#really only bc he can’t even remember who his family is and they fought over this mess…he was an infant 😭

[dulcewrites]

Do you think king queen fmo would consider trying for another baby for the "heir and a spare" thing?

Honestly I love this idea simply bc of drama that would ensue afterwards 💀💀, and for several reasons:

- Aemond tipping his hand to basically saying alaric will be his heir

- what this mean for reader and his relationship since there will have to be an added layer of intimacy that they haven’t shared since probably trying for alaric.

- what this means for daella in all of this. Like she was never officially named and she does understand the way the realm works. But she’d probably feel some type of way bc she could do it. She could be a great queen

- also what kind of new found pressure reader would now be under when it comes to conceiving children. Like yeah regardless of status, there were/are strict “duties” a woman had to tend to. Child bearing being one. But now the idea that she needs to have a boy and if not…. They are trying all over again. I think as someone who had a mom who struggled with fertility issues, that would fuck with her. Also someone who still grew up being told that was her job. And if she doesn’t get that done, she has essentially failed. Ugh I can just imagine her and daella having a similar convo that nyra and aemma do. “Everyone is worried about the babe, who is worried about you.”

[littlecactiguy]

@yellowmagicalgirl

Rather than add onto our post again, I decided to write out what's been simmering in my thoughts in a Harrow the Ninth-inspired study, with Penny in Gideon's position in Ruby's head.

Ruby, like Harrow, locked her Cavalier away in her head with help (I sort of imply the brain surgery, but don't actually describe it here).

ngl I'm not entirely sure how the end of HtN would go in this au. I do like Penny ending up in a position similar to Kiriona at some point, though that's also largely due to me really liking the idea of inserting Copper in as a Nona (which I can concede is partial bias toward my own oc for Reasons) and them perhaps interacting.

Except that begs the question of, if Ruby's not in her body, then where'd she go? (talk to Maria in the Tomb maybe...)

(I also really like your idea about Ruby being speedy, especially bc it also kind of reflects her semblance. Though I'm not as well-versed in tlt theories - I have never been more frustrated that I left my copies of the books back with my family some states away.)

Anyways, here's a short(ish) study in the 2nd Person from Penny's POV (also the first time I think I've tried 2nd person pov, so that was fun)

Ruby.

I love you. I have always loved you. I always will.

I will do anything for you. I did everything for you.

I would do it all again.

So, why did you lock me away?

I know I’m not…I was never as good as you, as good as the others. I tried my best, but I…

I thought…

Do you not love me back?

I don’t understand. It was enough. My soul. We did it. You became a Lyctor, and it was enough. You lived.

Cinder didn’t.

It was worth it.

Then you sought her out. The one who helped Cinder, who lied to our faces, pretended to be our friend, and—

I don’t understand, Ruby. I’ve been trying to. It’s all I can do, inside this tomb you’ve made for me. Emerald tried to—

She and Cinder almost succeeded in—

And yet you—

She could have killed you. I watched. I fought her. I fought you.

You looked in the mirror when it was done. After they found you where you lay unconscious in that cold, dark prison. After they interrogated Emerald on what she had done and she replied, only what she asked me to do. After they healed you. After they tried, and failed, to free me.

You looked in the mirror. My eyes looked back at you.

You didn’t remember me. You still don’t.

We were together almost our whole lives and you threw it all away.

I loved you.

I still do.

But I…

Everyday since they brought you here, you struggle. You may have been faster, but you never had my strength, and now you’ve rejected it. You lift the blade they gave you, but it’s not enough. Not to deflect the General’s attacks. Not to parry his sword away. Your speed has kept his blade from your heart so far, but it can’t forever.

I know you fear he will kill you. I can feel it. I could have protected you. I swore I’d always protect you. Even before the vow left my lips.

You were the first thing I ever saw on the Ninth. I was alone. My father put in me in that pod and sent it away. He didn’t even put in coordinates. He didn’t know of anywhere I’d be safe. He hoped.

And I arrived on the Ninth. Months and months later. I mapped the stars that passed outside the only window I had on the journey. I wondered if they’d be the last thing I ever saw before my body finally deteriorated enough that I would be lost.

Except I arrived on the Ninth. I remember seeing its form grow bigger and bigger in that little window. I remember being relieved I would crash, because the journey would finally be over then, and I wouldn’t be lonely anymore.

And I wasn’t, just not how I thought.

It was terrifying, seeing the entry panel of the pod be jostled, my father’s last work, his sealing of it, being broken. Then, you got it open, and our eyes met.

You commented on mine being so bright so quickly I didn’t have the chance to say the same about yours.

No one had ever said anything like that to me before then. No one besides my father had ever talked to me before then either. No one on the Ninth would talk to me, not like you did. Not even your Uncle Qrow, though he was a little better than most.

You meant the world to me, Ruby. You still do. You always will.

I was meant to protect you.

Why won’t you let me?

My strength could be yours. My resilience. Every sword I wielded, I did for you.

Your arms tremble as you try to hold one now. You look at the General across the training arena. We both see the cold calculation in his eyes. They’re green, like mine. They aren’t his. We’ve both wondered who they once belonged to.

I wonder if that soul is like me. I hope they aren’t.

You told me, once, my world would never be a the littlest of windows ever again.

You lied.

[rivangel]

“  i’m alone.  and it’s my own fault.  but it doesn’t make it hurt any less.  ”

and/or

“  it’s better if i’m alone.  i can’t hurt anyone if there’s no one close enough to get hit by the debris of my fuck ups.  ”

hi gee 🥺🥺🥺🥺 how about reader who was promoted to captain not too long ago and lost their whole squad on a small capture/base construction operation. and they have been dealt a really bad deck of cards, like the families really harassed them on their Walk Of Shame back to HQ (S1 episode 22 vibes iykwim (bonus points if levi sees the families berate reader, i'll leave his potential reaction up to you)) and locks themselves away bc "fuck the world" or whatever. levi decides enough is enough after a few days and attempts to pull them out of their room, but it's so messy and cups are piled high and reader is highkey still crying/really depressed (naturally) and levi sees how bad they are feeling. maybe he tells them about farlan and isabel? maybe he just gives them advice? or maybe he just sits there and holds them as they cry

SORRY IF THIS IS TOO ANGSTY BUT YOU HAVE WRITTEN DEATH AND ANGST BEFORE???

I LOVE ANGST NO WORRIES!! i had a load of fun writing this when i was goin thru it pls. i rly rly hope you like it cece

content/warnings: descriptions of depression, hurt/comfort!!, soft Levi, references to death, canonverse, Section Commander!Reader

wc: ~1.4k

So much for being a Section Commander.

All those expectations, all the rallying to succeed, all the promises.

You burrow deeper into your duvet and sniff. All that blood, on what was supposed to be an easy operation.

You could swear, even in silence, you still hear the shriek of a widow, the tortured shouts of a father who just lost his daughter. You smell copper; it rolls over your tongue.

Not to mention taking advantage of Levi's kindness for a 'few days' of rest. You should be better. You should be stronger.

Your mind floats back and revolves around that day—yesterday? Two days ago, a week? You can't remember anymore.

The day he last saw you out of your quarters are all Levi can think about anymore.

He sits hunched over some papers crying out for signatures at his desk and closes his eyes, feels the world turn behind them.

The walk of shame back behind the Wall is always the cherry on top of the shit cake of any unsuccessful expedition; the ones where the weight of the bodies outweigh the boons those bodies devoted their hearts for.

A simple goal. And you lost everyone on your squad.

It's not enough for someone to look at you and not just hope it doesn't happen to them, but to understand the risk they take every time they go outside and shame you regardless. The civilians are the ones who hold the disgust, the contempt, the Why? How could this happen?

The eternal question that can't be answered.

Many knew of your squad because the news of your promotion made it all the way to Sina at one point or another. A promising up-and-comer not unlike Commander Erwin himself.

Only for this to happen: Four elite soldiers, devoured by Titans within the span of minutes. The lack of trees to maneuver with and the snowy weather combined with the fatigue of a thirty-hour day—they weren't kind to you, or the four under your lead.

A mother's crestfallen face, Levi recalls, dissolved into rage.

"How could you let it happen? Why? Why did you do this to my boy?" she howled through sobs. Louis' patch was pinned to her chest.

Of course Levi saw, how could he not when you fought on par with his own squad?—When you were now together?

Levi resonates with grief, feelings like black fire tearing through a chest, but not like that, not you. A new vengeful flame burned his veins to see you being accused of such a thing.

He had tugged his horse along and, sparing the woman, simply walked at your side so you wouldn't have to be the lone woman walking without her squad. It is a special type of loneliness, being surrounded by ghosts.

"Take a couple days off," he told you, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I'll talk to Erwin."

You barely nodded, barely seemed to even register that Levi was there in the first place.

He shades his face in his hand now, wondering why the hell he said something like that now that a "couple days" has turned into a week straight without you. Surely... any other partner wouldn't let this go on. He misses feeling your arms around him.

Since he has gotten to wondering whether you have been eating, for days he has been taking your meals to you from the mess hall.

Because he resonates with grief.

But, enough.

And so he rises to his feet, in pursuit of you.

Knocking didn't do anything for him. Seeing how your bedroom, where he assumed you were, was a ways from your office, he didn't hear any signs that you were inside and simply hiding from him.

He figured you were hiding silently.

First of all, upon slipping the key back into his suit jacket, he finds that your office is a mess of books and papers, especially your desk.

Tray of stew in hand, he bypasses it. He has bigger priorities.

He knocks on the bedroom door and says your name, firmer than he met, then softer. "Dinner."

Some shuffling, but no reply.

Levi gets to thinking invading your space was one massive mistake, an overstep in boundaries, but he's in too deep now. Grief will either fell you, or you will fell it—those are the only options, and he's tired of your hesitating. Hesitation means death.

Surprisingly, your door is unlocked, no light. You're a lump underneath your duvet, a pillow cuddled to your front, evidently on your side. He knows you're not asleep.

First, Levi makes a place on your dresser for the tray while he cleans off your bedside, then strikes a match for your lantern. It wouldn't hurt at all to clean up around here.

Because he doesn't know what to say—what he could say. Some trauma goes beyond what words can do, so he pats your head with a little reverence before turning his attention back to the dresser. He hears you sniff.

"I brought dinner for you," he says again, opening and shutting drawers. "If you need anything..."

You don't stir until the first drawer shuts. With a sniff, you peek out from your pillow, and whimper. "Levi?"

"Yes." He turns back around, tray in hand, and sets it down at your bedside. Unsure of what to do, he simply stands. "Tell me what you need; you look like shit."

Your eyes close at this. "Thanks. Sorry... I didn't mean to have you clean, you... you don't have to do that."

"I can think of a few things I'm good at. For you," he replies.

An apology for nothing, and your hair is a mess. Your eyes look caked with eyeshadow and liner almost, the way they're rimmed red and hooded. Tired.

Giving you room to object, he sits himself beside your head, and the first sob escapes; a dry, hurt thing.

"I know. It hurts, I know," he tries to soothe, and turns. When a hand falls in your hair, you cry a little harder.

He frowns. "I'm here for you."

You accept the touch, but when your glittering eyes open, they're listless. "No. N-No. I'm alone.  And it’s my own fault.  But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

He shakes his head, stunned, and scratches your scalp a little firmer. "You..."

Levi's eyes shut, combing his mind for what to say. He never allowed himself to get this bad after his friends passed, but for that, he arguably turned out worse than better. Those feelings, an old agony, washes back over him to see you this way. He never processed any of that. Those shitty demons.

"You never know how things will turn out," he settles. "They got unlucky; sometimes there's nothing we can do."

His comfort is in tune with your soft crying, so leans to rub your back in slow circles.

Easy enough, since you're facing him on your side. This is the most he's gotten from you in a whole week, so he'll call it progress. Some days, tears are the most you can do, and that counts.

"I know. I know that," you whimper. You wipe your shiny face and move your head over to his knee. "But..."

He encourages you to lay your head in his lap. "But it hits you in the same way every time. I—I know. You and I aren't different in that."

"We're not?" you whisper. In a drastic shift, your head turns and peers up at him through your sticky lashes.

His thumb traces your cheek. "No. You know how I got into the Corps, but... I had friends with me at the time. It was..." He swallows. "My first expedition. It was, difficult afterwards. Keeping th-them alive was my purpose for so long, but they got unlucky. It was the Titans.

"It'd be a disservice to me to say you're ever alone in the way you feel—at least when it comes to me. I can... do something. Whatever it is, I can do it for you."

Tears well up in your eyes, and Levi sweeps them away with his thumb.

"Thank you," you whisper, bullying one of your arms low around his waist.

His falls on your back again, holding you as you cry. "Yeah. Just know, I'm here. I've got you."

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[hansolmates]

a hero’s journey (m)

summary; jungkook and jisoo are the mightiest power couple. however, one drunken confession and that whole facade fades in an instant. you realize that maybe you need to break from your unvaried life for a bit and be the hero of your own love story pairing; jungkook x editor!reader (f) genre/warnings; best friend’s boyfriend au, slice of life, angst with a happy ending because im weak, pining pINING, everyone’s kind of a mess in their own sweet special way, alcohol use, mentions of ze weed, toxic relationships, mean friends, sex—slight dom!kook, food play, fingering, squirting, heavy use of the petname “pretty girl” bc im weak, strength kink, manhandling (oop!) w.c; 22.2k a/n; woof! my first fic for @goldenclosetnetwork​ 23 | jungkook’s birthday project! this goes out to all the closet romantics *ahem me cough* who doesn’t love pining between a cutie koo? a huge thank u for vivi @eerieedits​ for making this bbbBEAUTIFUL fic banner!  

prompt used: “I should’ve known.”

if you like this fic pls consider giving a like n’share🥺💜🥺💜

It’s so easy to ignore the world. 

Maybe it’s a young-adult thing, but it gets difficult fitting into the 9-to-5 and playing to satisfy bosses that don’t entirely understand your work ethic. Maybe it’s out of complacency, or fear. But you prefer to let the world flow around you and when you’re needed, you’ll act. You’ve reached that point in your life where you enjoy the little things, satisfied by an extra hour of overtime tacked onto your paycheck, a new fabric softener, or finding the perfectly squishy yoga mat. 

You’ve finally started feeling comfortable in your shoes, uncaring as to whether you’re single or drowning in college debt, happy to live a relatively stable life. You’re grateful. There’s nothing more than you need than your happiness, and the love of your friends and family. 

Namely, your best friend from college. Jisoo always joked about how you two “won the lottery” as dorm rooms in freshman year were determined by lottery. Pulling numbers 883 and 884, you and Jisoo snagged a corner spot of the dormitory, leaving you two utterly cramped but utterly close as the years went by. Six years later and it’s still the case, the two of you have grown into talented working ladies. While you may not be able to spend time with each other the same way you did in school, you still care for each other. 

So when Jisoo shows up teary with a rumpled dress shirt and her hair waterfalling out of this morning’s bun, you break out the good alcohol and season three of Jane the Virgin for her. 

After the liquid is warm in your cheeks and you’ve fawned enough over Micheal and Rafael’s love triangle, you let Jisoo ramble. 

Jisoo has downed a whole bottle of soju on her own, while you’ve decided to have a tasteful glass of wine. You’d rather be tired wine drunk than wasted on soju. 

“Jungkook and I had a fight,” she warbles, stuffing a handful of popcorn in her mouth, “it was totally stupid.” 

Your eyes flash, picturing Jisoo and Jungkook in quarrel. They’re the epitome of an Instagram-worthy couple, beautiful and deathly charming to a fault. They show nothing but kindness and sweetness to you whenever you third-wheel, not a lick of anger between them when you’re all together.

So a fight is something surprising. Jisoo and Jungkook, J-squared are a power couple. Saying their names next to each other just emits a sort of energy you can only akin to famous small screen couples like Troy and Gabriella or Cory and Topanga. Jisoo’s Instagram is belly full with sweet selfies of them together, the doe-eyed man always looking completely sweet and gentle to the woman in his arms.

You never piqued Jungkook as the type of guy who would pick a “stupid fight.” And you know Jungkook pretty well. 

Maybe a little too well. 

“He surprised me during my lunch break and he caught me talking to Doyoung and he thought I was flirting,” Jisoo is practically eating her sweater, her head falling between her flannel pyjama sleeves. 

“Doyoung, as in your ex Doyoung?” you raise a brow. 

She groans, glaring at you in earnest. “Not you, too! I told him it was ridiculous to get jealous, and then I told him how jealous I get when he’s around girls and I don’t need to tell him that,” she rolls her eyes, twisting her feet petulantly in her fuzzy socks, “but then you know what he says back?” 

You wince, swirling your wine glass, “That you’re crazy?” 

“That I’m crazy, exactly! How did you—” her bloodshot eyes zero in on you, where you’ve tucked yourself in the corner of the couch. You swirl the ruby liquid in your cup, watching the feet web around the cheap crystal, “you think I’m crazy too, don’t you?” 

You swallow your sigh, taking your time to finish your liquid in languid sips. Uneasy, you wish you could just sink through the couch in order to avoid this conversation. Jisoo’s heart is generally in the right direction, but in terms of emotions she has the kind of sensitivity that you prefer to ignore rather than tread. Jungkook is also equally emotional, but in a different way. He wears his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep things straight as opposed to bottling it up like Jisoo. 

However the theoretic bottle has reached it’s brim and Jisoo’s tipping, fast. 

“I need to tell you something,” Jisoo is swerving, crawling like an infant on wobbly limbs to reach your corner of the couch. You almost stop her, tell her you can continue this conversation in the morning, it’s what you normally do when she drinks into a stupor. But tears are swimming in her glassy caramel eyes and she’s grappling onto your blanket, resting her head in her lap. 

Her glossy russet strands curtain her head, so you don’t see the expression on her face when she says her next words: 

“Jungkook told me he liked you senior year, and I told him you weren’t interested so I’d have a chance.” 

Wow. So that explains everything.

The memories that you’ve tried so hard to brush away, the feelings you’ve tried so hard and continue to try to suppress, are laid out in front of you on a rusted platter. You could laugh, you could fling the rest of the Pinot Grigio down your throat like fresh water on a hot day and call it a night. 

But instead you choke back your tears, and push her off because you’re hurt.  

Deep down you know you would’ve been less upset if she told you the week after Jisoo and Jungkook called it official. If you knew from the beginning, it would’ve been easier on your heart. But it's been over two years since the past, thinking you’ve been needlessly, stupidly, delusional in thinking that you could’ve possibly had a chance with Jungkook.

Because it could’ve been you. And the reason why Jisoo and Jungkook fought today? Now you know it’s because deep down, they know they’re each other’s second choice. 

You can’t even recall a time where Jungkook and Jisoo were together alone before they suddenly started dating, remembering how it used to be you and Jungkook before Jisoo found him one day in your shared apartment, utterly smitten. And now you know you weren’t delusional, because the feelings and the signals you two were exchanging in senior year was real. 

But it doesn’t stop the fact that over two years have passed. Two years of a serious relationship between Jisoo and Jungkook, and two years of you secretly loving him from an arm’s length. 

“You hate me,” Jisoo removes herself from you, voice trembling. The quick, dark part of your mind wants you to snap back of course I hate you. You’ve trusted Jisoo with your life all these years, she was the reason you got through college so gracefully, why you enjoyed the past seven years of your life. 

But the sentiment is stained, and all you can do is deliver a tired smile and stand up. “I don’t hate you,” you say, “I’m just, really overwhelmed. I can’t lie and say that I’m not hurt,” your fingers clutch the fake crystal in your grasp, and for once you’re thankful you’re not strong enough to break it, “but you two love each other now and there’s no point in dwelling in the ‘what-ifs’.” 

Now that you think about it, when was the last time Jisoo treated you like a best friend? You stare at your wine glass, thinking that the only time comfort is provided in this apartment is when Jisoo is upset, never when you’re upset. 

Jisoo bobs her head senselessly, agreeing to every word. It’s pathetic, seeing her on her knees and her eyes glimmering with the hope that you’d forgive her straightaway. She must feel awful. That’s good.  

You sigh, needing to be the bigger person. “You need to call Jungkook and tell him he has nothing to worry about though, after all, you two have history now. As much, if not more than Doyoung.” 

“Right,” she replies, biting her lip. It suddenly feels like you're talking to a wall, carrying a conversation that's long ended.

“As for us,” you have half a mind to slam your glass on the counter, but instead you give it a heavy hand, letting slowly thump to the coffee table, “I don’t think I want to see you two, for a while.” 

“Understandable.” 

“And I don’t want to help you move out anymore,” I just want you gone.  

“Right,” she whispers. The both of you will be completed with your lease in two months, and Jisoo and Jungkook have decided to move into Jungkook’s apartment. As for you, you haven’t decided as to whether you want to go through the whole process of moving out or looking for a new roommate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so so fucking sorry. I just was insecure as fuck in college and Jungkook was the first person I met in a long time that helped me feel more… like me.”

You want to say that she's right, she’s selfish. Her excuses aren’t palpable anymore. It’s too late. But if you were in Jisoo’s shoes, you’d think this apology is mere crumbs in comparison to your friendship. Why isn't she trying harder? Maybe because she doesn't know any better. After all, you never told her what you felt for him has morphed into love. 

You don’t even have to ask as to whether she’ll tell Jungkook this or not, you now know honesty is not her style. 

Jisoo doesn’t get a goodnight and a drunken kiss on the forehead like she usually does whenever you two have your late night talks. Instead, she seals herself to her own demise as you slam the door to your bedroom, effectively shutting each other out. 

Work is a bitch the following morning. You’re like molasses, rolling out of bed despite the whole world and its mother telling you to go back to sleep. 

Your feet are killing you as you make your walk to work, deciding to wear a pair of red-backed heels so you can stomp your way through your day. 

Your Wusband (Work-Husband) Kim Namjoon matches you step-for-step, eyes glued to his phone as he catches you on the sidewalk. “Woman on a mission,” he comments absentmindedly, eyes glued to his phone as he follows the click of your shoes to your favorite cafe. 

You spare a glance to your right hand-man, eyeing him appreciatively at his dedication to your morning routine. He’s your favorite co-worker, one who keeps you on time to your meetings and keeps you sane when you want to pull your hair out and dig out a coffin in your little cubicle. Namjoon’s long legs always seem to catch up with you during your workweek, whether it’s to get coffee in the morning or to talk shit about the latest gossip in the breakroom. 

The bell of the glass door tinkles in your ears as you enter the café, relatively busy for the morning rush. While you wait in line, Namjoon ticks off your activity list for today. 

“Meeting with Victoria is cancelled this morning,” you groan in relief, your supervisor Victoria always scares the shit out of you even when she’s not doing anything, “and just the usual proofing and whatever we have to do on the third floor today—can I get a large iced Americano with a pump of caramel? Thanks,” Namjoon moves aside so you can throw your order in as well, “and after work could you stop by Vernon’s? He took a sick day today and he has most of the manuscripts for the next issue.” 

“Done and done,” you swipe your card in the dip, tucking your card away in your zippered pouch. “So like, do Americanos taste any good? Like it’s literally watered down espresso how do you pay to drink watered down tar—” 

Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter. Jungkook’s at the pick-up counter swirling stray sugar crystals with his thumb and putting them in his napkin. What an impeccable display of Virgo energy, absentmindedly cleaning things he has no business doing. You scoff to yourself, recalling this morning that Jisoo got off the phone this morning with a stupid smile on her face. From the mirror image that Jungkook is excluding while he’s smiling on his cellphone like a smitten teenager, it seems like they’ve made up. 

Nevertheless the hurt from last night is still fresh in your bones, and you force yourself to look away despite the fact that your morning pick-me-ups are almost done and are sitting tauntingly next to Jungkook’s elbow. Does he really need to learn against the counter like he owns it? Hair slightly damp from the shower, your heart beats a little faster at the fresh image.His biceps are straining against his charcoal lycra long sleeve, which is slightly damp from his morning run. Snap out of it! You are a mature, working woman who does not swoon in the view of bulgy muscles, especially when the man who owns those muscles is taken. Suddenly there’s a call of your name, and two cups and a paper bag are put in front of Jungkook. 

He blinks, and you immediately pale when you see his eyes flit over your name surrounded by your favorite coral pink beverage. You feel struck as his head perks up at the name and he narrowly makes eye-contact—

“The fuck you’re doing,” Namjoon gripes, shoving your guava iced tea and croissant in your chest, “standing there like a moron as if we don’t got shit to do today.” 

“Sorry,” you mumble, pulling at the brown paper bag to tug a piece of croissant between your teeth. The warmth, buttery pastry melts in your tastebuds. Ah, bread. Nothing like a little bit of carb to make you feel better. 

You’re suddenly thankful for Namjoon’s gargantuan torso from effectively blocking you from Jungkook, hauling you out of the coffee shop like a petulant toddler. He doesn’t even give you a chance to catch another secret look at the object of your affections, making sure you’re back in your work game before you enter the building. Even if he doesn’t know it, Kim Namjoon’s always got your back. 

Or in today’s case, breathing down your back. 

Without your third editor and a hard deadline coming up by the end of the week, you and Namjoon are working in tandem throughout your 9-5 to complete drafts for Big Hit Publishings Arts & Media section. Both of you take turns to bring snacks and feed each other, feeling like reading zombies and slaves to your desk as you remind each other to breathe throughout the whole ordeal. 

In complete honesty you don’t totally mind. Namjoon is a great partner-in-crime, and you both love what you do and do a damn good job at it. You call it “Buzzfeed but with Benefits.” 

And at least for today, you could quell the feelings in your chest from last night and this morning. Sure, you’ve always been okay with the pining you’ve had for Jungkook. The feeling comes and goes whenever it pleases, and since yesterday you’ve been okay with just admiring from afar and being their third wheel. 

However, now the feelings are acutely comparable to a third-degree burn with the help of Jisoo playing with fire. 

With a quiet exhale, you concede in your gaming chair (because it’s just so damn comfy to keep in the office.) You’re an adult and not a petty child, and you will not let this piece of information derail you from your calm, stable lifestyle. 

But honestly? Fuck Jisoo. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo,” Namjoon logs off for you, the cinnamon-y smell of his shampoo effectively waking up your senses, “it’s already 5:30. And you said you’d stop by Vern’s to get his drafts.” 

“Right,” you blurt, mindlessly putting away your papers and snack wrappers in your bag. You can’t believe the whole day’s gone already. 

“Maybe you don’t even have to go to his apartment. Just text him or whatever.” 

“Sounds good, thanks Joonie.” 

“And y/n?” Namjoon gives you a look that causes you to force a terse smile, one you give one too many times to higher-ups at work. It isn’t to insult Namjoon by any means, but you guys are partners, the kind that tell way too much but hide just enough to remain close from afar. “Take it easy, will you?” 

“I will,” you concede, stretching your arms, “I’m def overdue for a massage.” 

“You don’t look sick,” you scoff, taking in the casual look your co-editor boasts as he leans casually against the doorway. 

Hansol Vernon Chwe is the epitome of fluffy, decked out in large electric blue sweats and his russet brown hair curling softly above his porcelain skin. Not only is he your co-editor, but also a friend from college. Not to the extent that you were with Jisoo and Jungkook, but you operated in the same publishing club and managed to get partnering internships that made you the co-workers you are today. You see a little bit of that collegiate youth in Vernon right now, as he looks well-rested and fresh faced despite the fact he probably didn’t apply moisturizer or drink enough water today.

“But you kinda do,” he tilts his head, noting the heels that adorn your feet, “you’re wearing your sexy shoes today, that means something’s going on.” 

“Gee, ever the ladies’ man,” you scoff, getting under his arm to invite yourself inside, “all I want is the completed interviews so we can pick out the best parts and draft them. Then I’ll be on my merry way.” 

“Oh c’mon, we’ve been talking nothing but work this whole damn month. What happened to college when we’d talk hours about House Hunters, the safeness of library sex, that little furry thing in Lincoln Hall’s urinal? That was prime conversation.” 

“Vern, I’m just here for the drafts,” you sit at his tiny kitchen table, glaring at his open laptop.  

“You could’ve just emailed me,” he teases, twisting around his chair so he can rest his arms against the back. “But since you’re here, that means you probably wanna spill some tea but you’re too upset to admit it.” 

“If I talk will you stop talking like that?” 

“Yes. Give me the juicy details. Need some juicy juice.” 

“Nevermind, get out of my apartment.” 

“Uh, this is my apartment.” 

“My point still stands,” you make another face at his outfit, “you look like the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.”  

Vernon purses his lips, scooting his chair closer to yours. He’s unfazed by your insult, far used to your defenses being higher up than Fort Knox. He looks up at you with his pretty lashes and deceivingly sweet caramel eyes, leaning his head along the backrest. “C’mon, tell me what’s bothering you,” he says in a gentle tone, coaxing you open. 

He always knew how to do it for you, a little bit of sweet talking and that clear open gaze always reduced you to shreds in university. For him, it always took a good meal and some sci-fi movies to get him to talk. That must be why you’ve stayed friends for so long, you two knew how to connect. 

Finally you crack, kicking off your shoes and hoping the sharp end doesn’t land on his cat. You hear Luna meow in protest but she’s got great reflexes. Unbuttoning the first three buttons of your stuffy blazer, you air out your cleavage, not caring about Vernon’s gaze. He’s seen worse. 

“Remember Jeon Jungkook? Majored in graphic design.”

“Ah, yeah. The guy who like, lived at the gym and the dining hall? Haven’t seen him in a minute,” his eyes seem to glaze over the glory days, reminiscing in the simultaneous safetynet and stressor that made up your early twenties, “didn’t you guys hit it off real well? Like I remember you ditched like—three sci-fi nights to study with him. Who even studies at 1AM?” 

“Yeah, we did,” and you can’t help but frown at as you remember the 7-Eleven runs, the utter warmth you felt when he would wipe a stray rice grain off your cheek, and how happy you felt to laugh so much with him it hurt, “but uh. Jisoo got drunk last night, because they had a fight. And she sort of admitted to me that she sabotaged our relationship and told Jungkook I wasn’t interested in him so they could start dating. Two years later and here we are.” 

A pause. And then, “Want a beer?” 

Vernon doesn’t even wait for a response when he gets up, bare feet slapping against the tile as he prepares some drinks and snacks for you. 

“That’s pretty fucked up,” he practically sing-songs among the cacophony of popcorn pop-pop-popping in the microwave. The aroma of buttery kernels is all but a relief, reminding you of movie matinees, “and like, she knew you liked him! It was totally obvious, even if you didn’t spell it out for her.” 

“Yeah,” you practically gushed to Jisoo those past two months, every waking moment with heart-eyes over the talented graphic designer Jeon Jungkook. 

“I can’t believe Jisoo would keep that a secret from you for so long. Like, can you even trust her anymore?” 

“Don’t know, was she even my bestfriend or was I just a good roommate to her?” you ask. Vernon is holding two beers in one hand and a bag of popcorn by the tips of his fingers in the other, careful to not burn himself. Opening the beer for you, you thank him and take a long swig.

“Well, good thing you’re still not in love with him or whatever. That would really suck. Unless—”

The look on your face says it all. You’re practically snotting into your bottle, your face tucked into your chin as you fight hard to stop the tears you’ve been suppressing for the last two years. “Don’t give me your pity,” you garble, turning away from the sad look Vernon gives you as he wraps his arms around you. 

The tears are soft and gentle, flowing freely onto the cotton of Vernon’s arms as you let it out. 

“‘M’not,” he concedes, rubbing his chin into your neck. He really is a lot like Luna, just like his  cat ready to give you affection. “Let’s just, get some take-out and watch Hamilton or something.” 

He lets you wear his matching sweat suit, lime green, as you order Thai food and rap along to Hamilton’s sick beats. Vernon does a better job keeping the flow, but you’re having a good time being his hype man as he parades around the living room like it’s 1776. 

You go home that night around ten o’clock, feeling noticeably lighter and more relaxed. Be that it may you are still wearing the sweatpants and heels ensemble, you feel comforted. 

The apartment is quiet when you walk in, not a single light turned on. You get a slice of the city lights bleeding in from the organza curtains, which allow you to kick off your heels and hobble to where you think the kitchen counter is. 

Today is Jisoo’s day to cook dinner. You can tell she decided to cook today from the faint smell of Japanese curry and a small unwashed plate in the sink. Whenever it was someone’s turn, they usually left an extra bowl or serving in it for the other roommate when they got home. Unsurprisingly, you find no such thing on the counter or in the fridge. 

You’re not upset, but rather decided. If Jisoo is going to let your friendship fade off with no intention of redeeming herself, then you should give her the same amount of energy back. You realize now the apology she gave last night wasn’t for you, but empty words to make her feel better and mend whatever toxicity she’s created in her own relationships. People like Namjoon and Vernon reminded you that you didn’t need to try and earn other people’s friendships. 

