kind of job that’s waiting for me out in the world. But I promise I’ll always come back to you.”

She huffed, seemingly not entirely satisfied.

“Hey, I’m spending every second weekend of summer here, do you know how many hours that are on public transport? Not to speak of-“

“Alright, alright!” She laughed, touching her free hand to your shoulder, grinning. “I rest my case, don’t worry. It’d just be nice to have you around more. Even more.”

You shook your head and fished out the key from the bottom of your shorts’ pocket as you approached the salt and sun bleached wooden gate leading into the weathered garden surrounding Heejin’s house.

It was small, had been Heejin’s Grandmother’s before the old woman had passed away unexpectedly years ago. Unsure of her future in the city, with her family placing the weight of responsibility for the business on her older brother’s shoulders, Heejin had leapt at the chance to escape it all and settle for slow life on the border of the ocean.

You’d asked her, during one of your many visits, lounging on a sundeck chair in the garden that couldn’t have won many prizes for its beauty if it’d tried. You’d asked her, if she regretted it – dropping out of Uni, coming here.

Putting a screeching halt on the modern life of decadence and decent luxury she’d had in the city.

“It’s scary, a bit.” Heejin had said, swirling the virgin tequila sunrise in her glass – an old mason jar. “Everything’s so different, you know? But I like it. I feel like I can do good here.”

And that had been enough for her, and by extension, for you.

What had been her Grandmother’s study slash miniscule library had turned into a sort-of guest room with a bed and some other necessities. It couldn’t really be called a guest room, as it was only you who ever slept there, and you and Heejin had a queerplatonic relationship going on and to call yourself a ‘guest’ under those circumstances didn’t fit very well.

“Where’d you leave my toothbrush!” She yelled from the bath while you were still busy hanging her and your own coat properly so all the dampness would be gone in the morning.

“I don’t know, I didn’t touch it!” You shouted back, hopping on one foot after pulling your shoes off with your feet and almost losing your balance. The underside of your sock stuck to your sole after you stepped in a puddle of water and you caught yourself on the door frame to the bath, face showing the sheer disgust you were experiencing right now as you briefly caught your reflection in the mirror.

Heejin, having found her toothbrush and already scrubbing away, couldn’t contain a laugh at your misery and sprayed your face and shirt with a fine mist of white bubbles.

“Thanks.” You deadpanned, sidling up to her and wiping at the spots visible in the mirror.

“Sorry.” She said around her brush. “What happened?”

“Stepped into... fucking water, is what happened.” Putting your own brush into your mouth, you sat back on the closed lid of the toilet and tugged at the wet sock until it came off and you could wriggle your toes in the air.

Heejin laughed again, and you could still hear her giggling as you laid down on the comfortable bed, surrounded by the smell of books and faintly, the sea.

“Shut up woman!” You shouted, grinning yourself. She cackled loudly but still wished you a good night, which you gladly returned.

The sun wasn’t out when you woke, but that might’ve been because of the clouds still hanging around. Or maybe Heejin had drawn the blinds yesterday and not told you; but either way, when she touched her hand to your shoulder and said she’d go see what the bakery had that’d make a good breakfast, you only hummed in agreement.

She pressed a loving kiss to your temple and you had made the effort of squeezing her hand, and then she’d left again.

You had half the mind of asking her if she had taken her keys but by the time the thought process had reached the point in your brain responsible for signalling your mouth to talk, the front door had shut and all attempts had been voided.

Whatever.

You really weren’t used to such long nights anymore, you thought to yourself, and sighed and rolled onto the other side, tugging the blanket around you a little tighter.

How great it was it was Saturday, and you didn’t have to be anywhere but here.

It felt like five minutes later, at most, when you were roused from sleep again.

You lifted your head.

The house was silent.

What?

Then came knocking on the front door, and not the gentle knuckles on wood kind most everyone did here, but the loud one from the old fashioned metal knocker, almost eaten by the rust.

Grumbling, you sat up.

Did Heejin think this was funny? Knocking this loudly? Did she really think you were sleeping so deeply!

Not bothering with any more than what you were already wearing – underwear – you haphazardly made your way down the crooked stairs, eyes not even fully open when you reached the door.

The knocking came again, loud, so loud, pounding in your ears that were filled with the sound of rushing blood and-

“Heejin I swear to the good lord, wh-“

Where Heejin’s head would have been was someone’s chest.

Blinking against the brilliant white of the even clouds, you lifted your eyes.

“Ha- Hello.” Soft cheeks and windswept hair, and dark eyes that looked at you far too intently for such an early hour. Was it? Still early?

He bit on his lips and had his shoulders squared, but only when you took note of the soft leather and the stitching on it did you make the connection.

“Oh! Oh, my god! The fur vest! It’s you! Hi.” A breeze curled into the small hallway, and the last of the bed’s warmth stripped from your skin. Shivering, you felt a bit indecent. Almost exposed, as it was – still the guy’s eyes did not waver or drop from your face, which was a stellar behaviour.

“Can I help you? Did I get dirt on your vest, I’m really sorry-“

He smiled, releasing his full lips for the first time, and softly shook his head, effectively shutting you up. He’d reached out with his hands, as if to gesticulate, but settled on clasping his wrists.

“No, it’s nothing like- Please, can I come in?”

“Uh- This is my friend’s house, so I don’t-“

“It really is urgent.”

Something about the way he talked seemed a bit off. You stared at the flat stone acting as the doorstep for a moment.

“I’m sorry, who were you again?”

His lips widened into a full smile – still somewhat shy, though. He puffed his chest a little.

“Kim Seokjin. If it helps, I’m friends with Heejin?”

It was like he tried to sound the most proper way he could, like he was putting special emphasis on pronouncing every syllable correctly.

You were too tired for any of this. Had Heejin ever mentioned him?

“Um... Sure, just- Here, head down through the door into the living room, I’ll grab... some clothes and- be there in a minute, alright?”

You opened the door wider to allow him in, and he leaned down to quickly hug and press a short kiss to your cheek before continuing to where you’d pointed him.

You stood stock-still, the door handle still in your palm, utterly confused.

What had happened?

Head still void of thoughts you took the stairs two steps at a time, dove into Heejin’s room, grabbed one of her spare blankets from where she kept them folded over the old box by her bed, and then hastened back down, silently wishing for her to come back soon.

Wrapped in the soft knitted sheet, you stopped to breathe deeply, and collect yourself a little. Everything would be fine. Of course it would.

“Would you like something to drink?”

Kim Seokjin turned away from the small shelve with Heejin’s favourite books and little keepsakes, looking a little like you’d caught him doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Your gaze zeroed in on the framed picture of you and Heejin, a candid a friend of yours had snapped of you sitting on campus. He tried to push it back in its place and you looked up into his eyes again.

“Wh-what,” He weakly asked, ears a fierce red.

“Would you... like tea? Coffee? A glass of water?”

“I’m, I’m fine thank you.”

You left the door, came towards the couch.

“Actually, just a glass of water would be lovely, if... you don’t... mind?”

