#I have a series of half chapters ready and nothing is finished lol

[monster-loverr]

"Ok, let's write a scene with gender swapped Chara and confused bi Papyrus for the book of extras!"

"Oh, wait, no, I want to write a crossover with Damn you, Chara! and Fellswap Papyrus!!"

"Oh no, I DEFINITELY wanna write what happens after the end of the main story of Tale As Old As Time!! Let's do it!!"

...

...My writing muse has ADHD

[achilles-rage]

thirteen crows: chapter two

summary: you go out for girl’s night, unaware of the eyes on you.

word count: 2.2k

previous chapter

series masterlist

a/n: so sorry this chapter is a little shorter, but it was fun to write!! this story is darker than i kinda thought i'd make it, hope that's okay lol. enjoy<33

warnings: stalking, hints of body shaming from a friend, mentions of violence (nothing graphic), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

You’re just finishing putting on your shoes when your coworker, Grace, knocks on the door. You’re supposed to go out with some friends tonight, Grace included, and since she lives in the same building as you, you decide to walk to the bar you’re going to together. 

Since Eddie walked you home two weeks ago, you’ve felt even more on edge for some reason, and you’re not sure why. They’ve been coming into the bar even more often, and one or the other has been walking you home each time, but you still can’t fight the feeling that something isn't quite right. You feel like there’s always eyes on you, even when you’re in the safety of your own apartment. 

If you manage to find the little eyes strategically placed in hard to see places throughout your apartment; your bedroom, your kitchen, your living room, you’d know you have every reason to feel this way. But for now, you feel a little silly for worrying so much.

“Well, one of us has to change.” Grace teases when you open the door, a wide smile on her face. She’s clearly already a little drunk, and you laugh as she squeezes past you and into your apartment. 

You’re both wearing similar black miniskirts; hers more form fitting while yours is looser, with black going out tops. While neither of you are necessarily looking for men at the bar, both of you clearly figured that if the black skirts you wear to work get more tips, they’ll probably work to get free drinks too.

“Are we still meeting the others at the bar?” you ask her once she’s plopped down onto your couch. She nods, pulling her phone out of her purse and checking it. 

“They’re already on their way. I guess we should go.” she tells you, although she doesn’t make a move to get up. Cass and Afsah are more Grace’s friends than yours, and they came up with the plan before Afsah asked Grace if you wanted to come, so the conversation is still going on in their own group chat. 

“Alright, let’s go. I’m ready.” you tell Grace, and she lets out a loud, exasperated sigh before she stands and walks toward the door. You both check yourselves in the mirror in your entryway one more time before you exit your apartment and make your way down to the sidewalk.

You’re a few drinks in, and a small part of you feels like you’re suffocating from the heat radiating off of the warm bodies filling the space of the bar when you all collapse into the booth in the back of the room. You and Grace sit on one side of the booth while Cass and Afsah sit on the other, all of you holding half-empty glasses.

The miniskirts had worked, and you and Grace had both gotten free drinks from random men. The only difference, however, is that when the bartender had slid a shot towards you and told you that a man at the other end of the counter had sent it, Grace took it from your hands mid-air and downed it before you could protest.

You almost laughed at her antics, not even thinking to look over at the man who sent you the drink as you look at Grace, but when you heard her mumble something like “it was probably meant for me, anyway,” the laugh dies in your throat. You had noticed that when you met with Afsah and Cass, Grace went on and on about how good they looked, and she said nothing about you. It’s obvious that you don’t exactly look like them, with their slim legs and small waists, but you still think you look good. 

“We should do this more often.” Afsah is the first to speak after you’ve all sat down, and you all nod in agreement, small smiles on your face.

“If we can find a night that we’re all not working again.” you tease, and they all laugh and hum quiet agreements. 

You fall into conversation about Cass’s new boyfriend; her trying to convince everyone that this one is much different than her last few relationships, while everyone else gives her skeptical looks. 

“I’m just saying, when he goes home, I don’t have to get myself off.” she tells you with a straight face, and everyone bursts into laughter, eyes crinkled and heads tilted back. 

“You’ve got a keeper, then.” Grace replies, and you’re about to add on when Afsah’s quiet gasp catches your attention.

You all turn to face the direction she’s looking, and your eyes widen when you see someone wearing a ghostface mask in the middle of the bar’s dance floor, pretending to sneak up on some girls to scare them.

“That’s so insensitive.” Cass says with a shake of her head. You tilt your head, pursing your lips as you watch the guy lift the mask off of his face and laugh loudly as the women slap him in the arm. Grace and Afsah turn back to the group, newfound sparkles in their eyes.

“Come on, it’s hot. You have to admit, the pictures on social media look really good. I don’t know who the killers are, but they look built, and hot.” Grace says with a shrug, her cheeks turning red as you and Cass look at her with wide eyes. A month or so after the killings first started, someone managed to get the killers on video as they were leaving the house. Both were wearing ghostface masks and all black, and both were both very clearly built.

“No, you’re right. I thought the same thing. I mean, the killing is bad, obviously, but they could’ve picked a less attractive mask.” Afsah adds, and you and Cass’s heads snap to her, surprised she’s going along with Grace’s idea. You expect this from Grace, but Afsah less so.

“Absolutely not!” Cass says loudly, a surprised laugh escaping her throat as she speaks. Afsah and Grace just roll their eyes at her, already knowing she wouldn’t be into it, then both turn their stares to you.

“Come one, babe. Don’t act like you wouldn’t fuck them.” Afsah questions you, raising her eyebrows twice. You give her a tight-lipped smile, feeling your cheeks heat up as you think about it.

“Okay, maybe they’re a little hot. But I’m not saying that I’d fuck them.” you reply in a sheepish tone, looking down at the remnants of the drink in your glass. Afsah rolls her eyes, giving you a “really?” look before she’s laughing again.

“I’m just saying, they’d probably make sure you wouldn’t need to get yourself off after too. Well, maybe not you.” Grace says with a shrug before she takes another drink of her watered-down long island iced tea. She mumbles the last sentence, her eyes darting to meet yours before she takes a sip, and while Cass and Afsah laugh and mumble a soft “oh, my god,” not hearing the last part, you do hear it. You force a small smile, looking back down at your drink and swishing the liquid around as you try to keep the tears from forming in your eyes. Grace’s short glance down to your plush stomach doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you immediately know what she means by that. You’re not sure where this is coming from; you’ve always been friendly with Grace, and she’s never said anything like this before.