It’s disappointing, but the feeling is all but too familiar. 

If you could describe Jisoo as anything, it would be the color pink. Blushing, beautiful, beguiling pink. The way she flushes when Jungkook does an uncalled for grandiose gesture of romance, or when she wears a hot magenta number when she’s hosting a fashion show. Jisoo is the personification of La vie en rose, unbothered and unabashed.  

But now all you see when you think of Jisoo? Nothing but red. 

With that, you go in your room and untack the polaroid of you and Jisoo at the carnival last month, putting it away in your junk drawer to be forgotten. 

“You’re running away.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” that interjection comes from Vernon’s roommate, Jung Hoseok. He’s been watching you two bicker over work for the past hour while he plays GTA5, failing to get a good hard carry because you and Vernon are too busy discussing whatever finishing touches you need on your final draft. 

“No one asked for your opinion, Jung,” you throw over your shoulder. 

“I’m just saying,” Hoseok flicks his wrist and nabs a tank, “you never wanna go home, you eat all our food, and I found your pyjamas in my laundry basket.” 

“You said your basket was the blue one,” you hiss under your breath. 

“The navy blue one,” Vernon chirps unhelpfully, “not the electric blue one.” 

Hoseok hits “save” on his campaign, disconnecting from his PS4 and stretching his lean limbs. “I mean, we could use a third roommate,” Hoseok jokes, getting up from the couch and grabbing a handful of M&Ms from your bowl, “you do make a bomb mac n’cheese.” 

“Appreciated,” you relent when Hoseok presses a kiss to your cheek and tells Vernon he’ll be back late working, leaving you and Vernon alone in their shared apartment. When Hoseok is gone, you stare at the door, tilting your head, “y’know,” you remark, “Hoseok’s a cool guy, why did I never hang out with him in college?” 

“Because he was stoned the majority of senior year and you just didn’t vibe with that crowd.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“But, you’re trying to change the subject,” Vernon carefully untacks your hands from your keyboard, knowing that you two have already been done with this month's issue and you’re now just mindlessly re-reading emails. “You’ve been here since Thursday, and now it’s Saturday. And as much as Hoseok and I like having you around so you can wake me up before we go to work, it’d be nice to throw me a bone and let me in on what you’re thinking right now.” 

You frown, noting Vernon’s large hand covering your laptop closed. He isn’t going to remove his hand anytime soon unless you talk. “Jungkook’s helping Jisoo pack up her half of the apartment this weekend and I don’t want to be there,” you say, short and simple. 

“You miss her?” 

“Yeah,” you admit honestly. You hate this version of yourself, unable to even look at Jisoo nowadays despite the fact you’re under the same roof for the remainder of the month. It’s hard to believe that the roommate from six years ago finally got under your skin, cancelling out all the years of friendship because of one silly relationship, “sad she doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” 

“Did you talk about it?” 

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you reply despondently, “if she cared at all she would’ve to apologize again by now.”

Vernon figures, and his neutral expression doesn’t change as he leads you to the couch, brushing away Hoseok’s things so you two can get comfy. You busy yourself with the remote, exiting the PS4 homepage to scroll Netflix. 

“And are you trying to get over him?” 

“I mean, yeah,” you have been, but it’s a little hard when you’ve been contentedly pining. It was easy to keep your feelings bottled up because you originally thought Jisoo and Jungkook were meant to be for each other for the past two years. Now you're still pining but ruefully bitter at Jisoo.

“It’s not fair, y’know. She broke girl code, bros before hoes. Or is it chicks before dicks?” Vernon shakes his head at his lame attempt to get you to smile, which works anyway because Vernon’s silly and his sense of humor always gets you a little loose. “It’s your house too, you shouldn’t feel like you don’t belong there.” 

“Well I was supposed to help her move out this weekend, and I’d prefer it if Jungkook didn’t know what was going on.” 

“What?” your friend furrows his thick brows together, tucking his hands under his knees as he leans into your stubborn expression. “You’re gonna let Jungkook go on with his life not knowing that his relationship is based on a lie. That’s not cool. Even if you’re into him, he’s still your friend.” 

Damn, when did Vernon get so good at giving advice? Truth is Vernon’s always been good at dishing advice, you’ve just been privy to what you wanted to reveal to him. The first year or so being together outside of college was always about work, saving each other’s asses to ensure you two got that promotion and aim higher and higher. Now that goal is out of the way, and what better way to reconnect over some shoddy romance straight out of a Degrassi special? 

“I know,” you hug your knees tight to your chest, “when I’m ready, okay?” 

“Okay,” he agrees, because he’s not a pusher, “do you know the best way to get over someone?” 

“What?” 

“The best way to get over someone, is to get under someone," he emphasizes that point with his hands, sliding one under the other with a wiggle of his thick brows.

You slap him on the shoulder, “Vern, you disgust me.” 

“But it works!” 

“I’m not going on Tinder to find a fuckbuddy.” 

“You don’t have to look on Tinder or Tumble.” 

“Bumble.” 

“Whatever,” and his eyes flicker to his lap, where his pale fingertips turn red as he grips the edge of a throw pillow. "If you really don't wanna find someone, I can help." 

Is Vernon offering himself up? He is offering to fuck your brains out in the hope that you could inevitably fuck out your interest in Jungkook? Your eyes flicker over to Vernon's form on the couch, who's tucked in the couch just as you are. 

It’s true that you find Vernon attractive, and to some extent he definitely finds you attractive as well otherwise he wouldn’t have suggested the idea. It’s just that in college you never viewed him in that kind of light, probably because you were always so caught up in Jungkook. But tonight you can’t seem to ignore the eagerness hidden in Vernon’s carmine gaze, and how shiny and touchable his chocolate locks look under the setting sun. 

“I don’t want our friendship to change,” you reply slowly, furrowing your brows. “I appreciate it, but I don’t know. It sounds like a temporary fix.” 

“Can’t knock it if you don’t try it,” and out of curiosity, you don’t shy away when Vernon leans over to you, squeezing himself between the couch so he can tuck you in his arms. “I want to help you, but only if you want to.” 

Maybe it’s the frustration you feel with Jisoo, Jungkook’s ignorance, or the fact that you haven’t felt physical pleasure in such a long time, but you soften into Vernon’s hold. He’s relaxed, nothing betraying him as he waits patiently for your answer. You’ve always admired how much he kept up his “cool as a cucumber” demeanor. He isn’t the type of guy to let life pass him by, but he’s the kind of person who walks along life, embracing the ups and downs like old friends. He’s the ocean waves that crest along the shore, pushing and pulling along without a care in the world. 

He’s the textbook opposite of Jeon Jungkook, which is why you give Vernon the okay to lean in and press his lips against yours. 

His kisses are soft, and he takes great care in making sure you’re comfortable with this new step in your relationship. It almost feels as if you’re cutting corners, and you can’t help but feel a little guilty that you revel in the way Vernon’s hands trail under your too-large t-shirt. 

The pleasure you’ve ached for is there, bubbling low in the pit of your belly. It’s hard to get you out of your mind however, because this man isn’t the one you love. His kisses hold no power, only brief reprieve. Your heart doesn’t palpitate and your palms don’t sweat, you’re just languid. 

You’re greedy and selfish, but you remind yourself that it’s okay to allow yourself of these freedoms, even for a little bit. As Vernon finds your sweet spot that has you rolling your hips against his, you find that temporary fix isn’t a bad start at all. 

When you trudge back to your apartment that night after much reluctance, your face is still flushed and you think you smell a little too much like Vernon’s cologne. But the fact that still stands is that you're satiated, and you feel a tiny percent closer to moving on. 

The television is glowing with a terrible reality TV show, angry brides upset over cake layers or whatever. Jungkook and Jisoo have fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by half-empty boxes. Jungkook has his arm lazily over Jisoo, her petite body fitting perfectly between his chest and the crook of his neck. 

You scoff when you spy Jisoo's bedazzled manicure digging into Jungkook's bicep, as if someone's going to take him away if she doesn't hold tight.

With stiff muscles you spare one look at Jungkook, ignoring the pang in your chest as you weave between boxes to turn the TV off. Barely an iota of your feelings have dissipated since your previous tryst with Vernon not an hour ago. Looking at Jungkook brings it all back, unfortunately. You suppose the feelings will pass with time. The soft hum of the television ceases, and you’re bathed in a room that feels dark and empty, despite the apparent life in the room. 

There’s some bleary talk coming from the couch as you walk to your bedroom, and if Jungkook is sleepily mumbling your name in question, you pretend you don’t hear. 

“So, where’s y/n? I thought she was going to help us pack.” 

It’s an innocent enough question, as Jungkook scans the corner of the living room hallway that leads to the bedrooms. You haven’t come out yet. He knows that you love sleeping in on the weekends, but he hopes the smell of fresh food will coax you to the table. His pan is sizzling in protest, telling Jungkook to quit talking and flip the hashbrowns. He's fried up three, in the hopes you’d be up for some crispy potatoes. He knows how much you love potatoes, especially at 2AM when you’re craving fries and a McFlurry combo. 

Instead Jisoo mutters, “You toasted too much bread, you know I don’t eat bread like this,” she’s pulling slice by slice out of the toaster, until there’s a stack of six golden toasts in the middle of the kitchen table. 

A little part of him wishes to quell the precursor to the argument there. It would be so easy for Jungkook to say, “the extras are for me” because he’s trying to gain weight, and that would be that. 

Instead he continues with his unanswered question and replies honestly, “I made extra toast for y/n, babe. She was supposed to help us pack but I haven’t seen her all weekend.” But he’s pretty sure you came home last night, unless that was his imagination. 

Jisoo pulls a carafé of apple juice out of the fridge, pouring the amber liquid into two glass cups. “Ah, she said she had some last minute things to do for work. Y’know, Big Hit always wants a big hit.” 

He chuckles, tilting his head as Jisoo gives him a small smile from the kitchen table. Jisoo is always good at cheesy jokes. “She must love her job, huh.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Her articles are really good, too,” the air smells like butter and Italian seasoning, as he places one hash brown on Jisoo’s plate, and two on his. He knows you edit in the Arts & Media section, and loves how you make it a point to include video games and modern graphics when it’s deemed appropriate. “She did a piece on the evolution of RPG and I thought her commentary was really spot-on.” 

He brings breakfast over to the table, while Jisoo places two slices of toast on his plate, one buttered and one with strawberry preserves. Breakfast is a quiet, but peaceful affair. Jungkook takes note of how Jisoo takes extra long to complete her meal, her fork creating ribbons in her little blob of magenta jam. He allows himself to complete his first hashbrown and a slice of toast before asking the difficult question. 

“Are you and y/n okay?” and he also takes note when Jisoo’s ministrations on her jelly stop, as she looks up at him with her big brown eyes. 

“We’re fine,” she insists, “just normal roommate issues, I promise.” 

“Maybe I should text y/n,” Jungkook says, pulling out his phone. “Lemme help you fix this, wouldn’t want you and her in a bad place when you’re about to move out.” 

“Baby, why are you so concerned about y/n?” Jisoo croons while his thumb hovers over your contact, his screen showing a two-year old selfie you two took during a study session early on in your friendship. He can’t remember the last time you two took a picture together out of spite, one without Jisoo. Jisoo’s hand pulls him away from his phone, rubbing small circles between his palm. 

He wants to ask, why aren’t you? But he sees the terseness in Jisoo’s smile, as her eyes fix between the interlocked fingers. He has a feeling he’s hovering somewhere he isn’t allowed to be in. Maybe it really is roommate stuff and it’s none of his business, but he feels a little insulted being left out because you and Jungkook are just as much best friends as you were in college. 

Or are you? 

This question plagues him throughout the day, and when Jungkook packs enough boxes for the weekend and says he needs to go home, Jisoo for once doesn’t argue. Normally Jisoo would cling to him like a koala, murmur simultaneously adorable and dirty things in his ear and lead him to her bedroom to coop up for hours on end. But Jisoo says she’s tired and needs some alone time, which is also fine. 

He doesn’t feel like going home, and instead heads straight to the gym. A couple pumps wouldn’t hurt, and it would clear his head. It’s nearly five in the evening when his body is thrumming with the afterglow of his post-workout, and he decides to take a little cool down in the mall and treat himself to a smoothie. 

It must be kismet when he sees you coming out of the bookstore, looking a little winded but no less professional in your beige blazer set and rose gold iPad. Whenever he hung around your apartment with Jisoo and you’d come home from work, he’d make it a point to acknowledge your plethora of multicolored skirt-suits. He never needs to be professional in his place of work, and admires how much effort you put in. 

“Hey!” he jogs up to you, and he catches the way your shoulders jump at his voice. “We missed you today.”

Your smile curls into something dry, and you twist your spine like rusty hinges to face him. In turn, his smile dims a little, wondering if he’s doing something wrong. Maybe you’re tired? He catches the line of sweat that glistens your baby hairs, and how your hair is done up but has fallen a few centimeters with some pieces falling out. 

“Jungkook,” you exhale, “lifting boxes wasn’t enough of a workout?” 

“You know me,” he replies stiffly, hiking his backpack higher upon his shoulder. Why does this conversation feel so awkward? “So, finishing up work? Sucks you have to work on a Sunday.” 

“Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” you face relaxes a little as you explain your work, “it was children’s day at the bookstore and they were watching Disney movies. I’m writing a piece on how I believe Ratatouille is Pixar’s magnum opus. Interviewed some kids, I wanted an expert opinion.”  

“Ratatouille is the superior film,” he declares with a firm nod, “after all, anyone can cook.” He revels in the small smile he manages to retrieve from you, immediately understanding the inside joke. If he came out of the gym five minutes earlier, he probably would’ve been able to catch you in the bookstore. What a shame, he would’ve loved to see you play around with the kids. 

At the mention of food, the mall manages to silence itself enough for him to catch the grumbling coming from your stomach. He laughs when your cheeks heat. 

“I was on my way to get some smoothies,” he jabs a thumb in the direction of the food court, “wanna catch up and get a bite?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, I have a lot of work to edit,” disappointment pangs in his chest at your easy rejection, but he ignores it, “I kinda wanna save some money too, still not sure if I’m staying in the apartment after Jisoo moves.” 

He doesn’t know what compels him to take your shoulders and wheel you in the direction of the food court, much to your protest and whines. “C’mon, explain to me why Ratatouille is the magnum opus—I need to defend why The Incredibles is superior. I’ll treat you to dinner.” 

“What? I can pay for my own food—” 

“And I can’t treat my best friend to a nice meal once in a while?” 

That has you stopping in your tracks, and Jungkook nearly barrels his chest into your head if not for the grippy soles of his Adidas Ultraboosts. He can’t see your face, but his hands note how your muscles cord tightly between the cotton of your blazer. 

He doesn’t understand why you’re so tense. Was it because he called you his best friend? Well, you are? At one point he felt that way, early on in college. The position just stuck with you. And when Jisoo told him you weren’t interested, he was perfectly fine with the platonic relationship. It was nice to have someone to talk media and video games to, someone not as chaotic as Jimin and someone not as deterred as Yoongi. 

Although, maybe as of late he hasn’t been so much of a friend. It’s no one’s fault, he’s been caught up with work and Jisoo’s move, he hasn’t said so much as a “hey how are you” when you’re around. He can’t blame you. 

Suddenly his mind blanks, the mall fading away as he focuses on how small you look as your eyes dart between the parking lot and the food court. Jisoo and Jungkook have been so caught up on each other lately, that he fears you’re starting to separate yourself.

“Um, this place is good,” you tug him by the elbow and lead him to a fast food joint. 

When he picks up both your orders and comes over to your saved table, you’re talking animatedly on the phone. You’re laughing, looking at Jungkook as if he’s the one intruding and you’re muttering a hushed “sorry” as you continue the tail end of the conversation. 

“Yes, Joonie. Go with section two, I know my shit. I’m your Work Wife for a reason, Umji in PR could never compare,” you’re giggling like you’re five years younger, and Jungkook feels stuck in a timelapse. 

He watches you go, throwing around names and terms that he’s so lost on but so desperate to understand. He knows nothing about your life other than the one that’s tied with Jisoo, which is a damn shame. Since when did he inevitably downgrade you from “best friend” to “his girlfriend’s roommate?” 

“I’m sorry,” you turn your phone over and push it to the side, giving Jungkook a smile as well, albeit weaker, “let’s dig in!” 

To his relief the dinner goes as good as it should be. You have your tray practically overflowing at the seams, all on Jungkook’s dime. It has his heart swelling with pride, he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. There’s fries spilling out from the corners, and two sandwiches because you couldn’t decide between a chicken sandwich and a burger. 

Food gets you amicable, and he doesn’t mind when he does most of the talking. You’re engrossed in his talk, lettuce hanging out of your mouth as you’re rapt with attention as he recalls a story that happened at work recently with Mingyu. You ask questions in all the right places and he sucks up all your attention like a happy pill, and it feels nice to be able to lead a conversation for once. 

“Jeez, I’m getting the burger sweats,” you giggle to yourself, and his smile brightens at your positive change in attitude. Food always helps. 

When you remove your thick high-collar blazer, that’s when he sees it. 

“Seeing someone?” he asks, eyes flickering curiously towards the violet bruises that bloom across your neck. 

“What–oh,” you have the audacity to look embarrassed, hands clutching your neck like a shield, “no, just a hookup.” 

A messy hookup, too. Unless you had a thing for showing off marks, which doesn’t seem to be the case. “Didn’t peg you for someone who hooks up,” he says more to himself than you, but you catch him on his impulse jab. 

Your eyes narrow and your defenses go up, “I’m trying to get over someone,” you snip back, busying your hands by crushing up your greasy sandwich wrappers. 

“Am I allowed to state my opinion?” 

“Since you asked so politely, no.” 

He sighs, “I just don’t think that’s the best way to get over someone,” heck, Jungkook doesn’t even know who exactly you’re trying to get over. He just knows that you’re far too smart and independent to let yourself resort to such matters. 

“It isn’t, but it’s really the best option as of now,” you reply curtly. 

And his gaze saddens as he sees you fold your blazer over your arm, indicating that your time is up. Jungkook is aware the comment he made is out of line, and it weakens him knowing that you don’t even want to pick a fight with him. He can’t even find it in himself to apologize properly. 

He doesn’t know if he’s more sad that you’re pining over someone unattainable or upset at himself for not knowing you’ve been harboring feelings for someone. If you really think hooking up is your only option, you must be really hung about whoever you’re into as of late. 

“If it’s worth anything,” Jungkook adds, wanting to leave on a high note, “fuck that guy. He clearly doesn’t deserve you.” 

A small, secret smile plays on your lips, “Yeah, I like to believe that.” 

“I’m anxious,” Namjoon’s mantra makes the whole energy in the room wobbly, paired with the fact the two of you are squished between cardboard boxes as Jungkook aimlessly moves things around like a Tetris screen. 

The only time you feel remotely comfortable basking in your home is when Jisoo is gone. Oh-so conveniently is the Big Hit building undergoing maintenance today, so you and Namjoon have decided to work from home in your apartment. Although you thought by now that Jisoo’s boxes would be long gone and tucked away in Jungkook’s place, instead you’re living in an episode of Ed, Edd and Eddy and the cardboard is practically wall-to-wall. You also thought by now that Jungkook would have no reason to show up unannounced anymore, but apparently that’s not the case. 

“I have, anxiety,” Namjoon adjusts his glasses for the nth time this afternoon, brain not fixed enough to focus on the screen of his chrome MacBook, “anxiety, anxiety. I can’t right now. I need my weighted blanket and a pillow.” 

“Namjoon, I can get both of those for you if we just send in this last spread,” you coo gently, as if placating a baby. You make brief eye contact with Jungkook from the other side of the room, his lips quirking in amusement as he stacks a box of clothes by the kitchen. 

“Do you feel my palms? My palms, they’re like a fucking fountain you need to feel them—” your Wusband approaches you like a zombie, leaning over you and tripping over his criss-crossed legs before he topples over you. 

“Blegh, get off of me you sweat giant!” you cry with a good-natured laugh, although the grip of Namjoon’s palms under your shoulders are damp and slimy, “Joon, I can’t get you your blanket if you’re crushing my boobs.” 

Namjoon finally relents, untacking himself to rest his chin on your glass coffee table. “Fine.” 

“Look over the last column and I’ll bring your blanket, okay?” 

Pushing yourself off the ground, you shuffle your way out of the living room through the maze of boxes and into the hallway. It feels like your apartment is less of an apartment and more of a storage space when you’re trapped in-between two lines of boxes, and Jungkook effectively blocking you from entering your room. He was just in the living room but now he’s come from the linen closet, standing between the entrance of your room. 

“Sorry,” he pops his head out from a smaller box, one filled with designer costume jewelry. 

“It’s fine,” you chirp, barely making eye contact as you shuffle over the boxes. 

Your toe drags over the lid of one of the open boxes in an attempt to move diagonally. You nearly crash your face into the hardwood if not for Jungkook’s arm stretching out to catch you. In seconds he manages to catch all your weight in one hand, pulling you to him with your hip pressed against his. Your breath traps itself in your neck. Your subconscious fears that if you speak now, you’ll babble about how attractive it is that he’s able to catch you as easily as grabbing a light sheet of paper. 

“Careful,” his voice rumbles in his throat as he regards you with a wan smile. 

Your “thanks” is barely uttered as you slip into your room, heaving your weighted blanket and a pillow in your arms to let Namjoon borrow. 

The burgundy quilted fabric is hunched over your shoulder, draped around your body so it’s easier for you to carry on your back. You try to eradicate the memory of Jungkook’s arms, lean and strong as he held you to him moments before.

Ugh, you thought messing around with Vernon would stop your silly pining. It seems that it’ll take more than a couple rounds to satiate your curiosity. For such a kind guy, Jungkook seems like a wolf in sheep’s clothing when it comes to the bedroom. 

You can imagine him being so kind in the beginning, coaxing you to wan and bend to his every wish and command. And then when you keen a little too hard at the attention, you bet a switch would flip and he’d grab you—

The blanket flops around your back, and you’re sorely reminded that you’re thirsting over a taken man, yet again.  

Jungkook makes it extremely difficult for him to be hateable. It’s by nature that he’s just so damn likeable. Heck, he’s pretty much packed seventy percent of the things Jisoo should be packing right now. 

Making sure not to trip again, on your feelings and your blanket, you successfully reach a tired Namjoon. You tuck your koala-shaped pillow under your co-editor’s arms, and drape the heavy blanket over him like a cape. He’s giving you a thumbs up and a toothless smile, the previous meltdown overcome as he focuses on finishing the last of today’s work. He’s slipped on some noise-cancelling earphones, presumably filled with generic coffee-house music or rain playlists. 

Wordlessly you go to your nook to prepare some tea. It’s getting late and a warm cup would distract you from the impending deadline. Despite the fact that you and Namjoon are 99% of the way done, his previous freak-out has you on live-wire and you could use a little caffeine. 

Placing three mugs on the counter you call, “Jungkook, tea?” 

“Yes please,” you stiffen when you feel Jungkook magically appear right behind you, his head peering over your shoulder, “with milk and honey.” 

Deciding to give Jungkook the beehive-shaped mug because it’s very on-brand for him, you begin to steep the leaves in your kettle while he spoons the honey. 

“So,” his words are slow as the drip of honey, the amber goo taking its time to descend into his mug as it falls from the dipper. “Is that the guy you’re trying to get over?” 

Jungkook lifts his brows towards Namjoon, who is softcore jamming to his white noise playlist. It’s cute as to how curious Jungkook is about Namjoon. While you try to keep your work life separate, there really isn’t much backstory to your personal life to warrant that kind of divide. 

“Namjoon,” you state aloud, watching Namjoon sing badly to himself, “why, are you gonna beat him up for me?” 

“I can take him,” you can practically hear Jungkook’s chest pop out. 

With a roll of your eyes, you reach to kill the heat off the tea kettle, “No need. He isn’t the guy I’m trying to get over.” 

“Oh, he’s your fuck buddy then?” 

“Shit!” being caught off guard, you grab at the handle of your kettle without a pot holder, burning your fingertips. In seconds Jungkook’s larger hand encases your own, pulling you over to the sink to soak your fingers in cool running water.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jungkook is chanting like a sinner at church, searching for any sign of pain in your visage, “I shouldn’t have asked while you’re working with a hot stove.” 

You suppress a sigh, relaxing your fingers as Jungkook soothes the burn with his gentle hold, “Shouldn’t have asked in the first place,” you mumble. 

“I know,” he replies, “guess I’m just feeling a little left out. We don’t talk like we used to. I guess I’m getting a little too nosy for my own good, aren’t I?” 

You don’t understand what’s going on with his incessant babbling as of late, but you chalk it up to work stress and Jisoo’s move. Having no answers to his honest reply, you gently untack your red palm from his grip, assuring him that you’re fine. 

Namjoon steps into your kitchenette, being surprisingly careful as he takes your potholder to pour himself a cup of tea. If the tea is oversteeped and bitter he doesn’t say anything, only leans against the counter as he regards you two with slow sips. “You alright?” 

“M’fine,” you reply stubbornly, avoiding Jungkook’s worried stare. 

Namjoon holds out his hand, “Hand.” 

“No—”

“Hand.” 

His deep voice coerces you, and you immediately slap the back of your palm onto Namjoon’s. Your partner brushes his golden hands over the tiny blister that’s forming over your fingertips. “Can’t have my Work Wife outta commission.” 

“Your Work Wife is fine,” you gripe back. 

Your co-worker’s eyes flicker over to Jungkook’s for a brief second, Jungkook regarding him in curiosity as he stares at your connected palms. “I have some aloe in my bag for sunburns,” Namjoon offers helpfully, ignoring the weird glances, “I’ll give it to you in a bit. Also, I’ve overcome my sudden bout of stress and I’m ready to email our progress to Victoria. We’re done for the day.” 

“Awesome, thanks Joonie,” you exhale, relaxing against the sink, “wanna go eat somewhere?” 

“There’s a niche place in Itaewon if you wanna check it out?” Namjoon offers.

Jungkook interjects, “Jisoo ordered pizza if you guys wanna share with us?” 

“Pizza also sounds good—” 

“We don’t wanna interrupt your alone time,” you gracefully cut in, stepping in front of Namjoon despite the fact that he’s easily towering over you. 

Jungkook snorts, “I’ll have enough alone time with her when she moves in, don’t worry. Besides, I ordered three pies because I wanted to try three different flavor combos. I need two additional judges.” 

“Thanks Jungkook but,” you stifle a cry when Namjoon jabs you in the back with his thumb. It’s pressing, digging into the small of your back as if he’s trying to telepathically tell you that you’re being rude, “but… I don’t know if I can eat three slices! Namjoon on the other hand, can probably eat enough to fairly judge.” 

“Great,” Jungkook’s smile is blinding, causing your grin to stiffen as he looks for his phone to shoot Jisoo a quick text that they’re having dinner for four. 

Once Jungkook’s out of earshot, Namjoon tugs you by the sleeve, “The hell was that?” he hisses in your ear, “you look like you’re about to shit and piss your pants at the same time.” 

“I just don’t feel comfortable eating with them,” you cross your arms in defiance. You think back to just a week ago where you and Jisoo reluctantly attempted to eat breakfast together one morning. You provided minimal small talk while Jisoo clinged to her phone, replying to you in non-committal clipped tones. 

“Do I want to know?”

“No.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” you retort, “you got me into this mess, you’re gonna stay with me ‘till the end.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, woman,” Namjoon throws his arms out exasperatedly, oolong tea nearly sloshing onto his hand, “just suck it up or I revoke your bragging rights to that snag you got on our spread next Monday.” 

���Not my fault you couldn’t get Kim Taeyeon on the spread,” you smirk. 

“Well I didn’t so happen to stalk the Sephora she frequents for the past two weeks—” 

“I didn’t stalk her I just so happened to need a new Fenty Gloss Bomb every other day—”

“I’m home, Jungkookie!” 

Your face contorts, your playful energy melting to the hardwood as your previous banter with Namjoon evaporates into thin air. Work bags in one hand and three boxes of pizza balancing in the other, Jisoo kicks off her heels somewhere across the door and places the pizza on the dining table. 

Jungkook immediately appears by her side, and you look away and Jisoo plants a heavy kiss on his lips. She cracks open one eye as she notices you and Namjoon hanging by the kitchenette, “Oh,” she mumbles at her audience, “you’re here?” 

Yes, you bimbo. I’m here in my own apartment. 

“I guess you didn’t read my text that they’ll be joining us for dinner,” Jungkook cuts in good-naturedly, “we have way too much pizza anyway. Have a seat, guys.” 

Jungkook navigates the kitchen as easily as your own, and you slump in your chair while Namjoon exchanges pleasantries with Jisoo. She looks impeccable, hair in a tight chignon and a tight navy dress as she converses with your co-editor. 

“I’m starving,” Jungkook announces, making sure to place a slice on Jisoo’s plate. He shuffles through the other boxes, making brief eye contact with you when he decides to put a slice on yours as well, “you like these toppings, right?” 

You regard the greasy, hearty piece of cheese and bread with a curt nod. You feel Jisoo’s eyes laser on your skin, “Yeah, thanks Kook.” 

Namjoon, Jisoo and Jungkook mostly stir up the conversation, you opting to eat as slow as possible to avoid any conversation. It’s easy to blend back and let them take over, as Jisoo loves to talk about her fashion firm and Namjoon is a great listener. 

Jungkook and Namjoon make it a point to direct the conversation to you from time to time, and you let the ball leave your court as soon as it lands. You prefer to keep your responses short and simple, especially when Jisoo is so eager to talk about the new silk drapes she’s installing for Jungkook’s windows.

Your phone buzzes in your lap, and you discreetly look under the table to read the incoming text message. 

vernie bernie: would u like to do the devil’s dance tonight

vernie bernie: or a tickle to my pickle? 

vernie bernie: beatin ya bean? 

You: ohmyGOD 

vernie bernie: or y’know, u could just come ovr and chill. Hobi made some bomb tres leches

You: call. Ill come after dinner

“Are you okay, y/n?” your head bounces up to meet Jungkook’s gaze, “you’ve barely eaten and you haven’t talked much.” 

“Oh you know, she’s just stressed about the upcoming spread,” Namjoon steps in for you, and you send him a discrete, but grateful smile. He’s always impeccable at reading the room, “she’s just nervous about her interview with Kim Taeyeon, but I think you did her interview justice.” 

“No way, the singer Kim Taeyeon?” Jungkook gushes, regarding you with stars in his eyes, “your interviews are always so great, y/n. You ask really good questions. Like that one spread about  Lee Yonghwa’s art gallery? Really cool.” 

You notice the way Jisoo presses her lips together, a thin line as if she’s trying to seal away words that she’ll regret saying. She’s jealous, and you can’t help the blush of pride that fills your veins as you raise a secret brow at her. 

“Right, you got nothing to worry about,” Namjoon squeezes your shoulder encouragingly, as if you’d get his double-meaning. 

“Thanks,” you reply, pushing your plate away and standing up, “I’m actually gonna go head to Vernon’s for a bit, though. He wants to double check his work before we email Victoria.” 

It’s a bald-faced lie, Namjoon sent the files to Victoria right before dinner, but he isn’t going to argue. 

“Okay,” Namjoon thanks Jungkook and Jisoo for the meal, stacking his plate atop yours, “I’ll walk out with you.” 

“It’s only been twenty minutes, though,” you see the slight panic in Jungkook’s gaze as he watches you quickly clean up for you and Namjoon. You can’t quite pin why he’s so concerned, after all he has been acting strange as of late. 

“Yeah, I’m full,” you reply curtly, licking your lips and avoiding his gaze. You already know what he wants to say, that he’s been in your apartment all day and all he’s seen you eat is stale chips and tea, “but we can do this again.” But hopefully not. 

“If you’re coming home late again,” it’s the first time Jisoo has spoken to you directly. You tilt your head to her slowly, watching the plastic smile carefully carved onto her expression. You see the contrived care and concern between her brows, “please try to be quieter next time, the last time you came home late you woke Jungkookie up.” 

Snapping your gaze to Jungkook you plaster on a thick smile, “Sorry Jungkook—” 

“What? No, it’s fine!” he furrows his brows in confusion, finally able to detect the strange tension between the two housemates, “I barely heard you—” 

“Maybe I’ll just stay the night at Vernon’s,” your eyes trail over to the pajama set you immediately switched into when you got home today, “wouldn’t want to disturb you two.” 

“Good,” Jisoo’s tone is saccharine and clipped as she tacks on a, “have fun.” 