His voice got quieter towards the end, but you managed a smile and soon returned with two glasses, a water carafe and a bottle of orange juice on a small tray.

“If you’re looking for Heejin, she’ll be back soon.” You lowered yourself on the couch, and Kim Seokjin did the same in the small armchair across. Folded into it, he looked even larger than in the pub yesterday night. He nodded, and then he shook his head, opened his mouth but didn’t bring any words out.

He downed almost half of his water, and then his fingers wouldn’t let go of the glass. After seeing his knuckles turn pale, you swallowed the juice in your mouth and decided to try again.

“So... What’re you here for, again?”

That seemed to sober him up. He leaned forward and put the glass on the table, and then sat at the edge of his seat, with his palms pressed between his knees.

“So, you see,” He began, his eyes flickering from here to there until they finally landed on you and stayed on you. It seemed like his body let out a huge sigh. “I figured-“ He reached into his pants’ pocket and produced something small he hid in his hand. “This is for you.” And held it out to you.

You didn’t move, staring between his hand and his face.

“What?”

He came around the couch table, nervously sitting closer to you, and you let him take one of your hands off the glass and put a small bag of rough fabric in your palm.

A small, shimmering pearl came tumbling out of the pouch. Understanding less and less, you furrowed your eyebrows at the visitor.

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a ring just yet- Everything went so fast and the shops aren’t open that early, so I figured- I mean, after all, it would only be proper for us to get married by human standards as well, so please accept this as my wedding gift, until I can give you the ring later.”

You stared into those big, brown eyes.

“I’m sorry, I think you’re confusing me with someone else.” You put the pearl back into its pouch and wound the string around the end to keep it securely inside, but when you tried to hand it back, he wouldn’t have it.

“No, no it’s yours, you can’t give it back! –That wouldn’t be proper.”

“Okay? Okay.” You put the satchel down next to your glass and rubbed your hands over your face. Heejin would be back any second, and she’d surely help you get this lunatic out. She’d be back any minute. “Okay, first of all... We’re not getting married, I have no idea who you are, and? What...”

He smiled, wider than seemed acceptable at the moment. Giggled, even.

“Oh, you don’t want the ceremony? That’s okay, more time for us, then. There’s so much I want to know about you, and you have to simply tell me everything! Le-“

“He-Hey hold on, wait, a minute? Ceremony? What? What are you talking about?”

“You gave me my pelt back, I figured you’d want the proper human ceremony, to make it official on your side, too.”

“You... are human too, you know that, right.”

This time he really laughed, once, dropping his head. When he looked up again his eyes sparkled with mirth.

“Oh, funny, you’re funny, I like that. We’ll do well together, I’m sure of it.”

“You-“ He’d inched closer on the couch, and you stood up to bring some distance between you. “We are not getting married, I have no idea who the hell you are, and please, leave now. I’m not even sure Heejin really knows you, she never mentioned you and as crazy as you sound, that’s a huge thing. So, please, if you could just-“

All humour dropped off his face, but it didn’t turn bitter or blank either.

“O-oh, you... You want me to leave you alone so soon, ah... Okay, well.”

He rose, and though he towered above you, looked very small. It appealed to a thin sliver of you, those heartfelt, sad eyes and the hunched over posture, but you fought it down, unwilling to cut this maniac some slack.

“Hurry up, would you?” You huffed as his steps towards the front door came almost in slow-motion.

By the coat rack he turned to look back over his shoulder, bottom lip sucked into his mouth again, the corners turned down.

You looked away as you noticed a tear roll over his cheek. What the hell was going on?

“I suppose...” He faltered in front of the jackets, running his palms over his vest and grabbing its edges. His voice had lost all of the cheery brightness from before, was now solemn and downtrodden. “I suppose you’ll want to keep this, then.”

And he began to shrug out of it, until you stepped closer, put a hand to his arm, looked up at him through bewilderment.

“Why would I want that? It’s your vest, why would I-?”

He froze mid-taking it off, sniffled and blinked and by now there were thin trails of wetness running down his cheeks, and his ears were still red and his nose began to colour too and even though you’d never really met him before yesterday he still looked so lost and sad that it tugged on your heart.

“Listen-“ You began, at the same time he was starting to say “You-“, and both of you were interrupted when the front door opened and Heejin stood there, panting, with a paper bag in her hand and a rolled up newspaper under her arm. Her hair curled a little and with the thrown open door the wind came blowing in, carrying a few drops of rain inside before she shut the opening. Obviously having run from the rain, she pushed her hair back, the elated smile on her face twisting into confusion as she took in the two of you.

“Seokjinnie, I didn’t know you wanted to stop by-”

Her eyes landed on your hand on his arm, her eyebrows lifted. The smile returned to her face. “Oh, you two know each other?! _______, why didn’t you say anything, ever, we could’ve-“

“They don’t.” Kim Seokjin said, his voice coated. The smile trickled off Heejin’s face again. A bit embarrassed you took your hand back, and he pulled his vest back on all the way. “Heejin, if you could-“

Her eyes left him for you, and you tried to convey just how helpless and confused you felt. Something settled on her face, and she nodded, but it hadn’t been directed at you.

“Do you want to stay?” She asked, directed at the tall male. He cleared his throat.

“I guess that’s easier.”

“Come on then, both of you. Time to sit down.”

She pushed between you and tugged you forward, with Kim Seokjin trailing after you.

Since the couch wasn’t that big that it could’ve comfortably housed all three of you, Heejin took one for the team and sat on the couch table between you, looking as serious as she could. It was a little unsettling.

“What’s going on.”

Kim Seokjin took a breath, got choked up, and broke off. Seeing him struggle and desperate to get this off your chest and Heejin on your side, you jumped at the opportunity to explain yourself.

“He showed up here this morning, saying stuff about a marriage and ceremonies and he kissed my cheek? I’ve never met him before but he said you were his friend? You never mentioned him? Or am I losing my marbles here? I mean I never met him before yesterday night, at the bar, but-“

“I was about to head home,” He said, voice laced with tears and his fingers interlocked in his lap. “I was about to go, and then they- My pelt fell off the rack, and they-“ He swallowed and looked at you, causing Heejin to turn her head, too. At the centre of attention, you focused on your own knuckles.

“And they gave me back my pelt. No questions asked. Just like that.” He whispered the last sentence, and you forcefully relaxed your feet. Wouldn’t bring anyone any good to get a cramp now.

Heejin sighed, but it didn’t sound condescending.

“I understand.” She stated. You looked back to her.

“You do?”

She nodded.

“Great! Then can you please explain him-“

“_______, Seokjin is a selkie. Do you know what that means?”

You blinked. “The... The Seal Spirits? But they’re...” Your gaze found his, and the words ‘not real’ died in your throat. You closed your mouth and swallowed.

The silver fur on his vest suddenly seemed a lot brighter than before.

“But...” You tried again, mind blanking at what to do next.

“To give a selkie their coat back means as good as marrying them, in their tradition. That’s why he came here this morning, to make it ‘official’ from your side, too. Did you accept his gift?”