You’re so distracted by your little girl's night, and then by the comment made by Grace, that you don’t notice your bar regulars keeping close to you the entire night. They keep a far enough distance to not get caught, and while they’re sure Grace is drunk enough to not recognize them, they know that if they get too close to you, you’re sure to spot them. You’ve always been more vigilant than those around you. They’ve noticed that.

A soft, sweet thing like you, you have to be vigilant. Who knows the harm that could come to you at any moment? They want to protect you from the things that could cause you harm, but at the same time, they can’t help but imagine how you’d look with a knife pressed against your pretty skin. How seraphic you’d sound when you begged for your life. How gorgeous you’d look covered in blood.

They heard your entire conversation about them too, and everything Grace had said to you tonight. They knew sitting in the booth directly beside yours would come in handy, even if it was a risk. If doing so didn’t mean they’d go to prison for life, they’d drag Grace out of the bar by her hair and make sure she never bothered you again, but they hold off. They still have so much left to do. And they wouldn’t want to scare their sweet girl too much. Not yet.They roll their eyes at Grace’s comments. Why the hell would they want her when the girl of their dreams is sitting directly beside her? With your soft tummy, and your thick thighs, and the way you try to refuse the tips that you so obviously deserve, while Grace complains about any tip she gets, even if it’s much more than she deserves. It usually is, they think. You’re perfect for them.

By the time your group is ready to leave, you and Cass are practically carrying Grace out of the bar. You’re so focused on making sure neither you, nor Grace fall over that you don’t notice your regulars following you out of the bar and sinking back into the shadows while you’re waiting for your uber. You don’t necessarily have the money for it, but you figure it’ll be worth it if it means not having to get Grace home yourself. 

Once you say goodbye to Afsah and Cass and get into the uber, Buck and Eddie are in Buck’s jeep and following your car. Just to make sure you get home okay, of course. 

The light turning on in an apartment on the first floor a minute after you walk Grace into your building doesn’t go unnoticed by them. You don’t live on the first floor, and when they see your frame through the crack of the slightly opened curtains, they know it’s Grace’s apartment. 

They watch you cross the crack in the curtain a few times, and assume that you’re trying to help her get to bed. You’re such a good person. After the things she said, they wouldn’t blame you if you merely dropped her at her door, then let her fend for herself, but they know you better than that. You’re probably grabbing her some water and some ibuprofen for the morning, and making sure she’s safely tucked in bed before you make your way up to your apartment. 

You’re such a good friend, and they wonder if you’d do the same for them. You probably would. It’s just the kind of person you are. 

A minute or so after they see the lights turn off in Grace’s apartment, they both get a notification of movement on their phones, and they turn and smirk at each other before Buck slides his phone out of his pocket.

The dim light of the phone is all that illuminates the dark car parked on the gloomy, eerily silent street in front of your apartment building, and both of their faces look devilish as they smirk down at the screen. 

You stumble into your living room, haphazardly taking your shoes off as you throw your purse onto the chair. Then, you walk to the fridge and grab a glass, downing the room temperature water you’ve poured yourself from the tap, not even bothering to grab your brita from the fridge.

They let out low groans when you throw off your long sleeve top and settle in front of your fan, their pants growing tight as they watch you try to cool your burning skin from the alcohol coursing through your veins. You’re so adorably oblivious as you close your eyes, your body going relaxed as you lean closer to the fan.

The jeep stays in the same place on the dark street until you’re finally in bed. You’re showered and changed into your most comfortable pajamas, and you have a big water bottle and ibuprofen beside your bed for when the headache finally hits, and you look so peaceful when your pretty eyes finally flutter shut.

It’s a struggle for them to finally drive away, not wanting to leave you when you’re looking so vulnerable. But, you’ll be okay. They’re sure of it. Especially now that you have them.

They act surprised when they see the story on the news the next day: a man was found dead in the alleyway right beside the bar you went to last night. Everyone wonders what he could’ve done to wind up barely recognizable. What could he have done to make someone so angry?

next chapter

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

click here for my masterlist!

click here to be added to my taglist!

click here to read my request rules!

taglist: @sherlocksbaby2323 @essienoe @p14th0mps0n @celestixldarling @minsugafour @brooke0297 @zelfanswhenshecan @sarahsmi13s @avengersgirllorianna @bingbongsupremacy @nishinoyahhh @alyssanicole01 @outof-spite @supernatural-bangtanboys @sporadicmakerwerewolf @x0xchristine @pear-1206 @swanshells @tpwkstiles @lulubelle14 @cannibalhellhound @odetolocksmiths @charlie-winchester94 @hollandxxmix @evysian @buckandeddiesverison @love-kha1 @starbyun92939798 @maxinish @theking-mustdie @daeswash @911varietyposts @superlock-in-the-tardis @lilsquatch7898 @hufflepuff-spidey @starboygf @wnbweasley @damndirtylitch @eva-tts5 @alexxavicry @tatyhend @sammiejane22 @mbioooo0000 @prettybi-girly @boybandbaby @toessssw @tryingtograspctrl @azkza @rosey1981 @cryedye (if you interacted with my taglist post and are not on this list, make sure your blog is visible in seatched, otherwise i can’t tag you! + more in comments)

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (14)

ー☆ Chapter 14: Follow You

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none ー☆ Word count: 7.8k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Hello, my lovelies! And the last actual chapter is here (as I still have an epilogue ready for you all), I can't believe we're wrapping up LMLAR and that I have to let go of the characters I have created for this story. I can't lie, I might have become really attached to Mingi in this story because I accidentally portrayed in him my ideal type, but what's new? I somehow always manage to hurt myself when I write with Mingi lol (ig that's the burden I have to carry if I write a story with my bias lol) I will be going on a holiday for possibly two weeks, so that means I won't be able to write nor update for two weeks (which sounds horrible and I'm already dying over it, but I hope I'll manage to find time to still write even if a little). Now, don't worry too much about the epilogue and I ask you to read the note at the end of this chapter attentively! ;) For once, I am asking you all to listen to Follow You after you've finished the chapter and not before or during it! I'm curious if the lyrics will be familiar hehe. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and let me know through feedback <3 divider

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red

@sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng

@deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf

@hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss

@catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi @mingisbbg

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Being here with him, doing this with him had no business being so nerve-wracking. This was Mingi, the guy I hated at first—did I?—and then found a friend in and—well, now found something more in him—wanted more from him. But the flutter of my heart and my stomach twisting despite still feeling somewhat calm, reminded me that no matter that I was with Mingi, this was a completely new setting for us. Yes, it was just the two of us going out and about, but at the same time, it was a date. Something we both discussed and agreed upon, leaving our houses with the purpose of going on this date, the two of us. And perhaps it wasn’t even me feeling nervous about going on a date with Mingi per se, but more the fact that I hadn’t done something like this in ages, which made me feel giddy about it. Like a child when they get the present they really wanted on Christmas Eve.