It’s laudable, how much Jisoo wants to make a fool out of you but you won’t have it. You revel in the perplexed expression as Jungkook’s gaze darts back and forth between the two of you, wanting to butt in but unsure of how to approach it. Not giving him the time to, you bid the couple a goodnight and make a fast getaway. Heck, you don’t even take your work stuff with you. 

Once you’re out the door, Namjoon wordlessly gives you a hug. You sigh gratefully into his embrace. 

The next time Jungkook sees you, he reads the room before anything. You and Jisoo’s apartment is scarily empty, almost clinical. He’s tried texting you a few times after his failed-not-failed attempt at catching up at the mall and his awkward conversation concerning Namjoon, but you always reply back with vague replies and an unpromised promise of meeting up sometime soon. 

It dulls him to think that you’ve given up on him as a friend. But can you blame him? He needs to keep an appropriate distance for Jisoo, after all, she doesn’t like it when he gets too close to other women unless it’s strictly professional. Usually Jisoo’s jealousy inevitably works itself out and Jungkook doesn’t pose any problems because he has very few girl friends, but for some reason your friendship with him specifically gets Jisoo stiff in the face. Is it because you and Jisoo are so close? Possibly. 

But it doesn’t mean you can’t join the same Valorant server with him at 2AM and accidentally bomb each other, or argue over the magnum opus of each film company. Is that not enough? 

Jisoo’s working overtime, and Jungkook suggested last night that he move the boxes to the front of the door for easy pick-up when the moving truck arrives. Jisoo promises to buy Thai food in return, and with a kiss emoji she leaves him to audit fabric budgets. 

As he glides down to Jisoo’s room he notes that the pictures along the wall have disappeared, and there’s double the amount of boxes in the hallway. It seems that you’re moving out too. To where, he doesn’t know but he hopes it isn’t too far. 

He chides Jisoo remotely when he sees that her room is completely intact, and he makes moves to pack up her things. 

That’s when he finds his letter. Not a love letter to Jisoo, but a love letter to you. Deep in the recesses of Jisoo’s junk drawer, is a faded lavender envelope with a pressed cream colored baby’s breath taped up in plastic. The glue is yellow and old, clearly served its purpose due to the fact that the letter is already opened and the contents rumpled. 

Hey Pretty Girl–

He immediately stuffs the letter back in its holder, stricken at his messy handwriting from two years ago. It feels like he found a time capsule, another version of Jungkook confessing to you. He used to call you Pretty Girl, not enough for you to catch on to his feelings, but enough for you to understand that he did find you attractive. It was early on in your friendship. 

When you first asked him to be study partners for some silly class that had nothing to do with each other’s majors, he gaped like a guppy and pointed to himself. That day he went to class in last night’s clothes and a nest of fluffy strands. “Me?” he felt like absolute trash, and you were probably desperate due to the fact you two were the only seniors in this class, “but you’re a pretty girl… and I’m pretty dumb when it comes to this subject.” 

But instead you scoffed and pulled him from his slumped figure, dragging him to the library, with a wink and a “you’re pretty, too.” Those words have burned in his brain since then, as he wasn’t used to getting such off-handed compliments, especially from intelligent girls that wanted more than one night. 

For whatever reason you continued seeing his dumb self, even after the semester ended and together registered for one more class for spring. 

Whenever you’d go out for ice cream you wouldn’t hesitate to stuff your face and add for extra Oreos and fries, you’d assure Jungkook you’re not normally this much of a slob. 

Jungkook would just smile and offer you a napkin and say, “You’re still a pretty girl.” 

He fell for you gracefully. There was no regret, no walk of shame, no cliché late night party where you or him could’ve instigated it into the physical. It was all by feel. 

However the two of you took your time with your relationship, languidly enjoying the hushed conversations in the library at 2AM, the late night McFlurry runs, the integration of each other’s friends like it was natural. Ergo the lavender love letter. It was a gentle declaration, one he felt pretty confident in. 

So color him stupid when you passed him in class with a happy wave, Jungkook dumbfounded at how well you handled his confession. You weren’t oblivious, you just never read it. 

But now he knows the declaration was for whatever reason, lost in transit. “I should’ve known,” he whispers in the air, the letter crumpling in his grip. Composing himself, he pinches his brows.  

There’s an electronic buzz and a sharp slam of the front door. Judging by the time, you’re home. 

You flop onto your mattress, folding an arm over your head to stop the sun from seeping to your eyes. Vernon’s exhausted you, and you barely got away before he could have any say in it. You need a little space, and some time to think. 

Just as you close the door to your bedroom, it swings open. 

You gape as Jungkook thrusts himself into your bedroom like a deer with horns, looking pale. You follow his gaze, darkened eyes that linger a little too long on your neck again, and you narrow your eyes at him to avert. He looks a little red in the cheeks despite his pallidness, looking like he just got out of bed with messy wavy locks and his signature sweats. Is Jungkook packing for Jisoo again? 

Acutely aware that you smell like sweat and sex, you clutch the blankets closer to your body. “Uh, rude.” 

He looks uncharastically frantic, waving a letter in his hand, “Did you ever read this?” 

“Read what?” you ask, hands reaching out for the envelope. 

“My confession letter,” he blurts, having no shame now that all the gears are running through his head. “I wrote you a letter asking you out, because you said you wanted to collect notes like in Letters to Juliet. But I just found it in Jisoo’s drawer, why would it be there?” 

And all the pent up frustration that never seemed to escape under Vernon’s sheets, the feelings that never seem to subside, all bubble back to the surface. Now that Jungkook knows, there’s no hiding. 

You’re in shock, hands reaching for the letter despite the burn that seeps through your fingertips. Jungkook’s shoulders slump when you do indeed look like it’s your first time seeing this, as if a missing puzzle piece in your timeline has finally been revealed.

“I, I didn’t think you’d write me a letter,” you take the lavender envelope, clutching the letter by your chest like it’s something precious, “that’s so sweet,” you say to yourself.  

It dawns on him, “Wait, you knew about this? I knew something weird was going on.” 

“Only recently,” you frown. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me?” he nearly shouts, causing you to flinch, “no wonder why you were being so weird all this time. How could you let me live the rest of my life knowing this? That my relationship is built on a lie? ” 

“I don’t know,” you suddenly feel very small in your mattress as Jungkook rounds up on you, pulling your desk chair closer to your bed, “because you love Jisoo, of course.” 

“Well obviously that’s not possible,” and while yes a two-year realtionship ending like this is going to hit him hard tonight, he’s focused on you and the fact that you failed to tell him, “somehow I’d find out. Why wait for me to find out on my own?” 

“Because I wanted to protect you!” 

“Protect me,” he scoffs, crossing his arms and sneering at you. It causes you to tense up, feeling the telltale signs of tears bubbling to the surface, “you don’t even want to be friends anymore, y/n. I’ve tried to catch up to you so many times, but you keep leaving me hanging. I know I’ve been a pretty bad friend and I get it if you just feel awkward that I liked you, then that’s a shitty reason.” 

“Have you ever considered that it’s too late to tell you?” you shoot back, sitting up straight, “yes, I admit I should’ve told you earlier and I’m sorry, but it was a lot for me to process to y’know? Jisoo and I haven’t talked properly in weeks!” 

“Oh, so you’ve stopped trying to be friends with Jisoo too, huh? Just like you’re trying to stop being friends with me.” 

“No,” you pinch your brows, “she stopped being friends with me! She doesn’t care about me because she has you,” conflict burns in Jungkook’s gaze, and you only serve to fuel the fire, “she’s tried so hard to not involve me in your relationship.” 

“Just tell me why you’ve really kept this secret instead of saying you want to protect me like a baby—” 

“It’s because I’m in love with you, idiot!” 

You blink and back up against the wall of your bedroom, as if you can’t believe that the words came out of your mouth. 

It’s quiet again. The sour look evaporates from Jungkook’s face as he watches you suppress your sobs on your mattress. The room seems devoid, sucked out of its color as you’ve cleaned up most of your things, the only thing left being some plain grey sheets and a pillow. 

Jungkook’s mind is absolutely reeling, playing back memories from a different point of view. 

“When Jisoo told me she sabotaged our relationship so she could date you, I was so upset and didn’t know what to think,” you manage to place the lavender note on your wooden desk, making sure no tears could mar it. “And I thought I could move on and eventually stay friends with the both of you, but the next day Jisoo put all her attention on you and completely ignored me or any attempt to salvage our friendship. She only told me to forgive herself,” you’re hugging yourself, wrapping the blankets around you like a weak embrace, “so I thought if I cut myself out of the picture and forced myself to move on like I should’ve, everything would’ve been okay.” 

“So, you would’ve rather kept all this pain to yourself?” 

“Yeah,” you give him a teary smile, “because I wanted you to be happy.” 

And with an equally sad smile he murmurs, “But I’m not happy.” 

 Your face falls, and you really look at Jungkook. He’s exhausted as well, slumped in his chair. Has he been trying to grapple along the threads of his relationships, while you’ve been trying to loosen them? 

“What a waste of two years,” he slumps in your chair, letting the pieces click into place, “a relationship built on fake love. I was really trying, y’know. I thought I was going crazy.” 

The three of you have unknowingly been playing a futile game of Cat’s Cradle, a game that no one wins. 

Jungkook looks wistfully out the window, noting the pleasant day that fails to present itself in your tiny room. It feels simultaneously satisfying and bitter when it falls into place, your thoughts finally fitting together for the first time in months. “We could’ve loved each other. For real,” he says, and you silently agree. 

You’re still crying, shaking like a leaf in autumn. Jungkook’s arms hover awkwardly over yours, his warmth palpable despite the fact that he hasn’t touched you yet. With a timid smile you allow consent, and you melt like putty in his arms. 

“Kookie, ‘m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you murmur into his shoulder, not caring if it hurts when you press your chin into his skin. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” 

It’s been so long to have him close like this, the friend you’ve always wanted but never needed. Since college you’ve always imagined a life without him doing just fine, but that doesn’t mean you want to live without him, roommate’s boyfriend or not. 

“I’m sorry too,” he sighs back, “this sucks right now, but we’ll be alright.” 

The two of you sit in your room until it turns dark and the sky muddles into shades of twilight and egg yolk orange. There’s lulls in the conversation, the two of you filling in the gaps and making sense of the mumbo-jumbo that’s been going on in your consciousness up until this point. Your insantities turn sane, and by the time Jisoo’s making her way back inside with the smell of pad thai, Jungkook is ready. With a squeeze to each other and a press of your lips because you don’t know what to say, you tuck yourself in and pretend to fall asleep. 

“Messy, messy, messy,” Vernon sing-songs, knocking his heels against the wall. 

The both of you are sitting upside-down, butts attached to the wall connecting to his mattress and your feet hanging in the air. Your mint floral organza socks pad against his Pink Floyd poster, while his yellow tube socks are heeling against some old Polaroids from college. There’s no prospect of sex today, not when shit just hit the fan. 

Today you and Vernon are just two old friends and very close co-workers. 

“Tell me about it,” you bemoan, frowning at the beige wall, “this whole week’s just been a whole mess. It’s like, warm tuna salad.”

“Gross,” Vernon grimaces at the apt comparison, “so what happens now?” 

You sit up on your elbows, looking down at Vernon’s peaceful expression, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, are you gonna get together with him?”

You snort, flopping back down on his bed. The blankets fluff around you and you inhale the pine scented sheets. “After all that? No.” 

“But you still love him?” 

It must sound dumb to still love him after all this time. You wouldn’t be surprised if Vernon thought you’re silly to still hold a place in your heart for someone who has fifteen million things on their plate now. After all the physicality and the space Vernon gave you in his home, your feelings haven’t wavered. 

Your companion doesn’t bother waiting for your answer, hearing your answer somewhere in the air as he gets up and throws on his denim jacket. Rolling over your stomach you ask, “Where are you going?” 

“Some friends down in printing want to meet up for drinks,” Vernon messes up his hair, making the waves part in that little coiff that makes his jawline look sharp. “I heard Yerin really wanted me to come, so.” 

You can’t help the little middle school coo that comes from your lips, causing Vernon to giggle and throw a pillow at you. “Yerin’s cute!” you declare, remembering the petite girl in overalls who’s all about pops of yellow and violet, “you're into her?” 

“Nah,” Vernon holds up two hats in his hands, gesturing for you to pick one. “Just figured it was a push in the right direction.” 

Crawling out of his bed you stumble in your oversized t-shirt, tucking a finger under your chin as you decide between the emerald bucket hat and the red Ralph Lauren baseball cap. You pull out both hats from his hands and set it down on his vanity, opting to smooth out the flyaways and ringing your fingers through his soft curls. “And what direction would my free-flowing friend be going today?” you ask aloud, “you look better with your hair out,” you declare firmly, “makes you look like a fluffy CEO.” 

He laughs at your silly comparison, and he gently moves your hand away from his hair when you linger a little too close to him. His gaze is solemn as he regards you with a gentle smile, “Keep your distance, I’m tryna get over someone,” he says simply, and your arm falls limp at your sides. 

Your heart thuds in a different direction, your mouth parting but no words coming to the surface. When was the last time you asked about Vernon’s needs, wondered if he was doing alright, making sure you two were on the same page—

“You’re spiraling,” he reads you like a playbook, smoothing down your hair to press a kiss to the crown. Suddenly you feel guilty for not having sparks in your belly, shaming your conscience for not even considering his sacrifices in your self-absorption these past few weeks. “Like I said, I wanted to help you. Stop looking like a kicked puppy, it’s okay to be selfish.” 

With transparent tears the two of you pack up and head to your next destination. Hands ghosting between each other you make your way to the exit of Vernon’s apartment, him to meet up with his friends while you have to unpack your new apartment. With a hug you tell each other you’ll see them on Monday, and as easy as that you go your separate ways.

Hey Pretty Girl—

I kinda wanted to tell you this in person but I know how much you liked Mamma Mia and all those other movies that have grand gestures in writing so I thought hey, might as well shoot my shot on paper. 

Not gonna tell you all the details, because you deserve to hear it in-person. But mayhaps this letter has something to do with how much I like studying with you, watching movies with you, doing absolutely nothing with you and all of that in-between. 

There’s a gift card to our spot attached. Meet me at McDonalds @12 tonight, so I know it’s real 😎

Hopefully yours, Jungkook

P.S. if you haven’t noticed already, I sprayed a little cologne and stole Taehyung’s fancy paper from Muji. That’s how serious I am about you. 

“Joon, we live in a bonsai garden. We’re like giants in a forest.” 

“Can you—can you stop spitting at them? Let them breathe, dammit.” 

“Not my fault they’re so tiny! I literally have to zoom 200% just to get a good look at ‘em.” 

The two of you are huddled in what used to be Namjoon’s balcony, now a sunroom for his succulents and bonsais. Your heart feels pink and swollen with affection as you regard Namjoon with interest, absorbing every bit of information you can as he teaches you how to care for his plants. After all, you’re co-parenting now. 

Having your Wusband co-sign as your roommate for the next year is probably the best decision you have made this year. Everyday is like a breath of fresh air. With Seokjin gone for the year to tour his restaurant franchises, his room is yours for the taking. The two of you are easy going roommates, filling the apartment with color and vigour whether it be in the form of baking sweets or watching Netflix documentaries. 

The only drama you ever have is when you two are having a meltdown over the same work-related issue, as if you two somehow share the same brain cell. It’s significantly less stressful, no need for unnecessary anger when  you have someone as mediating as Namjoon.

After today’s plant lesson, you two go back to the living room to finish up your work for the evening. Another perk of living together is that you can go home at normal work times and continue where you left off with the comfort of your couch and eating a whole pizza pie with no shame. 

Namjoon’s phone pings with a new email from corporate. “We got the new concept for next month’s spread,” he gestures to you with a grandiose wave of his arm, “drumroll please.” 

He pulls up the newsletter from corporate with a flick of his thumb. Your company put out every month’s concept out in an Evite, like every month was a themed party. A stressful, month long work party. In seconds, the page loaded and you’re met with next month’s title bathed in electronic glitter. 

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth

The two of you say silent, absorbing the concept like a cookie to milk. It’s a personal spread this month, a real treat for the team to show off their normal non-professional life. A spread that reveals the masters behind the ink and text. Last year’s personal spread was about the staff’s vacation destinations, but this year’s is much more intimate. You can imagine all the ideas that will be thrown around on Monday’s meeting: pinning down shared ideas like Throwback Thursdays, late night munchie runs, drunk stories, and all the crazy college nostalgia that you’ve been trying to avoid as of late. 

But now it’s presented to you in a gold chalice, and while you’re sick of the past you think it’s about time to face it. You’re excited to tackle the dark monster you’ve suppressed since Jungkook and Jisoo’s breakup. 

“Did I ever tell you I was president of my university’s Mock Trial?” 

“No, I always thought you’d be president of the Comparative Literature Club or whatever. But Mock Trial is equally as nerdy.” 

“I’ll have you know Mock Trial got me tons of action,” he winked, “made me very convincing.” 

“Gross,” you sneer, “so that’s what your spread will be about? How the co-editor of the Arts & Entertainment section managed to bag with his skills from Mock Trial?” 

“Nah, I went on a penniless journey with Jin during spring break. Six days around Malta.” 

“That does sound so you,” you sigh, fingers slipping between the cracked screen as you mull over the overly happy Evite, “sounds like a cool story.” 

“I know that look,” Namjoon quips, snatching his phone under his nose, “don’t overthink your spread just yet, it’s still the weekend. Now to more important things, what do you want from Taco Bell?”

And because you can’t refuse the combined efforts of nachos and Namjoon’s dimples, you relent for the night and tack the unmade idea to the next workday. 

Unfortunately the next workday is just as disheartening. Today’s work meeting is the antithesis of icing on the cake. While your college life isn’t anything remarkable, you didn’t think it was a painfully dull time. With every passing moment and every excited co-worker throwing memories back and forth like ping pong balls, the more you felt inferior by competing with their amazing memories. 

“Who can even afford Aruba at twenty-one,” you mutter under your breath, stalking back to your cubicle. 

Filling up a whole spread is daunting to you, the thought of Victoria popping her head in your cubicle to ask what you’ve got for the day is practically eating you from the inside out. Maybe your college life was in actuality, super boring? You have no crazy drug trips to tell, any vacations that gave you a life-changing perspective, or an epic love story. 

“What’cha got there, partner?” 

The third musketeer of your editing team’s caramel eyes peer into your cubicle, causing you to jump in your chair. Vernon wheels around, chair and all to push you into your already cramped space. His gold button up gleams in the sunlight, effectively blinding you. 

“If by something you mean nothing, then yeah I got nothing,” you frown, spinning around your chair. “What are you writing about?” 

A fond smile melts onto your friend’s face, and you can’t help returning a smile that mirrors his own. You two have fallen back into a good place, as far as you know. He’s still easy, simple, sweet Vernon. When you dropped some boxes off in coloring, you heard that Vernon and Yerin have recently started seeing each other. 

“Thought of the idea as soon as the Evite came out. It’s more of a photo spread, but I’m gonna write about my study abroad in NYU,” Vernon ticks a pencil on his forehead, “a self-identity piece talking about how I felt like, not-white around my family n’stuff. And then felt not-Asian at the same time, s’complicated but I think I can make it work.” 

“Deep,” you pat his shoulder caringly, knowing that Big Hit is a good outlet for these kinds of subjects, “alright City Slicker, since you’re so full of ideas then tell me what to write about.” 

Vernon sits up straight, regarding you with narrowed eyes, “Aren’t you gonna write about your little love triangle with Jisoo and Jungkook?” and it seems like he’s already storyboarded the idea in his head, gesturing to the air as if he’s writing down a timeline, “I can see the headline now: How to Steal a Heart,” he’s grinning, nodding fervently as you cross your arms in distaste. 

“Vern, are you suggesting that I exploit Jisoo and Jungkook’s personal lives?” while the journalism business didn’t pride itself on sincerity, it did feel wrong to drag in your personal life to that extent. 

“Babe, you don’t understand. You have the perfect slice of life story. Everyone’s writing about expensive vacations and that one time they got cross-faded and ended up in Busan,” he squeezes your hand, “but your story, it’s relatable. It’s romantic. It’s angsty. It has closure. No one’s gonna be able to relate to an impulse spending on daddy’s money to Aruba. But first loves? Unrequited romance and all that ish? Everyone can speak to that. And you’re a beautiful writer, they’ll eat up that story like honey.” 

“I don’t know, it still doesn’t feel right.” 

“Change up the names, twist the story,” he offers easily, knowing you’d put up a fight, “besides, it’s not like you’re planning on talking to Jisoo or Jungkook ever again,” you open your mouth to retort, but Vernon’s phone beeps to the Star Wars theme song and he’s flying out of his chair. “Shoot, gotta go help Joon upstairs. Just think about it, okay? Good luck!” and he’s kicking his chair out with a brown loafer, leaving you with breathing room in your cubicle. 

Five seconds later Vernon is jogging back, pointing a finger at you, “And if you do choose to write it, you have to add that Jisoo copped your McDonalds gift card. Like, who does that shit? Couldn’t she have just given it to you and say it was from her and not Jungkook? Seriously fucked up.” 

For the next ten or so minutes you mull. Out of all the memorable college events you’ve participated in, the largest one by far is your (now defunct and debatable) friendship with Jisoo, and your (un)requited love for Jungkook. Reluctantly, you must admit Vernon has a sharp idea, busting in like a hero and offering you the most writable piece on a silver platter. 

It doesn’t feel morally right just to start writing, because ultimately you can’t feel comfortable until you get the consent of Jungkook. While you don’t want to touch Jisoo with a ten-meter pole, you do want to start talking to Jungkook again now that the waters have calmed.

Your life has moved gracefully up until this point, and you’d like to start being friends with him again. Decision made, you pull out your phone and make an important call.

“Hey Yoongi,” you say nervously. Min Yoongi is Kim Namjoon’s equivalent, Jungkook’s Wusband and former upperclassmen in college. 

Said man hums noncommittally on the other line, “Whaddya want, it’s been awhile.” 

You stifle a giggle at his apathetic attitude, knowing he’s someone who wastes no time in getting straight to the point. “I just wanna make sure Jungkook’s address is still the same? I know it’s been a couple months, but I need to send him something and I wanna make sure it gets to him ASAP because—”

“Because last time something was sent, your crazy roommate intervened and Jungkook ended up in a two-year half-toxic relationship? Yeah, let’s make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

“Yoongi,” you say slowly, “where are you?” 

“Working in the studio,” he tuts, “Jungkook says hi, by the way.” 

Typical, cat’s out of the bag. With a roll of our eyes you reply, “Thanks for outing me, Yoongi. Talk to you later.” 

“And y/n? Jungkook says he’s waiting.” 

With a stupid smile slapped onto your face, you hang up the phone and pull out your stationary kit from under your desk. You pluck out a vermillion red envelope, a color so bold and begging to be seen, you know it can’t possibly get lost in transit. Feeling a little bit like a high schooler as you pull out a glitter jelly pen, you get to writing. 

Hey Pretty Boy...

Jungkook and Jisoo are no longer together, evidently. 

Their social media runs in different directions, with Jisoo sporting absolute elegance in her work at her family-owned boutique. Her posts are full of shiny outfits and soulless gazes, betraying any pinch of emotion she may have felt over these past few months. Her profile is wiped of any personal posts, all traces of you and Jungkook evaporated from her page. You must admit that she looks good, like a real fashion mogul, but only at the surface level. 

Conversely, Jungkook is thriving. It’s evident. Normally he isn’t the type of guy to post so frequently, his habits being often sporadic and limited to sweaty gym stories. But whenever you scroll, it’s pictures of him smiling. Big bunny teeth broken into a genuine, full-bellied laugh. Cute selfies of him and his co-workers. You notice two familiar co-workers in those posts, Irene and Seulgi, two beautiful women Jisoo always felt intimidated by whenever she ranted to you. You conclude positively that Jungkook doesn’t feel tethered and can hang out with all the friends he wants, female and male alike. Jungkook looks free, and you’re happy for him. 

It’s another Instagram-worthy moment tonight at McDonalds, where you and Jungkook proposed to meet each other at 12AM. 

This time, the letter makes it to its desired destination. You make sure of that because this time you hand-deliver it, slipping under his apartment door knowing he lives alone and no one would be able to access it except him. 

You’re parked in an obscure corner, but you can see that Jungkook is currently having a great time with his co-workers for an after work meal. Yoongi is unbothered on his phone, while Jimin and Seulgi are taking turns throwing fries into each other’s mouth. Jungkook is squished between them, scrunching his nose cutely as he tries not to get in the fray of their fry-war. 

Your phone pings, and you laugh at what pops up on the screen.

Yoongi: come inside, u loser. 

You: can’t ur friend group makes me nervous stop being so dang cute

You: dw i’ll wait, it’s only 11:50

Instead of replying, Yoongi puts his phone down and resumes eating. In turn you pick a playlist, deciding that “summer time high mix✨✨✨” is a theme you need to subscribe to for the rest of the weekend. 

Busying yourself by sending some texts to Namjoon and checking some emails, you relax in your seat as you let your brain turn to sludge for the weekend. You’re tired, eyes glazing over as you watch Yoongi elbow Jungkook harshly, forcing him to look out the foggy window. 

Jungkook’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas Eve, but instead of Christmas lights it's your car’s lowlights. The graphic designer  pays no mind to his friends as they wish him goodbye and goodluck, throwing on his jacket with a wave. 

The night air whizzes by, Jungkook’s floppy black strands bouncing with each step as he bounds to your car. He throws your door open, bringing in the cold air as he regards you as easily as an old friend would. 

“Hi,” he chirps, placing his tattooed palms by the air vent, “c’mon, let’s order.” 

“You know, you could’ve ordered inside and brought it in here.” 

“Yeah but then it would take longer to get to you,” the cheeky grin that Jungkook throws at you is unmistakable, “c’mon, get out the car and let’s switch.” 

“Huh?” 

“You look tired, you didn’t come back from the office again, did you?” 

“I did tonight,” you say, “I just really wanted to get the soft copy of the article done and—” 

“Out, out!” Jungkook clicks your seatbelt off and he’s coming out of the passenger side, opening your car and pulling you out by the hand, “c’mon, I’ll drive.” 

You shake your head, hiding your smile in your hand as you let Jungkook do what he wants. Normally you’d be insulted that anyone suggests they should drive your car but Jungkook would always drive you around, saying he loved long rides. Above all, if you could trust anyone to drive your car, Jungkook is at the top of the list. 

Buckling in, you bite the inside of your cheek as Jungkook easily pulls out of the parking spot one-handed. His jacket is pulled up to his elbows, exposing his veins as he expertly whirls the wheel in the direction of the drive-thru. Since college he’s always looked very attractive driving.  

Doesn’t mean you have to act like you’re still in college. You tamp those feelings down, knowing that your article probably has you feeling stuck in time. 

“—coming along?” 

“Wha?” 

“I said, how’s the spread coming along?” 

“It’s pretty much done, I think. I’ll send you the hard copy when it’s ready,” you tap your fingers against the dashboard, “but are you sure you’re okay with me writing it? I know I’m using a pseudonym and everything for you two but I still feel weird—” 

“It’s fine, I think it’s a good thing,” and you still squirm in your seat when he flashes you a genuine smile, “I mean, it kinda is a funny story and I think it’s good for both of us. Like closure, y’know? Moving on and—hi, can I get two Oreo McFlurrys and a large fry? Thanks!” he pulls out his wallet to scan the total on the e-reader.  “I mean, didn’t it feel good writing it?”

“Yeah,” you replied honestly, relaxing in your seat, “like, college was fun and all, but when Jisoo kinda ruined all that… after awhile I didn’t think it was ruined after all, y’know? I still made amazing friends and ended up where I wanted to be. I want to show the readers that shit happens, and that’s okay. And if things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

The summer playlist hums in the background as Jungkook pulls up to the pick-up window. He thanks the worker and hands you the tray, and you make quick work to put the fries in the first cup holder for optimal sharing. He doesn’t park at McDonalds, but instead smoothly pulls out of the restaurant into the direction of his apartment. It isn’t a particularly long drive, but you figure it would be easier for Jungkook to go home first if you’re already parked at his complex. 

“What do you mean by that?” Jungkook parks in the driveway of his apartment, taking his McFlurry from your hands. 

“Mean by what?” 

“If things are really meant to be, they’re meant to be.” 

“Well, we’re here now, right?” 

Jungkook pops his spoon in, swallowing vanilla and a silly smile through his coral pink lips, “We’re here now,” he repeats. 

The night air is cool and your conversation is warm. You promise Jungkook that you’ll send him the final copy of your spread as soon as it’s done, and you two eagerly deviate away from the past and focus on the present. 

You can’t help the eagerness that flows between you, as if you’ve never spent time apart like this and it’s only now that you’re reuniting. It must be absence that makes the heart grow fonder, because you swell with affection and you find Jungkook’s presence sweeter than any kind of ice cream. 

Are you dating now? Maybe. You and Jungkook are going on dates, everything without the title. McFlurry runs, marathons of HGTV’s Design on a Dime, having lunch at each other’s respective buildings with the Wusbands. Whether these dates are exclusive or not is unknown, but you figure the question will present yourself one way or another. 

You’re in a good place right now, potential relationship or not. After all, your priorities are simultaneously positive and in order: family, work, friends, and any potential romantic trysts are at the very bottom. You could kiss the cover of this month’s issue (and trust, you have kissed your own copy multiple times) if it is not for the fact that this specific issue is for Jungkook. 

So, romantic trysts and friends have a tendency to flip-flop on your priority list, but only because it’s Jungkook. 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no guilt knowing that you’re dating your former best friend's ex-boyfriend. 

After a much deserved early work day, Namjoon and the crew arrange a hearty happy-hour filled with good food and enough relaxation to last the weekend. With your combined successes, your team felt like they made the best issue yet. At the heart of it, The Most Beautiful Moment in Life: Class of Youth became a reckoning of each other’s young life. Despite the love and the growth that occurred from your college years up until this point, you’re glad to close that chapter and move forward. 

You did not tell Jungkook when the issue would come out, so you think it’ll be a fun surprise for him when he sees it magically show up at his apartment. Bending down you move to slip the issue under his door, one hand pushing it under while one hand braces against the frame to steady your balance. 

Just as the shiny cover glides under the door it swings open, and you fall flat on Jungkook’s feet. 

Being the little shit he is, he simply giggles at the blunder, looking at you with excited eyes. “I’ve been waiting for you,” he says. 

“Creepy as hell, Jeon,” you mutter under your breath, brushing the dirt off your aqua pencil skirt. Looking at him from your spot on the floor and his large height, you grimace. “You look like a middle-aged serial killer looking outside your peephole.” 

“Now, we know that’s not true.” he finally offers his hand, easily pulling you up to your feet. You follow him into his kitchen, where he’s cutting up fresh fruit. He throws your issue on the counter, gentle enough so it doesn’t slide off the granite. He gestures to himself with both hands, “me, a dashingly handsome late twenty-something in Nike sweats who can bench-press two of you? Totally not a middle-aged serial killer.” 

“It’s in the eyes,” you chastise, “you look crazy.” 

“Maybe I’m just crazy excited to see you,” he says with a cheeky grin. 

You try your best not to choke on your spit at the cheeseball comment, throwing a blackberry in your mouth. Savoring the burst of tart flavor that fills your mouth, you wait for Jungkook to plate the fruit before meeting him on the couch. He’s holding a prettily arranged plate of berries, bananas, and mango with a huge dollop of whipped cream in the middle. In his other hand is Big Hit’s magazine. 

Throwing your blazer on the couch’s arm you don’t hesitate to cuddle up next to him, eagerly waiting for him to read your spread. 

The cover gazes back at the two of you like a reflection. The entirety of the staff is posed on the cover, made to look like a class photo. Some of you are holding balloons in your respective school colors, many of you grouping up with whoever happened to go to college together. You and Vernon are wearing matching university sweaters with silly grins on your faces. In the middle of the issue is the editor-in-chief, Victoria Song holding a placard that reads: Class of Youth. 

Jungkook spares you a glance from the corner of his eye, your head naturally tucked into his shoulder. With an exaggerated sigh, he fiddles through the glossy pages, “Hmm, which one should I read first?” 

“Of course you’ll read mine first,” you pout. 

“Ah, Namjoon’s looks really fun. Or Vernon’s? New York looks pretty cool,” he flips to a random page, “wait, Yerin’s spread is a Korean cookbook! I definitely want to make some tuna rice...”  

“Jungkook,” you whine, “read mine.” 

“I don’t know,” he taps his finger on his lip, “I mean, I pretty much know your spread because I’m already in it. It would be kind of redundant to read it.” 