“I didn’t-“

Seokjin nodded silently, pointed at the little pouch still next to your glass with juice.

“They don’t want me.” He said then, voice wobbling and tears collecting under his chin. “I w-waited so long and now-“

“Can you give us a minute? I’ll come see you upstairs, okay?”

Thoughts flurrying, all you could do was nod. “-Sure. Yeah, I’ll... I’ll wait, yeah. Okay.”

And you collected the blanket around you and left for the stairs.

Seokjin’s pressed sob was the last thing you heard before closing the door and climbing the stairs.

By the time Heejin softly knocked on your door you had freshened up, got dressed and combed your hair. She closed the door behind herself and crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the wood.

“Can you please help me because I am... Extremely lost right now.” You confessed, sat on the wooden, revolving chair in front of the old, creaky bureau.

Heejin sighed again, and now she did sound tired.

“Yeah. You got yourself in quite the pickle this time, not going to lie...”

You stayed silent, hoping she might elaborate. After another intake of air, she did.

“So, dear Seokjinnie is a selkie, and you happened to give him back his coat, and without conditions, too, so yesterday, when you did, it was like... Like a dream come true for him. You gave him his pelt back without any demands, basically saying ‘I’ll take you as you are and we are one now’, and Jin, not knowing you had no idea, came to see how you would proceed, and now we’re here.”

“But I didn’t- If I’d known he’d think that I wouldn’t have given him his coat! I mean hand it to him. Gosh, what- And now? What now? Can’t he understand this was a mistake? A, a, an accident? –Does he think I own him now?” Panic seeped into your words, and Heejin was quick to shake her head and reach out her hands placatingly.

“No, no no, they have their traditions but they’re aware that people don’t-“ She sighed again. “No, I explained to him you had no idea what he was and what that action might cause, and he understands that, it’s just... He’s a huge romantic, you know? Has always spouted about how when he finds someone that’ll be it, he’ll be that person’s, faithful to one and only one, ever. And all the soulmate stuff and fated one and all that in the books didn’t do much good, with how Selkie’s treat their history and- Can you... Follow me? Where I’m going with this?”

“I think... Maybe? I think I can, yeah... Can’t I just- Break off this marriage? Or... engagement? Whatever that is between us?”

“Technically yes, as you already ‘gave him back’ his pelt and he is as such free to go, but... This is very complicated. If you’d be okay with it, we could go downstairs and sit in the living room and talk while Seokjin is there? He’ll know better answers to all of the specific questions, I promise.”

Still feeling a little light-headed, you nodded. Before Heejin could open the door, you held her back.

“How long have you known? That he’s selkie? That they... exist?”

She pulled back from the door, covered your hand.

“I came to know after my Grandma’s funeral. She was somewhat of a... A warden or, a keeper of peace between the merfolk and the town. A bit like a mediator, because there’s a lot of Selkie’s living amongst humans these days, and all that. Seokjin was among the small group that approached me, to ask if I knew anything of my Grandma’s heritage or if I’d follow her footsteps.”

“So that’s the whole ‘doing good here’ was about.”

She nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you more, I really am-“

You shook your head, squeezed her hands.

“No, don’t apologize. You kept their secret, that’s- That’s important. Don’t worry, okay?”

“Thank you for understanding.” She smiled at you, and you dared to smile back.

Kim Seokjin was a heap on the couch when you came back in the room.

The skin around his eyes and nose was red and a bit puffy, but the tears had dried and he blinked against letting any more escape.

Even though you understood who he was a little better now, it still felt weird to think of him as your husband when you took your seat next to him once more.

It was too soon for any of that.

Heejin resumed her position on the couch table – fully embracing her role as mediator, evidently – and looked from him to you.

You turned to the Selkie, fully turning your torso so you really did face him.

“I’d like to apologize. I had no idea about any of this, and- I’m sorry for doing this to you. All of... This.”

He swallowed and nodded slowly.

“I know- I know basically nothing about Selkies other than the thing with their coat; when you hide it, they can’t go back to the ocean, and so on. But I don’t- I’d never do that. And I will never do that. And I, I was wondering, if there was- Any way of... not doing this? Marrying and all of that, I mean.” He blinked, and Heejin shifted, and hastily you continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re really pretty-“ He turned his eyes away and dropped his head a little, as if ashamed. “-and I’m sure you’re a really sweet guy, but I barely know you and wouldn’t it be better for you to marry out of love and not because... Because some dumb person accidentally proposed to you in a manner they didn’t even know about?”

“But it happened.” He said, voice small. “You did, if you meant to or not, and if you want to, you can have me. I’m ready to live with you. Unless... Unless you don’t-“

Heejin reached out and rubbed his knee comfortingly, and he collected himself.

“Unless you reject me, and tell me to go back to the sea. I would do that for you, too, live as a seal again. But, if I may, I would-“ He held eye-contact with Heejin, even though his head was turned towards you. “I would like for us to give this a try, before y- we, break apart.”

It seemed like he’d practiced saying it, for when he finished and his eyes glanced at you, his shoulders sagged down a little.

You leaned forward.

“This is all a lot.” You stared between Heejin’s socked feet. “Like, a lot. Can I- May I think about this? About... you, and me? Just-“ Your eyes found the clock on the old piano, focused on the pointers. “Until six pm? Give me time to think this over until then?”

You caught Heejin giving him an understanding, but still questioning look, thumb still rubbing over his knee.

He looked from her to you.

“Yes,” He agreed, swallowing bravely. “Okay. Six pm.”

Heejin invited the Selkie for breakfast, as she’d bought way too much, and even though you’d been reluctant to agree at first, it turned out to be nice.

He’d taken a glass of homemade marmalade that Heejin’s Gran had made, weighted it in his hand and Heejin, apparently knowing what was coming, had been barely able to contain her giggles before Seokjin had said “This is my jam!”. It had eased the way into chatting with him, about his visits to town, his friendship with Heejin, among other things.

He was funny, you had to admit that, and could also eat a lot. After munching through three rolls with various toppings he finally leaned back, satisfied at last.

Even though food coma must’ve been upon him, he helped in clearing off the table and putting everything back in the fridge, wiped the surface and then even stuck around long enough to help with the dishes.

The sun finally broke through the clouds as the hour neared two, and Heejin packed a bag for the beach.

It was warm again, summer having come back in full force after the cool down of the storm last night.

Clouds gathered over the horizon, far out over the water, but the sky spanning above you was clear and blue.

Baking in the sunlight and listening to the waves and the gulls crying out it was almost easy to forget the decision you had to make by the time the early evening came.

Seokjin had excused himself for now, going about his own business, and so you were left alone with Heejin and your thoughts.

“You really don’t have to do it, you know.”

You cracked an eye open and saw her lying next to you on her stomach, open book in the sand. It was a new softcover, otherwise her Grandmother would’ve likely been turning in her grave.

You sighed. “I know this is probably weird but-“

She glared at you. You hurried to backpedal.

“I mean, I guess in the big picture it’s not that weird, but I kind of... He really is cute, isn’t he?”