Mingi, like the true gentleman he was, had picked me up once we were both done with our classes for the day, the sun only half an hour away from setting. The sky had been coated in orange and pink hues as Mingi drove us to an unknown location, grinning from ear to ear as he talked about his day to fill the silence since his old Honda’s stereo had stopped working a few days ago. I didn’t mind that, not at all, if that meant I got to listen to his deep voice and excited tone as he told me about his professor asking about Outlaw and whether he was allowed to attend one of Noir Zenith’s performances. It seemed like word had gotten out lately about Mingi’s band, and even more people from our university were interested in watching them play, I feared soon Outlaw wouldn’t be enough to house the fans. The thought made me feel—made me feel proud and happy for him. Mingi deserved this, he was hard-working and diligent, and I wished him nothing but the best.

When I realized that Mingi was driving us to a rather high-end part of the city with tall and fancy buildings, I found myself more nervous about the surprise he had in mind for me. I didn’t exactly want to dine out in a super expensive restaurant—it really wasn’t my thing—but if this is what Mingi prepared for us, I wouldn’t mind. I knew I’d enjoy myself as long as he was by my side. But, thankfully, he veered us away from the main street and drove down a few narrower ones, buildings nestled together and looking cozier than ever. Graffiti and murals covered every second bricked wall, and I watched curiously as Mingi pulled over and parked the car at the side of the road, in front of a black building, smaller than the ones in the area but a lot more modern and fancier looking. It was dark inside and looked unlived in, but I didn’t question him when he just grinned and grabbed a blanket and basket out of the backseat, then grabbed my hand and guided me towards its front door.

He had fumbled with the key for a second and I snickered at him as he flushed, but then we were inside and I watched in awe the high windows, the place vacant of anything. It was dark, now with the sun setting as well, and I noticed that quite a few lightbulbs were still missing, but Mingi grabbed my hand and walked us towards the end of the hallway.

“Are you sure we’re supposed to be here?” I asked quietly, as if afraid someone would hear us. The place was unfurnished still and Mingi hummed as I noticed light coming from a room whose archway was covered by a black blanket so that you couldn’t see inside. I had paused and looked at Mingi questioningly as he chewed on his bottom lip, then released my hand and yanked the blanket down. My eyes widened at the scenery inside, completely taken aback by the fairy lights strung above and the fort which was built by three stands and a blanket dangled over them. Besides the fairy lights, there was a projector and the white wall was covered in the image of a forest, with a creek slowly flowing through, and the distant sound of birds chirping echoed around the room, it was quiet so as not to disturb any conversation.

My jaw was completely on the floor as I felt my heart race even faster, completely in awe at the view in front of me. I couldn’t believe someone would do something so sweet for me, and as I turned to look at Mingi, for the first time, he looked nervous. He smiled tentatively and I noticed his trembling fingers as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his tall nose, and then without thinking, I threw myself in his arms, hugging his torso tightly as I gnawed on my bottom lip, embarrassed by the sudden tears in my eyes as I buried my head in his chest. Mingi made a surprised noise in the back of his throat but didn’t hesitate to return the embrace, and I had to gulp multiple times to try and get rid of the lump in my throat. Nobody has ever done something this nice for me. It was thoughtful, there was effort put into it, and I knew Mingi did this all by himself.

“So, based on your reaction, I assume you like this?” He didn’t sound smug or playful, he sounded genuinely curious, and for a second, I couldn’t believe I was stupid enough to even think of ruining a relationship with someone this precious.

“I love it, Mingi.” I whispered into his chest, the softener of his clothes carrying a flowery scent that mingled with his cologne that I was familiar with by now. It felt safe, it felt warm, and Mingi was comforting to be around.

“Oh, that’s good.” He heaved a sigh and I finally managed to get rid of the tears as I pulled my head back to look up at him, his cheeks were flushed a deep red, a great contrast against his tanned skin and platinum hair, “I was scared you’d hate it, but Wooyoung told me to trust my gut, so I did.”

I smiled and released him, stepping back to offer him space so that he could proceed with his plans. He beckoned me further inside the warm room, towards the fort as he laid the blanket out on a mattress for us, placing the picnic basket next to it, “If the weather would’ve allowed it, I would’ve loved taking you down to the creek for a little picnic under the warm sun, but autumn and winter suck, so I had to get creative.”

“I wasn’t expecting anything less from you.” I chuckled as I had walked towards him, shrugging off my long coat. Mingi followed suit and I took my time to take in his attire, loose black jeans held onto his narrow hips by a thick belt, a beige sweater tucked in slightly at the front, and a black denim jacket with the sleeves rolled up. His wrists were decorated with beaded bracelets, the rings toned down as he only had three on his left and one on his right hand, three necklaces dangling at different lengths around his neck. His nails were bare today, void of the familiar black tint. And, without meaning to, it seemed like we wore matching outfits for our date. I wore black jeans which was loose at the knees paired with a black off-shoulder long-sleeved blouse and a beige sweater with holes over it. I didn’t want to comment on my observations as Mingi settled on the mattress with a grin, patting the spot next to him, “What’s this place though? Are you sure we’re allowed to be here?”

Mingi chuckled as he opened the basket, pulling out the thermos I had brought the hot chocolate in for him days ago, and then he grabbed two mugs, “I pulled some strings for us to be here, but we’re not trespassing, so don’t worry.”

“Who owns this building?” I asked curiously as I watched Mingi pour hot chocolate into the mugs.

“Well, last I heard Hongjoong bought it, so…” My eyes widened as I had taken the mug from Mingi, curious to know more, “This building will be Seonghwa’s art studio. He wishes to launch a brand soon, and Hongjoong thought it would be best if Seonghwa has his own office, or studio as Hwa likes to call it. I think he wants to turn the front lobby into a smaller art gallery of sorts, you should talk to him and see whether he’s interested in displaying your paintings and drawings.”

I hummed, thrilled at the idea of having my own exposition one day, “I don’t think I have enough creations for him to display just yet, but I will keep it in mind.”