“Kook, you’re being mean,” you glower, rubbing your cheek against his soft sweater. He’s just so damn comfy. 

“I’m kidding,” he tugs at your cheek, “where’s the table of contents, first page?”

“I’m on page eighty-three.” 

You speed up the process like an impatient child, leaning over to brush the pages to the desired spread. You even dog-earred it, a habit that drives Jungkook crazy as he immediately fiddles to iron out the crease. 

“Are you gonna read it to me too, mom?” he teases. 

“Okay fine! I’ll be quiet, but don’t take too long.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

Eyes fluttering, you let Jungkook take his time to absorb your piece. A roommate by any other (rude) name: the lost letter. A cheesy, gimmicky title that Victoria insisted upon that you had no choice but relent to. The rest of the spread thankfully has a very authentic edge to it, your story laced with photos of you and Jungkook, your internship with Vernon, and most importantly, a scan of the lavender letter that got left in the past. 

Jungkook’s not silent through his read-through, either. He laughs at all the right parts, fueling your ego as his smile grows at your favorite lines. While he doesn’t directly engage in conversation, his positive energy is enough for you to make you feel like you’ve done your job right. It’s one thing to write about unknown celebrities and unnamed artists, but for people like Jungkook, the validation is personal. 

“It’s beautiful,” Jungkook says when he’s read it thrice through, running his thumb over a picture of you. “Really organic. Really, real.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he chuckles, having run out of adverbs. “It’s funny, too. I liked your little internal monologue. I wish I knew how you felt back then.” 

“I wish you did, too.” 

You’re quietly munching on a strawberry, looking over a polaroid Jungkook took. It was  sometime in the beginning of senior year, where you’ve fallen asleep on his mattress, drool drying on your mouth. Normally you’d be opposed to having such unflattering, grainy pictures amongst your writing, but it encapsulates the youth you’ve tried so hard to chase away. 

“How do you feel?” Jungkook says, switching out the magazine for the plate of fruit, placing it on his side. 

“Feel great, actually,” you muse, smiling to yourself. By no means are you a hero writing some grand gesture in an entertainment magazine, but you feel like you’ve saved yourself. You’ve savored your youth in four thousand words, cutting out the poison and keeping the moment as sweet as it can be. 

“I’m proud of you,” he reaches to ruffle your hair, and you don’t even get mad when it tousles out of your pinned style. 

Reveling in the attention, you simply close your eyes and feed yourself a handful of blueberries. 

“Love that I make money, but I definitely miss college from time to time,” Jungkook stretches, jostling you out of your comfortable position. “Like I remember Taehyung and I would take turns bringing backpacks to the dining hall so we could stuff fruit in it for later.”

“Yeah, but as much as I loved college I wouldn’t go back,” you nod to yourself, “I’m happy where I am now.” 

“What about when we stayed up for midnight breakfast? The dining hall was filled to the brim with food. Remember when I tried to eat a whole stack of pancakes?” 

“Jungkook…” 

“Or when our classes got cancelled and we went to Lotte World? You ate way too much funnel cake and I had to carry you to the car!” 

“Jungkook—” 

“And that one time we snuck out to the music hall’s rooftop?” words gush out of Jungkook’s mouth like a waterfall, unable to relent, “that’s when I realized I liked you. I liked you so much, I tried to tell you that night but choked—”

“Jungkook!” and he immediately zips up, frowning. You straighten up, on your knees as you reach over to run your hands through his onyx tresses, moving the styled strands to the back of his pierced ears, “Jungkook,” you repeat softly, “I’ve heard all these stories, I was there for most of them. As much as I love the past… can we talk about something else?” you give him a small, tentative smile to show him you’re not mad, but a little uncomfortable at his reminiscing. 

He leans into your touch, pressing your palm against the soft swell of his warm cheek. “Okay,” he agrees, resting one hand on your thigh. 

You’re roped in his gaze, and you have to force yourself to breathe when Jungkook moves closer to you. He hooks a leg behind his back, and another across his lap. A cool breeze kisses your inner thighs when your skirt exposes your cotton underwear. You should be embarrassed but instead you’re fixated, unable to understand what he’s trying to accomplish. 

“Then I’m gonna talk about the future,” Jungkook traps you between the couch, his thumb running hot circles to where your skirt has hiked up. It exposes a slip of the thigh that Jungkook has seen a million times. He’s seen you walking around your apartment in a large shirt, ridden up to your boyshorts. It’s different now, you feel exposed and tingly, thrumming with excitement. “I like you, obviously anticipated news and old news. I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to go on dates with you, re-watch Avatar, grumble when I force you to come to the gym with me,” he bumps noses with you when you scrunch yours, “I wanna be with you. Heck, I’ve even cleared space in my spare room so you’d have closet space for all your fancy designer suits if you ever need it.”

“You cleared space?” you manage to choke out. Visions of a shared apartment roll through your brain. Cooking meals together, having two toothbrushes side by side, and waking up to his face. 

“Of course I did. Do you know how financially attractive you are?” he says lightheartedly, “you’re a sexy working woman and it’s crazy to imagine you’d want to settle for me and my little apartment. But I have to try now because if I don’t, it’ll be too late.” 

“That’s not true,” you retort, “you’re not someone I’d settle for. I want you, and no one else.” 

He chuckles, running a thumb over your cheek. “Then what are we waiting for? Your key’s hiding under the mat.” 

“Jungkook…” on the tip of your tongue lays the words you’re going too fast but it doesn’t make its way to the air. 

“But do you really think it’s too fast?” he reads your face clearly, “these feelings never went anywhere. They were locked away, sure. And I loved her,” he can’t even say the name, not when you’re warm and flush against him, “but I loved our friendship more.”

“I… I don’t know what to say,” you breathe, letting the cogs in your brain roll until sparks develop. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he concedes, “I just wanted to let you know. Could’ve done the letter thing all over again and let the past repeat itself. I know Namjoon wouldn’t hide a love letter for two years, but if I left another damn letter he’d definitely make a copy and tease me about it.” 

You snort, pressing your forehead to his. You’re practically buried in the couch now, tingly and vibrating with happiness. “And I’m not going to leave you hanging. I do want to say something,” and he looks at you expectantly, licking the leftover berry juice on his lips, nearly making you miss your train of thought, “I like you too,” you say, the other L-word is also applicable, but you feel like that phrase is reserved for another time, “I want to show you off on work vacations, bring you along as my date and show them you’re my muse,” you confess, “I wanna play video games with you ‘till 2AM, and eat ice cream in the comfort of our apartment instead of our cars because we’re too stubborn to admit we don’t wanna go home without each other.” 

Jungkook absolutely preens at the affection, sending you a heart melting smile that has your stomach doing backflips.

“Jungkook, I want to fall in love with you again.” 

Your squeal of surprise is swallowed by Jungkook’s lips, tasting of mangoes and berries as strong hands cup your backside, easily lifting you onto his lap. You plop under his strong thighs, feeling them flex against yours. The both of you are pouring in this kiss, raining with promises and hopes for a future with each other. His taste is concentrated, and you can feel the devotion practically injected in his embrace. 

When he pulls away his lips are cherry-red and shiny, looking up at you through clear coffee eyes. “This isn’t a dream, right?” he looks at you up and down, unable to decipher fact from fiction, “because I distinctly remember two wet dreams that involve you looking like this.” 

Looking down, you heat at the disarray you’re in. Hair wild and parted in different wavelengths, tired of the day’s efforts. Your slightly sheer dress-shirt is rumpled, the lace collar opened with two popped buttons revealing your cleavage, and your skirt is stretched so tight that it’s ruched all the way up your thighs. Sprawled across Jungkook’s lap, you’re dangerously close to something long and hard. 

Emboldened, you clutch at Jungkook’s collar, pulling him closer. 

“Show me what happens in your dream,” you whisper into his ear, barely brushing your clothed core against his crotch, “maybe we can make it come true tonight.” 

You can’t see his face, but you feel something dark and sensual overtake him. The grip on your ass tightens, a delicious pain that has you pressing your breasts against him and nipping on his ear, your tongue darting sensually through the cold silver hoops that dart through his skin. 

Within seconds, he rips you away from his neck and demands, “Open.” 

Dazed, you barely get a centimeter of your mouth open when Jungkook presses something cold and sugary against your lips. Whipped cream. You manage to take a small bite of the tart strawberry that he holds by the viridian stem, rolling the flavor between your mouth as Jungkook paints the leftover whipped cream over your lips. Once he’s satisfied he then creates a white trail that leads to your cleavage. 

Better than any dream, his eyes drink you in like the last glass of water in a desert. Your lips are swollen and parted like a baby kitten, covered in the creamy confection. “So pretty,” he exhales, his hot tongue licking from your cleavage to your lips, swallowing the flavor of you and strawberry juice, “such a pretty girl you are, and all mine.” 

“Yours,” you submit easily, rolling your hips against his. 

At that moment you think you’re meant to fall in love this way. You can’t imagine the shy, fumbly Jungkook and your equally confused self waltzing around a relationship when you barely had your lives together. The two of you still had growing to do. The wait is certainly worth it, because as you feel his arms tighten around you, you’re sure this love will stay strong.

It’s difficult for you to find a rhythm at first, what with Jungkook’s strength and need to be satiated, both of you are sloppy but the friction is nothing less than delicious. Your finger reaches over to swipe at the leftover cream on the plate, and you press your finger to Jungkook’s mouth, and he immediately complies. A dollop of sweet cream leaks out of his lips and your panties dampen further when you feel his tongue lick you clean, imagaining how good it would feel if it was your pussy he was licking. 

Your mouth waters at the feeling of his dick lining up against your core, as sticky as the strawberry juice that clings to your bodies. 

“C-can I make a confession? I—oh, Jungkook…” your mind is all fuzzed up when he snaps his hips against yours, causing you to shamelessly bounce on his length. 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I like it when you use all your strength like that,” his hips slow as your words sink in, but you don’t mind as it gives you time to make a long drag along the entirety of his member. “Everytime you pull me up when I trip, or you come back from a workout, I like it when you carry me around like I weigh nothing.” 

“Do—do you think about it a lot?” he grunts, and you stifle a moan when he does a slow, hard drag against your wet folds. “Tell the truth.” 

“It’s, it’s embarrassing,” you whimper, unable to think straight with the amount of stimuli you’re receiving.  

“Please, baby.” 

“Yes mm—oh! I do,” you try to get the words out as quickly as you can. He stops moving, and you groan in frustration so you just lay it all out on the table. “I, I love it when you hold me in your strong arms. And, ah, uh w-henever you come back from the gym you just look so sexy fresh from the shower. Sometimes I think about how you’re too damn nice for your own good but I bet you’d be so rough in bed.” 

“Really?” and then he’s shoving you onto the couch, air brushing against your bare thighs as your back hits the beige throw pillows. He’s hovering, dark eyes starting from the tip of your toes to your damp lips. “You like it when I manhandle you? Throw you around like a little doll?” 

“All that strength, and for what?” you try to keep your snappy remarks in check, but it’s hard when he’s pressing his straining dick against your thigh, weeping and needy. 

“You’re not gonna be joking about my strength anytime soon, baby,” emblazoned, he easily throws your leg over his shoulder, pushing your panties to the side to let your wetness leak out and onto his fingers, “are you gonna complain or be a good girl?” 

“Yes, I’m ah—” you wince when he inserts a finger, “I’ll be good for you,” 

“My good girl,” he revels in the way you melt under his touch, your previous sarcasm quickly dissolving into a puddle. You always had an inkling that Jungkook would be a sneaky fox in bed, all that muscle hidden behind a kind smile and a penchant for tea with milk and honey. 

Jungkook slips in another finger, stretching you and preparing you for what’s to come. He’s scissoring you at a sensible pace that has you squirming and wanting more. To prevent you from shimmying off the couch he holds you down with his free hand, and you love the way he practically feeds you to the couch, hands dancing over your neck as he shoves you further into the furniture. 

“You look so gorgeous,” he says, causing you to moan and keen at his attention, “you’re such a strong, gorgeous woman. Having you sprawled out like this, ready to do whatever I want to you is so fucking hot.” 

“I’m—I’m only weak for you Jungkook,” you say honestly, tears pricking when he dips another finger. The stretch burns deliciously, and your folds eagerly swallow him up until you’re filled to the brim. Your fingers or toys cannot compare to flesh, and you sigh in relief when you see his inked fingers pick up the pace once more. 

“You’re damn right,” Jungkook husks, and with a grain of love he murmurs in your ear, “I’m only weak for you, too.” 

And that’s when he snaps, thumb rolling against your bud as he slams his other fingers against you, going at a brutal pace. You cry out, not caring whether his neighbors hear as he pulls you back and forth through pleasure and pain. 

“T-too much, Kookie,” you mewl, your hand warbling to find his, “I, ah, ‘m gonna cum!” 

“That’s the plan,” he only goes faster, stretching your band further and further before your desired high is reached. His hand trails up to force your chin straight, looking up at him, “let go for me, baby. Wanna feel your pussy clench around my fingers.” 

In seconds, you gush. It has you in a slight panic, drunk on endorphins as you try to lift your head up but Jungkook’s hand is firmly pressing you on your shoulder as he fingers you efficiently through your high, the wet squelching sounds only increasing with your cries. His lap is drenched in your arousal, along with his chin and lips glistening with your essence. 

He finally releases you when you’re practically shaking, his hands sticky and creamy. You moan when he shamelessly licks them within your view, making sure to wrap his tongue around his ink-stained digits. 

“I,” your mouth is dry when you feel the dampness that hits your bottom, “I’ve never, I don’t remember ever—” 

Your babbles are lost between your throat and Jungkook’s tongue, shoved deep into your mouth. Tasting your arousal has you practically vibrating in your place, as you two rut against each other like hungry bunnies. 

“God, you’re amazing,” he says between pecks, kissing away your face of any tears you may have pricked, “Amazing, adorable, absolutely beautifulIadoreyousoso—” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you press your hips up, wiggling for more attention, “please fuck me, Jungkook.” 

You can’t help the witchy, satisfied smile when Jungkook’s eyes darken to a thick coal, “Anything for you,” he murmurs, swinging your legs between his arms as he lifts you like a feather. 

On his lap again, you soon accept that the way you two mesh like puzzle pieces is one of your favorite positions as it gives you both equal space to ravish each other. 

Just when your hand trails to the waistband of his boxer briefs and you’re rolling your thumb over its collected moisture, the moment is shattered when the doorbell rings. You jump in his arms, unprepared for your moment to be interrupted. 

He groans into the crown of your hair, and you soften in his relaxed hold, “I ordered us pizza,” he nearly forgot. 

Perking your head up to look at him you regard him innocently, as if you didn’t release a waterfall on his sweats two seconds ago. “You got us pizza?” 

“I knew you’d be coming over tonight,” he’s pouting into your neck, regretting ever having called the pizza guy if he knew this would happen, “Victoria posted the publish date on Twitter. I just didn’t think,” he gestures vaguely to the mess on his pants, “this would happen.”  

“Damn, and here I thought I was being sneaky,” you chuckle, flicking his ear playfully. 

He gives you an uncharacteristically subby whine, shamelessly upset he has to let you go so fast after he’s given you your first of many highs. Before he weakens further under your beauty, he unceremoniously shoves you off. “Sorry, pretty girl,” you melt at the easy way his pet name rolls off his lips, “can you wait in my room for a bit so I can pay the delivery guy? I don’t want them to see you like this.” 

“But I want to eat pizza,” you declare stubbornly, standing up to button your blouse and pull down your skirt. 

Before you could fasten one button or pull down one centimeter, his hand darts out to snatch your wrist away from your body. It doesn’t hurt much, but it causes your body to heat in more places than one. He’s sexy like this, demanding your attention. “No,” he rumbles definitively, “my room. Now.” 

“Why?” you throw your hands in the air, yelping when he slaps your ass. He makes sure to make it sting, cupping you fully. 

“Because,” he says firmly, “you don’t get to eat until I eat,” you whimper when his hand reaches to cup your sex, panties wet and cold without his warmth as he pushes you in the direction of his bedroom. 

Oh, you can’t wait for both of you to eat tonight. 

some time later.

“Ohmygod the view is beautiful!” Krystal, who works in advertisement, squeals. “No filter needed!” 

“Alright alright, make room Princess,” Namjoon teases. With a bump to Krystal’s tiny hips Namjoon shoves you two across the pavilion, putting his arm around you once he finds the perfect angle, “Umji, can you get a pic of me and my Work Wife? I want this on the Big Hit Instagram!” 

You hold your straw sunhat down from the salty wind, smiling beautifully as Umji takes multiple pictures of you and Namjoon from her Nikon. Another successful year under your notch, ending with a successful work retreat. 

“Namjoon, can I take a picture with my actual wife now?” 

“We’re not married, Jungkook,” you chastise, patting the chest of Namjoon’s floral printed Hawaiian shirt so he can switch. Instantly, Jungkook slides up next to you like a picture perfect stock model piece, and you wrap your arms around his trim waist, “we’re not even engaged.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he pouts, looking over the pavilion and adjusting the both of you so there’s a good amount of you and the resort in the background. The sun may be scathingly hot, but it looks beautiful perched over the crystal clear waters. “Namjoon, you got it easy,” Jungkook says when he hands him your phone, “every angle is our good angle, so you can’t mess it up.” 

Being the honest man he is, Namjoon knows better and doesn’t say anything to that. Instead he shoots down whatever pineapple-flavored concoction is offered to him on a silver platter, and starts shooting. 

“Is this swimsuit new?” Jungkook murmurs into your ear between shots, flicking your little red number by the strap connecting the back, “because I didn’t see this in the luggage.” 

You smile big, pearly whites as Namjoon demands to pop out your butt and work it, pressing your body closer to Jungkook’s. “Tiny enough so I could hide it in my purse,” you reply proudly, voice low for only each other’s ears, “why, surprised?” 

“Definitely not prepared,” his fingers dig deliciously in your bare flesh, “would Victoria fire you if she catches us doing it in the cabana?” 

Amused that your boyfriend now shares your combined awe and fear of your boss, you twist his nipple lightly. He yelps, and from Namjoon’s guaff he’s definitely got that on camera. “We didn’t come to Boracay to fuck in the cabana.” 

“Then the hotel room?” 

Namjoon hands you back your phone when he considers his job done, letting you and Jungkook have some alone time. You wave your phone in his face, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. You wanted to post some cute pictures of you and your boyfriend, one to impress the family back home and the Big Hit interns back in Seoul who are absolutely pining for your position. 

“Jungkook, they have the water ski thing where you can flip in the water mid air! Doesn’t that sound fun? Or we can go scuba diving, have Filipino food, or get massages. LIterally, we’re on Big Hit’s dime, and the first thing you want to do is go back to the room?” 

“Yes,” he pouts petulantly, leaning into the hollow of your ear and whispering, “got a chub on.” 

Discreetly so, your hands brush against his navy trunks and you note yes, he’s half hard. “No!” you shake your head definitively, pushing him out of your arms. You’re not letting sex get in the way of your hard-earned vacation, you’re on company dime and you intend to milk every peso of it. “Namjoon, take him away!” 

You blow him a kiss and follow another group who���s decided to go eat, watching your boyfriend get dragged away by Namjoon’s long arms. Krystal, who’s been mildly watching the whole ordeal in-between taking selfies, looks at you in awe, “You got it good, bosslady,” she says, and you happily link arms with her in the direction of the restaurants. 

You and Jungkook definitely have it good. You don’t see him until dinnertime, looking utterly relaxed as he sips on a mango-muddled concoction. He must’ve gotten a couples massage with Namjoon, cute. Splitting up was definitely a good idea, by the time your meal arrives the two of you are practically leaning against each other, telling each other what events you need to do tomorrow and events you think will be fun to do together. 

“Joon,” Jungkook is throwing an arm over your Wusband’s shoulder, mildly tipsy. The image is adorable, as Jungkook long ago previously confessed that he felt a little jealous of Namjoon’s work relationship with you before you were dating. Now, it feels like they’re best friends and you’re third-wheeling. “What do you think about having halo-halo tomorrow? It’s like bingsu but with a bunch of other good stuffs. There’s red bean, mango, ube, ice cream…” 

Just as Jungkook begins his tirade of dessert ingredients, you pull up your phone to check on your social media. You smile back at your profile, seeing your latest Instagram post at the very top of the feed. Not to flex, but the two of you look pretty smokin’ since you’ve been keeping up with Jungkook’s insistence to join him at the gym. Jungkook and you are leaning against the pristine veranda, overlooking the clear blue water and a cloudless sky. The smiles you two sport are genuine and utterly in love. 

You scroll down the comments, most of them filled with sweet messages but one of them has you doing a double take. 

@sooyaaa__: 😒😒😒 knew something was goin on behind my back… good riddance

The smell of Jungkook’s detergent overtakes your nostrils, and you turn to him. He’s stopped talking, now immersed in whatever’s going on in your phone. 

“The nerve of her,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, disgusted at her latest comment. “As if anyone would believe her.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, “I feel bad for her, though. She’s probably lonely.” 

“Her loss, she put this upon herself. Not us.” 

You pout, “I know, but she was my friend at one point.” 

He frowns, putting an arm behind your backrest. It would be easy for him to say yeah, and she was my girlfriend and one-up you, leaving it at that. But now he knows better, and that friendship is a much better value than an ill-fated relationship. “Sorry baby,” it’s not his fault, but he sees your disappointment in putting out hope for an old friend. He gives you a little smooch on your temple, “do you miss her?” 

“The old her, yeah,” you sigh, clicking on her profile, “but now? I can do without her negativity.” 

“Okay,” he takes your phone from your hand, “have you ever blocked a person before?”

“No.”

“Well, today’s the day,” he says it so coolly, you barely have time to think when he clicks the ‘block’ button on Jisoo’s profile, then clicking off his phone to put in his pocket. “No more phone for today,” he proceeds to take your plate that was recently served, taking the time to cut your large vegetables into smaller portions. “Like you said, we shouldn’t waste your vacation time.” 

Your heart swells with butterflies for Jeon Jungkook, who’s meticulously cutting your food and telling you to relax and stop dwelling on the past. He’s right, if Jisoo’s not going to stick around for the future and continue to cause negativity in your life, why not keep the positives in the past while it lasted? 

“You know I love you, right?” 

He ceases cutting, and looks at you to pop a sweet potato in his mouth. “Love me enough to do it in the cabana?” 

He’s still on that? “Jungkook,” you warn, pretending to get up, “forget I said anything. I’m gonna go karaoke with Umji.” 

“Kiddingggg,” he whines, pulling you back down with an outstretched hand, “you know I love you too.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Only this way because I’d know you’d totally be into cabana sex if we were vacationing by ourselves.” 

“Yes, but you’re still terrible,” you giggle when Jungkook steals a kiss, just as easy as he’s stolen your heart.  

[avengersassemble-fics]

Stark Legacy

part 01/?? "the only person"

master list

word count 4.3k

an: :3 welcome to a new fic bc idk how to control myself

WARNING: this part does depict alcohol usage, and mentions of other substances a character uses to cope (though nothing is explicitly mentioned).

“An unemployment and housing crisis skyrockets to higher levels as people still struggle to adjust and accommodate the population we had years ago. Streets are littered with people seeking hope-”

“According to world economists, the surge in loan denials is leading to an unprecedented end, leaving the experts scrambling for a way to get the economy back on track, also claiming that the Global Repatriation Council may be asking for too much-”

“Protests break out across Switzerland as support for the group known as the Flag Smashers rises, with the Global Repatriation Council denying any comment on the matter, as well as refusing to comment on the rumours that the newly titled Captain America is investigating the matter-”

“What can we expect from Stark Industries now that Tony Stark is no longer with us? Pepper Potts, while having led the company in a positive direction prior to the Blip, has had no new developments over the last six months. With these newfound challenges the world is facing we’re left to wonder.. Who is going to step up as the ingenious mind behind new innovation? Will the youngest Stark continue on in the steps of father and brother, or are we seeing the end of the Stark Legacy?”

Click.

Silence filled the blue colored cottage that was tucked away at the end of the street in Ransdorp. Though dim and lifeless inside the cottage, outside the sun shined while birds chirped away happily and the sound of children playing echoed through the air. But inside the cottage, all alone, someone stood and tossed a television remote back onto the couch that was once occupied. They shed the blanket that had been wrapped around their shoulders all night while listening to all the different news reports, and entering a small bedroom and dressed in the dark. It was a Wednesday afternoon, and after shuffling through the cottage to grab a few things, the back doors were pushed and locked open, and a breeze blew through the house.

You squinted as you put a sun hat on and oversized sunglasses, overlooking the green oasis you had worked on every day for the last six months. Pushing away the thoughts of what the news had been saying, you stepped down onto the wooden patio that lined the back door and carried a hefty packed bag with you to the garden you had planted. You set the bag down and kneeled into the soft grass, and got to work on picking on fresh vegetables to use for your dinner later. Lucky for you, the soil was perfect here.

So… How have the last six months been for you?

Well the garden was a distraction your neighbor had suggested after finally catching you one day while throwing out a bag full of alcohol bottles you had consumed. You could see her take a second glance over your disheveled appearance, but she ignored it for the most part (which thankfully she did, you were a little sick of people telling you how to feel at the time). Naturally, instead of working through your problems, you distracted yourself from them.

But in all honesty… It’s been hard. Maybe it was selfish of you to think so, but you felt like you had been dealt one of the shittiest hands from the universe. The pressure from the world after… After Tony’s death was suffocating. As more paparazzi followed you around, the worse that anxiety had gotten. With that newfound attention, you had also been summoned by the United States government to attest for your time as a HYDRA agent. Lucky for you, in some way, they dropped any serious charges due to your restraint under the program, but sentenced you to weekly therapy sessions (since SHIELD had denied to disclose your mental capabilities). To your knowledge, Bucky Barnes had been offered a similar deal. The therapy lasted all of a month before you… Negotiated your way out of it, and returned to this safe place.

You drowned yourself in drinks and other activities after leaving New York, which in turn made your black-out episodes reappear, which had become evident as the photographed wall in your second bedroom started to be crossed out fast. You couldn’t help but twitch at the thought, and steered clear of that subject. But as of five months ago, you were all but cut off from all things Avengers.

Everyone had gone their own separate ways for the most part. Wanda was off the radar, Sam had gone and gotten a contract with the Air Force, Clint got his family back, Rhodey was some top notch Air Force guy (you didn’t really know what he was up to nowadays), Thor was gone offworld, Scott was making up for lost time with his family, and Bucky… Well, you didn’t know much about that situation either. Sam had tried to reach out after everything, but in one of your drunken states you threw your phone in the Weersloot river. You didn’t need a reminder of that day, or those few weeks even.

You never played the message Happy had given you from Tony. You never had the courage to do so, and you had it tucked away in your room safe and sound. Honestly? You were starting to think you never would be ready to hear what Tony had to say to you before he died. You just couldn’t bear to hear it, never would… Because if he even mentioned someone’s name you didn’t know how you would react.

When you started to think about Steve, you picked up a drink to take your mind off it. You had yet to come to terms with him leaving, because it still hurt like the day it happened.

Losing Tony was the worst thing that could’ve happened in your eyes. He was your family, though Pepper and Morgan had become your family too, Tony was the last piece of your family you could hold onto. The last shred to the past you fought so hard to remember and cherish, and now him and that part of you was gone. He was your everything. He always would be.

But Steve? Losing Steve wasn’t something you had ever even considered. While Tony was your soul, Steve was your heart. Despite everything you two had been through, the feelings hurt and the years it took to make it back together, Steve always had your heart. He was the man you wanted to fall asleep with and wake up to. He was the man you talked about growing old with, what life would be like if he gave up the Captain America mantle, he was supposed to be your future...

And then he stayed in the past, and left you here confused. Hurt. Alone.

You lost the two people you had left in the world. Your heart and your soul. And it was the most devastating blow you had ever felt… Everyday you wondered how someone comes back from something like that, if it was even possible.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a hefty softball landed in a thud in your garden and smushed one of your little tomatoes. You blinked at the sight before grabbing the ball and looking up to see the familiar short boy next door pulling himself up on the fence that separated your yard from his, and you grabbed a rag from your bag and wiped the softball off.

“Je vernielt in zijn eentje mijn tuin, weet je,” (You’re single-handedly ruining my garden, you know) you said to the boy and looked up at him through your sunglasses.

“Vergeef mij,” (Forgive me) he said and rested his head on his hands to watch you finish wiping his ball off. “Mijn vader wilde niet met mij spelen” (My dad wouldn’t play with me).

You stopped wiping for a moment and could see the sad look in the kids face. You smiled softly and stood, making your way over to the fence and handing him his ball back, though his expression didn’t change.

“Vraag het me de volgende keer dat je wilt spelen, oké?” (Next time you want to play, come ask me, okay?) You told him, and the smile reappeared on his face and he gave you a nod. You ruffled his hair as he jumped back off the fence and played once again. You went back to your bag, now full with vegetables, and picked it up to head back inside. You had a sweet pasta recipe to try tonight, and you think what you selected should work great-

You stopped in your tracks right before the back door. You lowered your sunglasses and lowered your gaze to the ground as you tried to focus on the sound in the air, the shift in the environment. You may have been slightly hungover but the presence was not hard to miss. You straightened your stance and gripped your sunglasses in your fist.

“Sam?” You called out. At first there wasn’t any rustling, but after a few moments you heard your back gate unlock and creak open, and that’s when you could hear the extra set of footsteps. You slowly turned around to face who had finally tracked you down, and were met with Sam Wilson… And Bucky Barnes in tow.

“What are you doing here?” You more so asked Sam. The pair glanced at one another and Bucky nodded his head at his partner in crime (God, you could just tell they were up to something) and Sam shoved his hands into the jacket he had been wearing.

“We came to see you, check in on how you’re doing,” Sam said. You chuckled a bit, and shook your head.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you called him out. “What are you really doing here?”

“We need your help,” Bucky said. You bit your tongue and looked them over, maybe just a little curious as to what was going on. Just a little. “We stumbled onto something that I think you may have some information on.”

You hummed to yourself for a moment, thinking it over. Truthfully, the last thing you needed was whatever this was. So you shook your head and shrugged your shoulders. “I’m afraid I can’t help, but thanks for thinking of me.”

You turned your back on them and stepped up a couple steps into your house, and was all but ready to close the door to the world and close yourself off from Sam and Bucky, but Bucky took a step forward.

“There’s more super soldiers out there,” Bucky said in a serious tone. You stopped in your tracks, gripping onto your door for a few moments before looking back out to the pair. Bucky was watching you intently, in a stare you had only seen on him once before (which you didn’t want to recount at the moment). There was movement near the fence, and your eyes darted there to see the neighbor boy peeping his head over to see what was going on. When his gaze met yours, and you gave him “the look” he disappeared just as quickly as he appeared, and you looked back at the pair standing in your yard and against all better judgement, motioned your head behind you. Understanding your cue, Sam led the way inside, and you shut the door quickly behind Bucky.

You moved around the burly super soldier and brushed past Sam to set your bag of veggies in your kitchen. You had to take a moment to compose yourself before facing the duo who had been watching you intently. “Okay.. Go on. What do you mean there’s more super soldiers?”

Sam grabbed something from his pocket, a phone it looked like, and pulled something up before handing you the device. You hesitantly took it and looked down at the phone, where a video began playing of the recent Gasel Bank heist. You watched as someone got beaten to the ground, but what was astonishing was the sheer strength the masked person showed. Captivated, you carried the device into the living room and plopped down into the cushions of your sofa and watched more footage, this time up close from what you could guess were Dumb and Dumber who moved to hover over you.

“We were hoping you might know something,” Sam said. You handed his phone back to him which he graciously accepted, and you tapped your fingers together in thought before looking over at Bucky.

“What makes you think I know anything?” You asked. Bucky seemed to huff in annoyance at your questioning him, in all honesty you just wanted to hear him say it.

“You and I both know what went into the replication of that serum, your program especially,” Bucky said. You felt a lump form at the back of your throat and you casted your eyes downward. “You were still there after me… Did they perfect Stark’s serum?”

You looked back up at his question, and you held his gaze for a moment. You couldn’t believe this was how your day was turning, and you were pissed that he of all people were bringing up your past, like you volunteered for any of that shit.  You lightly bounced your leg as you fought to remember what you had known.

“HYDRA had been unsuccessful in using my father’s formula of the serum again, even after you managed to escape their hold,” you started. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and leaned back into the couch, averting your gaze from Bucky to the floor as you searched your memory. “They brought in a scientist, but it wasn’t my op, and it was on a need to know basis. The only reason we knew they started the research again was they started taking people from the Phantom program to test the serum on.”

“Phantom program?” Sam asked.