That got her laughing.

“He is. And he can dance, and sing, and loves to cook, and it’s a miracle nobody from this tiny village has dated him yet.”

The waves were light blue where they rolled on the shore.

“This affects you, too, though. I mean, I was with you first, doesn’t this- Isn’t this like marrying your side hoe? Or something?”

She laughed again and closed her book to turn her sun warmed face to you.

“I mean technically, yes, but under these circumstances I’d be willing to let you have your side hoe. We could still see each other? And...” She trailed off, squinting over the water.

“What?”

“I don’t want to get ahead of myself. Forget it.” A small smile played around her lips.

“What.” You poked her arm.

“I was just thinking-“ She slapped your fingers away. “-Hypothetically, if you do accept him, and you go off to have your thing, it would be nice if you moved in with him. Like a shared house. Preferably somewhere by the ocean, like... here.”

Her smile simmered down, and she looked at you again. “It would be nice to have you around again, you know?”

It wasn’t the first time she said that, and it wasn’t the first time you toyed with the thought what moving here permanently might be like.

“But if I move here I won’t be able to attend my lectures. And I really want that degree, I worked so long for it-“

“You could always do online classes.” Heejin dragged a finger through the soft sand, sneaking glances at you.

“Half the houses here don’t even have WiFi, and the internet café would cost a fortune if I stay holed up here for eight hours a day.” You shot back. Heejin pouted, still drawing swirls into the sand. You’d had this argument before.

“There’s new houses being built uphill, they have WiFi there. Or will have, when they’re done.”

That was new.

“Those would be too high of a price range for me.” Both of you had lost your playful snark. Before she could answer to that you shook your head, huffing.

“Look at us, debating on where I should stay with the strange Selkie I’m married to. Life is crazy.”

“So you will?” Nothing on her face let you know if she really did sound hopeful of if that was just your imagination.

You sighed.

“Honestly... I mean, I can try. We’ll see about the whole married-in-human-terms, but for now... He can’t be so bad. Is he?”

She shook her head so hard you got dizzy just by watching.

“He is not.” She confirmed.

You shrugged and rolled on your back, blinking against the bright sun.

“I guess, I could try. If he’s as nice to be around like at breakfast, and like you said... It feels a bit like cheating though, you know?” She looked at you, raised a brow with interest. “I mean, everyone else dates and breaks up and then there’s me, having been with you for the last years, and now suddenly I have a husband.” You turned your tongue over after saying that, feeling all sorts of strange at using that word. “Husband. How that sounds, too.” You shook your head. “It seems so crazy.”

“You do!” Kim Seokjin echoed, after you’d repeated the words to him at shortly past six, with Heejin rumbling in the kitchen and preparing to cook an early dinner. “You really do? You want to try?”

“Yes.” You said, carefully reaching out across the gap between you two on the couch and covered his balled up hands with yours.

His eyes were swimming again when you shyly looked up into them.

“Can I,” He cleared his throat, never losing eye-contact. “Can I please hug you? Oh me, I’m so-“

You nodded, and he lurched forward, wrapped you up in his arms and then you were flush against his chest with your cheek against the soft skin of his pelt.

“-happy.” He finished, mumbling the words in your hair and tightening his hold.

And it felt nice.

You still had no idea who he really was, apart from all which you did know, but that was what the next weeks would be for, you supposed.

“So, you’ll stay.” Heejin said over a spoon full of broth. You nodded, with a lot more collected Kim Seokjin on the other side of the kitchen table.

“That’s good, ‘cause you see...” She blew on the broth and then dropped the spoon back down, erasing her progress. It didn’t seem to matter, her eyes were glistening and her hands clasped under her chin. “I kind of got my mother to invest in the houses being build uphill, and as such you can pick one for yourself! A branch of my family’s business will rent them out to whoever wants, but you’ll be able to live there as long as you want. For only a small rent, of course.”

You dropped your spoon.

“Heejin-“

She lifted a finger.

“I’m not saying I planned this, because I didn’t, but I had the hope that if I had a little more to offer than a creaky bed in my makeshift library, I might be able to persuade you to come out here more often, and maybe get you to stay longer, too. And now... Now it might work out, after all!”

Kim Seokjin’s eyes switched from your friend to you.

“I know you don’t live in town, but where do you usually live? The truckstop a few kilometres from here? Or on the other side of the forest?”

You looked from him to Heejin, and then back.

“Um, Kim Seokjin-“

“Seokjin. Or Jin. Or, anything, really, is fine.”

“Seokjin, I- live a little further than just the stop or the forest.”

“That’s okay.” He said quickly, stirring his soup in its bowl. “I haven’t really... I mean, I never really left town much. On the occasion of walking around.”

You nodded, and suddenly felt a bit bad again.

“_______ will be back second next week. They always visit every second weekend.”

“So long.” Seokjin mumbled, and you quietly reached out your hand to tap it to his.

“I’ll just- I’ll need time to sort things out a bit, and transfer all my stuff online, but- As soon as the house is finished, I’ll probably be able to come and live here.”

“Speaking of which,” Heejin clapped her hands and startled both of you. “We can go look at them if you want?”

“What, now?” Seokjin’s eyes were wide as he desperately looked down on his bowl.

“Maybe tomorrow.” She added, faced with his distress. “It’s Sunday anyways, so nobody will be around. It’s the perfect time!”

She was right concerning that.

The houses were sprinkled over a plateau halfway up the hill, visible from the town but not so that they had really caught your eye before.

There was one, furthest out from the gravel road that had been put down already, with its balcony positioned just right so you could see both sunrise and –set.

Only the walls and the stairs were built, and a roof, but the balcony was there already. Seokjin came out to where you were standing with your hands in the pockets of your shorts, well away from the handrail-lacking edge. You turned your head and observed him, how he let his eyes roam from the horizon to the town nestled about a half-hour walk down the hill.

Even before he focused on you and shyly reached out his hand, asking for you to hold it without words and then smiled, you knew he had made a decision.

“I like this one.” You said, rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand. It felt very nice to do so.

“Me too.” He mumbled, eyes not letting go of your gaze as he answered your touch and tightened his fingers briefly.

“You wanna choose this one?”

He nodded, buzzing with energy now that the decision had been made.

“Heejin?”

You leaned around the opening that would one day hold the door, and found her with her phone out.

“I think we’ll take this one.”

Besides you Seokjin’s smile widened. He tugged on your hands a little, and even though he refrained from leaning his head against yours, you could see the happiness radiate from his action.

“Thank you.” He whispered, not for the first time.

“Who knows, maybe I’m a terrible flatmate and you’ll really regret moving in with me... Maybe I leave dirty clothes everywhere... Maybe I never shower... Maybe-”

He wrinkled his nose.

“I’ll lo- I mean, I will like you either way.” He spoke bravely, but still searched your face for a response. You grinned, and he did, too.

“Yah, are you two done?” Heejin yelled from below.

Neither of you had noticed her going down.