It’s my dream to be a well-known painter all around the world, to have to travel to display my art in various galleries, to have people interpret my works to their liking and imagination, and to be able to spread a message through my work. I love creating and I love sharing my deepest thoughts through whatever I put on a canvas, or in my sketchbook and, perhaps, I love it even more when someone else appreciates it and interprets it through their own lens, through their own experiences.

Being here with Mingi felt warm, it made me forget about every concern I had prior, completely disregarding my nervous state as I now found myself comfortable sitting beside him and sipping on our hot chocolate, snacking from time to time on popcorn and whatever salty snack Mingi had prepared for us. The scenery through the projector never changed, and I found the chirping of the birds and the flow of the water as white noise rather relaxing. If I closed my eyes, I could easily picture myself with Mingi by the creek, the two of us sitting on a blanket in the green grass, the warm sun beaming down on us as we laughed and talked about whatever came to mind. It seemed like time passed by like a slug when in reality, it was flying away way too fast, but neither one of us cared. Wooyoung and Seulgi knew we were on a date—and since this building was Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s, they probably knew we were here too—and I had told my mother earlier today that I was going out with Mingi. There was no point hiding anything from her anymore, and she was beyond excited to hear the news. She had a night shift today, but she promised to pester me at breakfast about every single detail tomorrow, swearing she wouldn’t go to sleep until we had the chance to talk. And when she put her mind to something, I knew she would follow through with it.

Mingi and I had been talking non-stop since the whole fiasco in his studio—through texts, phone calls, or in person—and I found myself craving to be around him more and more. Surprising even myself, I bought pastries just the other day before going to my first class, and knowing Mingi would be in his studio, I surprised him with his favorite pastry before I was off to class, not wanting to bother him anymore. It also didn’t come as much of a surprise when he and Wooyoung sat with me and Seulgi at lunch, Mingi huddled up close to me as he wouldn’t stop nagging me about eating more, giving me half of his portion despite me not being able to stomach it. In the end, he finished both of our lunches, and I couldn’t have been happier. Seulgi and Wooyoung didn’t comment much on our antics, but I knew Seulgi was dying to tease me. I knew I was in for it later in our art class, and I wasn’t wrong.

The tension I felt around Mingi—due to not being completely honest with him—had now completely disappeared and was, instead, replaced with a tingling feeling that made me giggle and flush any time I allowed my thoughts to stray towards him. Towards his tall build, his firm muscles, his deep and raspy voice that covered my skin in chills any time I listened to it, and his sharp eyes that could make anyone weak in the knees unless they were creased due to his wide smile. His long nose and crooked teeth and that wide smile that had my stomach doing weird flips, his throaty giggles and rarely flushed cheeks. His hands, which were always warm in contrast to his chunky silver rings, which, surprisingly, have become comforting whenever they dug into my skin, his thick fingers intertwined with mine. His cologne and scent, which had me craving more of him, his clothes tucked away securely in my closet—and if perhaps one of my hoodies’ started smelling like Mingi, nobody had to know that I would snuggle up in it before falling asleep. His arms, which always brought a wave of comfort with them and made me feel smaller than anyone has managed to make me feel before. His hands and nails which I would stare at and flush whenever Mingi noticed what I had been doing, and ultimately, his platinum blonde hair, a color that I started loving instead of hating so ardently. It suited him, it made him look unfairly handsome, it sharpened his high cheekbones and his well-defined jaw, gave his eyes more depth and sharpness, and yes, I loved the color, but I also missed his naturally black hair. It made him look softer, more like the Mingi he was on the inside, easily fooling others of his true personality.

A personality that was goofy and giddy, yet a personality that felt everything intensely and spoke boldly, expressing himself directly and never expecting anything besides fair treatment and the truth in return. Mingi was a sensitive soul who offered without asking anything back in return, and he was rewarded rightfully by those around him who appreciated and loved him. He was easily lovable and I found it harder each day that passed by to ignore the need to cherish and protect him. I didn’t think coming clean with my feelings would be such a liberating feeling, that it would make everything so much easier to accept, to mull over. I was scared, of course, I still was, but I felt hopeful. I knew Mingi well enough by now to know he’d never pressure me into anything I didn’t want, that he’d never make me feel uncomfortable, and that he’d always take it slow if that’s what I needed.

When our mindless chatter finally subsided, the two of us now laid on our backs, staring up at the moon Mingi had hung up in the fort—it felt serene. I knew we were nearing late evening by now, but I couldn’t find it in myself to actually care, to actually look at my phone to check the time. I didn’t even want to look at my wristwatch to see—I wished to stay in this moment with Mingi for as long as possible. We had eaten almost all the snacks he brought and the hot chocolate had been long gone now, all we did was enjoy each other’s company right now. With a finger fiddling with the holes in my sweater, I reached the pinkie of my other hand out until I could poke at Mingi’s hand. I didn’t look at him, but I could see from my peripheral that his eyes were closed. He hummed when I poked his pinkie again, and then, finally gave in as he hooked our pinkies together, sending my heart into a frenzy as I tried to remind myself that this wasn’t the first time we’d be holding hands—it did nothing to my poor flushed cheeks nor churning stomach, I was horrible at hiding how he made me feel.

“Can I ask you something?” Mingi’s voice was quiet as if not to disturb our peace. He sounded just a little bit hesitant, and I got a feeling of what our next subject would be about. I hummed and listened as he took a deep breath, then asked his question, “Do you hate Yunho?”

My eyebrows furrowed as I glanced at Mingi, his eyes were still closed, except that now he was gnawing on his lower lip nervously instead of looking at ease. I didn’t have to think much about his question, I don’t think I have ever felt such negative feelings against someone before, “No, I could never hate anyone, to be honest. However, I did resent him for a long time.”

“And now?” I could understand his curiosity and the need to know more about whatever was once between Yunho and me. It didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, I was rather thankful that we could openly discuss it. I know that if it bothered him, Mingi would’ve told me because that’s who he was. We didn’t hold secrets from each other, we spoke directly and honestly.

“I don’t feel anything,” I whispered with a small shrug, finding it weird how impartial I had become to Jeong Yunho. A few months ago I still couldn’t think of him without distaste, let alone talk about him without my stomach dropping and heart clenching. I still didn’t appreciate the way he’s treated me, of course, I didn’t, but I found it easy to let go, to not care anymore at all, “It’s been over five years that we dated, and I’ve been over him for a long time now.”