“That’s what they called us,” you mumbled. “All of us were deemed dead so… It was only fitting.”

“Did the scientist perfect the serum?” Bucky asked. You shrugged your shoulders and met his look again.

“Didn’t think so,” you answered honestly. “So if there’s serum still out there, he has to be your guy. Though I can say I didn’t see any kind of sign of that activity when working with SHIELD.”

“But it’s a start,” Sam nodded and Bucky looked his way. The two started sharing odd glances, and you watched in confusion. Sam suddenly looked your way and motioned around. “Think you could spare some time and do this mission with us?”

“Sam-” Bucky began to say as a warning, but you chuckled a bit which made him stop.

“I don’t do this anymore,” you told them as you motioned between them.

“Come on (Y/N),” Sam tried to reason as you stood up and walked your way back into the kitchen and opened up a cabinet in search of tonight’s bottle of wine to go with dinner. “I get that you’re going through it, I really do, but-”

Just as you managed to select the perfect medium-bodied red wine, Sam had come up beside you and took the bottle out of your hand. “This isn’t going to help you.”

“Yeah Sam and what is?” You asked while crossing your arms. “Because right now the only thing that would help me out is to see my brother again but guess what! It’s not going to fucking happen! It’s just me, here, and all by myself. All by myself…”

Your words trailed off as a heaviness grew in your chest. The atmosphere in the room was a lot more stuffy, and you would rather curl up and disappear then let Sam (and Bucky) see you cry. But here you fucking were, with Sam seeing the tears build up in your eyes and the look he gave you, you wanted to be mad but the only thing that you could seem to feel was just sad. You blinked back the feeling and took a glance back at Bucky, who stood in your living room and averted his gaze. You looked back at Sam, and put on the best front you could.

“You’re welcome to stay for the night, someone can take the bed in my room and someone can take the couch, but tomorrow? We go our separate ways again,” you said in a low tone. Sam’s look at you was… Disappointment. Before the sentiment could settle on your already guilty conscience you turned around and grabbed your keys and a peacoat and stopped at the front door. “Help yourselves to whatever you need.”

With that, you pulled the door open and just as swiftly shut behind you. The cottage walls shook for a moment before settling to a silence inside. Sam looked down at the bottle in his hand and set it back onto the counter before looking Bucky’s way, who still looked annoyed.

“What?” Bucky defensively asked when he noticed Sam’s stare. Sam shook his head at him and pushed the wine bottle to the back of the counter.

“You pushed that too hard,” Sam said, to which Bucky scoffed.

“Me? You’re the one who asked her to join us which, by the way, where did that come from?” Bucky questioned as Sam came back to the living room and sat down on the couch. Sam leaned forward with his arms on his legs and rubbed his hands together.

“Take a look around Robo-cop,” Sam emphasized and Bucky let out an annoyed sigh. “You’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”

Bucky looked around at your surroundings. He wouldn’t peg it as chaotic, but he also couldn’t pin it as put together. There were personal touches here and there, but it didn’t feel like you belonged here. Bucky wasn’t blind to what was going on here, but he also didn’t see how that pertained to what Sam was suggesting.

“Sam, we came for some information, we got it, so why don’t you tell me what you’re trying to say,” Bucky replied. Sam rolled his eyes and leaned back into the cushions.

“We let her come here, by herself, even knowing how devastated she was after Tony died,” Sam explained. Bucky’s eyes darted to the floor at the memory of him following you out to that shed the day of Tony’s funeral, and the empty expression your eyes held. “Hell, we don’t even know how she felt about Steve. We should’ve been here for this. And that makes us shitty friends.”

“Ah, I wouldn’t say we’re friends-”

“Oh I’m sorry, who's the one that said she owed you a favor?” Sam asked and Bucky shrugged his shoulders.

“I did, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Nah ah,” Sam cut him off and Bucky rolled his eyes. “If you two owe one another favors, then your friends.”

“That’s sound logic, Sam,” Bucky sarcastically said.

You tossed your glass bottle of whatever the hell it was you drank earlier into a trash can on your way back home. You pulled your keys out of your jacket pocket and jingled them around until you found your house key and hipped quietly. Your cottage was just in view and all the lights were out. You grumbled to yourself as you neared, forced to remember what had happened earlier in the day (and boy did you work hard to forget that Sam and bucky were at your lace haha). You stumbled up the two steps to your door and used the wall to steady yourself, before quietly shoving your key into the door and pushed the door open.

It took a second to adjust to the environment, but the whole cottage was pitch black, besides whatever light from the moon managed to filter in. You carefully walked around the couch and glanced down at who occupied it, and when you saw Sam peacefully asleep you then looked at the door to your room and shuddered at the fact Bucky must’ve taken residence in there. You huffed a bit, and pulled a spare blanket out of a basket and moved to the back door. When you finally got outside and shut the door to not disturb your guest you tossed your blanket onto the patio sofa you had and kicked your shoes off.

After shedding yourself of your peacoat and plopping down on the hard cushions, you inwardly cursed the two men inside. You were doing just fine before their arrival, you had a schedule of self loathing and drinking then sleeping that they were interrupting. You just weren’t looking forward to the repercussions of tonight’s sleep. You laid back across the sofa and looked up at the sky, though nothing was there anymore. Or at least there wasn’t anything you could see.

Let’s be honest here. The reason you had turned to drinking was because of the fuzzy feeling you got after awhile. Your mind got to drift to something else besides the memories of your past, like… what to drink next, or in this case, is that a star or an airplane? It made the moment more simple, it made you forget who you were until you woke up again. That didn’t mean you didn’t resent yourself for your actions, but you just added that to the list of reasons why your endgame was the best resolution. You just weren’t ready to tell anyone what that endgame was.

Your gate creaked and you tilted your head to look in that direction. You could barely make out the figure as they neared, Bucky’s face became more clear. You looked back up to the sky and shook your head a bit to yourself. Bucky came to a stop close to you, and sighed a bit.

“You should go inside,” He said quietly.

“You should just leave me alone,” you quipped back to him. Though you couldn’t see it, Bucky rolled his eyes at your drunken response. You suddenly felt a lot more sober, and you turned your head to face him. “You had no right, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked and you huffed.

“You had no right to bring up the Phantom program. I didn’t tell anyone about that, not even Tony,” you admitted to him. Bucky bit his tongue and looked up at the sky for a moment to collect himself. “I didn’t want anyone to go digging into the extent of that.”

“I didn’t know,” Bucky admitted. You blinked at him as he caught your gaze again. “Look… I’m sorry.”

You fell silent before letting out a small sigh and adjusting yourself to be a little more comfortable, your head finally starting to feel dizzy again. But Bucky wasn’t ready to settle this, he shifted his weight and turned to face you.

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Bucky asked. Your eyes fluttered back open and you looked over at him. He had taken a step closer, and hovered over you, and you raised a brow.

“What are you talking about?” You asked him this time.

“The drinking,” Bucky pointed out. You huffed and turned your head in the opposite direction into the cushions, and Bucky rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to help you know.”

“Yeah and how would you know?” You asked and looked back at him. Bucky leaned down to get in your face, and you tried to move back from him.

“Because I’m probably the only person who really knows what’s going on in your head.”

You bit your tongue, and Bucky backed off. In a bit of a daze, you plopped back down onto the cushions and pulled the blanket you brought out up to your chin. Bucky rolled his eyes at you shutting him down, and he moved to the door to go inside. The sooner the morning came and Sam and he could leave, the better for him.

“I never blamed you, you know,” you said in a light voice. Bucky stopped in his tracks and looked over at you. Your eyes were closed, and you were breathing evenly. Bucky retracted his hand from the door knob and took a couple steps closer. He needed to hear that again.

“What did you say?” He asked. You stirred a bit, but didn’t answer him. Carefully, Bucky used his gloved hand to touch your shoulder, and give you a small shake. When you still didn’t say anything, Bucky sighed and looked between the door and you and cursed in his head.

Bucky carefully slid an arm under your shoulders, and then hooked his other under your legs. He hoisted you up into his arms and into his chest, and your head rolled into his arm. Bucky shook his head at it and carefully brought you back inside, and past the couch, and pushed your room door open with his foot. Bucky sat himself on the edge of your bed and balanced you in his lap with one arm, and pulled your blankets open with a free hand. When he finally got you into your own bed, he took the blanket you had outside from you and tossed it onto his shoulder, and pulled the blankets on the bed onto you. Bucky stood from your bed, and before leaving the room he took a final glance at you as you stirred just slightly.

Bucky closed your door, and walked back towards the couch and settled himself onto the floor. As his back met the floor, he couldn’t help but wonder if you meant what you said, about not blaming him for what happened. One thing he did know was he meant what he said. Bucky stared at the door to the second room in the house, and he shook his head.

If there was one person he truly wanted to make amends with, it was you. After all, you were on his list of names.

- - - - - - - - - -

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[redxblueihateloveyou]

I'm surprised people see Tadashi as the victim in his relationship with Ainosuke, when it's Tadashi the one who time and time again takes away Ainosuke's agency, without being able to see that he is throwing him unto unhappiness. I can't help but think that if Tadashi was not working at Shindo's house, Ainosuke would have maybe left or broke with the family. But he can't do that if he wants the relationship with Tadashi going on, seing how Tadashi is set on enforcing the family rules...

Hmm.. I def agree with the fact that Tadashi is not what most fandom makes out of him, my man (I mean, Adam’s man) is a 100% Slytherin. But I disagree with blaming him for this, after all the revealed info. The environment they were both raised in made their situation complicated.

I like Tadashi a lot, he’s probably my fav thing about this anime, bc he’s a dark horse, and I’m once again surprised, that so little ppl see him for who he really is, portraying him as an innocent puppy, which he is definitely not.

Now to why I think both Tadashi and Adam are victims of the dad and aunties in this situation. 

We can of course say “if only they told each other how they really feel...”, but like we can say it about any love story really. Every author knows it’s no fun. The truth is that yes, they both hurt each other, and yes, if they were honest about their feelings things would’ve been different, but as I’ve already wrote under that “toxic” commentary on YT, lets look at the whole situation from both of their point of views:

We know that Adam when he was little always treated Tadashi as an equal, he never ever thought of him as someone lower than him and after their fall out, the only reason for this “harsh” treatment (well, besides their confirmed kink) was that Adam tried to get a reaction out of him, so Tadashi would stand up for himself, bc Ainosuke got mad about Tadashi caving to his dad’s wishes and abandoning him, when he needed him the most. 

But now, knowing the fact that Tadashi was his dad’s secretary and was under his control, let’s see it from his perspective: Tadashi wanted to stay by Adam’s side, Adam’s dad implied that if Tadashi did say smth, he’s gonna be.. well, dismissed and they won’t see each other ever again. That’s what caused Tadashi to stay silent in that moment. Ainosuke instead saw this as a “he’s not on my side” thing, well, because. Tadashi won’t tell him his problem, bc dad and aunties control everything, so even if he does tell him, what a teen would do really? He didn’t have any powers back then to make his dad do anything. 

And that’s when it all gone to shit, since they both were hurt for their own reasons. It’s easy to say leave the family, but 1stly nobody explained to Adam still that he’s physically and psychologically abused by his family, he sees it as them “loving him” and sadly also loves them, bc nobody told him, that love wasn’t supposed to be like that really. He definitely feels that smth is not right and feels emotionally exhausted there bc of this treatment, but did he ever consider leaving? I really don’t think so. He feels obligated to be worthy of a family, who “loves” him.

Do you think, for example, that Akashi Seijuro hates his dad for what he did to him? No. Does he understand that he wasn’t at fault for what happened to him and that his dad instead of comforting his child after his mother’s death, who was his only safe haven, made everything worse? I don’t think he does. Like his mom gave him basketball, an escape from all that family’s obligations and strictness. After her death, it was the only thing left that brought him joy, but his dad ruined even that, saying that if he’s gonna be bad at it/lose, he’d take it away from him too. Does Akashi see this as emotional abuse? No, he sees it like “well, I have to be the best bc I was born in such powerful family, so if my dad says that I must be best at everything, then I must.”

I personally hate such parents a lot. To me it doesn’t matter if Adam’s dad didn’t know about aunties hitting his child. Like if he was too busy to notice this and have no time for his kid and made his childhood miserable, it doesn’t make it any better really. 

Same as with Akashi’s dad. Some are like “he was probably also grieving about his wife”. Emm? He was like this from the beginning, bc he treated Akashi not as his son, but as his heir. And yes, that’s different things. Same with Endeavor and Todoroki. Your child is not your post production thing.

2ndly they were too young, even if they knew about each others feelings and he didn’t feel obligated and told everyone to fuck off, they’d be on the streets now, but also Adam’s dad doesn’t seem like a guy who’d leave them alone really. Also eloping seems very romantic, but I don’t think it is, esp when you’re teens. Did you want him to sell some expensive watch and go live on Hawaii or smth? Bc finding a decent job there would be difficult at this age, esp with everyone knowing who your dad is. Chen Ke from “Antidote” survived bc he was 27 and had connections and some great friends. Adam was in high school, where would he go exactly?

Now let’s go back to now. Obviously all this time it didn’t even cross Tadashi’s mind that for Ainosuke he comes first and that he would throw everyone under the bus to make Tadashi stay with him. As we see at the end, he legit believed that Adam was planning to send him to jail and didn’t get that he said it just to shaken he up and that he knew who he’d set up for this from the beginning. 

To Adam obviously it doesn’t matter whether they’re in a quarrel or not, he would never him go. Yes, he’s mad at him, he’s angry and hurt, but Tadashi’s still the person he needs the most, he’s still the person who brightens his days, even tho he deliberately behaves like he annoys him. He always looks at him and looks at him and looks at him, but then hisses smth to hurt him. Bc he knows that he needs him, but he also hates that he needs him, bc he thinks it’s unrequited.

And that’s how their classic romance goes in hellish circles. No one wants to talk as usual. Adam is mad Tadashi is like that bc his dad turned him into a slave with no opinion, while Tadashi is scared that Adam would be taken away from him bc of his ugly family. 

Now I still think that no one and I mean no one can take Tadashi from Adam now, he is his precious. So my plan is... if Tadashi made aunties do smth against him or to get rid of him, aunties will go for sure. The problem is Tadashi still doesn’t get that he comes first, so we’re stuck in this hell still.

So anyways, my point is Adam’s heart basically sings “you got a hold of me, don’t even know your power” to Tadashi, but he doesn’t hear it, bc of his insecurities, the way he was raised and his status. But yes, he holds all the power. He’s both Adam’s sanity and insanity. No matter how cheesy it sounds he was basically his only ray of sunshine in the darkness, if you take it away, that’s what it leads to, that’s why Ainosuke-sama needs more ppl who care for him. I don’t want anyone to die next time, just cause Tadashi and Adam fought about where to put their new couch lmao. I’m kidding, but you know what I mean. And kill the aunties, pls seriously, we need to be free.

Also ppl need to remember that like lots of animes/characters are parcially inspired by some other animes/characters, also the chosen seiyuus are also very important, there are lots of stuff like jokes and references, that creators use, from characters being fully inspired by smth like “Assassination classroom” characters based on KNB, to little stuff like Levi dressed in Akashi’s uniform in chibi AOT bc Hiroshi Kamiya. Utsumi already said before stuff like she sometimes think of a perfect voice for the character and then fully forms him, we also know her clear love for sports animes. So yes, I doubt Tadashi/Kuroko thing is a coincidence and even tho someone was like “zone? is this knb or smth?” I was like no, zone is actually a common thing in sports, even tho most associate it with KNB including me, it’s not like its their invention, but there were things inspired by this for sure, and from other sports animes too and no, I don’t mean the basic sports anime tropes, I mean, like way too specific things, some character designes, too. And yes, Langa appearence and personality wise is a rinharu child for real, I can literally split his scenes in “that’s Haru”, “that’s Rin”.

That’s why I’ve said that this situation in fandom reminds me of Kuroko/Akashi situation a lot, bc same as here in KNB ppl for some reason automatically thought that Kuroko is this innocent sheep and Akashi is the wolf (but also like it was Akashi who chose to dress as red riding hood, while Kuroko was a wolf lmao), not even seeing who is in reality more dangerous and who can easily control who. It just buffles me bc it’s not some deep analisys really. I mean once again there’s a reason for the saying that the sub holds all the power over the dom. 

And like just bc someone yells or threatens ppl constantly doesn’t necessarily mean he is a psycopatic killer, and just bc someone is quiet and doe-eyed, doesn’t mean he isn’t. I didn’t think we needed to explain this to someone, but aparently we do?

And it honestly kills me just how superficially ppl are watching things these days. It really gives me war flashbacks to stuff like the last mdzs s1 episode, where ppl started to comment things like “how LZ can be so heartless” lmao. Or that anonymous ask “do you think haru misses rin?”. Like you don’t see thing at all? Grey substance no needed, while watching things?

P.S. I also would die to see Adam vs Tadashi race just bc I for some reason can bet all my money, that it’s the same situation as with Akashi refusing to ankle break Kuroko, no matter how mad he is. I just can’t imagine Ainosuke hitting Tadashi in the face with a board. Like 100% sure he wouldn’t even try tbh.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Tony Stark’s son (Part 2)

Tony Stark x son!reader

warnings:

a/n: had to split it into 2 parts bc i hit the text limit dhshaggags

prompt: continued

part 1

~sokovia was ur first big mission~

“why is y/n here, stark?” -cap

“the first mistake was letting me become a father”

“good god, tony...”

you having the time of your life crushing robots

“WHEEEEEE”

also proving useful by saving avengers a handful of times

“thanks for the assist, stark clone” -clint

rip pietro

rhodey was actually the most worried about you if we’re being honest, he didn’t understand why they let you in this one???

“y/n? y/n, talk to me! are you alive?”

“yes, uncle rhodey! i’m perfect, stop worrying!”

“i love you, kid! be safe!”

✨a good family you’ve got✨

soon the avengers broke up bc your dad cant get along with steve and it was just really awkward

but you chose your dad’s side

“sorry, steve! he pays my allowance!”

peter was actually a little okay, you know!! spazzy at first, but he was cool

“dude, you’re y/n stark! you’re tony stark’s very own son! i’m talking to mr. stark’s only child!”

“yep, that’s me. i’m what earned tony the title of ‘DILF’”

teenage teamup? ofc

“am i doing alright?”

“looking a-okay, pete!”

tony was worried fighting steve would traumatize you so he made you wait at the hotel with happy and peter

“don’t do anything to embarrass me, y/n. i dont want to see you on the news for something stupid”

you and peter ended up hanging out in your room and watching tv and ordering room service

“how do you do that so smoothly? i’d just freak out and go get it myself”

“years of experience as a spoiled rich brat”

absolutely positively being up all night and trying to fight your exhaustion

“you two seem to be getting along well. couldn’t be me” -happy

“for someone named happy, you never seem to be happy”

“not around teenagers, no”

“i remember when you loved me, ‘uncle happy’”

peter texted you every day after that

whenever flash picked on peter for “never meeting tony stark” he’d show a picture of you and him taking selfies in the lab together yes you invite him over much to the dismay of everyone else around you

plus tony was out of town and you were finally trusted enough to be left alone unchecked so like, happy would just leave at the first sign of peter

“that’s not real!”

“jealous?”

you actually showed up for homecoming on a dare (but in disguise)

didn’t wanna attract all the attention, you just wanted a high school experience

but you got called into avengers tower to help move early on :/ bad timing too cuz peter had to fight his first villain and u missed it

“dude, how do you feel?”

“bruh sound effect number two”

“oh my god”

FRIDAY heard him and pulled up the sound and you were WEAK you couldn’t stop laughing

“please....i think i broke a few ribs. cant laugh until tomorrow”

tony offered peter the avengers gig and peter said no, you were very disappointed but u understood that not everyone wanted to be in the spotlight like that

but you and peter obviously still hung out

oh, tony proposed! they interviewed you on sight!

“y/n, how does it feel to know that you’re going to have a stepmom soon?”

“you guys are aware that pepper helped raise me, right? right?!”

moving on, life was smooth for a while, there was some wedding planning, talk of you being a best man (which rhodey fought you on)

“no, i’ve known your dad longer!”

“i’m his son!”

i n v a s i o n

oh boy that was rough

bruce was surprised that you had fucking grown so much in the past 3 years good lord

“y/n...your VOICE”

“puberty, i know. when’s it gonna happen to you?”

“it hurts more when it’s from a teenager”

“uh, did you forget my birthday?”

peter’s back! peter’s back!

finally, man

“spider-kid, i could use an assist!”

“on the way!”

“aliens, why did it have to be aliens?”

up up and away for tony and peter, leaving you on the ground with all the earthly chaos and fear

“you two are the absolute worst, you know that? DAD, PETER, GET BACK DOWN HERE”

“no can do, kid. i—” *cuts off*

“oh great, no service on the space donut, huh? find a damn wifi password and call me back you asshole”

pepper was probably having a heart attack bc the news stations were having a field day but you were one of the only active avengers left, meaning you had to help clean this up

“bruce, we gotta get going”

“what? where?”

“upstate”

patching up the avengers as best as you could to take care of the threat

but you guys always win, this should be a cake walk, right?

wrong.

this was bad, very bad

after a lengthy battle with thanos in wakanda, you had failed. thanos got the stones, he snapped. the world was in ruins. but you didn’t get to see that part

you dusted away

“tell dad i’m sorry and i love him”

tony finally came back to earth hoping to see you, but upon seeing pepper’s face, he knew you were gone

“he did everything he could, tony! he didn’t deserve it!”

she was extremely upset, she saw you like a son of her own

soon, her and tony restarted their life and had a daughter, dad always wondered what it’d be like to have a little girl. it was different, it really was

she was eager to meet you

morgan stole pictures of you to hang up in her room

“when i meet y/n, im gonna give him a big hug! then we’ll have a tea party!”

tony has a picture of you and peter in the kitchen, he misses the two of you, but found comfort in the fact that you may be with each other

an ounce of hope, he had to try something

save his only son, and his other son

when he got to 2012, he was disappointed that he hadn’t let you become an avenger yet because he couldn’t see you here

yada yada he fucked up now he’s in the 70s and he fixed the fuck up and now hes in 2023

and bruce snapped

and you were all brought back and the way you kicked ass was inspiring

tony had to see his son now. right now.

“y/n, dear god! you’re okay! oh, man. i love you so much, kid. i missed you”

“i love you too. and i can’t believe you went to space without me, meanie”

“get over it”

ah, back to old times

peter and you obviously had to team up for this one! come on, what a story to tell!

and then, a snap and the warriors began to fade. you turned around and saw him on his knees

“no...”

you rushed over to where peter already was and tried to hold back tears, to be strong for him

“hey, dad. i’m here. no more missed goodbyes, okay? i’m here.”

you sat beside him and held his hand while the rest of your family made their peace with him and he finally slipped away

“y/n...are you okay?” -peter

“not even a little”

peter was worried about you, but you were worried about peter

mutual worry

meeting morgan was...surprising

pepper forgot to tell you they had a daughter while you were gone

she was so sweet and for the first month you lived at the cabin, she slept in your room

you got NO space

“i love you y/n”

“love you too” *thinking about dad bc she just reminds you of him so much*

“i love you y/n”

“love you too, morgan”

over and over

peter and you had sleepovers a lot, usually at his house bc you were the only one besides ned allowed over bc of all the spider-stuff

ned fanboyed over you

also sleepovers at peter’s were a nice break from being at tony’s cabin where you were constantly reminded that he wasn’t there

“y/n, i’m going to europe for a field trip! it’s gonna be awesome!”

“dude, you’re gonna love it. are you bringing your suit?”

“no, this is my offical vacation. no spider-manning”

“good for you, man!”

peter sent you all the pictures he took on his phone

all of them

Peter-Man: And this one is me and Ned in our crappy hotel room. And here’s the river. And here’s MJ covered in birds, and here’s the airplane, Mr. Harrington fell asleep on me

you had to come to europe once you heard what was going on

happy and you picked up peter and he was a mess

“you gave away dad’s glasses?”

“i think we’re past the point that i am not smart”

“jesus, peter. you should have called me about them. i would have taken them off your hands if you weren’t ready for them”

having to make sure that you guys didn’t get hurt bc this was honestly your guy’s first solo pair-up

there wasnt much backup here

finally, you defeated the evil (who apparently held a very large grudge against you. sorry mister beck) and were able to go back home

“call me if you need anything, pete”

“i will. i promise.”

and the next thing you know...peter’s identity was exposed

“i left him alone for one day!”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedgiant // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @purpleskiesstorm //

[souvenirsofsurgery]

monty’s horror movie list

no one follows me for this but i’m back in my horror movie obsession era so here we go. some of them are good, some of them are bad (but I love them), and some of them are kind of unacceptable, like, morally tbh, I’m sorry

anyway, in no particular order:

mother!: I just watched this one today so it’s on my mind. get ready to be stressed out by deeply uncomfortable social situations for like, the first hour and a half and then genuinely disturbed for the last twenty minutes. i finished this and then sat in my room mouthing “what the fuck, what the fuck”. v good, 10/10

Orphan: What if you adopted a kid but they sucked?

Absentia: I was really impressed, cause this was like a low-budget, crowd funded movie but it’s so so good. This one is about a woman whose husband went missing years ago, a creepy tunnel, and family relationships. V quiet and sad

Possum: Not very much happens in this movie for a long time but the atmosphere is so good, and it’s genuinely creepy. The ending also made me so uncomfortable I almost couldn’t watch it, so there’s that

The Wolf House: Incredible unsettling stop-motion animation, and I’m a sucker for good animation. Makes more sense if you know a little Chilean history, but it’s interesting even without that context

Amityville: It’s About Time: Jumping right from that foreign arthouse film into cheesy schlock, what if a clock made people evil and fucked up?

Hell House LLC: More! Schlock! This is a fake documentary/found footage movie about people trying to make a haunted house in an old hotel... but what if it was haunted for real??

Host (the 2020 shudder original): Unfriended if it was good

Hereditary: Made me sad :( This was one of the first movies to genuinely scare me in a while, and my sister-in-law won’t even let anyone talk to her about it. The story about a family dealing with grief and complicated relationships is also just so interesting to me, this one’s in my top 10

Anything for Jackson: Reverse possession movie: they try to put a spirit IN someone! Hell yeah. So many good, weird ghosts in here, I love some good, weird ghosts

13 Ghosts: (the early 2000s remake) Speaking of good weird ghosts. What if your estranged uncle died and left you a house but there was a ghost jail in the basement? I just rewatched this movie with my little brother and remembered how much I love it. Very schlocky, Matthew Lillard’s acting is off the fucking walls and I love it, why does he act like that??

Kindred: One of the only “is it in her head, or is it real?” movies where I actually really wasn’t sure. It’s about a woman whose husband dies right before she’s about to give birth, so she ends up staying with his family and slowly starts to question their motives

Parents: What if you were just a little kid and you started to suspect your parents were eating people?

Basket Case: I’m not crying over a B movie, I’m not crying over a B movie. In this one, two conjoined twins are surgically separated against their wills, with one of them getting thrown in the trash. As adults, they start hunting down the doctors who did it to them

The Poughkeepsie Tapes: Very depressing fake documentary about a serial killer. Just fucked up and sad

The Taking of Deborah Logan: One of the few found footage movies that I think is actually good. A small documentary crew goes to film a woman and her aging mother who’s suffering from dementia, but they start to think that... huh, maybe this is something a little worse than dementia...

Ju-On: The Grudge (the original Japanese one): this movie just freaks me out, I don’t like how Kayako moves around, I don’t like the sounds she makes, and I don’t like her weird little son

The Ring (the American remake): I saw this movie when I was like 8 bc someone recorded it over the Willy Wonka VHS I’d gotten from the thrift store, and I’ve been fucked up ever since. In it, a woman sees a cursed tape that will make you die in seven days, and has to try and figure out how to save herself before then. GREAT atmosphere, very creepy

Sadako Vs Kayako: What if the girl from the Grudge and the girl from the Ring fought each other? Hell yeah. Plus, love that a ghost hunter comes to help with the situation and he’s got a random mean little girl with him. People are like “why is she here?” and he’s just like “she’s my associate” okay?? Where did she come from??? I’m obsessed with this movie

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: A classic. Rancid, nasty atmosphere, just feels gross, 10/10 

Society: Rich people suck so so bad and are very fucked up

House of 1000 Corpses: I love this movie and I’m sorry, its just some disgusting, campy fun. Like, what if your car broke down the night before halloween and ended up in a house with some terrible (but very entertaining) people?

Oculus: The idea of being a little kid, stuck in the house while your parents are slowly losing it, or potentially being possessed by something evil, is really scary to me. This movie does it so well. It moves back and forth from the main characters going through that in their childhoods, to them as adults, back in the house where it happened, and it’s so so good

Hellraiser: You tell me it’s about the blurry line between pleasure and pain and I watch it. The designs for the cenobites are so good. I like this first one a lot, but I also really enjoy the second one bc the torture dimension looks like MC Escher designed it and it’s sick as hell

The Others: This is one of my favorite, like, classic haunted house kind of movie. A mother keeps her kids inside an old mansion, with all the curtains drawn, because they have an illness that means they can’t go in the sunlight. Very, very creepy

The Blair Witch Project: This one just feels so real, I’ve never seen another found footage movie that reached this level. The actors knocked it out of the park, how am I so freaked out just by a couple of people wandering around the woods? It’s the blueprint, honestly

A Nightmare on Elm Street: You guys know this one, he gets you in your dreams! Probably my favorite of the classic slashers, I love some good old practical effects. my brother actually just bought me the WHOLE box set for my birthday so I’m gonna start working though the ones I haven’t seen yet 

Jennifer’s Body: What if your best friend, who you have a very homoerotic relationship with, started eating dudes? Iconic. No, but seriously, this movie has a lot more going on than you might think 

House of Wax (the 2000s remake): Bad, but so good. It’s really got that uncanny valley thing going on, love that fucked up wax museum

Ichi the Killer: Pretty unacceptable, I can’t in good conscience tell you to watch this movie, but it’s definitely an experience. Very very very violent, like super violent, but in the wildest fucking ways. Basically, what if you were a masochistic Yakuza member with a weird joker mouth and you just wanted a sadistic vigilante to beat the absolute shit out of you? Anyway, I think there’s something wrong with Takashi Miike and probably also me

Black Christmas: This is one of the og og slashers. It’s about girls getting killed in a sorority house, but surprisingly it’s like, not really an exploitation film, and I really like the characters. Good, unsettling killer, too

The Baby: WEIRD. Weird and uncomfortable. I’m not trying to kink shame anyone when I say this, but it’s probably definitely a fetish thing. In it, a social worker takes on the case of a family with an adult son who they’re claiming has the mind of a baby. This one’s probably kind of unacceptable too, to be honest with you

[juststrugglingwithstress]

Siblings in Writing

(edit: this was not supposed to be as mean/angry as it sounded! this is really just one type of sibling relationship, albeit a type of relationship i often see underrepresented in writing. my experiences are not everybody’s experiences, and i’m sorry for the parts of this post that make it sound that way. use whatever kind of sibling relationship you’d like--just make sure your siblings have fought (small or big disagreements) at least once!)

ANGRY INTRO

yall. PLEASE. NOT ALL SIBLINGS CALL EACH OTHER “sissy”, “sis”, OR “bro”.

I DON’T CARE HOW CLOSE THEY ARE. ANY AND EVER SIBLING PAIR HAS FOUGHT. and TWINS?? a lot of twins aren’t as close as you think they are. i know like 3 pairs of twins and usually they are TEARING EACH OTHER’S THROATS OUT.

me and my brother???? we have our nice moments where hes like “hey adele look at this thing i drew, do you like it? i don’t think i did a good job but--”

“i think it’s really cool”

but most of the time???????? he calls me bitch and i insult him TO THE MAX.

PLEASE EVEN IF THE SIBLING PAIR YOU ARE WRITING ABOUT IS CLOSE, THERE IS NO POSSIBLE WAY THEY ARE AS CLOSE AS YOU THINK THEY ARE.

younger siblings do things they would never, ever do with anybody else solely for the purpose of annoying their older sibling. older siblings, at times, will go into homicidal rage.