It still felt very new and like you shouldn’t be able to do it, but you disentangled your hands and wrapped the freed arm around his waist. He hummed, smiling, eyes sparkling.

AN.: you can also find this and everything else i’ve written on my ao3 runningfaucet

if you enjoyed reading this, please let me know what you liked best in the comments :)

[khunfounded]

No Sleep Only Song Analysis

My wonderful ravens, crows, and jacanas, I apologise that most of my song analyses are khunbam (they’re my comfort ship) but feel free to send me requests for other characters and ships!

Analysis is my guilty pleasure. My chonky paper on the political implications of the religious allegory in The Grapes of Wrath can attest to that, so really you’d be doing me a favor! 

Segue successful, my favorite part of Khun and Bam’s relationship is how much of a lone wolf Khun was before he met Bam. And then he found Bam (even though his last attempt at a meaningful human relationship sucked) and was like I am staying with him Forever.

So a song that fits this shift to an absolute T is I Was an Island by John-Allison Weiss.

Tuck your feathers in and get comfy birdies, let’s go!

I was an island Before you came along Put your boat in my sand Your hand in my hand Your heart in my songs

Before Bam came along, Khun defined himself by his independence. His childhood in the Khun family forced him to grow up fast and become an adult as soon as possible. Relying on others for help is not acceptable. 

But when he met Bam all that changed. Bam has always allowed himself to rely on other people and admit when he needs it. Hell, the entire reason he even got into the tower was because Yuri lent him the Black March. But even so, he has an inner strength that Khun was able to see.

That’s part of why Khun was so fascinated by Bam. Oftentimes their attitudes are completely juxtaposed, and the way Bam goes about things goes completely against everything Khun was taught to believe.

Bam has a ginormous heart, and he let Khun into it. He came onto Khun’s shore when everyone else was blocked by the swirling tsunamis Khun placed around it. 

I was a fighter And I was so brave But I lowered my sword When you held me and swore You'd stay, stay, stay oh

One of my favorite segments is when Khun discusses what he did with jewels as a child. He grew up in a horrible environment and he had to secret away the few things he allowed himself to care about that he ended up losing them, too.

He always had to have his sword up in order to survive in the Khun family, but Bam showed him an open palm, instead of a fist. Something which might quite possibly have been the first time that happened.

And when Bam decides you are his precious friend, he keeps you with him as close as possible. He was alone for so long, and he wants to keep making these happy moments forever.

He holds Khun close and kept him, even when that meant hiding his identity to protect him or going against a giant terrorist organization to be with him again.

For the first time in Khun’s life, someone stayed.

I can't do this alone anymore Cause I'm no good on my own anymore What did I do to deserve this? What did you do to me? Baby, come back You know I don't want to be free

This is the chorus of the song and it very bluntly puts how Khun feels. He doesn’t just want to climb the tower anymore, he wants to climb the tower with Bam.

We all saw what Khun was like when he thought Bam was dead. He isolated himself from his friends and spent 5 entire years of his life trying to make a dead man’s wish come true and avenge his death. If Bam didn’t come back, he would have spent even longer, as long as necessary, to complete it. He isn’t really himself without Bam, anymore.

So Khun laments this by asking what he did for this to happen. What did he do to have his defenses broken so thoroughly and his heart ripped directly from his grasp?

The last two lines remind me completely of when Khun tells Bam, “When I look at you sometimes, it worries me that, you would just wander off and leave us someday. So at least, tell us when you go somewhere. So that I can chase anytime.“

He doesn’t want to be free from Bam’s influence, he knows what it’s like without it and that is a freedom he would never desire. I was a rebel, but I had a cause 'Til you came to town Pushed me around And showed me what love was

Khun was the rebel of his family. He staged an elaborate plot so Maria could become a princess simply because he loved her, resulting in his expulsion from the Khuns.

Even before that, he was treated harshly by the family. Quite frankly, he was raised in a toxic and abusive environment. Instead of conforming to it, though, Khun used what he learned against them.

When the lyrics talk about Bam pushing him around, i take it to mean that Bam challenged his beliefs and made him realize that things can be different from how he was raised.

Both Bam and Khun learned about unconditional love and acceptance because of each other. They pushed against each others’ preconceived notions just by existing, and rather than causing a rift, it brought them closer together. I was a wolf, dear Apart from the pack But you answered my cry In the dead of the night And told me that you had my back, oh

Again, a reference to the Khun family, but it could also connect to how Khun removed himself from their found family after Bam’s supposed death.

Both times, Bam answered Khun’s cry and saved him from himself.

Khun is a man who watches his own back, but he doesn’t need to when Bam is around, because he knows that Bam will always do his best to protect him. I can't do this alone anymore Cause I'm no good on my own anymore What did I do to deserve this? What did you do to me? Baby, come back You know I don't want to be free

Khun doesn’t have to be alone anymore, Bam will make sure of that.

[elysianrey]

tell me things you’ve never said out loud

[part 3 of it’s a slow cinnamon summer. read part 1. read part 2]

(a/n: okay...here it is. the final installment of this little series. thanks for joining me on this crazy ride these past few days! i’m not sure when i’ll get another chance to write for fun, but hopefully i will be nipped by the plot bunnies again soon. Anne and Gil finally get a resolution to this tension. And Gilbert is shirtless again... Enjoy!! xoxo Content T+)

Almost a week passed before Anne saw him again. 

It was not so much by choice, at least not to Anne, but rather they were needed for other responsibilities around their respective households. Matthew had caught a late summer cold, which led to Anne tending to his needs, while Marilla cared for little Delphine at the Blythe-Lacroix farm. When Anne wasn’t checking in on Matthew, she was out in the fields with Jerry and his brothers, who offered their aid upon catching word of Matthew’s sickness. The hard labor of weeding out the bad crops or nasty pests allowed Anne to direct her mind onto something other than the single topic it would revolve back to as she laid in her bed each night. Even the exhaustion from the day’s activities was not enough to weary her brain into a dreamless state of sleep which she desperately craved. 

For her dreams were where she slipped back into that sweet moment in the garden, or worse, entered new fantasies so vivid and lifelike, Anne would suddenly awake with a gasp, sweat beading on her forehead and along fair skin. She dared not tell a single soul about any of those dreams.

His lingering presence had intertwined itself so deeply into her being that she knew it was fruitless to try an escape it’s captive grip. Otherwise, she would be denying an integral piece of herself, as terrifying as the thought was to her. 

Marilla woke her before dawn on Saturday morning with the news that she would be baking and cooking most of the day for the church picnic tomorrow. She was quite beside herself because with watching over Delphine the whole week, she had completely forgotten the important event. 

“No worries, Marilla. I will take care of precious Delly today,” Anne reassured her comfortingly, her heart twinging anxiously at the prospect of the boy she was going to inevitably see. She needed to clear the air between them and make things right. 

Marilla let out a grateful sigh, “Oh bless you, Anne. For all that you have done the past days,” she replied, her arms drawing the girl into a hug. “Now off you go to get dressed. Bash mentioned that he and Gilbert were going to be up early to start pruning some of the apple trees in the orchard.”