“But you couldn’t completely let go,” Mingi muttered and I had to gulp, not that surprised that he saw right through me.

“He was my first love, my first in everything so I—” I gulped, wondering whether this was uncomfortable or not for Mingi to discuss, but he intertwined our fingers and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. I took a deep breath and slowly continued, “I was attached to him, people always say you’ll forever remember the first person you truly loved, and I think they are right. It’s a bittersweet memory, to be honest, but not something I feel locked down in anymore. Even the resentment I felt towards him now feels so distant like it happened ages ago and not months ago. It feels good and refreshing to have gotten rid of such consuming thoughts and emotions despite never saying it out loud. I hated myself for latching onto that last fraction of emotion I felt towards Yunho, thinking it would make his life as miserable as he made mine but in reality, I was only holding myself back and hurting myself furthermore.”

I turned my head to watch Mingi, to take in his expression, and I was surprised to see him smiling. He was gently rubbing his thumb over my skin, “Yunho’s parents got divorced around the time you two started dating, and his older brother moved to another country in order to pursue the career he’s always wanted, so Yunho had it hard. Between the two of us, he’s always been the stronger person, the brighter mind with never-ending hope, cheering me on and encouraging me to never back down if I had goals to reach. Even when I knew he was suffering due to his family’s situation, he wouldn’t let me comfort him, wouldn’t let me be his shoulder to cry on. He had a huge ego back then, refusing to show the cracks or admit that he was doing worse than ever, and I think he was abusing every relationship he had back at that time. He needed validation and love, he felt worthless and used after his parents didn’t even warn him of their split up, just showed him the documents and made him choose who he’d want to continue living with.

“His parents were good people but they handled some things in a shitty way, and it showed because Yunho lost himself in alcohol and meaningless relationships for a while. I’m not calling your relationship meaningless, because as much as I can remember, you were the only one who was able to tie him down for a longer period of time back then. It’s not you who wasn’t enough for Yunho, it’s him who wasn’t ready to commit and love others the right way. I warned him often to stop whatever he was doing, but he was addicted to the feeling and even hurt me in the process. I’m in no way invalidating your feelings and whatever you have gone through, I just hope you can forgive Yunho’s foolishness one day. He was just a kid trying to navigate his life as he lost his path for a short amount of time. I can guarantee he’s changed now, he’s better than he’s ever been before and he regrets everything he’s done. If you feel like it, I’m sure he would even reach out to you to apologize.”

Mingi’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he turned his face, and his eyes widened when he realized I had been looking at him the whole time, “I probably would’ve killed for this information back in highschool, it would’ve made things a lot less complicated for me if he was just honest and explained things before he left me. It wasn’t always easy growing up without a father, and despite never caring much about what others said, Yunho made me feel unworthy and undesirable and perhaps it’s that which hurt more and not even the fact that he left me. I knew relationships didn’t always last, but I didn’t expect him to be such a huge asshole.”

Mingi snickered and bit his lower lip as I rolled my eyes, trying to restrain the giggle that threatened to bubble through, “Yunho would be digging his own grave right now if he were to hear us, too embarrassed and ashamed of himself to even apologize.”

“Serves him right.” I couldn’t help but laugh and Mingi did the same, looking content and not bothered by the nature of our conversation. After all, it was him who was curious about it and I had nothing to hide from him anymore, “What about you? Any past girlfriends I have to look out for?”

My tone was teasing and Mingi instantly flushed, turning his head away as if that would’ve hidden it. His glasses were placed between us and he cleared his throat as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Well, I wasn’t a heartthrob like my lovely best friend, so I didn’t date many girls.”

I raised my eyebrows, prompting Mingi to continue speaking as he sighed, “I dated a girl back in highschool for a few months, but I don’t know. She was nagging and I didn’t like the way she berated me whenever things didn’t go her way, so I broke up quickly with her. After that, I just wasn’t in the mood to date anyone. I was content with watching anime and reading my mangas and hanging out with Yunho.”

I grinned and pushed up onto my elbows, wiggling my eyebrows at Mingi when he quickly averted his eyes, “And in university? Come on, don’t be shy now, where’s the cocky and annoying Mingi I despised?”

“You were into it, don’t lie.” Mingi chuckled as I scoffed, but I couldn’t find myself to correct him. Maybe I was into it, but he didn’t have to know, his ego was big enough already. After a longer pause and a squeeze of his hand, he gave in and groaned, “Yeah, fine, I dated casually a few people but wasn’t into any of them much. I feel like nobody has ever seen past my looks or the fact that I have a band and sing, so I didn’t feel like being with someone who only wanted me for my looks and for the far-fetched idea that I’d become famous one day, subsequently making them famous too so that they could parade around saying their boyfriend is a rockstar.”

“It’s not a far-fetched idea, Mingi.” I muttered and he looked up at me again, looking hopeful, “It’s good to know, though, that I won’t have to fight any jealous exes in the near future.”

“It’s rather the exes I’d be worried about,” He snickered, and as I narrowed my eyes, a cheeky smile was back on his lips, “you are the jealous type, not them—”

“Now that’s simply not true.” I huffed and fell back, glaring up at the new moon Mingi had hung up in the fort, “I’m not the jealous type.”

“Are you not?” His voice dripped with tease and I rolled my eyes, “Because I’m pretty sure you don’t like Mina—”

“Who’s Mina?” I interrupted, eyebrows furrowing as I cast a glance his way.

“The blonde girl, my fan.” I gulped, suddenly feeling an unexplainable drop in my stomach and a scowl on my face as I turned my head further away so that Mingi couldn’t see it. Yeah, I simply couldn’t stand her. Mingi started laughing loudly and I huffed as I retracted my hand from his, crossing my arms in front of my chest. It only made him laugh harder, and soon I found myself grinning, his deep laugh infectious.

“I’m not jealous of her, though.” I tried to defend myself but it fell on deaf ears as Mingi continued snickering.

“I don’t mind.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Mingi chuckled at my scoff and then it was silent again as I felt my heart rate settle, Mingi’s breaths stable and loud in the fort. The sounds of nature alongside the projection of the creek would be able to lull me to sleep, but Mingi spoke up again before that could happen, “Remember when we were in the library all those months ago and I flipped through your sketchbook without permission?”

I hummed and gave him a pointed stare, making Mingi smile at me sheepishly, “Well, sorry about that, first of all, and secondly, there was a drawing of eyes which was scribbled over. That’s when you said those were Yunho’s but I’m pretty sure I can recognize my own eyes, doll—”

“Are you claiming again that I was drawing your eyes?” I raised my eyebrows and Mingi pursed his lips as he nodded, “I feel like we’ve had this discussion a million times before, Mings.”