ALTERNATE GREETINGS:

“what’s up?” “go away” “no”

*silence*

“hey” “hi” *separate ways*

“hey full name other doesn’t usually use” “I literally hate you so much”

older: “NAMEEEEEEE! mom/dad/other wants you!” younger: “fuck off” older: “i’m going to break your nose” younger: “with mom/dad/other standing right there? yeah sure”

younger: “why are you here” older: “cause it’s my room, fuck nugget, get out”

older: “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU IN MY ROOM” younger: “oof someone had a bad day” older: “IM GOING TO KILL YOU”

“i hate your face” “cool, i have food” “give me some”

“NAMMMMMMEEEEEEE! dinner’s ready!” “yeah yeah okay give me a second i’ll be right down”

“why did you have to come here?” “this is,,,, our house,,,,, that i too live in” “yeah but i was hoping you’d get run over by a bus” “why thank you, i was too”

MORE ABOUT TWINS

i dont care if you want your siblings to be close or whatever, do you know how INFURIATING it is to have a twin????? especially an IDENTICAL ONE???

if you have identical twins, they are going to hate each other’s guts for 3/4s (or more) of the time. having somebody who looks just like you, living in the same house as you, probably going to the same school as you, who has the same birthday as you, and most likely sleeps in/super close to the room you sleep in? actual hell. especially if they have a lot of the same interests/friends as you do. this experience is horror in it’s rawest form. nobody wants this. they want the “close, happy twins who do EVERYTHING together and have since they were born!!!”

IMAGINE A SIBLING RELATIONSHIP, BUT THEY LOOK J U S T  L I K E  Y O U AND ARE A L W A Y S  W I T H  Y O U.

remember what i said about hell?

(possibility: if the one identical twin is better at something or more liked than the other, it fuckin sucks. imagine this experience in the school halls: “eva???? what are you wearing???? oh my god, did your mom mix up your clothes with jasmine’s again? i feel sooo bad for you!!”

“actually this is... jasmine. eva has spanish right now.”

“oh. whatever.”

sucks, right?)

forcing that kind of relationship on your fictional twins is both unrealistic and tbh kind of scary.

now, twins who don’t look the same. everything i just said, but minus the appearance. yeah. i can see the shitshow now!

THE YOUNGER SIBLING DILEMMA

coming from an older sibling, younger siblings are satan.

they will:

annoy the older sibling at all costs

never do anything the older sibling says

“why does SHE/HE/THEY get to be in charge!!!!” whines the sibling who is literally four years younger and still can’t spell phone without replacing the “ph” with “f”

snitchin little bitches

older sibling: *flicks younger lightly on arm* younger sibling, tears of lies and deceit running down their face while they grin, knowing they will be believed: MOOOOOOOM NAME PUNCHED MEEEEEEEEEE

eat all the sweets

then they will blame it on the older sibling

literally, they will blame anything on the older sibling

watches an r-rated move -> name said it was alright!!!! (i most certainly DID NOT)

“MOOOOOOOOOOM NAME ISNT LETTING ME HANG OUT WITH HER FRIEEEEEENDDDDDDSSS” “YOU HAVE COME WITH US 16 TIMES THIS WEEK”

admittedly, they can be cool 1/324532 of the time. make sure to include these cool moments once in a blue moon bc sadly they do happen

POSSIBLY will feel like older gets more attention sometimes

DEFFINETLY feels like the older gets more freedom

OLDER SIBLINGS

i, as an older sibling, am biased. ill do my best tho

insults the younger sibling (SOMETIMES unfairly actually a lot unfairly)

ill add this to younger in a moment but on the flipside the younger sibling probably feels like the OLDER sibling gets more attention instead

takes out problems on sibling/family (to be fair when younger grows up they do this too)

“pshhhhhhhh, TRUST me, you do NOT want a sibling”

*to friend* “i literally hate him/her/them/other so much. i would kill him/her/them/other if i had the chance” “no you wouldn’t” “are you sure”

“nah man, you can’t talk shit about him/her/them/other, only I can talk shit about my sibling” *immediate fist fight/verbal decimation*

if a younger child is talking shit, they will be BLACKLISTED AND DESTROYED. probably more than is fair.

probably has hurt the younger sibling pretty badly at some point, most likely by accident but if it doesnt fit you storyline,,,, i have done despicable things

underestimates their strength when dealing with younger sibling

“WHY WONT YOU JUST FUCKING LISTEN TO ME” “YOURE NOT MOM” “YEAH BUT MOM PUT ME IN CHARGE DIPSHIT”

“i am not his/her/their/other parent, why do i have to do this”

younger sibling, to older: “son of a bitch” “we literally have the same mother”

“I SWEAR TO GOD CAN YOU EVEN DRESS YOURSELF???? CAN YOU???? CAN YOU????????????”

“haha ur scared of the daaaaaarrrrrrrk” older says, as their brain is in a panic about whether or not there’s a serial killer in the dark room waiting to kill them

so yeah. i have so many metas i need to write about so many things

[xxdragonwriterxx]

🔥Now & Forever🔥

A/N: RIGHT HERE, STEP RIGHT UP FOR SOME ANGSTY SHIT PEOPLE, BC I APPARENTLY HATE MY OWN HEART. Okay, it’s not all angsty, it gets fluffier towards the end but this one is pretty heavy so be prepared! Inspired by the absolutely fantastic @ackermans-freedom-inc​! Go check out their stories if you haven’t already, they are definitely one of my favorites and they are super talented, hence why I was inspired to write this based on one of their fics! Enjoy!