Anne nodded, a suppressed smile on her lips as she turned on her heel to dress herself, which did not go unnoticed by Marilla. 

“Make sure Gilbert does not to overwork himself,” she called from the kitchen below as Anne hurriedly traipsed up the stairs.

“Will do!”

+++++

Anne gave the door of the Blythe-Lacroix home a gentle knock and waited patiently for an answer, rather hoping it would be a sleepy-eyed, dark-haired boy. Instead she was received by a groggy-looking Bash, who held a cup of steaming hot coffee in one hand and a fussy baby in the other. 

“Good morning, Anne,” he greeted, motioning for her to enter, and pushing the door shut behind them with his shoulder. “It’s nice of you to come.” His attention turned toward the squirming bundle in the crook of his arm. “Shhhhh--there, there Delly. Papa will be back for you soon. Your auntie Anne is here to spend some time with you now,” he cooed, rocking her softly and taking a sip of his coffee.

The redhead couldn’t contain the fond smile that broke over face at the endearing title Bash had dubbed after the countless days she had spent with them upon Mary’s passing and the consuming grief that latched on to Sebastian’s being. Although he was not quite the person she remembered before his beloved returned to her heavenly home in the sky, he was beginning to finally settle into a different type of normal. 

Anne stretched out her arms to take the baby, and Bash handed her off. “It is always a treat to spend time with this princess of yours,” she remarked lovingly, looking at Delphine with a sense of delight. 

She followed Bash into the kitchen, holding the infant on her hip, and observing him as he set his cup down carefully. “Blythe is out in the orchard already, crazy fool,” he chuckled with a shake of his head. Anne tried her best to keep her face of coolness upon the comment. 

“I’ll tell you Anne, the boy has been working himself to the bone lately. Can’t help but think something’s troubling him, but he dodges giving me a proper answer anytime I ask him about it. You wouldn’t happen to know what’s gotten him quieter than a church mouse, would you?”

A fresh wave of guilt overcame her as she bit down on her lip. “Uhhh...no...no clue,” she stuttered quickly, cursing herself for the unconvincing reply. She turned to begin making a warm bottle for Delphine as she searched for something more believable to add. “Maybe he’s worried about Queen’s?” she offered, picking up a glass bottle with one hand and setting it on the table. “I know I am.” This was true. It was a matter of weeks before Marilla and Matthew would be dropping her off at the school in Charlottetown and the remembrance of this fact made her heart ache in melancholy. 

Several beats of silence passed between them before she glanced over at him. “Hmm…’suppose you could have a point,” was all he said, his eyes wearing an expression of curiosity and his tone full of doubt. Anne had a feeling he could see straight through her deceit. “Well I best be going out to the orchard. We’ll be coming in later for some lunch. See you my Delly Welly!”

“Say ‘Bye Papa’,” she replied with a grin, holding up Delphine’s hand in a waving motion. Bash returned the wave with one of his own and then turned around to exit through the back door, Anne’s nerves rattling almost as loudly as the darn thing when he shut it closed. 

She sighed a breath of relief, turning back to finish her job with the baby’s bottle. His words had not been of a comfort to her in the slightest. The fault for Gilbert’s reserved behavior was entirely her doing, and to think, it could have been avoided altogether if she was not such a dunce when romantic feelings were involved. For an individual who spent a majority of her lifetime envisioning love and devising hundreds of stories filled with romantic dialogue and gestures, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert’s naivety toward navigating it in real-life was mystifying. 

The redhead spent the rest of the morning, reading stories, singing songs, and watching Delphine crawl around the house, constantly having to keep an eye on her since the little girl had a tendency to put everything she found in her mouth. By the time the afternoon rolled around, the baby seemed to have worn herself out, and Anne sighed in contentment when she fell fast asleep in her basket. 

Anne leaned her head on the wooden bench next to the baby’s basket and closed her eyes, intending only to keep them shut for a brief moment. Working in the field the day before and waking up early that morning had taken a toll on her. Not to mention the restless fits of sleep she experienced every night since Josie’s party. She would only rest for a few minutes longer…

+++++

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was Delphine was gone. Anne jolted upright, her eyes scanning the floor around her, assuming she must have crawled right out of her basket. How long had she slept for? Muttering curses at herself under her breath, she pulled herself off the ground, smoothing down her dress as she went, and startled in a surprise at the person who sat before her. 

“Gilbert,” Anne breathed in greeting, her heart quickening its pace, then dropping down to her stomach when she fully took in his appearance. His muscular, tanned, and very sweaty, exposed chest was on display for her to gawk at from where she stood. He glanced up from where he was eating, and she averted her gaze down to her hands, which she was wringing together desperately in an attempt to regain her composure. 

“Anne,” she heard him say in acknowledgement, the sound of his voice like a cold glass of water on a dry day to her parched ears. 

She risked a glance back at him, his eyes still very much glued to her. “Delphine--I was looking for--” Anne started, suddenly recalling the missing infant.

Gilbert cut in before she could finish. “Bash took her out for a walk in the orchard. He told me he thought that you could use the break.” 

“Oh well that was kind of him, but hardly necessary,” she stammered, her face surely an unattractive shade of dark red. Gilbert took another bite of his food, leaving her to continue standing awkwardly across from him. 

Did he have no sense of decency? Of course it was boiling hot outside, but surely that did not mean he could not put his shirt back on when inside of the house. Especially with her being in the same room as him.

“Anne, you’ve been asleep for at least an hour. Bash and I needed the break. It’s hot enough to cause a heat stroke if you’re out there for too long today,” he informed her indifferently, going back to his food again and finally looking away from her. 

The girl chewed restlessly on her lower lip, the words that had been building up since the night of Josie’s party threatening to burst out of her at any second. “Gilbert I wanted---” she tried helplessly, her thought catching in her throat. His dark brown eyes lifted from his plate, a guarded expression to them. She had enough.

“I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to leave you without saying a thing about what happened that night. You have every right to be mad and hurt at me. In fact, I almost wish you would yell at me right now because I truly deserve it. You are a good person who is worthy of someone far more sophisticated and beautiful and coherent than me. I am no more than an intoxicated fool who assumed she had some right to kiss you and touch you,” Anne’s voice trembling with unabashed honesty for once, laying herself bare for him to see. “I miss you. Your companionship and wisdom. Your kindness and patience. For I know I can be as stubborn as a mule and hot-headed with my temper and brash with my words--”

“Anne,” Gilbert broke in before she could finish her lament of her worst features, which slightly annoyed her since she wasn’t done listing all of the reasons why he should be cross with her. He rose from his seat and walked toward her, leaning back against the edge of the table so they were only feet apart. Waiting nervously for him to speak, she chanced a glance down at the freckle on his chest, directly beneath his collarbone.

“I was hurt,” he admitted quietly. “You drive me mad sometimes, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.” His tone raised slightly and the copper-headed girl braced herself for his assault. This is what she deserved and she would take every insult he threw with acceptance. 