Mingi chuckled and then shrugged, playing with the beads of his bracelet, “Yeah, but hearing you confirm it again would be nice.”

I sighed but gave in nonetheless, I would adhere to his wishes only today, “Yes, Mingi, my sketchbook is full of your eyes, of your face, of your body, of you performing on stage, of you sitting in your car—of you.”

I didn’t expect to see his face, even his ears, turn red in a second, eyes widening as his mouth fell open. For once I felt like I had the upper hand, that it finally wasn’t him making me feel flustered, and I smirked, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly. Mingi cleared his throat and patted at his cheeks, clearing his throat again as he opened his mouth to speak, stuttering a bit before a sound actually came out, “Well, I—uh, I wasn’t expecting such honesty. Thank you? I mean, that’s really cool, thank you. I knew you were obsessed with me since the second you saw me.”

And that’s why I mostly kept to myself about stuff like this, I knew it would get to his head, “No, I couldn’t stand you the second I saw you. Then you turned out not to be such an idiot and too annoying, thankfully.”

Mingi chuckled and intertwined his hands as he placed them behind his head, kicking his legs out, “Well, I actually knew you before meeting you at Outlaw. Wooyoung told me about Seulgi, and then the next day he pointed her out in the hallway and you were there with her. And, uh, yeah.”

It was my turn to tease him as I turned my head and grinned at him, “Did little Mingi have a crush on me before he even got to know me?”

I shouldn’t have felt so pleased by his sudden flush or the way he avoided eye contact, “Yeah, I did.”

And apparently, I was worth sticking around for so long, pushing to get through to me, to make me realize opening up to another person wasn’t such an awful thing, to make me realize liking someone else wasn’t the end of the world, and that I very much wanted to be loved and that I also wanted to love another. The silence that dragged on wasn’t awkward, but I felt Mingi tense the more I didn’t say anything, and as he looked at me with eyes that held light fear in them, I smiled. And then, I was turning onto my side and leaning over to kiss him. As always, his plush lips were soft and warm, welcoming and eager as I pressed a chaste kiss against them, trying not to smile but I failed miserably as Mingi sighed quietly. I pulled back as my intention wasn’t to turn this into anything deeper, but Mingi chased after my lips, our noses bumping together as I cupped his cheek with my hand, my hair falling around us as our lips pressed a little firmer against each other.

It was slow, neither one of us desperate or trying to prove anything as we got lost in the feel of the other, of the other’s warmth and taste—which was a mix of salted caramel popcorn and hot chocolate, Mingi’s cologne making my head dizzy as our lips slotted perfectly together, moving languidly against each other. My hand slipped to hold his jaw and he freed a hand from under his head as he held onto the back of my head, sucking my lip between his teeth without bruising them or nipping at them. I hummed against his lips and pressed another swift kiss against them before pulling away, my face hovering above his as I didn’t want to open my eyes just yet, basking in the feeling kissing Mingi brought with itself. Our noses bumped together again and I smiled as Mingi giggled, no doubt enjoying the proximity.

“So,” His voice was quiet and when I opened my eyes, I was met with an unexpected flush to his cheeks, that subsequently made me blush as well, “what are we now?”

“What should we be?” I asked, my tone warm as I bit my lower lip to contain my smile.

“What do you want us to be?”

“A couple?”

It felt like time stopped as I muttered those words, feeling nervous and scared, but so ready to offer everything I had to Mingi, to make him happy, to make him feel loved and appreciated. I never wanted to see him hurt, especially not because of me. I had seen Mingi’s smile before plenty of times, but nothing could’ve prepared me for the way his eyes disappeared and nose scrunched up, all teeth on display as he smiled up at me, making my heart flutter as I just realized something. I loved him, I loved this man lying underneath me and nothing would stop me from cherishing him like he deserved to be.

“Yeah, I want us to be a couple.” He spoke as he didn’t stop smiling, and I tried to keep mine in check.

“But we have to go on more dates, at least three more, to get to know each other better.” My eyebrows slightly furrowed and Mingi smoothed them out with his fingers tenderly.

“Of course, we’ll take it at your pace, I have nothing to rush for.” I felt grateful as Mingi winked and I pressed a swift kiss before I buried my head in his neck, letting him pull me closer to his body as I cuddled up against his side, “Can I tell Wooyoung at least”

“You think I won’t tell Seulgi?”

And we giggled together as Mingi pressed a kiss against my head, humming in contentment as our fingers intertwined, resting upon his beating heart. I’ve never felt more like I belonged than at this exact moment. Not even with my art.

            By the time Mingi drove me home, it was well into the evening, the dark streets illuminated by the lampposts, some having burned down as Mingi turned onto my street. We didn’t feel the need to discuss much on our way back, our date was successful and filled with laughter and deep conversations that only confirmed my suspicions of Mingi. He was a good guy, too good to be true at times, but I was more than grateful that he was by my side.

His old black Honda Prelude came to a slow stop in front of my house and I unbuckled my seatbelt as Mingi turned his head and smiled, placing the car in neutral as he pulled the handbrake up. I turned and looked at him, our smiles almost shy as if we weren’t ready to say goodbye just yet, acting as if we wouldn’t see each other tomorrow. I agreed to let him pick me up for a breakfast date as we both only had classes starting at noon. If my heart fluttered and lungs convulsed at the thought of having Mingi pick me up tomorrow for a breakfast date, I would only admit it to my mother as now I had to explain why I wouldn’t have breakfast with her in the morning. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be getting much sleep tonight, too excited to actually get the amount of sleep that was healthy. Perhaps I would even paint some more, for once, I wasn’t behind on assignments, but I felt the itch under my skin to create something new.

“Well,” I cleared my throat once the silence got too much, “I loved spending my time with you, Mingi, thank you for taking me out.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” He looked away abashed, but only for a second as he gave me a cheeky look, “I bet it’ll be hard to overdo my efforts now.”

“You wish.” I chuckled and grabbed my backpack from between my legs, “Don’t forget, I might be artsier than you are, love.”

It was certainly surprising to see Mingi’s face flush, ears included. If I remember correctly, Yunho’s ears always flushed before his face could if he was flustered, flattered, or embarrassed, and now I couldn’t help but find it endearing that the two best friends had similar mannerisms, “Uh—yeah, I—love?!”