🐉 Song Recommendation: “Tongues & Teeth” By: The Crane Wives 🐉

~~~

(Y/N) suppressed her giggles behind her hand as Levi pressed more kisses to her stomach, humming in contentment as he nuzzled her skin. Shocked wouldn’t even begin to describe how she was feeling, watching her normally stoic husband act so soft. He had always lowered his walls around her, his wife, the one person he felt comfortable being vulnerable around, but he had never shown this much emotion. It was like she was looking at a whole new man, a smile spreading across her lips until they ached as pride filled her chest at how far he had come.

When (Y/N) had first met Levi all those years ago, he was a thug. A criminal who couldn’t have been more than eighteen years old, fighting to survive in a world that had spat on him from day one. She had been out walking her dog that day, enjoying the cool autumn breeze as she had rewarded herself with a couple of hours to relax after acing an exam she had taken earlier that morning. It was her dog that had noticed him first, a handsome black labrador she called Caspian, his ears perked up and a low growl in his throat as the boy who looked to be around her age had stalked towards them, constantly checking over his shoulder as the sirens from distant police cars had wailed louder and louder.

(Y/N) had noticed the look of panic on the boy’s face when the cars had rounded the corner, his face paling even more than it already had been. She had been able to tell he was probably dangerous, had obviously done something illegal, but something about the fear in his expression had twisted her insides more than the knife he could have possibly had and used against her ever would. Making her decision, (Y/N) hadn’t hesitated when he sped by, trying to outrun the cars before they saw him. She had reached out and grabbed his arm, spinning him away from the road and grabbing his coat, simultaneously handing him Caspian’s leash.

“Hey babe, I’m cold, could I borrow your jacket? Thanks!”

She had been impressed that despite his shock, he had managed to shake it off and nod woodenly, playing the part as he had grabbed ahold of Caspian’s leash and shrugged off the rest of his jacket. The cars had sped by, completely ignoring the couple on the sidewalk as (Y/N) had slipped into his jacket and leaned into his body, humming happily and thanking him with a sappy look on her face. It had only been when the police had rounded the corner that she had let him go, grabbing her dog back from him but keeping his jacket draped over her shoulders.

“Why did you do that?”

“You just looked like you needed a break.”

Ever since then, the pair had been inseparable, meeting together more and more until they eventually confessed to each other. Afterwards, (Y/N) helped build Levi up, allowing him to actually make a life for himself and giving him the chance to open up when the emotions he had were too intense for his mask to hide. He was lucky he had so many skills from his time on the streets, allowing (Y/N) to give genuine recommendations to jobs for Levi, until he finally got hired at a restaurant as a waiter despite his complete lack of job experience.

From there, he was able to climb his way to the top, earning his own money and scraping together any job experience he could get until he was finally able to get the education he needed at a reputable university, getting a degree in business and marketing before starting his own company. (Y/N) had continued with her own degree, working to become a criminologist so she could continue to help people just like Levi. Despite their busy lives  and completely different worlds, Levi had never forgotten the girl who had given him his start in life and (Y/N) had never forgotten the bad boy who never left her bored or neglected, life always an adventure when she was with Levi, the two getting married a few years after they both had stable jobs working for their respective careers.

More kisses fluttering against her skin brought her out of her thoughts, another smile flashing on her face as she looked down to see Levi pressing his face against her abdomen, his arms looped around her waist as she leaned back into the headboard of their bed.

“Levi,” (Y/N) giggled when he started murmuring soft words of love to her stomach. “There isn’t even anything there yet, not really, it’s only been a few weeks.”

“I know,” Levi said against her still flat stomach, his husky words sending sparks along her spine. “But it’s still something. I just…, I don’t know, I guess I’m just happy to finally have a family.”

(Y/N) was a pile of goo at his sheepish confession, running her fingers through his soft raven locks as she sighed happily. “I’m really excited too, Levi, and I’m happy you’re happy.”

“Oh, I am,” Levi purred, making (Y/N) shift as his deep voice made her core melt. “I’m scared, really scared of fucking this up, or something going wrong, but I’m really happy. Thank you.”

(Y/N) leaned down and he met her half way to give her a warm kiss, her fingers lightly scratching his scalp as he sat up more to better tangle his tongue with hers. Her soft laugh at his enthusiasm quickly turned into a choked out moan, her hands tightening in his hair as he crawled to his knees, pressing her back against the headboard.

“Hmm? What’s this?” (Y/N) asked coyly, breaking the kiss and using one hand to run her fingers down his chest, teasing just shy of his groin before trailing them back up, smiling at the half-hearted glare he threw her.

“I was just thinking…” Levi murmured, leaning in for another kiss. “That I should show some appreciation for my beautiful wife,” he kissed her again. “A reward for this wonderful gift she has given me.”

“Oh?” (Y/N) said breathily. “And what if I wanted to give my amazing husband a reward for all of his hard work? I didn’t create this baby on my own, you know.”

Levi gave a low, keening moan at the feeling of her sucking on a spot just below his ear, closing his eyes and gripping her waist tighter when she started circling her finger around the arousal growing in his pants.

“I think,” he panted. “I have a solution that will work for both of us.”

“Oh yeah?” (Y/N) asked cheekily, biting her lip when she felt his hands leave her waist to creep under her shirt, his rough, warm palms cupping her soft breasts. “Why don’t you show me what it is?”

Levi gave a wicked smile. “With pleasure.”

__________________________

Levi didn’t know what time it was, only that it was late, going by the darkness that still filled their room despite the opened shades, but he found he didn’t even have time to think about it as he felt the cool edge of a blade against his throat. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know what it was, the feeling ingrained in him from his days as an orphaned boy on the streets. His entire body froze but he kept his eyes closed, not wanting to give his attacker any further reason to sink the blade deeper into his throat. He felt a few tiny drops of blood seep from where the knife rested against his skin, and resisted swallowing to keep from rubbing against the sharp edge.

Without thinking, his left hand immediately flew out to lay across (Y/N)’s body, not caring about anything but protecting his wife to the best of his ability, even with a knife to his throat. While he’d like to avoid it, he knew he’d gladly die to save her, even if that meant never getting to meet the little bundle of joy he had been eagerly waiting for ever since (Y/N) had told him, tears in her eyes while she beamed at him.

“Thought you could keep me pinned down forever, huh?”

That voice, filled with a seething fire, coupled with the feeling of his arm hitting nothing but thin air and empty sheets hit him simultaneously, his eyes flying open to see the face of his wife hovering over him, one hand holding the knife to his throat while the other was holding a sheet against her body, hiding her naked form.

“(Y/N)? What the hell?” Levi managed to spit out, trying to wrap his brain around the situation.

“What? Didn’t think I was strong enough to fool you? I can’t remember what happened last night, but that doesn’t mean I’m too confused to defend myself.”

“Defend yourself? (Y/N), what are you talking about? Defend yourself from who? Me? I’m your husband, why would I-”

“You are not my husband, I’m not married. Don’t try to fool me with some cheap ass tricks. Who the fuck do you think you are?”

Levi flinched at the pure hatred in her voice, but forced himself to stay calm. Something was obviously wrong, but he wasn’t going to get any answers by panicking.

“(Y/N), it’s me, damn it! It’s Levi! We’ve known each other since we were teenagers, we’ve been married for four years and we are having-”

“I said to stop pulling that cheap shit on me!” (Y/N) screamed at him, her teeth gritted as she pressed the knife ever closer to his throat. Levi’s breath hitched as he fought the tears back, but he was fighting a losing battle. What was going on? Why was she acting like this? They had had their fights just like any other couple, but she had never screamed at him like this, like she loathed him with every fiber of her being.

“It’s not a trick, (Y/N), I love you!”

“You can’t love someone you pulled out of a bar for a quick fuck,” (Y/N) spat. “Was that what happened? Or did you break into my house and knock me out when I wasn’t looking? Or did you drug me? Get me to trust you just enough to drink something you gave me before dragging me to your house to use as you please?”

“(Y/N), I would never use you-”

“Then what the hell do you suggest happened!?” (Y/N) shouted, her voice cracking a little as she spoke. “I’m not an idiot, I can feel the aching between my legs, the bites on my neck, the dried spend on my inner thighs. Not to mention, I woke up naked. What? You just wanted to bring me to your bed, strip me down, and then watch me sleep? You had no desire for sex at all when you brought a strange, unconscious woman into your house and ripped her clothes off?”

Her voice was starting to shake now, her breathing heavy and tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. She still had that fiery look, like she wanted to kill him, but she was starting to lose her composure. Her whole body shook, and she had to keep readjusting her grip on the sheet she held to her naked form, the cloth slipping from the sweat that was starting to coat her palms.

“You can lie all you want, make up this bullshit about how we’re happily married and I’m just delusional, but I won’t fall for it. You’re a fucking monster, you know that? I didn’t ask for this, to be taken advantage of when I was incapable of making my own decisions or protecting myself. If I wouldn’t go to jail for it, I’d send you back to the hell you came from right now,” (Y/N) pressed the blade slightly deeper into his skin as she spoke, her eyes glittering with fury and a desperate sadness.

But no matter how far she sank that knife into him, it was the words she spoke that stabbed him deeper, sinking into his heart and twisting it until he almost couldn’t contain the will to cry out. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably now, his expression displaying his need for a solution, anything to make this nightmare end. Not just for himself, but for (Y/N). He absolutely loathed the idea of her thinking he’d ever do anything to her that she was uncomfortable with, but he hated the idea of her thinking it was real more. If she truly believed he had assaulted her, used her for himself, that could prove to be more traumatic than anything he was dealing with currently.

“(Y/N), I-”

“How the fuck do you know my name? You keep saying it, did I tell you before I was knocked out?”

“(Y/N), listen, you were never knocked out! I know your name because I’m your husband! You have to believe me! I would never hurt you, never!”

“I warned you,” (Y/N) said, leaning so close to him he could feel her breath hitting his face, her fingers twitching on the handle of the knife as if she were fighting the urge to slide it across his throat and end this once and for all. “Not to tell me this fucking story all over again. I would remember if I was married, that’s not something you just forget overnight. I don’t really care about what happened to lead up to this, the point is that you did what you did, and now you’re going to pay for it.”

Levi didn’t know what was going on, but he knew he had to do something before things got even worse. Swallowing the bile that rose in his throat at the thought of what he was going to have to do, Levi closed his eyes and brought his knee up, hitting her ass and sending her flying forward. Tilting his neck to avoid the bite of the blade, he used her state of unbalance to knock her off of him, flying out of bed and slamming the door to their bedroom behind him. He held the door closed as she pulled and pounded against it, whimpering quietly with every scream of hatred she spewed at him. Reaching over, he managed to grab a nearby chair and used it to jam the door shut, confident she couldn’t get out. He thought about the windows but knew she wouldn’t be able to escape through them, their bedroom on the top floor of their house too high off the ground for her to jump or even climb down safely.

His hands were shaking as he quickly dialed the numbers of his two closest friends, not even apologizing for the late hour as he quickly explained the situation to both of them. He hoped that with Hanji’s medical experience as a doctor and Erwin’s experience as a detective they would be able to shed some light on what could possibly be going on with his beloved wife. Hanging up at their promises to come immediately, Levi slumped against the door to their bedroom, his head in his hands as he finally let himself cry.

___________________________

Transient Global Amnesia. Levi stopped breathing as Hanji gently placed a hand on his shoulder, sitting him down in a nearby chair. It was nothing more than a sudden, spontaneous bout of amnesia that wasn’t triggered by a stroke or neurological disorder. There was no real cure for it and while it tended to only be temporary, that wasn’t always the case. He swallowed hard, fighting the urge to pass out.

“How is she?”

“She’s… coping.”

Levi visibly cringed at Hanji’s words, and while the friend part of the brunette almost immediately regretted telling him, the doctor part of her knew he needed to know the truth. At the moment, (Y/N) did not remember anything about Levi, or where she was, or her relationship to him. They hadn’t even told her about the baby yet, too concerned she’d do something rash if she found out before she had been calmed down.

“What is she doing now?” Levi asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

“Erwin is with her right now. He’s trying to convince her that the neighbors heard a commotion and called him to investigate, which led to your “arrest” and that we are here to save her.”

Levi snapped his head up, his eyes furious and his mouth opening to speak when Hanji interrupted him.

“I know what you’re going to say, Levi, and don’t worry, we have a script planned to prove your innocence should her amnesia continue so she doesn’t continue to think you took advantage of her. But this is the only thing we could think of that would let us get close to her without her thinking we were “in league” with you. Do you understand? We didn’t want to paint you in a bad light, but we had to if we wanted to keep her from hurting you or herself.” 

Hanji avoided bringing up the idea of the baby getting hurt too, knowing that would just pour more salt on the wound. Levi wasn’t stupid, it was clear he was very aware of the fragile situation they were all in at the moment, it wouldn’t help to make him even more stressed with information he already knew.

Levi was quiet for a moment but eventually nodded, closing his eyes and placing his head on his fist, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair, trying to process everything he was being told without breaking down. Hanji took a deep breath, preparing for the worst.

“And um…, I’ve organized everything so that (Y/N) will come to live with me for a while. I want to keep an eye on her and it’s obvious she can’t really stay here.”

To her surprise, Levi just nodded, letting loose a silent sob that Hanji pretended not to hear, for his benefit. When his body started to shake, she placed her hand on his shoulder again, using her other hand to lift his chin up so she could look into his eyes. Her heart clenched when she saw the pain and despair swirling there, her normally stoic best friend showing more vulnerability than she had ever seen him display for anyone other than the woman who currently thought he was a monster.

“Listen, Levi. I promise you right now, both as a friend and as a doctor, that I will do everything in my power to make sure everything goes back to normal. I can’t promise that it will, but I do promise that I will work until I die trying, alright? You may feel like the world is against you right now, but you are not alone.”

Levi closed his eyes and nodded, murmuring his quiet thanks as Hanji made to leave the room, her phone pinging with Erwin’s text saying he finally got her calm enough to transport. “Make sure to stay in here until we are gone, okay Levi?”

Levi didn’t respond as Hanji left the room, only sitting with his head pressed against his fist as he listened to the sounds of Erwin leading (Y/N) to Hanji’s car, each murmur of comfort from his best friends to his wife like another dagger to his bleeding heart.

_______________________

“(Y/N)? Are you okay in there?” (Y/N) heard Hanji call from behind the bathroom door. Closing her eyes, (Y/N) answered that she was fine, too busy with fighting another wave of nausea to formulate the words necessary to convey that she was indeed, not fine.

When she finally felt the roiling in her stomach calm down, (Y/N) flushed the toilet and washed her mouth out, nearly vomiting again just from the taste on her tongue. When she was finally certain that she could close her mouth without gagging, (Y/N) took a deep breath and sat on the now closed toilet lid, trying not to cry.

Hanji had been unbelievably kind and supportive, letting her stay at her house until she got better, using her medical skills to check her over in her comfortable living room rather than in the daunting, harsh environment of a hospital. She had let (Y/N) borrow her guest room and had provided her with any clothes she had needed during her stay. She felt…, comfortable. Safe. But she couldn’t deny that she was still shaken after her whole ordeal with the raven-haired man.

While it was clear he had known her name, she didn��t know his; didn’t know anything about him other than he had assaulted her and been taken into police custody for it. While part of her was viciously happy at the thought of him behind bars, another more confusing part of her was screaming at her to help him, almost as if something inside her knew him in a way the rest of her didn’t. She quickly shook off the feeling, focusing on the satisfaction of knowing he was getting a just punishment for his actions, hoping she’d be the last in what she assumed was a string of his victims.

But even when she was being taken care of by a nice, talented doctor, and her captor was being sent to jail, and she had a handsome detective on standby to protect her at a moment’s notice until she was cleared by Hanji to go home, the incident still made her want to scream, to cry, to curl into a ball and forget everything. She could only find some semblance of comfort from the thought that she couldn’t remember the assault, too drugged out or unconscious to remember any of what had happened that night.

But a week and a half had passed since then, and with each day of consistent vomiting, and hormone changes, and random food cravings, (Y/N) had the horrible suspicion that she was pregnant. Again, a strange part of her felt warm and tingly at the thought, as if she had planned for this, making her groan in pain and frustration. She really hoped she didn’t have some resemblance of Stockholm Syndrome, his looks and charisma making her feel as if she were in love with him despite what he had done to her.

Another knock sounded on the door, followed by Hanji’s concerned voice. “Are you sure, you’re alright, (Y/N)? I’m worried about you, hun.”

“I’m coming,” (Y/N) said, her lip twitching at the concern in Hanji’s voice. She couldn’t express her appreciation for the surprisingly energetic woman, how sweet she was without pitying her, how gentle she was without treating her as if she were made of glass.

Washing her hands quickly, (Y/N) unlocked the door and joined Hanji in the kitchen where she had made her some pancakes with bacon, no eggs at (Y/N)’s insistence after the smell of them on the first day had sent her running to the bathroom.

“Thanks again, Doctor Zoe,” (Y/N) said when the woman forked the bacon onto her plate, the doctor waving her hand dismissively at her gratitude.

“It’s really no problem, (Y/N). It’s my job to take care of you to the best of my ability and that’s what I’m going to do. You’ve been through a lot, you deserve to feel comfortable and relaxed,” Hanji said, trying not to cringe at the way her once best friend called her name so formally. It wasn’t a lie, she had been through a lot, it just wasn’t what she knew (Y/N) was thinking.

The thought made Hanji want to cry, knowing how much it was hurting both of them. She had met with Levi the other day under the guise of getting more groceries, wanting to check on him as both a friend and a doctor, only to find a wreck of the once proud man she knew. She had come into his home, an alarm bell going off in her head when she noticed he hadn’t cleaned in days. Finding him on the couch, messy and hunched over, his clothes wrinkled and his hair a mess as he stared at a photo of the two of them horseback riding together, had almost broken her. She had relented a little, giving him a hug despite the grunt of annoyance he gave, a watery smile forming on her lips as he still managed to show his disdain for her hugs, but it had quickly disappeared when he started sobbing quietly, his shaking shoulders telling her before his tears did.

Shaking her head a little, Hanji pushed the image to the back of her mind, using it to fuel her determination to get (Y/N)’s memories back rather than letting her depression take over. She had to do this, for both of them, no matter what.

“Hey, Doctor Zoe,” (Y/N)’s quiet voice snapped Hanji out of her musings, prompting her to look around the corner from where she had been cleaning the kitchen to look at her patient, fighting the tears back at how weak she looked. So different from the best friend she had known and lost.

“Yes, (Y/N), what is it? Are you hurting somewhere?”

“Doctor Zoe…, I think I might be pregnant.”

Hanji froze, her eyes widening. 

Shit. Shit. 

Hanji still hadn’t told her, had been too afraid to. She hadn’t even known how. How do you even begin to explain to a person that they were pregnant with a baby they had planned for and consciously made with a person they now believed to be a sexual predator? She had spent days mulling over how best to explain it to her, but now all of that was thrown out the window. She had been so focused on everything else, she hadn’t even considered the fact that (Y/N) might figure it out for herself.

(Y/N) noted the look on Hanji’s face, her eyes narrowing. Her lips parted for a moment, shock flying across her face before she schooled her expression, her eyes hard. “Doctor Zoe…, you know, don’t you? I need you to tell me the truth.”

Hanji swallowed hard and made her way slowly over to the table, (Y/N) standing up to meet her half way, her gaze never leaving her doctor’s face.

“Doctor Zoe, tell me right now. Am I pregnant with that monster’s child?”

____________________________

Hanji took a deep breath as Erwin parked the car in front of Levi’s house, a shuddering sigh passing through the detective as well.

“Thank you for being here, Erwin,” Hanji whispered, unrestrained tears streaming down her face.

“It’s no problem, none at all. I know you’re going to need some serious help with this one.”

Hanji hummed noncommittally, her brain screaming at her to turn around, to drive away, to hide in a dark corner and cry. She had no idea what to expect other than sheer chaos, but she knew she had to do this. If she didn’t do this now, she knew nothing could compare to the sorrow he would feel later.

“Let’s go,” Erwin said, placing a hand on her shoulder, his icy blue gaze meeting her chocolaty brown ones, his anguish apparent.

Hanji nodded, placing her hand over Erwin’s before they both slid out of the car, rejoining to hold each other’s hands, supporting each other so they could support their hurting friend, as they made their way to the door.

Entering without knocking, knowing it was unlocked, Erwin and Hanji didn’t have to look to know where to find Levi, heading straight for the living room where he had spent the past week and a half, never gaining the strength nor the desire to go anywhere near their bedroom. They found him looking blankly out the window, not even turning around when they entered the room.

“Any news?” Levi asked, his voice devoid of emotion.

“Actually, yes,” Erwin sighed.

“Really!? What is it!?” Levi suddenly perked up, racing over to his friends, his eyes wild as he looked between them, not daring to let hope sing in his veins in case it wasn’t the news he was looking for. After a moment, he was glad he didn’t.

“Levi,” Hanji choked out, tears springing to her eyes as she spoke. “She found out about the baby, but her memories still aren’t back to normal. She…, she wants to… she wants to terminate it.”

Levi felt the world shift beneath his feet. Stumbling back, his chest was heaving and his heart was screaming as his body sagged against the wall.

“No…, no, no, no!” Levi whispered over and over again, shaking his head. Not their baby, not the bundle of joy they had been trying for for so long, not the light that had surprised them a month ago with their presence, making Levi and (Y/N) feel the happiest they had ever felt. “No, no, no, no…”

Hanji hugged herself, hanging her head and ignoring when her glasses clattered to the floor, not even checking for broken lenses like she usually did when they came off her face. “A-And she said that…, she said that I’m the only one she trusts to do it…,” Hanji gasped, tears streaming down her face in waterfalls.

Looking up, she caught Levi’s eye, his expression unreadable as she watched him. The intensity and uncertainty in his gaze broke the normally energetic, steadfast woman, Hanji sinking to her knees as she sobbed into her hands.

“Levi, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry! I don’t want to do this, I don’t want to take this from either of you, but I don’t know what else to do! I know that if I don’t agree to it that she’ll find someone else, someone who doesn’t know the situation and won’t hesitate to perform the procedure. I’ve told her for now that I have to think about it since I don’t do those procedures often and I want a full health report back from her psychologist, but I can only put it off for so long,” Hanji sobbed, leaning into Erwin when he kneeled down to hold her close, petting her hair and making soft cooing sounds. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t have a problem with it, it’s the woman’s choice, it’s her body, but this situation is so fucked up! I know this isn’t what (Y/N) wants because she made this baby with the man she loves, her husband, and if she gets her memories back and finds out what I did to her-”

“Hanji,” Levi’s voice snapped her out of her ramblings, shocked to find Levi kneeling in front of her, his hand titling her chin up gently. “This isn’t your fault. Thank you for everything you’ve done in taking care of her…, and me.” 

Levi looked away, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat. Reaching up with his free hand, he touched the barely noticeable mark that was on his neck from when she had cut him. 

“I want you to know that it’s okay. You’re right, this situation is fucked up, but we’ve been backed into a corner. As much as I hate it, as much as it will fucking kill me to have this happen, I will not force her to go through with something she doesn’t want. Especially something of this magnitude. We can wait for her memories to come back, keep trying harder to help her, but if they haven’t returned by the time her psychologist reports come back as sound…,” Levi couldn’t bring himself to say it, but his friends knew what he meant.

Leaning forward, Erwin and Hanji opened their arms and brought Levi in close, the raven-haired man tensing for a moment before melting into their comforting hold. All three of them sat on the floor of Levi’s living room, the dying sun staining the wood red as they cried, holding each other tightly as they silently begged for things to finally get better.

_____________________________

(Y/N) gave a wry smile as Hanji handed over the reports she had gotten in the mail, all of them from the psychologist that had carefully examined (Y/N) after her incident. While most of them had random information about therapists in the area and available medications from trauma, the page she really focused on was the paper that declared her mentally stable, even after such a traumatizing event. She would still need to heal, but she had been deemed mentally and emotionally capable enough to make her own decisions.

(Y/N) subconsciously placed a hand over the very slight swell of her stomach, letting out a sigh as she looked up at Hanji. “Thank you Doctor Zoe, for everything.”

Hanji merely nodded, not trusting herself to speak as she shook (Y/N)’s hand, as if she hadn’t spent years hanging out with (Y/N), going out to bars together, and taking some of their general education classes together when they first started college. As if she hadn’t gone to (Y/N)’s wedding and gotten drunk off her ass at the reception, giving one of the most hilarious and simultaneously heartfelt speeches she had ever given, much to (Y/N)’s entertainment and Levi’s embarrassment.

Hanji couldn't stop it then, the tears springing to her eyes before she could hold them back. She could see (Y/N) tilting her head in confusion, could see her eyes widening in alarm through her blurred vision, but she didn’t have the ability to explain, her throat closing up.

Before (Y/N) could even ask what was wrong, Hanji launched herself at the poor girl, ignoring her squeak of surprise as she held her close, sobbing into her shoulder. “(Y/N), I’m so sorry, I am so so sorry…,”

“What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” (Y/N) asked incredulously, only making Hanji cry harder.

“Hey.” 

Hanji opened her eyes at (Y/N)’s soft voice, blinking at the sight of her once closest friend leaning down in front of her, holding her face in her palms. “Why are you crying?”

Hanji sniffled and managed to swallow the lump in her throat, forcing the words out. “I just…, I know this will sound strange but,” Hanji sighed. “I love you, (Y/N), and I’m going to miss you.”

It was like (Y/N) was struck by lightning, the words clanging through her, her entire body tingling as she froze. Everything. She felt, heard, saw, everything. She remembered. She remembered going to college with Hanji, hanging out with her on the weekends as they studied together and teased each other about their various crushes. She remembered meeting Erwin when Hanji brought him around for dinner one night after she had been pulled over by him on the way to (Y/N)’s house, the dazed cop not expecting to get a date and a free meal out of giving someone a speeding ticket. 

And she remembered Levi. Her beloved husband. She remembered meeting him, getting to know him, going on dates together, their wedding, and of course, the day she told him about her pregnancy, the way he had smiled the widest she had ever seen, tears in his eyes as he crushed her to him, thanking her over and over again for giving him the family he never had as she beamed bright enough to rival the sun.

Hanji had felt (Y/N) stiffen, heard the gasp that  had ripped from her throat and quickly released her, berating herself for letting her emotions get in the way of her logic. (Y/N) still had no idea who she was, it was as if a near stranger had given her a hug and claimed they loved her. Of course she was freaked out, and after everything she was already dealing with, this was the last thing she needed.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry, that was a really unprofessional thing to do, I know you’re probably confused and-”

Hanji was cut off by the feeling of (Y/N) wrapping her arms around the doctor’s middle and holding her close. Hanji’s eyes were wide and she held her breath, hardly daring to hope. “(Y/N)?”

“Hanji, it’s me, I remember! I remember everything!”

“Y-You do!?”

“I do,” (Y/N) said, lifting her head and looking up at her best friend, her eyes shining brightly with love and recognition.

“(Y/N)! YOU’RE FINALLY BACK!” Hanji screeched, hugging her friend back tightly, making sure to stay aware of her slightly extended belly.

“I’m back,” (Y/N) murmured, rubbing her face into Hanji’s jacket, relishing in the  feeling of knowing her best friend again.

“How?” Hanji asked in awe, her eyes shining with fresh tears of relief and joy.

“Your words! When you said, ‘I know this will sound strange, but I love you’, it snapped me out of it! Those were the words Levi used almost exactly to confess to me when he finally realized he felt something more for me than just friendship,” (Y/N) said, beaming brightly.

“I’m so glad you’re back, (Y/N), I missed you so- OH MY GOD, LEVI!” Hanji suddenly screamed. “He doesn’t know yet! We have to go tell him right now!”

(Y/N) immediately pushed away from Hanji, having completely forgotten in her moment of clarity and excitement that Levi was still alone at their house, had been for two weeks.  Scrambling to the car, Hanji wasted no time in throwing the car into reverse before tearing out onto the road, calling Erwin as they drove.

____________________________

Levi was staring out the window when he heard his door explode open, causing him to glance back despite the fog that rested over his mind and body. He figured maybe Hanji had finished with the procedure early and was coming to console him, or maybe it was Erwin, coming to make sure he didn’t do anything brash.

When he turned, he found he was partly right, his two best friends standing in the entryway to his living room, but for the first time in weeks, they had silly grins on their faces, their eyes bright with joy and tears of relief.

“LEVI!” Hanji screamed. “(Y/N), she remembered! She remembers everything! (Y/N) is back!”

Levi’s eyes widened and his body tightened, waiting for this to just be some sick dream. His breath caught and he struggled to get the words out, to ask for the confirmation he needed, to make sure what they were telling him was true.

“Levi!?”

That voice. Full of concern and desperation and-

Love.

He hadn’t heard her voice sound like that in so long, and his body went weak at the sound of it. “(Y/N)!?” His voice was strained with his desperation to see her.

“Levi!”

Tears immediately sprang to his eyes when his wife finally rounded the corner, her own eyes widening at the sight of him. Letting out a strangled cry, (Y/N) bolted at him, Levi rushing to meet her head on, before crushing her to him, his arms wrapping around her in a way that told her he was never letting go.

They were both sobbing, Levi crying into her hair as she cried against his chest, scrunching the fabric of his shirt in her fists. Levi was quieter than (Y/N) in his relief, but filled with no less emotion, his heart finally being pieced back together at the feeling of his beloved wife back in his arms again.

“Levi, Levi, oh gods, Levi,” (Y/N) whispered over and over again between sobs. “I am so fucking sorry for everything I put you through, for everything I said, none of it was true, I promise. I don’t know what happened but I remember you now, and I love you and I missed you so much. I am so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Levi muttered into her hair, his deep voice calming her fried nerves. “It wasn’t your fault, I’m here now, and I’m never letting you go again, do you understand me? I love you so fucking much, baby.”

(Y/N) buried her face even deeper into his shirt, her body shaking against his in her relief as Levi murmured “I’ve got you,” repeatedly, gently rocking her from side to side. Hanji and Erwin watched for a moment before leaving to give the couple some privacy.

“Is the baby okay?” Levi asked after a while, pulling away only to check her all over, his hands gently feeling over her skin with featherlight touches.

“Yes, yes, the baby is fine,” (Y/N) said, a tiny bit of bitterness in her voice as she remembered what she had asked Hanji to do before her memories came back. “I can’t believe I almost-”

“Shhh, don’t think that way. You had every reason to want to when you were in that situation, but you’re here now and we are all safe.”

Levi brought her back into a tight hug, the two of them sinking down onto the couch together, (Y/N) shifting to curl up in his lap.

“I love you, Levi, I love you so much. I’m sorry I ever called you a monster, and said those horrible things about you, and t-tried to c-cut you…,”

“(Y/N), remember what I said? It wasn’t your fault. You can’t have any regrets, alright? I’m okay, you’re okay, the baby is okay, and we are all together now. I’ve got you, sweetheart, I’ve got you both, now and forever.”

[fandomsnfluff]

Scenario 11 with sentence starter 5, with MC/reader and literally anyone you want I just think this is cute ~

no problem anon!! i chose mc and levi bc our otaku boyo needs more tickles 🥺

tickle prompts/scenarios

5: “Keep your arms up!” 11: tickle games

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

"Levi! Can I show you this really cool game that I made up?”

You burst into the third-born’s room rather unprompted, and he nearly jumped out of his gaming chair, turning around to meet your gaze with an annoyed glare.

“Does it have to be now?” he sighed. “I was about to start the boss for this set of levels.”

“Well, it seems like I came at a good time!”

He truly didn’t seem amused with you right now. But you giggled, continuing.

“It may seem a bit strange at first,” you introduced. “But at the same time, it can be a fun and easy way to bond with your friends and family. Which is why I made this!”

You held out your hand to show him a nine-sided cube that you called a die, and one that you folded yourself. Now he seemed interested; he reached forward to grab it and inspect it for himself. “Did you fold this yourself?”

“Yep! Asmo helped me.”

“Huh...” Levi turned the dye around in his hands a few times. As he observed what was in his hands, he started to frown, looking genuinely confused, before turning to you. “Why are there body parts written on all the sides?”

“That’s where the nature of the game comes in! The reason it’s a bonding exercise slash game slash whatever you want to call it is because you have to tickle the person in the spot on the dye that’s facing up after rolling it.”

Levi’s eyes widened, and you could have sworn you saw him flinch at the idea of the game involving tickling. You remembered Mammon telling you about how ticklish his younger brother was, and one evening, when you both were feeling particularly sneaky, decided to gang up on the poor otaku and tickle him until he cried. That’s when you discovered how ticklish he was, and, naturally, you decided to try it out on him first. You wanted to bask in the glory of getting to know about the brother which seemed to be the most ticklish demon, and alone, of course.

“Wh-why tickling, though...?” he asked, somewhat off-handedly.

“Because it can be a bonding activity.” Then you frowned, not sure if it was such a good idea to go ahead with this. “If you’re not interested, I can always--”

“No!” Levi blinked, a bit surprised at his own sudden outburst. He then cleared his throat and looked you in the eye. “I’ll try it out with you.”

“Okay, sweet! Basically, we have to set a timer for ten seconds while we tickle the person in the place that the die suggests. You can do this for as many rounds as you want, as long as you keep track of the amount of time the person being tickled can go without laughing. But I think for a test run we should only do one round, because you’re in the middle of a game. But do be warned, though, because the person who loses, a.k.a. the person who laughs the most according to the recorded seconds, has to undergo a special kind of punishment.”

You heard and saw Levi gulp, and you weren’t sure if he was paying attention to everything that you had just said, only the part about there being a special punishment. He blinked a few times before urging you on. “...Like?”

You smirked, half to yourself, suddenly thinking of the perfect victory strategy. It was really mostly to mess with Levi, but it would still just be fun nonetheless. “You can do whatever you want, but in this case, the loser has to get tickled.”

Levi blinked, flinching at your suggestion, and his gasp was just audible enough for you to hear. You had to fight back your laughter; you couldn’t help but tease him with his ultimate weakness. It was no secret that the demon was extremely ticklish, and you were more than happy to exploit this from him in any way you could. “B-but that’s already the point of the game, isn’t it?!”

“Right. But it would be a rather fitting punishment because of the nature of the game, no? And it would only be for thirty seconds!”

“Fine!” Levi huffed, a slight dusting of a blush tracing across his face. “Just know that I won’t lose, then!”

“All right, you’re on.” You had to fight to roll your eyes, knowing deep down that you were going to win. “Why don’t you go first?”

“Huh?!!” The exclamation came out as a shrill shriek, and you chuckled at Levi’s adorable response to your offer.

“No, no, you roll the dye first and you tickle me, just to see how it works out.”

“Okay...” Levi grabbed the self-made cube of paper that had body parts scrawled out on every edge. You couldn’t work out if his jumpiness was due to his seemingly naturally high anxiety levels, or if it was due to his nervousness about the prospect of being tickled. So you just assumed that it was both.

Levi rolled the dye, which was more like a shaky throw, and it landed with the sided written “ribs” face-up.

“You have to tickle my ribs now,” you prompted the demon when he didn’t respond within the first few moments.

“Huh?! O-oh, right.” Okay, so it probably was shyness. You knew that the demon was very touch-shy, and physical contact often made him anxious or restless. It took a few moments for him to get the handle of, but as soon as he strung up the courage to start his timer set to ten seconds, he quickly reached up and dug into your ribs.

You gasped, not expecting his nails to be so long and so...tickly. You fought the urge to squirm when his fingers got dangerously close to your armpit, and you nearly choked out a full-on belly laugh when he dug between the bones. It had already been at least five seconds and you didn’t laugh yet, and you knew that at this point your win was in the bag, knowing that Levi would barely be able to last a second. However, you did lurch forward in an attempt to escape the grabby and persistent fingers once they returned back to your lower sides, a high-pitched squeal beginning to rise in your throat just as the buzzer went off.

“Oh god, I don’t want to do this...” you heard Levi groan as you swapped places. You were now sitting on the floor, and he had resumed his earlier position of leaning against the back of his gaming chair. Smirking to yourself, you rolled the die, and it quickly landed with the side showing “feet” facing up.

Levi groaned, whispering a barely-audible “oh god” before you set up your timer. You grabbed his ankle and reached over to start the timer, but he kicked away from your grip with a squeak of alarm just milliseconds before you started the timer. “Wait!” he called. At first you were a bit annoyed, but you laughed half to yourself once you realized what was going on.

Levi was covering his face in his hands, and you could see that there was a blush spreading from his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “I’m not ready for this,” he mumbled.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fine,” you encouraged him, gently taking a hold of his ankle, but he kicked away from you, and you breathed out another laugh.

“MC, I...” Levi was finding it hard not to laugh too. “I...can’t...”

“Yes you can! I just took some pretty rough bullets from you!” This time, you refused to let him escape, and you reached over to quickly start the timer before beginning your rather ruthless attack on his socked soles.

A scream of laughter rung throughout the room, and in an instant you knew that you had won. However, you didn’t want to stop there; you wanted to see how ticklish the demon really was. Levi was cackling pathetically and desperately as you spidered your fingers all around the arches of his feet, and you heard a bang behind you as he came toppling down to the floor, kicking his legs out to try and get you away from him. You weren’t sure if it was because you had mistimed your tap on your D.D.D., but you didn’t hear the timer buzz even after what felt like ten seconds.

“MC!” Levi screamed, letting out a sudden squeal of alarm when you got the good spot underneath his toes. “LET GOHOHO STAHAHAP!!!!”

Yep, the ten seconds surely passed. You had to hide a snicker as you stood up, helping him. “Guess we know who won, Leviachan,” you teased him, poking his nose.

“S-seriously....? Wait, why did I even agree to do this?!” He sounded truly exasperated, and you turned your head to try and control your laughter before he could see you.

“Okay, okay, I’ll go easy on you,” you told him, but would you? It depended on your mood. And how merciless you were feeling, of course. After all, Levi was extremely cute when he was being tickled.

“Sit back down on the chair,” you ordered him. “I want to test something else during your punishment.”

“Okay...w-what?”

“I want to see how long you can keep your arms up.”

“What?! Nonono, that’s WAY too many surprises in one day.” Levi turned his head away from you, frowning and crossing his arms.

A poke to the side was enough for his entire body to jolt, and he let out a squeal, holding the part of his lower side that had just been assaulted. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” you offered, teasingly wiggling your fingers at him.

“Okay okay, I’ll do it!” There was a true note of desperate panic in his voice that time, and he slid away from you in his chair. Well, as far as he could with the wall blocking him in the direction he was headed.

You sighed, lacking the patience for his antics. However, at the same time, how jumpy the demon was at so much as the mere prospect of being tickled was absolutely adorable. You approached him, and he put his arms up while you set the timer for thirty seconds. You counted down for from three before starting the timer, and your sneaky little fingers immediately went for his exposed underarms.

For the umpteenth time that day, Levi let out a squeal of laughter that filled up the entire room within a matter of seconds. His arms immediately shot down to his sides, and he curled into a ball, exploding into laughter.

“Keep your arms up!” you ordered him, trying not to laugh yourself.

“NOHOHOHO PLEEEEHEHEHEASE!!” he cried, thrashing and kicking and nearly bowling the chair right into you with insurmountable strength.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” you hissed. With his weakened strength from the tickling, you were able to bowl him to the ground and wrap him up in your arms, knowing fully that the move wasted at least a good six seconds on your timer. However, this was a much more advantageous position, for you could basically tickle the demon as much as you wanted now. Your hands traveled up and down his sides, digging into his underarms and making him scream and thrash from side to side, kicking at your legs and slapping at your face.

"PLEHEHEHEASE I’M GONNA PEEHEHEHEE!!!” Levi screamed, his laugh reaching a completely different octave as you pinched at the baby fat around his stomach. At this point, he had grown so tired from the tickling that he was losing the energy to laugh; you could tell in the way he heaved and rasped for breath, barely producing any sound except for the occasional hiccup or wheezy inhale as he fought to laugh uncontrollably.

The timer buzzed, and you let him go. “I am the victor!” you declared, standing upright and pumping your fists in the air as you observed a truly tired Levi curled on the ground, looking as if his soul had left his body for a considerable amount of time.

“You okay there, buddy?” you asked him.

A few moments passed before he responded. “No...” he mumbled. “I’m gonna die here...”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. Should I motivate you to get up?”

That earned you a glare. But all the same, you knew deep down that you had won. At least, until he could get you back.

[yourmcu]

Wish You Were Here (i)

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader, Avengers x Stark!reader

Summary:

an Infinity War/Endgame AU where Tony Stark’s daughter (you) is one of half the population that vanishes in the snap, Tony finds out later on when he arrives back to Earth, devastated, then you come back like the others to help fight Thanos.

Word count: 2,030

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: angst, death, swearing, a lil soft!Nat in the beginning bc I love her, mentions of anxiety/anxiety

read on ao3!

Part 2

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

You wanted to help in whatever was happening, you weren’t quite sure still, but it had something to do with the infinity stones and how you guys needed to find them before some guy named Thanos does.

It took a lot of convincing for Steve, Natasha and Rhodey (they were the ones more protective over you) to let you come, especially with Tony not around to scold you since he was in space.

“I’m coming with you guys whether you like it or not - no, I know what you’re gonna say, I can handle myself. I’m sixteen! Did you know Peter’s in space right now with Dad? Outer freaking space. You’re not the only one who has a suit, Rhodey-”

The argument ended with, “if something happens and I-” you dragged your thumb across your neck, “then it’s on me. None of you are to blame. Can we go now?”

So they didn’t have any other choice. You went to Wakanda with them to get the mind stone out of Vision and intend to destroy it afterwards.

Things got a *bit* out of hand though, there was an army of creatures - they’re from space, you assumed, working for Thanos - trying to get the stone. You fought alongside Sam and Rhodey, sometimes even fighting with Bruce who was using the Hulkbuster. You also helped the Wakanda tribes when they got overpowered by the creatures.

Even Thor came back to fight and he brought a raccoon and a tree with him.

The battle was going really messy, until - “Everyone on my position. We got incoming.”

You fly to where Cap and the team are, and there he is coming out of what appears to be a cloudy, blue grayish portal, Thanos himself.

“Cap, that’s him.” Bruce says as he hides you behind the Hulkbuster to shield you. He slowly walks over to the purple titan before saying, “stay down, [Y/N], alright?”

Did all of them suddenly forget that you, if not more, are stubborn like your father?

Because when all of them attack, you fly behind Thanos when he's distracted and wrap both your metal covered arms around his neck in stupid attempts to strangle him. He effortlessly uses his gauntlet to throw you back to the ground, knocking you out.

He eventually got all the stones, snapped his fingers when Thor failed to kill him, and left.

“What did you do?!”

“Where did he go? Thor, where did he go?”

“What’s happening?” You get off the ground as Bucky turns to dust. You look around and saw the air filled with the same dust, just from different people.

What the hell did that snap do?

People are vanishing, disappearing, are they dying? Why are they dying? You’re pretty sure you're panicking. Your lips start to quiver and you feel your chest tighten, making it hard for you to breathe.

Natasha notices right away. She's the one who could help you with your anxiety attacks besides Tony. She comes to you and places her hands on your shoulders, looking you in the eye. “Hey, it’s going to be okay, you’re fine, just breathe with me,”

You watch Wanda, one of  your best friends, turn to dust too which did not help in the slightest. What’s worse is when Natasha holds your hands to calm you down,

They start turning into dust particles.

“No no no no no no,” you grow weak, holding onto her. “Nat, I’m scared - I don’t - I don’t know what to-”

“Y/N, just breathe like we practiced, okay?”

You try copying her breathing but it’s no use. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re still fading away. You look at her, tears threatening to fall out of your eyes, “I’m so sorry.” She has no choice but to hug you tightly until you get dusted completely.

The Avengers just lost a kid. Not just any kid, for them you were special. You always supported the team no matter what. They couldn’t even imagine what Tony’s reaction would be.

When Natasha told Pepper of course she didn’t take it well.

You were Tony’s own flesh and blood (and some one night stand chic that we won’t mention anymore starting now), but Pepper helped raised you when Tony first took you in and treated you like her own. Sometimes you even called her ‘mom’.

She was so relieved when a spaceship came by the compound to drop Tony off - he looked weak and skinny - she didn’t know how to break the awful news to him while he was in that condition.

“I lost the kid,” he meant Peter. What he doesn’t know was that he actually lost two.

“It’s been twenty-three days since Thanos came to Earth.”

Bruce and Natasha keep looking over one another as images of the people they lost in the snap took turns popping up as holograms. Rhodey feels tense and keeps tapping his foot - nervous of what his best friend’s gonna do once he sees-

Tony abruptly stands up from his wheelchair. “Stop. Stop there.” (“Tony, you need to sit down,”) “No.” He stumbles over to a particular hologram, the one with his daughter’s face.

Y/N Stark.

The room is awfully quiet. Despite you telling them that it isn’t going to be any of their faults if something happens to you, they still feel responsible for you.

“Was anyone going to tell me?” He speaks softly. Too soft and calm for all of them that they remain glued to where they're standing, avoiding eye contact. He clenches his fists and sends a look to  everyone in the room. “You better not be shitting me I already lost Parker and I - I can’t - I can’t lose her. I can’t.”

“Tony,” Natasha says. “We couldn’t do anything to stop it.”

It's like being stabbed with his own blade all over again. She tells him everything that happened, how you got dusted like Peter, and Tony just stares blankly at your photo, looking very pale.

Tony takes a deep breath and pushes his glasses further up his nose, holding in  tears. Good thing his glasses cover it up. He mutters ‘okay’ over and over as he takes a seat back in his wheelchair. Steve hesitates to continue the discussion but Tony encourages him to go on, even though he feels like he was literally dying inside.

His mood definitely went downhill from there - Tony's furious with himself. Furious with them, with Steve, that he takes it out on the super soldier. By the end of it he's on the floor, passed out.

“Dad, come in, it’s [Y/N]. Everything alright out there?”

“Oh y’know, typical day in the city - pair of aliens came to visit again.” Tony sounded breathless.

You paused briefly. “...what? W-well, do you need help? I can help, and Peter’s probably on his way there - he just made a lame excuse and hung up on me so, I figured he sensed something was wrong.”

“Yeah. Stay where you are and when things get worse, find Pepper and get to safety.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Nope. Deadass serious. Stay out of this one.”

Tony opens his eyes and takes in his surroundings. He's transferred to a bed with the same wires poking his arm. He dreamt of his last conversation with you - before and while he was dragged to space.

“Hey, I’m still here, you know,” you cut him off while he was arguing with Strange.

“[Y/N]? How is this still connected?”

“I made the earpiece set myself - I guess it has really long range, huh?”

“You’re a nerd.” Tony cracked a small smile.