“But you Anne--you are the most sophisticated, beautiful, and coherent person that I know.” She could have sworn her heart stopped beating in her chest when she heard him utter those words instead. “You have been all of those things, and so much more, since the first day I met you,” he confessed reverently.  

His fingers reached out to rest cautiously on her chin and she lifted her head to look at him once more. This time, daring herself to hope again. She could see the softness returning to his face as she lost herself in the affectionate glow of his eyes. Her flesh erupted in goosebumps as his knuckles trailed up and down her cheek in a gentle rhythm, just like they had after she kissed him. 

 “I--I think I’m desperately in love with you Gil,” Anne gushed so openly that she almost smacked her hand over her mouth in shock. Perhaps he would run for the hills now after hearing such a bold declaration.

To her dismay, a low chuckle bellowed from Gilbert’s chest, then he was laughing to the point of hysterics, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes and running down his cheeks. Anne didn’t know whether to feel offended or content that this is how he chose to respond to her admission of love. “Are you sure you’re not the one who is drunk this time?” she mirthfully questioned, swatting him lightly on the arm. 

He regained his composure, pulling her into a close embrace as he grinned down at her, his cheeks dimpling and eyes crinkling in happiness. “Anne-girl, there has been no one for me, but you. The moment you broke that slate across my head, I was a gone man. Never would I have dreamed that you would ever--” 

Anne pressed her lips against his, silencing him, for she had heard everything that she already knew to be true deep down. Kissing him in his kitchen, the sun beating down heavily through the window, his hands steadying her, his heartbeat echoing her own, was everything she had ever wanted. She brought her fingers up into his unruly hair, this time feeling damp from sweat, but she could hardly care. His lips broke from hers and started trailing along her cheek then jaw then neck, leaving a searing mark on each inch of skin as he went. 

“Gilbert,” she sighed, her brain a blur of euphoria. She could feel his smile in the crook of her neck as he pressed another kiss to a freckle he was quite intent on appreciating. 

“Oi Blythe! Shirley!” The teenagers broke apart so rapidly Gilbert nearly toppled over the table. “What are you thinking, setting an example like this, in front of your poor niece,” Bash exclaimed loudly, bouncing the baby in his arms. “Don’t worry Delly, your papa will protect you from these two heathens,” he teased mercilessly, covering Delphine’s eyes.

Anne and Gilbert both released laughs of pent up awkwardness from the unexpected guest and gave each other timid looks.

“Next time, put a shirt on Blythe,” Bash declared, tossing him the one long forgotten from on the table. Gilbert accepted the item and pulled it over his head as Bash left the room, shaking his own head and smirking to himself.

+++++

Gilbert took the opportunity to walk her back to Green Gables after dinner, her hand fitting securely into the crook of his arm. Her head rested lightly against his shoulder. The pair chatted amiably about the events that had unfolded during the week. She recited a new poem she had learned for Matthew, and Gilbert gave her a sidelong look of wonder like he couldn’t quite believe that she was real. 

When they got to the gate in front of Green Gables, Anne was mournful to depart from him, despite knowing that they would be reunited tomorrow at the church picnic. 

“So---that tragical romance you mentioned back at Mary and Bash’s wedding...,” Gilbert started unexpectedly, his gaze intent on her from across the fence. 

“No longer remains to be seen,” Anne finished, reaching to stroke his cheek comfortingly. 

Gilbert let out a sigh of relief and ducked to steal another kiss from her before Marilla called out from the front door. “Anne! Is that you?���

They both laughed quietly at the older woman’s outburst. “I guess that’s my cue,” the girl lamented, taking his hand in hers, not quite accepting the events that conspired today were real.

“Goodnight my Anne-girl.” Gilbert gave her hand a squeeze, and let her go, backing up slowly, his eyes remaining on her as he went. Anne watched him blissfully until she heard Marilla call her name again. 

She spun around merrily and skipped to the house, her heart soaring with the knowledge that she was loved very dearly by Gilbert Blythe.

tagging: @hecksinki, @blarkeshirbert, @autummn-leaves, @ewolfwitchwisegirl, @leadingmehome, @melanneniel, @youcalledusremember, @neliel-deathberry, @blackxones BECAUSE YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST <3 <3

[empanator]

Portia Appreciation Week Day 2: The Sea

@portia-appreciation-week 

This is some kind of mermaid/soulmate AU. I just went with it for a little fun, but bit off way more than I could chew... I had to cut a lot of content to avoid digging myself too deep lol. 

Summary: A princess casts a bottled message into the sea. It is enchanted not only to locate her most compatible partner, but also with a power that will enable said partner to retrace the message’s path back to her. But what happens when her “true love” turns out to be a mermaid?  Pairing: Portia (Pasha) Devorak x Nadia Satrinava (The Arcana)  Rating: Safe for Work  Length: 1,927 words (4 pages) 

“To whomever may be the deserving recipient of this message, the power of sight has been bestowed upon you. Come find me. May we share in our truest of love.”

She felt a thrum in the atmosphere, a hardly perceptible tug towards an unknown destination. The tips of her fingers wrinkled in the dry air to which her body was unaccustomed. This letter, a tightly rolled sheet of elegant stationery housed in a glass bottle, had drifted into sight no more than a few hours prior.

At first glance, she brushed it off as a passing piece of material waste from land dwellers. As she approached it, intent on its proper disposal, it gained speed in a straight line towards her, enough so that it sailed past her with bubbles rising in its wake. She whirled with a stifled shriek, turning and grasping at the water around her as the bottle seemed to chase itself in circles. Finally, with a dull clink, it found its way into her hand. When she saw what was enclosed behind the tightly sealed cork, her curious nature took hold, eager to see what kind of gossip she could glean from the humans.

But then, sitting in the sand with the sensation that someone is out there in the world, pulling as though their souls are endowed with magnetism… Was… was it really meant for her?

“I shall be waiting each day for you. I trust that my spell has not led me astray.

My warmest regards,

Princess Nadia”

It must be. She knew a bit about magic and spells, and a princess in a royal court would surely make use of only the most reliable mages. She whispered to herself, “But what if—”

“Pasha?” She spun quickly at the sound of her name. It was her brother, Ilya, emerging from the water and beaching himself beside her. “Pasha, you can’t stay out of the water too long! You know I always tell you—”

She crumpled the letter with a gasp, trying to shove it back through the narrow bottleneck before Ilya got any closer, but to no avail.

“Pasha, what is that?” He poked his head left and right to see past her every twist and turn as she shielded the contents of her hands from his view.

“I-it’s nothing!” she stammered, clutching the bottle against her chest. “And quit being so nosy!”

Ilya sighed and backed off with his hands upturned defensively, knowing his sister would be more than willing to tussle (and more than likely to win) if he pestered her any longer. “Okay, okay. Just ah… make sure you don’t dehydrate up here, will you?”