I giggled and bit my lower lip, leaning over the center console with a cheeky grin, “Well, did you expect me not to call you nicknames? You call me doll, it’s only fair I return the favor—”

“But love?!” Mingi exclaimed, slightly confusing me as he rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, “I—I think I’m unwell.”

“What?” My eyebrows furrowed, suddenly concerned, “Why?”

“My stomach won’t stop flipping around and because I’m losing my mind?” Upon Mingi’s helpless expression and whine, my eyes widened and I fell back into my seat, not quite laughing as I couldn’t help but gape at him.

“Do I fluster you—”

“Very much so!” Mingi exclaimed as he hid behind his hands again and I might have malfunctioned for a second as I’d never seen him acting like this. Did he have a fever? Did a simple nickname turn him into a whiney kid?

“Well, it’s payback time for all the times you made me suffer, love.” Mingi looked like he was about to combust and I couldn’t help but cackle as I blew him a kiss before grabbing the handle to open the car’s door. But before I could step out, Mingi shot forward and opened the glove box.

“Wait!” He said hurriedly and I froze, looking at him curiously. He grabbed a black notebook and handed it to me, eyes boring into mine despite his still red ears, “Flip through it once you’re settled down, please.”

I smiled and nodded, feeling curious as I took it from him, and certainly blushed an ugly shade of red when he pressed a quick kiss against my cheek, making me stumble for a second as I got out of his car. It was his time to feel triumphant for making me feel flustered, and I couldn’t help but flip him off as his amused laughter was audible through the closed doors and rolled-up windows. He winked and waved cheekily before putting the car in first gear and motioning for me to head inside. Feeling giddy and curious, I waved before turning my back to walk to the front door as nonchalantly as possible, fishing my keys out of my pocket. Once I was inside, Mingi drove off and I slammed the front door shut, locking it quickly as I had half a mind slipping out of my boots and throwing my jacket onto the floor absentmindedly as I raced up to my room, not bothering to turn on the lights. I might have bumped into the edge of the railing and the edge of my door as I turned on the bedside table lamp, dropping everything on the floor except the notebook as I plopped down onto the bed.

My heart was racing as I got comfortable, almost forgetting my phone was in my back pocket and would be crushed if I sat on it, so I retrieved it and placed it on the bed next to me. My fingers trembled lightly and I licked my lips as I flipped the notebook open, surprised to find Mingi’s name written prettily on the first page with doddles decorating the rest of the blank page, all kinds of little animals and shapes signed by his friend’s names, no doubt them having drawn those in here. Too curious about the contents of the notebook, I started slowly flipping through the pages, eyes skimming over all the words and musical notes, Mingi’s handwriting was pretty despite it being rushed at times—most of the time.

Then, I flipped to a page that had my name only on it with a small heart next to it. My heart was suddenly in my throat as I took a shaky breath, flipping to another page, eyes slowly taking in all the words.

‘And the world is cold/But it's beautiful/I wish you were here now’, I could imagine Mingi’s soft tone singing these in a whisper before the beat picked up. ‘It's your magnetic hold/A gravity pull/I can feel you in waves/When your melody comes/It falls from above/I will not be afraid’, I gulped, eyebrows furrowing as I slowly traced over the words, Mingi’s pen having made an indent in the paper when he scribbled them down. Eager to read more, I looked further down, drinking in what I now realized to be lyrics, ‘So lost/Coming from me when I'm lost/You kiss my neck and then you're gone/Turn me off and turn me on oh/Eat up every word you say/My perception dilates’. I bit my bottom lip, heart racing just a little faster as I realized Mingi offered me a glance inside his mind, inside his feelings and how he’s viewed me and our relationship over the months, ‘Want you to waste my time/Mess with my mind/Fly me to the other side/Don't say goodbye to reds in my eyes/Love me enough to hate me/Waste my time, waste my time/Waste my time, waste my time’.

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty for having tormented Mingi for so long, for having made him feel like I was playing with his feelings, ‘Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark/Like a phantom, I will steal your heart/Until we're dancing in the dark’. I chuckled, imagining Mingi hunched over his desk with a frown on his lips as he jotted the lyrics down, then smirked in triumph at the fantasy of finally having my heart in his hands—and I think he’s rather close to achieving that now, ‘Chit chat, do you want that/Or wanna take me home tonight?/All this chit chat is holding me back/And I'm breaking just to bend your light/I thought I told you, I really need your sugar/A rollercoaster, I'm going supernova/Chit chat is holding me back/To you, you’. I tried to refrain from grinning too hard at the lyrics. Going back home with Mingi wasn’t a repulsive thought anymore as it would have been a month ago. No, now I would rather go home with him. I wanted to be around him, I wanted him.

‘Oh, my oh, my oh my/Why's it every night/I'm feeling so sleepless?/Oh, why oh, why oh why?/I'm losing my mind/Maybe you're the reason’, I couldn’t help but gulp at the thought of Mingi not being able to sleep, bothered by thoughts of me, ‘Started as friends, but less than lovers/It's all making sense/On days, I'm thinking about us/Yeah, I know I'm so selfish/Hate the thought of someone else/Making you laugh, smiling, happy, if it ain't me or myself’. I gulped, feeling like Mingi got a glimpse inside my head too, making me remember how quickly and easily my jealousy previously flared whenever I saw him talking to the blonde girl. ‘I was more than just a body in your passenger seat/And you were more than just somebody I was destined to meet/I see you go half-blind when you're looking at me’, my breath faltered for a second as I quickly read over the lyrics again, wondering just how obvious it was to everyone else but myself that I was into Mingi, that he was into me.

‘I, I, I never thought I'd find true love/I, I guess I wasn't looking hard enough/If my heart stops now, you're the one thing that made it all worth it/If the sky falls down, right now, you're the one that I'll worship’, the words had no reason getting to me, yet I couldn’t help but flush hard as I blinked my eyes and rubbed at them, trying to cool off for a second, but I was too curious of what more was in the notebook, ‘Well, I heard you whisper/To all your friends/I heard you telling them that/You need a man in whom you can depend’. I chuckled, feeling amused but completely in awe of Mingi’s lyrics, his words somehow making complete sense and almost like a challenge to admit he was right about me, ‘Well I'd be the gasoline/To keep you alive/And I'd be the cold, so unbreakable/We'd burn together straight through the night/That's alright’. And now I had no doubts that Mingi would do anything for me, but what he didn’t know just yet, was that I would be his ride and die from now on.