“Hi [Y/N]!” Peter shouted from a distance.

“Peter? You’re in space too? I’m so jeal-”

The line completely went out, guess the range wasn’t that long.

“Tony?” Pepper says gently. “You shouldn’t be up - it’s only been an hour since you passed out.”

He looks at her for a moment then returns his attention to the wall, eyes bloodshot. “Have I been a good father to her? ‘Cause I feel like she deserved more. Way more.”

“Of course, she loved you! Tony, [Y/N] loved you as much as you love her,” Pepper reassures, running a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset but you really should be getting bed rest right now.”

He sniffles and gave a small nod, “okay.”

He closes his eyes again when she left the room and sigh, mumbling “goddammit kid,” before letting the tears flow down. Tony rarely cries. Barely cries. He usually keeps those stupid emotions in but this - the fact that his little girl is gone, it's too much for him. He realized never fully showed how much you meant to him and he regrets it.

Can't help but think that it should've been me Either way, I still wish you were here.

Fast forward to five years later: Tony now lived at a lakeside cabin with Pepper and their daughter, Morgan.

Moving on was better than to be sad and depressed for the rest of his life. That’s what you wanted for him anyway, to be happy.

So that’s exactly what Tony did.

He spent time with his family, made new suits which he enjoyed to do, living his life peacefully. That doesn’t mean he forgot about you. Sure the last few years were hard, he missed you every single day, but he had to face and accept it.

Tony moved your stuff from the compound and into a vacant room in the cabin. Sometimes he’d look through your crazy inventions, your journals that were filled with ideas for future gadgets and he hung up framed photos of you and him (some with Pepper) on the walls.

He told Morgan all about you. How awesome you were, how you were energetic and enthusiastic in everything you do, and how the both of you would be best friends if you two met.

“I wanna meet her,” Morgan says, looking at pictures of you.

Tony smiles sadly and looks at the photo of you and him. It was at your school’s science fair and your invention won first place (he remembered laughing at all the science teachers’ shocked faces because of your advanced gadget, way advanced than the grade you were in). Both of you looked really happy.

If a picture is all that I have, I can picture the times that we won't get back If I picture it now it don't seem so bad Either way, I still wish you were here.

“Someday, maybe.” He replies, giving her a warm smile.

Steve, Natasha and a new guy Scott visited him one day. They basically told him bringing back everyone who died in the snap was possible, hinting time travel.

Tony was torn. He didn’t want to risk losing what he had now, but bringing everyone back... that was something. Everyone in the universe that vanished, the other Avengers, the guardians he met in space, Strange, Peter, you.

That same night he thought about you, and Peter when he stumbled upon a picture of both of them. That same night, he figured out time travel.

“Hey legacy,” he chuckles a bit, remembering how you always frowned or pouted whenever he called you that. He likes that nickname on you though. “I... uh, this is just a little video. For you. Sure you won’t see this but... I like to pretend I could still talk to you. I miss you, a lot.”

“It’s been five years, hun. Morgan, your sister... you have no idea how much she talks about you. She wants to meet you someday,” he looks at the camera. “I know I can’t tell her the real reason why you’re not here with us, not yet, but anyway, ‘couple of old pals came to visit me. They want to try to get everyone back, that includes you.”

Tony sighs, looking away. “As of now I don’t know if we’re ever gonna pull off something like this. I figured it out, just a couple minutes ago actually. Time travel. It’s dangerous, very risky...”

“But we’ll see. We’ll figure something out. I hope to see you soon, [Y/N]. I love you.”

----

so I’ve cut this lil idea into two parts - I’ll probs post part 2 soon right after this one - if everyone likes it of course :)

oh, and I listened to this song by Neck Deep while writing this, which is where I got the title too, you can listen here. (I also put in some lyrics from the song to the story, just because it fits well hehe)

[yelenasdog]

hurricane (brian may x fem reader)

request by the wonderful @speciallyred w prompts 45 and 58 from this prompt list! i was super nervous to write this bc i love her writing but i hope u enjoy!!

genre: per request of anna, angsty! but it ends w some fluff to mend ur broken heart hehe

summary: he’s never home, and neither is she. he can’t communicate, and she just wants to be loved.

words: 1.5k this was supposed to b a drabble OOPS

warnings: crying, sadness, mentions of marriage+kids, mentions and accusations of cheating, i think that’s it but as always, lmk if i missed any!

a/n: ok so a. y/n wasn’t used so if u wanted this do bri x some other female or oc that would work, and b. i also didn’t use anything that would keep this from being able to be read as a gwil!bri fic :) mwah (also i just realized this but this could totally be a song fic for i want love by elton john ok bye luv u)

 ⭑ 🎸

It was deathly silent in the spacious former home of Brian and his beloved, that had now been reduced to only a house. The ticking of the grandfather clock he had insisted that they had to have when they moved in could be heard ringing out and echoing, pestering the girl to no end.

It was always quiet in their house, even when they fought. There was never a rushed bustle of children you had to get out the door to school, and not even a cat or dog to create a disruptive chaos as they ran about, muddy paws leaving marks on the floor.

There would be the occasional record playing lowly, the notes floating about the house, and sometimes if she couldn’t sleep, she would have Bri play her a soft tune on his old acoustic, his voice having no issue bringing her to rest.

But even now, during one of the most heart wrenching fights that the pair had gone through, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop on the hardwood flooring.

As Brian was a soft and gentle man, never yelling or raising his voice in the slightest. He wasn’t mean or cruel, in fact, his entire aura calmed her to no end, which is why she supposed she hated this so much.

She scanned with careful eyes over his silhouette, watching as stray curls rustled from the draft coming in from the open window, goosebumps raising on both of their exposed arms.

“What are you looking at?”

“Just you, Bri.”

He rolled his eyes from where he sat on the white sofa, moving his fist under his chin. A scoff fell from his rosy lips as he turned his head to look out the window, not actually paying any mind to the green hills, a light frost covering the entire landscape.

“So are you just going to ignore me?”

“I’m not ignoring you.”

A salty tear rolled down her face, the incoming breeze hitting her dampened face. She inhaled sharply, her chilled skin becoming slimy and cold to the touch.

Brian wouldn’t know that, though, he hadn’t touched her in days. Weeks, even.

She had wanted to say that his words were malicious, with venom dripping from his tone, like some sort of acid was coating his vocal cords.

But they weren’t. His voice never raised a damn octave, staying completely neutral. And it was driving her mad.

“Then what is this, Brian?”

“I’m collecting my thoughts.”

She laughed, the sound lacking its usual melodic intonation that the guitarist adored so much. He was the reasoning behind the dry chuckle, that much he knew, and he hated it. God, how he despised it. But, he would never let it show. How could he, when he was the initiator of the (extremely childish, now that he thought over it) conflict to begin with? He knew his accusation was emptier than the large building they resided in, and he knew that the results would be horrendous.

But jealousy was an ugly green parasite that had rooted itself in Brian May’s heart, slowly consuming him from the inside out. It was like a devil that rested on his left shoulder, insisting that she was unfaithful, taking advantage of his extended leaves. He foolishly acted on the devil’s words, which led to where they were now.

“Well, how long do you need to ‘collect your thoughts’?” She folded her leg under her opposite thigh, leaning towards him, the distance of only a few feet feeling like worlds away to her broken heart. She would always be drawn to him like some sort of magnet, no matter how badly he hurt her.

“I’m not sure, would you like me to do so elsewhere?”

A beat passed.

“Why, so you can go shag someone else, just like I apparently have been?”

Again, silence.

“You were gone for 3 hours every night on every Tuesday the past month-“

“You kept track? You’re out of your damn mind.” She raised her voice, sitting up, suddenly enraged with his obsessive distrust rather than saddened.

“That’s not important-“

“What’s important is that you’re gone on tour for 10 times as long as that, leaving me here completely alone to my own devices! I trust you enough to believe that you remain mine while you’re away, but for some unknown reason, you can’t manage to think the same about me.”

His flippancy on the issue at hand agitated her (or his lack thereof in general, she supposed) to no end. She wanted him to scream and cry, to throw something, to loudly shout, to shed fury fueled tears as she had. She knew it was wrong, but quite frankly she didn’t care.

He tried to speak up for himself, stuttering out something about how he did in fact trust her, but all to no avail. She would have none of it, not now.

“What’s important, Brian, is that every Tuesday, I’m staying 3 hours after work to try to make it so that I don’t have to rely on you for money, because I don’t want you to think even for a moment I’m with you just because you’re some incredibly famous rockstar who happens to be loaded!”

She was standing now, although she couldn't quite remember bringing her body from the comforts of the soft chair by the mantle to her feet. The roaring fire beside her had died down into a flurry of golden embers, heat still radiating from the pile of charred logs, Brian failing to provide even a fraction of the same warmth.

“Because I love you, and as of late, I’m starting to wonder if you love me too.”

He stood, walking over to where she was in a timely manner, his long legs carrying him quickly. Her breath hitched at their sudden proximity, her surprise only growing when he gripped his hands on either side of her face, pulling her forward and capturing her lips in a long awaited union.

She loathed that her stiff figure was melting into him faster than she would like to admit, and she even more, she loathed the fact she knew she always would.

He was able to taste her tears that hadn’t ceased to roll down her face, the bitter droplets seeping onto the tip of his tongue. He pulled away, his right hand caressing her cheekbone while his forehead rested upon hers. His bottom lip quivered, a wave of emotions hitting him like a hurricane in full force.

His eyes become glassy, and all at once, tears flood his eyesight, pouring down his flushed features. He looked down, shutting his eyes and shaking his head. The bawling didn’t stop as he had hoped, though, it just slowed, the liquid dropping onto her shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much that it hurts. And ’m sorry, I’m so incredibly sorry, darling.”

She smiled softly, lightly massaging the top of his scalp, his locks growing frizzy.

“I know. But it’s just so hard- It seems everyone is getting married, and settling down. Hell, even Fred has his cats.”

They both laughed, and she chewed her bottom lip, a habit of hers that Bri had picked up on in the time he’d known her.

“I just get lonely, Bri, and it feels like you never let me know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours. That’s all, honest to God.”

They moved to sit down, and he pulled closer than they had been in ages.

“I’ll support you in any way shape or form, no matter what, yeah?”

She simply nodded, leaning onto his shoulder.

“Yeah. I know.”

Raising his eyebrows, he cocked his head, choosing his next words carefully.

“And if you’re serious about, y’know, having a family and ‘settling down’ and everything, I’ll do it.”

She met his eyes, her smile growing wider.

“Really?”

He hummed, nodding his head. “I love you, and this house is far too quiet.”

She giggled, tossing her arms around his neck and throwing herself on him.

“I must say I agree.”

After the grins had retreated into soft smiles, and the two had come to a much more stolid point, she sat up, patting her lap.

Brian understood immediately, laying his tired head down and allowing her to play with his hair. She moved her hands to oh so lightly trace the crook of his nose and the bags under his eyes (from the late nights he spent performing, wishing he was in the exact position he was in now), the ticklish feeling making him nuzzle into her hand with a whine.

She couldn’t help but smile at the beautiful boy beneath her, as even with all the work that there was to be done between them, she felt confident that he was in it for the long haul.

🦔⭑ 🎸

me @ u for reading that

ty for reading, like and rb if u wanna :) go drink some water and eat some protein if u can!

as always, xx hj <3

[halcyon-writings]

family

requested?: yes (anonymous) //tldr, if alucard had a sibling (the reader, of course) dealing with the loss of family, both living and not

note(s)/warning(s): canonical character death, spoilers babyyyyy, violence and injury, angst it’s rare for anyone in this series to have a good time huh?, also for this being that the reader can literally look however you want, imma say Lisa isn’t white bc I do what I want and it’s my fic :) this is also the most i’ve written in a good while omg, im highkey proud so pls don’t let this flop

Lisa Tepes is dead.

Your mother, is dead.

Killed, burned alive. Gone to ashes.

All because the church had believed she was a witch of sorts. Several thoughts dance in the back of your mind as you gaze upon the pyre. Smoldering from the heat, the flames gone. Your father leaving his message, no, his warning, that he would act in one year.

“A farce that was!” You hear a shout, and you force down the bitter laugh, throat tight and eyes burning. Especially so when you slowly begin to hear continued shouts of agreement, from voices previously silent.

Here your mother was, her final resting place. Burned to ashes for some sick show of power.

And you could do nothing as she was mocked for it.

Your fist clenched at your side, you feel your nails cutting into your skin, but you walk away to return home.

And to say that the castle was no less better was an understatement. Your father was most likely in his quarters.

And when you finally sit down, the weight of your weary finally settling against your soul, do you allow yourself cry. Quiet tears turning to sobs as you muffle your voice with a pillow.

You had failed her. Missing the chance to save your mother, too late to have done anything.

But you pause, noticing the presence at your door, your brothers familiar knocking pattern resounding suddenly through the empty hall.

“Come in,” Your voice is embarrassingly raspy. As you clear your throat, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. But it wouldn’t hide the redness of your eyes.

Adrian says nothing, and a part of you wishes he did. His larger hand takes yours. A comforting squeeze.

You blink again feeling your eyes burn, and you squeeze his hand back.

“Father is...” He trails off, no doubt thinking of what he could say next.

“What he plans on doing, it’s not justice.”

You stare up at him, But it would be deserving. A bitter corner of your mind supplies.

While Adrian had taken after Mother in his demeanor, much more kinder, more welcoming. You were no doubt like Father. Reserved, distrusting, easily prone to grudges if you were wronged in some way.

But you bite your tongue.

“He gave them a year,” You murmur after some time, “But no doubt he’s ready to calling his armies.”

At this Adrian turns alarmed. the warmth from his hand slips away.

“We must stop him!”

You’re still reeling from the events from earlier today, and a part of you wishes to have no part in his attempt to try and stop your father. But then you remember your mother.

Her kindness, regardless of how she was viewed for being different.

And your warily stand anyway.

If only you had more sense. Your father remains eerily silent as he embraces you both. His hold tighter, and while Adrian seemed convinced, you saw the dark look in his eyes.

The year had passed. You weren’t surprised to hear of the bloodshed.

It was naive to expect otherwise. While reluctantly following your brother, you can only stand, frozen as your blood feels like ice in your veins as your remaining family clashes.

“No.” Your voice is barely a whisper.

They don’t hear you.

Glass shatters.

And foolishly enough, you rush forward.

-

With your brother injured and fleeing, and you yourself were not free from any sort of pain.

Stepping in between the two as they fought ended with a gnarly gash on your shoulder, as you fell to your knees and blood slipping past your fingers. Your father stands in front of you, like a protective pillar as your brother stares in shock, quickly wanting to help you in some way.

And then the fight is over. Your brother is gone too.

The castle is much larger and colder now.

As you’re confined to your room, the wound healing into an angry red, then to a muted and dull scar. For a moment you wished it took longer, your father guilty and you were reminded of times you had been sick when you were younger. While you had not been too keen on the typical children’s books, reading theory on physics and other sciences only seemed fun when he would read to you and you’d ask questions in between passages. (Your voice funny from a stuffy nose led to laughter and a small coughing fit but otherwise it was nice).

But now was not the time to reminisce on the happy childhood.

You know you cannot stay. Ultimately, Adrian had been right. Once you feel as though you can move your arm once again, slowly, you begin pack a small bag. You didn’t want to build up any suspicions, finding some money in your room and whenever you could take a few coins or so from your father that he would not miss.

Extra clothes were folded and put away separately.

And you make your escape on a rainy evening, the uneven droplets helping hide your tracks. But you knew now that your father had brought back Hector and Isaac, new generals to help fight in his war, you had to be weary of the night creatures that would no doubt be sent after you.

Well, you were creative. At times flying in a transformed look, no one would suspect a bat in the dark of night afterall. And it was easier to. find good vantage points that way. But to also avoid any people, you didn’t quite trust yourself to not get into an altercation with a bigot.

You rarely slept longer than necessary, especially not when those dreams were memories or nightmares.

Now that you had learned how to walk, you were a right menace. It was an uphill battle in itself to keep you in one place. You were curious and the world you knew (being your father’s vast castle) was huge. Your childlike curiosity was never let down by your adventures.

You laugh quietly, which sounds like small squeaks as you fly up and hide above the gaudy chandeliers. Your father, giant coat gone, hair tied back and in a plain dress shirt and slacks as he searched for a curious toddler.

Snickers continuing as he paces down the hall. You hop down, landing slowly and feet planting into the ground, knees bent. Before you had down the opposite direction.

The lab usually wasn’t a place you could be allowed in on your own. But having heard that your mother was there, you knew it wouldn’t be a problem! So your little legs carried you along. Until you found the familiar doorway.

Dozens of tubes and mechanisms had you turning your head as you wandered in, your shoes tapping against the marble floor.

“Now what brings you here, sweetling?” The warmth of your mother’s voice has you smiling before you see her. As you run forward and hug her side, clutching her dress in your small fists. “Not causing trouble for your father are you?”

You shake your head grin betraying your word, “Nope! I’m not doing any trouble!”

“And how since when did that happen?” She laughs gently.

“Now.”

Your brother looks up from his own books, waving before returning to work. Your nose crinkles, so much for playing experimenting. But before you can say much, your nearly yelp as you’re brought up into the air by a pair of strong arms.

“I’ve found you, little wanderer.” Your father’s voice carries no heat behind it. Then again, he was always soft hearted for you and your brother. But most of all, your mother.

“I’m not little!” You pout, “I’m big now!”

-

You’re taken away from your reverie at the snap of a twig.

With your lack of sleep, as you had insisted on traveling more, you were less than surprised to have been snuck up on.

“Peace, my friend,” The old man murmurs. You keep your knife in an iron grip in front of you. Who you’re guessing is his son or grandson, has his hands raised the same way, but no weapon to be seen, magic, oh good. Then again, not like you needed a knife when you could make your nails go into claws and the fangs. Don’t forget the fangs.

“I can’t exactly be peaceful when it’s the middle of the night and suddenly figures in blue robes appear out of now where,” You answer dryly. But seeing as how the others behind the main two have not done or said anything noteworthy, nor were their stances make them look like they could really fight, you lower your weapon slightly.

Clearing your throat, “Although, I shouldn’t be swinging my own weapon around either.”

The old man just smiles gently. And you can’t help but be just slightly comforted.

In the end, the speakers stop for the evening. And the Elder, despite looking like a frail old man, is firm in his decision that you stay and “eat properly.” And like a scolded child, you listen. Food and drink all but pushed into your hands as you’re quickly brought into conversation, the previous confrontation all but forgotten.

And then you perk up when he mentions Gresit.

“So... the sleeping soldier,” You begin, slowly chewing on the sweet bread you had been given. “It was true?”

The Elder nods, “My grandchild and a traveller, they had gone to explore it. Well, the traveller had gone to save my grandchild. I will not hide the fact that I was a bit doubtful. But Belmont had proved himself a man of his word. Although, he does need to drink more water.”

You blink, a look of a surprise clear on your face. Belmont...

Fuck. 

“Although I hadn’t expected the legend of the sleeping soldier to be realized so quickly.” 

At your inquisitive look, the Elder begins to explain. Of a holy warrior beneath Gresit, who would come to save it’s people in their most dire of hours. 

“The pair had come up with a man with long hair, like gold.” You couldn’t help but let out the breath you had been holding. So the Belmont didn’t try to kill him. you could breathe a little easier at that fact. 

“Where are they now?” You ask, holding the empty cup in your hands, as you stare down as though waiting for something.

Getting your answer, you stand, adjusting your bag over your shoulders. You wave off the concern in staying, if it had already been several days since the Speakers had left Gresit, then you needed to cover a lot of land to get to your brother. 

That is, until you saw the expression on the Elder’s face grow stern, as though he was scolding a child. With a heavier bag, one that the Elder insisted that you take some more things you could eat along the way, in exchange you give the Elder a small trinket you had been using to hide from the monsters of your father’s army, you finally set off. While your worries were not completely settled, your shoulders felt lighter. Metaphorically of course.

Of course, giving away the object that kept you hidden made it a bit more, difficult, when it came to trying to hide and travel at night. Much less even try to stop and rest. 

It had barely been two days since you had left the speakers, and already, you had run into some trouble, a beastly creature’s claws barely caught on your sleeve, leaving your arm bare as you shuddered from the chill in the air. You can only sigh mournfully, you really liked that coat. But, better your sleeve than say, you actually getting wounded. 

Your nails resemble claws, while your free hand holds the dagger in a steady grip. But being surrounded on all sides, it did not look promising.

Well, you thought mournfully, if you died you could at least see your mother again.

Until you hear the sound of what reminds you of a whistle? And then a sword flying through the air, slicing through the night creatures, giving you a chance to get some distance.

You hear the surprised shout of your name, and look up, to see your brother wide eyed, sword now returned to him, and a man and woman standing at his side.

“Um... hi.”

-

Much to your relief, the night creatures are easily taken care of.

And as you’re finally able to explain your story, you find yourself relaxing into the extra cloak given to you by the Elder.

“You mean you met the Speakers on your journey?!” A woman, petite with short blonde locks, who you learn is named Sypha, asks, and you notice the way her shoulders sag in relief.

You nod, “Yes. They all were safe.” If her shoulders sagged anymore she’d full on be slouching. You leave out the part of leaving a possibly precious trinket with them, not wanting her to think you cursed them or something.

“So you mean to tell me, Dracula, fucking Dracula, had more than one kid? That he actually had a woman not only give him not just one, but two children?” Is incredulously asked next by the scruffy looking man. Trevor, as your brother says.

You only stare in annoyance, sure your father was about to raise an army to annihilate the human populace but he didn’t used to be that way.

Before you can retort with a scathing remark of your own, Sypha elbows him harshly in the side. And you know it hurts from the way he immediately puts a hand where she hit him, eyes widening slightly. Serves him right.

“And what of...” Adrian- no Alucard as he wishes to be called, asks, near hesitant.

“Father?” You ask, arms crossed, “Same old same old. Planning the same amount of destruction here or there.”

As he looks to the snow covered earth, you roll your eyes, “Did you expect anything different?”

It’s quiet, and neither Sypha nor Trevor speak.

“No.”

You all sat around camp quietly for a while after that.

-

Your lungs feel like they’re being constricted. Your throat burns as you struggle to breathe, claws digging into your skin like knives. Before you’re thrown backwards, landing harshly against the wall. Books fall from the book case and your weapon clatters noisily from the ground. 

You take shallow breaths, barely standing before you’re thrown once more. Curse your father’s stature and supernatural strength. You close your eyes, waiting for another attack and at least hoping to brace yourself for it, but it never came.

Instead, your brother stands in front of you, as he and your father remain in a standstill. Sypha and Trevor’s footsteps are rushing towards you three. 

It all continues to move so fast, until he stops noticing the painting of your mother, as she had been holding your brother and then you as a baby, and the next thing you know, your father is staked through the heart. And with wobbly legs, you take your sword, and swing. So falls Dracula. But it felt like no victory. 

You sit up with an alarmed look, stopping yourself from shouting.

That was... a dream? You rub your eyes, feeling that your cheeks are wet and you sigh. 

When you see a shadow looming over you, the light of the fire giving slight visibility, you freeze. Before noticing it’s your brother and not his companions. 

“Sorry,” You say, making sure to not look at him, so that he didn’t see your tears. 

Quietly, he places his coat over your shoulders, sitting beside you, wrapping his own blanket loosely around his own shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

You only grip the jacket lapels tighter, shaking slightly as you hiccup, unable to stop yourself from crying again. 

He must think it’s because you miss your mother, and you do. But this dream was far different. And you say nothing as he brings you into his arms. Your tears having long since dried when the sun rises moments later. But you find yourself falling asleep as your brother rubs soothing circles on your back, feeling the build up exhaustion finally leaving you. 

When you’re awake much later in the day you can’t help but laugh a little when Sypha scolds your brother for being mean enough to make you cry, he didn’t you assure her quick enough, although you’re back to laughing when she then turns around to scold Belmont when he makes another slight comment. 

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//two friends and a stranger

Request: Hi! Can I request rly angst poly relationship between sweet pea reader and a third girl and reader starts feeling unloved bc they always ignore her and go dates without her and when they do talk to her they're rly rude and mean overall? Thank you!!!

hey! this was so much fun to write, which isn’t that surprising because i love writing angst sooo. and there is no happy ending to this. so if you want to hurt, you’ve come to the right place.  anyway, i hope you like it! and i hope everyone has a great day!! 

It started slow at first. Missed calls here and ignored texts there. 

But then missed calls turned into missed dates and ignored texts turned into them leaving a place whenever you arrived. This went on for months, dates being planned when they knew you were busy, only to lie when they’re caught. 

They would look through you instead of at you, and you had no idea what changed. Until one day you woke up and you realized, what started as a loving relationship between three best friends, had ended with two friends and a stranger. 

Sweet Pea and Clara loved fiercely. And you always admired that. You knew when they were in love, and to be on the receiving end of it felt magical. It made you feel like you could do anything, anything would be possible as long as you had them on your side. They made you feel safe and warm and happier than you’d ever felt before. 

You found yourself day dreaming futures with them, filled with love and laughter. 

The three of you would save enough money to move out of the southside, and hopefully out of Riverdale, the only real ties you had here were your friends and all of them wanted to move too. You’d get a house somewhere, and decorate however you pleased. It would definitely be a mess with three people’s preferences crammed into a small house, but it would work. It would have a certain charm to it. There’d be photos and plants, candles and trinkets. All of them having a memory related to at least one of you. 

Friends would come over for parties, all of you reminiscing about the past and hoping for a future. With drunken karaoke thats filmed for future viewing that you can barely hear over the loud laughter in the background. You’d see how happy you all were, when you’re old and wrinkled, and you’d smile at each other. The three of you sat in your own arm chairs, either watching tv or reading. 

Nights would be spent wrapped in each others arms, rotating who’s the big spoon and who’s the little (somehow it would always be Sweet Pea), whispering plans for the future, stories from the past. About how Sweet Pea and Clara hated each other when they first met, and how it was you being friends with both of them that brought you all closer. Shushed laughter between you and Clara when Sweet Pea falls asleep with his mouth open and drooling. Soft kisses before bed, rushed kisses in the morning, slow and passionate kisses when hands have wandered. 

Inside jokes that confuse your friends, surprise dinners made for one another after long days at work. And the train of washing up (named by you) afterwards. One washes, one dries, the other puts away. Perfect.

Holidays and pets, candid pictures of one or two of you, posed pictures of all three of you when Sweet Pea figures out how to work the camera you and Clara bought him. 

Christmas’ spent watching movies in bed with hot chocolate, New Years spent with friends, counting down until the next year, hopefully to be filled with more luck that the last. Halloweens spent dressed up after months of planning your costumes. Birthdays spent being fussed over by the other two. 

All the good and bad things that life has to through you, all together. 

So many stories would be told within the four walls all of which you couldn’t wait for. 

All of which you’ve watched slowly fade away. You could feel them, they were so close, and then slowly but surely you watched them disappear. Instead being replaced with sadness and the feeling of being alone. 

Until it becomes apparent that they still wanted all of those things, just without you. 

You’ve been through pain in your life. It’s only natural, pain and life come hand in hand. You can’t live without suffering. 

You’ve watched friends and family die, been in your fair share of fights. Watched as friends come and go, watched as they’ve fought. People have left, people have struggled, you’ve struggled. 

But the pain you’ve felt the past few months, as you’ve watched the two people you love the most slowly pull away from you without a word. Watched as they’ve pretended nothing is wrong, come up with excuses as to why neither of them returned your calls or didn’t show for your date. It hurts more than any punch to the face. You feel it all over, it seeps into your bones and it doesn’t move. If anything it gets worse with each day. 

You watch them at parties they didn’t bother to invite you to. You watch as they laugh and kiss and dance, like they’re the only two people in the world. To you they are. But to them, you’re just another face in the crowd it seems, unimportant and invisible. They’re surrounded by friends, everyone happy. And when Toni or Fangs ask where you are, they say they’re not sure, assuring them that you’re around somewhere. 

You’ve tried talking to them, managing only a few times to get them both alone, but anytime you bring it up, they send each other an unreadable expression before reassuring you that nothing is wrong. 

You’re not sure how you got here. 

You were only supposed to be going for a short walk, needing to get out of the house for a bit. It feels too crowded at the minute, despite it just being you for the most part. Your parents come and go, but they mostly go. You feel every room is filled with memories and Sweet Pea and Clara, they follow you wherever you go, until they get too much. 

It was supposed to be a small walk around the block. But when you got to the end of the road, you kept walking. It was like something was pulling you, despite the darkness of the night and the fear slowly creeping up inside of you. You walked. 

You walked until you stopped outside of her house. Clara has the nicest home out of the three of you. It’s one of the very few actual houses on the Southside. The rest are trailers, tents and and a run down apartment complex, the latter being the one you live in. 

It’s filled with mice and rats and bugs, the heating doesn’t work in the winter and the air conditioning doesn’t work in the summer. But it’s four walls and a roof and you’re not planning on being there for very long. At least you weren’t. 

Clara’s house is nice. It’s quite nice for the southside, but it’s been bought with dirty money and so she’s excited to leave. 

After the trailer park burned down, Sweet Pea went between you and Clara until they got tents. But even after he got, he didn’t spend much time in it. He would usually be at yours, but now you can’t remember the last time he so much as visited. 

Now you’re here, you’re not really sure what to do. The peeling paint on the wooden door brings a flicker of a smile to your lips. It feels like home. So many memories have been made out here alone. 

You and Clara were friends long before you got together. And so you spent more time here than your own house. You would play outside when you were younger, despite how much her mother insisted on playing inside or out the back garden. Back then, you didn’t understand why she was so worried about you being out there, but the older you got the more you realized. By that point you know longer played anyway, you spent your nights either out with the serpents or in the Wyrm. 

You remember standing and kissing her on the doorstep, the brightest smile on your faces when you pulled away. You remember thinking that you’d never feel happier than you were right then. 

You remember Sweet Pea picking you up for dates, the two of you spending the afternoon getting ready together. You and Sweet Pea would walk her back home, both pressing a kiss to her cheek before leaving. She’d watch you walk away, a soft smile playing on her lips as you disappeared down the street. 

Or getting caught in the rain and running up the steps, Clara fiddling with the key while you jumped from one foot to the other to keep warm, and Sweet Pea would slip up the steps. 

The night you, her and Sweet Pea sat on the doorstep waiting for her parents to come back from whatever they were doing. Clara had heard them talking earlier, only getting pieces of what they saying but it was enough to worry her. So you and Sweet Pea stayed, and distracted her with games and jokes until they turned up. 

You hear laughter from behind the door and you’re pulled back to reality, your smile disappearing, a frown taking its place as you feel the disappointment settle back in. 

The problem with memories is that you can get lost in them. 

You close your eyes, take a deep breath and wish that this ends well. You know you love them, and if being a serpent has taught you anything, it’s that you fight for what you love. They may have given up on you, but you haven’t given up on them, or yourself for that matter. You deserve an explanation at the very least. And you’re not leaving until you get one. 

You knock on the door and wait, with bated breath and fingers crossed. After a few seconds the door swings open revealing Clara. Her smile falters when her eyes land on you and she looks down, desperately avoiding eye contact. 

The gesture hurts, but it just blends in with the rest of the pain you’re feeling so you power through. 

“Hey Y/n.” It’s like she has to force your name past her lips while reluctantly looking at you. You send her a small smile before looking past her, watching as Sweet Pea slowly shuffles towards the door. The confused expression on his face disappears once he see’s you, its replaced by something you can’t quite place. 

Guilt? Disappointment? Relief? Maybe its a mix of all three. You try not to let it affect you, your gaze lingering on the tall serpent before looking back at Clara. They shift awkwardly, having a silent conversation with each other while you stand on the doorstep. 

“Sorry we didn’t invite you.” Clara starts, her sentence rushed like it’s the first thing thats come to mind. Her hair falls in front of her face, but she does nothing to move it and you realize she’s probably trying to hide. You have an urge to brush it away, a gesture that would make her smile and blush, but the thought of doing it now makes you feel sick. 

“Yeah, we thought you were busy.” Sweet Pea adds, glancing at her before looking back at you. 

“Its fine.” You force a smile. “Can I come in?” 

“Er, yeah, Sure.” Clara nods reluctantly. She opens the door further and steps to the side to let you. 

A shaky breath escapes your lips as you walk over the threshold. It feels like years since you last stepped foot in here. Nothing has changed. The ugly rug is still by the front door. When you were younger you used to wrap yourselves up in it and take it in turns sliding down the stairs. Every single time would end in her mom telling you off, but you would just giggle and do it again when she wasn’t paying any attention. 

The cabinet with the fancy plates is still against the wall. A wedding present for her parents from her grandma. What they don’t know is that you ran into it when you were drunk. Thankfully only a plate smashed and you remember thinking it was the funniest thing in the world one minute before hysterically crying the next. It ended in an equally drunk Sweet Pea and Clara gluing it back together and putting it back before her parents got home. The next morning you woke up with your hands stuck together. Clara and Sweet Pea you understood, but you went no where near the glue and to this day it’s still a mystery. 

“Hey, remember when you fell into that.” Clara chuckles suddenly, the sound taking both you and Sweet Pea surprise. You look at each other, but it doesn’t last long, he looks at the floor making you sigh. 

“Why are you doing this?” You ask bluntly and they look at you surprised. They clearly weren’t expecting that, but neither were you to be honest. 

“I-i.” 

“What do you mean?” Sweet Pea asks. He looks back at you, but he can’t bear to look at you properly for more than a few seconds. 

“Please don’t.” Your voice breaks and you feel the tears building. The months you’ve spent trying to stay positive, trying to write off their excuses and lies. They can spend as much time as they want together, you just want them to stop ignoring you, stop lying to you. To stop forcing themselves to love you. 

You can feel their eyes on you while you stand in front of them, your arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Just, don’t. I just want to know why you’re doing this. You can tell me if you don’t want to be with me anymore. I’d honestly prefer that than whatever this is. Your lies and excuses and clear avoidance of me. If you’ll be happier without me, just tell me.” Tears slip from your eyes and you quickly wipe them away, forcing yourself to look at them. 

You were expecting at least a little emotion from them, but their faces look more like stone than skin. Their expressions hard as they move closer to each other. 

“You’re right.” Sweet Pea starts. 

“We are happier without you.” Clara finishes. 

It feels like you’ve been punched in the gut, you feel winded, like you can’t breathe. Tears flow down your cheeks but you don’t bother to wipe them. They did this, they have to face it. 

“Okay.” You take another shaky breath. “Any reason in particular?” You don’t know why you asked that. You should have just left, but you feel yourself stuck to the spot, unable to escape. 

They look at each other, having another silent conversation and you watch as their expressions change. It goes from unsure, to sadness and then ends on something you’ve never seen before, not towards you at least. Spite.

“We’ve fallen out of love with you. It’s like, when we’re together, it’s the full package, and I could see us with other people in the future. Just not you.” Sweet Pea explains and a sob escapes your lips. You can’t breathe, the air feels tight around you. Like there’s a limited supply of oxygen and they’re taking it all. 

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” You manage to ask. 

“Couldn’t be bothered.” Clara shrugs. 

“We kept forgetting I suppose.” 

“But I love you.” You know you sound pathetic, your voice raw and croaky, your cheeks red, your eyes puffed. This can’t be real. They love you, you love them. Thats how it was always going to be. 

“Thats sweet.” Clara starts. 

“But it’s not reciprocated...sorry.” Only now does Sweet Pea look remorseful as he looks back at the hardwood floor. 

“Okay.” You manage to gather yourself together. Taking a deep breath and looking both of them in the eye before shoving past them. They both sway, hurt flashing in their eyes but you don’t see it. You’re too busy trying to get out and away from them. 

Once you’re stood on the doorway again, you make sure to look at them individually.

“I hope you guys are very happy together.” You force out through gritted teeth. 

The door slams closed and a piece of red paint falls to the floor. Your knees buckle beneath you, sobs wracking your body as you drop to the floor. 

The streetlight illuminates the dark street, making your tears on the ground sparkle. You watch them dry and they seep into the cement, disappearing almost as soon as they fall. 

They engrain themselves into the concrete and with them follows another memory you know you’ll never forget. 

No matter how hard you try. 

[2018shawn]

newborn???

I’m soft for dad!Tom atm so how about surprising him that you’re pregnant by giving him a mini Spider-Man suit. 🥺🥺🥺

a/n: I can’t believe how much I’m writing am I feeling OkAyY??? I really loved this request so THANK U I also really enjoyed writing this and think it may be one of my favourite things ever wieghnksd thank u to @shawnsmoose​ for putting up with me annoying her 

a/n 2.0: can we also appreciate the ending bc I feel it is true tom style ... caring ... but not necessary 

warnings: the teeniest tiniest talk of smut until Tom does a tom. swearing I think?? maybe??? fluff???? TESSA. BABIES. HAPPY BYE 

You sighed, looking at the ridiculously big clock on the wall opposite you. 6pm; Still at least another hour until Tom got home and that’s with the best of traffic. Straightening the table runner yet again, you brushed over it with your hands to remove any creases before moving on to straightening the cutlery. It was funny, really; that you thought cooking tom’s favourite dinner would somehow soften the blow of the news you had to break to him.

Okay, you said aloud to yourself, stepping back with your hands on your hips to admire your - if you say so yourself – perfect display. Checking under your seat where you always sat, you made sure the small gift bag was there, just in case you’d dreamt putting it there, nodding to yourself when you saw it sat waiting. Might as well make a start on the vegetables.

In the kitchen, you played some soft music to calm your nerves. You stood in the door of the refrigerator, the light hitting you as you squinted at the half-finished bottle of white wine which was screaming your name. It’s gonna be a long 9 months. Sighing as you grabbed the peach lemonade instead; you flipped it towards the counter, feeling super impressed with yourself when it landed upright. Tom and Jake would never, you thought, laughing to yourself as you recalled their excitement on the plane when they managed to get it in the cup holder in one go.

It was safe to say, after one and a half months of him filming in a completely different country, you were ready for him to return as even the pictures on the walls were rolling their eyes at you talking to yourself. Your phone pinged, and you pulled it from your back pocket before it had even stopped vibrating.

Traffic ain’t too bad. See you soon, baby girl 🥺🏡💛

Can’t wait, roastie’s are in the oven and beers in the fridge 🐷🍺

Marry me? 💛💛💛

You giggled as you were about to shove your phone back in your pocket, another vibration forcing you to open your phone screen again.

Actually, that’s not even a question. You will marry me 🍑😈

“Oh honey, I’m homeeeeee!” He sang, and you heard his suitcase roll across the hard hallway floor before it stopped, assumingly being propped up at the bottom of the stairs. You’d missed his goofy ways, he annoyingly loud voice, his warm hugs.

He practically ran into the kitchen, hitting the breaks when he saw you heading towards his direction. “HI,” he screamed, actually running up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. You think he almost knocked you over, but you knew he wouldn’t allow that to happen. Holding you close, he made a super squishy noise as he bear hugged you, lifting you off the ground.

“Hi, baby” You giggled, pulling your head away, your chests still touching, and arms still tangled around each other.

His lips came crashing down, eager to feel you, touch you, taste you. He’d missed you more than he’d let on since he’d been away. He knew you struggled being alone for such a long period of time, so he took it upon himself to be the stronger one, insisting that it wasn’t long until he’d be home and you’re in his arms. He, of course, felt even possibly worse than you did, wanting nothing more to be home with you, to make sure you’re safe. He’d be lying if he said his brothers coming around to borrow his computer shit was all coincidental.

He tasted of a mixture of mento’s, the mint ones, and cherry pepsi max and it felt infectious. He hummed into your lips as your fingers found their way into his bouncy hair and his fingers curled into your waist, almost like he was checking you were actually real. “How long do we have until dinner’s ready?” He smirked, nudging your nose with his.

On cue, the timer on the oven starting a repetitive beep and he groaned, pouting his bottom lip out like a little kid when you walked away, swaying your hips with an extra bounce. He tried distracting you as you dished up your meal, which was the last thing he wanted to eat with you stood in front of him. “Tom, I need to talk to you first, remember.”

“Yeah, but we could also talk after?” His arms were wrapped around your waist as you spooned the vegetable on his overloaded plate; you were definitely a feeder. You swatted his arm away as he tried to steal a roast potato, which were of course covered in your secret seasoning. He managed to sneak one, groaning and whistling out loud when he realised it was far too hot for consumption. Raising your eyebrows, you scowled him as if to say I told you so.

To say he was more interested in tasting you than tasting his dinner, it wasn’t on his plate for longer than 7 minutes, approx, washing the whole thing down with the rest of his beer. He joked that he’d finished filming now, meaning there was room for more food without a strict diet for once.

“So, you wanted to talk?” He asked, leaning back in his chair as he patted at his stomach. Oh the irony.

“Uh, yeh…” you shuffled in your seat, palms feeling sweaty and throat going a little dry, “I got you something.”

You started to bend down, to retrieve your gift from under the table but he slid back in his chair, causing a screech across the wooden floor, “OOOO, NO. I got YOU something!”

“No, Tom, can it…” he was already out the door heading to his suitcase before you could finish, leaving you to finish your sentence, “… wait.”

He came back through, holding a tiny bag, placing a delicate kiss on your forehead. “There was this little store and I knew you’d love it, because you like silver jewellery, so I got this made.��� He shoved it in your hands, pulling the seat out and sitting next to you, instead of in his normal seat opposite. Your heart warmed at his thoughtful gift, although you had to chew at your lip as your nerves built. Inside was a little box, wrapped in a delicate white ribbon, with assumingly the company name’s initials embossed onto the front. It was like he was watching you open a Christmas present, spilling tails of how he thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s got you yet and if you don’t wear it, he will. Your lips parted as you opened the lid, the silver bangle shining up at you. Wrapped around were three separate charms; two T’s, and your own initial. “Because we’re like a little family, right? And I wanted to be with you, and you…” he laughed as he stroked Tessa who was sat under his feet, “even if I’m physically not.”

You weren’t soft, by any stretch of the imagination, but something about tom made you feel like jelly and melt like butter. “I bloody love you, you idiot.” You beamed, “it’s beautiful, thank you.” You couldn’t help but note how there may soon need to be another initial on there, panicking as you played his words over in your mind. We’re like a little family. What if what you’re about to tell him is going to ruin everything? What if he doesn’t want it? What if he doesn’t want you?

“So… my turn now,” he smiled, fluttering his eyelashes at you. You sighed heavily. Here goes nothing. Reaching under your chair, his eyebrows raised with an impressed glow at your organisation, much different to his presentation. He furrowed his eyebrows, hands reaching out for the small, brown gift bag, clinching his fingers back and forth like a little kid himself.

If he thought you opened your present slowly, boy, did he wanna be in your shoes right now. He fought with the white tissue paper you’d wrapped the small item in, muttering to himself as he eventually just ragged it out and threw it behind him, tessa immediately jumping to it and running around with it in her mouth like the proudest dog in the world.

The pattern of the item was familiar to him - how could it not be? The red and blue suit, with black lines decorating the majority, was exceptionally smaller compared to the one he wore on set. His face was scrunched up in confusion, “you know I can just get one that fits me right?”

“It’s not meant to fit you,” you rolled your eyes, reaching over and turning over the size tag that was still attached.

“First size/newborn” he whispered to himself, “newborn...”

He sat for about 10 seconds in silence, and it killed you, because it felt like 10 hours. His eyes finally snapped up to meat your worried overwatch, “NEWBORN?!”

Excitingly repeating the word, he pointed at the small baby grow “newborn?”

Then to his (in true Tom style) his penis, “newborn?”

And then finally to your lower stomach, “newborn?”

You nodded, bringing your lips together into a thin line as you let him digest the news. He grabbed the small sleepsuit, clutching it in his hand as he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around you, wanting to never let go. “I didn’t know if you wanted this yet, and I understand if you’re not ready, and we can talk, but I really think I...”

He pulled you back, a hand on each shoulder, resting his forehead against yours. “Y/N, this is the best fucking this to ever happen to me, to us. Thank you so much...” your eyes filled up, just as his did, only yours was with relief. You’d never considered getting rid of the baby, and hoped Tom didn’t want to either, but you did come to accept that he might not be ready.

“I think I should thank you, it’s you that looked really hot at the premiere. And it’s also you that didn’t pull out quick enough, evidently” You giggled, and he laughed too, using his thumbs to wipe the tears that were only just escaping your eyes.

“You looked hot too.” He stated, giving you a peck on the lips. “How long have you known?”

“About a week, I knew your dumb ass would fly home and ruin filming for something that’s the size of a blueberry.”

“Oh my god, we got a baby blueberryyyy” he grinned, his hand coming down to rest on your stomach.

“I mean, yeh, but at the minute all you’ll feel is just roast potatoes in there”

Tucked up in bed, you rested on his chest, his fingers drawing random patterns on your side as you leant into him. “Are we really.. gonna do this?” You stuttered out, feeling his lips press to the top of your head.

He adjusted so you shuffled gently onto your back, rolling himself on top of you, leaning on his forearms to be careful not to crush you, and your blueberry. “I wouldn’t ever force you to keep it... him... her? Baby berry?... But I know you’re just scared. And I am too but that’s ok.” He pressed loving kisses to your tingling lips between each set of words as your hands toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck, “I mean, we were gonna have one eventually.”

“We were?” You smirked, interested to hear more.

“Mhmmm...” he hummed, moving his lips from your mouth and across your jaw, eventually ending up at the delicate skin on your neck as he spoke, “I think 3. 1 boy, 1 girl, 1 blueberry...” Your laugh filled the room at not only his tom-ness, but the way his breath tickled your neck as he spoke. “In a big house, and another tessa, maybe a couple more chickens because my kids are gonna love dippy egg and soldiers.”

His tongue lapped the areas his teeth were nibbling, swapping his needy, harsh touch for a more gentle approach. You groaned into him, back arching as he grazed all your sensitive spots, his hands running up your t shirt and cupping your breast. You moaned his name into him, with nothing but love filling the word.

Your nipples grew hard between his fingers as he toyed with you, barely noticing how he was moving around on top of you, reaching over to the bedside drawer and rummaging through.

“Tom, what on Earth are you doing?” You laughed.

“Getting a condom?