“Speak for yourself,” Pasha smirked just before flicking her tail up from the water to splash her brother in the face.

~~~~~~~ 

It had been a couple of days since Pasha first received the message. She’d spent the first day in complete bewilderment, and the following days were much of the same. At least once per day, Ilya asked passing questions of anything that might be new in his darling sister’s life, trying gently to pry for information. Of course, he was met with sarcasm or blatant changing of the subject every time. She wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about all this yet anyway; why get anyone else involved?

In secret, Pasha’s excitement mingled with uncertainty as she pondered the same question over and over: Was this truly a serendipitous set of circumstances, or a case of mistaken identity? But the slight tug she felt on that first day grew steadily by the hour, it seemed, into unmistakable vibrations like a physical tinnitus she could feel in the water. The “power of sight” crept into other aspects of her daily life. Her dreams became infused with whorls of magic, recurring visions of a woman with smooth, brown skin and fiery eyes. The depictions, vivid as they were, were always of the same scene—the woman, perched on an old, wooden dock, staring out over the sea. She was hopeful. Lonely. Waiting. And with each of these nightly visions, though she began to lose sleep much to her brother’s concern, Pasha’s heart grew fonder. She, too, became hopeful, and decided to follow the pull that the spell had granted her.

Nearly a week after she first received the letter, she awoke at an hour early enough to swim away undetected. Pasha gave one final look around the rock and coral walls that comprised her home, and left.

~~~~~~~ 

It had been hours before she finally spotted a city in the distance, and dusk was fast approaching. Shallower and shallower now, Pasha was approaching a shoreline. She knew she was close, because the vibrations grew stronger so long as she maintained her course in the right direction. Vesuvia. She had heard of this land from some traveling merfolk she knew, but she had never traveled much outside her own sea village. Suddenly, the “sight” that had guided her all this way came to a halt. Not far in front of her, she spotted dark, hard-wood posts rooted into the seabed, supported by columns of stone.

Hidden behind an offshore rock, Pasha took a peek around its side, and her heart skipped as she saw a vision of great familiarity to her: The woman, sitting silently, serenely upon old wood, fixated on the horizon as the sun dipped lower in the sky. But this time, it was not merely a vision. The woman, Princess Nadia, was real. And she was beautiful.

Pasha swam cautiously closer, but remained under the water’s surface. She was afraid to emerge and be confronted by the reality—or possible reality—of the situation. What if the letter was wrong? What if she was holding out hope for a romance like the ones she heard in stories, only to be rejected? All the details of the week’s events fit together and culminated into that very moment, but Pasha could not shake her uncertainty.

She circled back around the rock a few times, and finally hung her head as her worries weighed on her shoulders, her mind, her heart. Defeated, she swam, casting a long, backwards glance at the wooden posts of Vesuvia’s port that grew hazier in her vision the further she swam. Shutting her eyes with a sigh of resignation, she drifted onward—until, with a jolt, she collided with something blocking her path.

She looked up, stunned. “Ilya?!” Confusion overtook her expression as her brother floated before her, arms crossed and a scornful frown on his face. “Ugh…” she scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Of course you followed me.”

“I’ve been worried! You wouldn’t tell me what’s been going on, and I heard you leave right before your catfish Pepi decided to dive-bomb my face.” He gestures wildly, then grows serious. “But… I think you forgot something.” He produced a bottle from under his arm.

“How did you…?”

“The lid to your clamshell was open, and I found this lying right in the middle of the bed. It’s a little wet inside, please ignore that.” His eyes shift down towards the sea floor.

“Ilya… did you read my letter?!”  

“Okay, yes!” He winces. “I only followed you because I thought you might have needed it. You didn’t have to keep this a secret from me; I would have understood and given you space.”

“You would have followed me either way.”

“…Yes.” His embarrassment crept onto his face in the form of an obvious blush. He handed over the bottle, and Pasha accepted it with a sigh.

“Thanks. Just, let me handle my own business from now on, ‘kay?”

“Noted.” A grin spread across Ilya’s face as he waggled an eyebrow. “Now, get back there and woo the woman of your dreams!”

Of course, Ilya had no idea just how right he was about the dreams. Pasha could only punch him playfully in the arm before heading back towards the dock.

~~~~~~~ 

Gathering her composure, Pasha broke the water’s surface to reveal herself, a flash of her tail flicking out as she steadied herself. She looked up at the seated woman and addressed her with a bold greeting. “Are you Princess Nadia?” She held up the bottle. “I believe this was your message.”

Surprise flashed across the princess’ expression, hardly noticeable before being quickly replaced by something more peaceful. “A… mermaid… I see.” She shifted to get a more comfortable view. “Of course I have heard rumors of a sea-dwelling race off our distant shores. I had believed them to be no more than fantasy, yet here you stand—or rather float before me,” she said with an amused smirked.

This might not be a good thing, Pasha thought. “So, I wasn’t who you were expecting to get your message, huh…”

“Well, I had certainly expected my message to travel across the sea. If only I had known you were from the sea I may have dressed more… appropriately to join you down there.” She leaned forward to rest her chin in her palm, never breaking eye contact, grinning as Pasha sunk a little below the waterline to hide her growing blush. A moment of quiet turned to uncomfortable silence as Pasha only shifted her gaze away with a furrowed brow.

“Something appears to be troubling you, my friend.” Nadia’s voice was sweet and backed with genuine concern. “If there is anything amiss, you are free to speak your mind.”

Pasha’s eyes widened and snapped back to meet Nadia’s. She rose from the water just enough to expose her mouth and began to voice her concern. “Well… I mean, how did you know someone would obey your message? I saw you in my dreams every night, in this exact spot, waiting for an answer.” The pace of her words increased as if she had opened a faucet, unable to stop the rush flowing forth. “It’s like, what if you never received an answer? What if this bottle chose the wrong person? How do you know I’m really the one who deserved this message? I can’t help but wonder if I’m really supposed to be here or if it only felt right because the spell made me believe so.” Nadia listened, delight shining subtly in her eyes as her new acquaintance showed no more restraint or hesitation.

Once Pasha was finished expelling her thoughts, Nadia smiled softly. “I have made no such choices for you. Any desire you felt to come find me… that, dear, was purely your own. The power of sight was merely an aid, should the recipient choose to accept it.” She maintained an even tone, warmth and understanding filling her words. “And even so, if my spell found your hand by any mistake in this world,” she offered an outstretched hand towards the water. “How fortunate am I to be met with such a charming and quizzical being such as yourself?”

Pasha’s face flushed once more, but this time, she did not try to hide it. She inspected Nadia’s hand and reached up, droplets of water plinking along the shimmering stillness of the sea below. Their fingertips brushed together, a touch gentle as the land breeze, carrying with it the merging of their two worlds.

Nadia lowered her lips to meet the back of Pasha’s hand, the warmth of her kiss somehow coursing a chill throughout the mermaid’s body.

It didn’t matter whether there was such a thing as fate. But a choice, a bond, a desire—only these things had the power to determined their future. 

~~~~~~~

(Bonus note: Nadia partnered with Asra to draw out her untrained magic with his own and bind the message’s spell to herself. Ilya absolutely did not go home after giving Pasha the bottle. He was cheering her on from a distance.)