‘Oh, and my love/Did I mistake you for a sign from God?/Or are you really here to cut me off?/Or maybe just to turn me on’, and perhaps if breathing became harder, it would be obvious to anyone as I tried to regulate my breaths and ignore the flush over my body, ‘'Cause these days/I would be lying if I told you that/I didn't wish that I could be your man/Or maybe make a good girl bad’. I gulped and sat up straighter, flipping another page hurriedly to read more of the song’s lyrics, easily imagining Mingi up on stage, raspy and smooth voice blending into the microphone and making the hairs on my arms stand as we made eye contact, his gaze intense and sharp, challenging in a way that would get me all bothered and hot, ‘I've got a river running right into you/I've got a blood trail, red in the blue/Something you say or something you do/The taste of the divine’. And I honestly to God hoped to see them perform this song one day, curious of what the band would sound like together, of Mingi’s voice and his eyes, ‘You've got my body, flesh and bone/The sky above, the Earth below/Nothing to say and nowhere to go/A taste of the divine’. I was ready to turn another page when my phone dinged loudly, making me flinch in surprise as I was completely immersed in Mingi’s lyrics.

Mings 🖤: home i hope you enjoy whatever you find in there some are spicy lol

Without thinking much, I pressed the dial button next to his name and raised the phone to my ear, my heart beating out of my chest. It barely rang twice before Mingi’s deep voice greeted me through the phone and I gulped, mouth working faster than my brain, “Mingi.”

“Yes, doll?”

“I think I’m falling in love with you.”

The deafening silence was filled with the loud thumps of my heart that only I could hear, and I was sure my pulse was way too high, but I couldn’t care less as I listened carefully to hear Mingi’s reaction. His gasp was loud as I licked my lips, eyes boring into the notebook again, “I read it, your lyrics.”

More silence, until there was a deep breath and Mingi’s raspy voice made me sink in on myself, goosebumps covering my whole body, “Good, because I think I’m already in love with you.”

I huffed out a breath, my smile was huge as Mingi’s chuckle that followed sounded breathless but somehow as if he was at ease. I couldn’t help but fall back on my bed, holding onto the phone tightly as I pushed the notebook to the side, eyes falling on my sketchbook, “I’ll send you something, listen to it now.”

“Alright, thank you.” Mingi hummed and then hung up, making my heartbeat quicken once again as I watched the dots in our chat move, and then a voice file was sent, with a message attached to listen to it with headphones. I quickly turned onto my stomach to reach for my nightstand, grabbing the headphones and connecting it to my phone as I placed it on my head, biting my lower lip as a familiar melody, lyrics, and voice traveled through the headphones, covering my skin in goosebumps.

『'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I promise you, you're all I see

'Cause I'm telling you, you're all I need

I'll never leave

So, you can drag me through hell

If it meant I could hold your hand

I will follow you, 'cause I'm under your spell

And you can throw me to the flames

I will follow you, I will follow you』

❱❱ Epilogue

A/N: Can y'all imagine this was supposed to be the last chapter?? lol, back in December when I wrote the whole plot this is how I tied everything up BUT THEN, maybe around two months ago I was tbh just gushing to my bestie about Mingi and some other things, and I realized, wait a minute-I can totally write this for LMLAR?! And so, that's how the epilogue came into existence, which I'm grateful for because I feel like it ends the story on a good note *cries*, would you like me to post the epilogue this week on Friday or next week on Wednesday? majority wins lol

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

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

@anastasiamin860 @yunhogrippers @vcutparis @tunaasan @blvckarabixnvoid

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

@vnessalau @oddracha @chatsgotmytongue @potatos-on-clouds @yunhowooyo

@watermelon2319 @yoongzsmile28 @klllerwaifu @apriecotte @hwasbbyg

@kyeos4ng @samiiy20 @woosanhobros @aswho1estuff @khjoongie98

@ateez-main-yapper @kang-ulzzang @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @ginger-mingi @redzie02

@unholywriters @autieofthevalley @roomsofangel @peachyy-joonie @baeksofty

@tunafishyfishylike @syubseokie @jycas @fandom-freak-geek @intaksfav

@itswaffleberry @e3ellie @skz1-4-3 @hoe4yunho @kyeomooniee

@winklehwa @eyesonlyformingi @khjssss @torieisawesome99

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

[tiredmamaissy]

hey 👋

i think this is the longest i've been gone. i missed you all a lot. i've been writing this entire time, and wanted to finish the last (for now, it’s definitely not completed) two chapters of the ralak series before officially coming back. i didn't want to come back without some sort of peace offering (lol how could i come back empty handed?) and i don’t want to leave you guys hanging again, gotta give some sort of closure to this series!

i'm almost finished, but i felt like i needed to come on here and explain myself.

i've been really struggling with my mental lately. it's just been pretty bad, to be frank. and when i get like this, i find it extremely difficult to juggle all that life entails, and will typically neglect certain aspects of it just to get by. unfortunately, this, and my social life, have taken the biggest hit. i find it hard to keep in touch regularly with friends, and i end up just retreating into my shell. motivation becomes little, or nothing at all.

i don't want to go into too much detail, but i've found myself between a rock and a hard place. i don't feel like i have many options in my current situation. i feel trapped. i suppose i've felt this way for the past few years, but it's just been pretty bad recently. issy has been an escape for me. i created a ‘new’ identity, one that i could unapologetically be myself. no face to the name type of thing. i fell in love with pandora, yearning to go there. and suddenly, my ideal world--my ideal everything was at my fingertips.

when i first started, the feeling of regaining my identity after so many years was exhilarating. i put many, many things on the back burner to immerse myself into this feeling and this world. quicker meals, shorter showers, later bedtimes. i did any and everything to dedicate as much time as i could muster up to hold onto this new identity. i could feel myself becoming happier, slipping back into who i was before i lost her.

but life just happens. you know? it continued, and it did so ten-fold. it was one thing after the next, and soon my plate was so full that i had to take something off of it. i guess i'm used to choosing myself to neglect first, so i told myself i'd put this off until i could get through this and then come back. so i did, and i came back. then life happened again. so i left, and came back.

but this time around life hit me hard. i felt like i was playing a game on the hardest difficulty, with a half a life, no pauses, and no way to exit safely. i'm still playing that game, but i've realised that i should really try to make the most of it. so i've been writing in what time i have. it's been one of my biggest escapes and it makes me happy that i can share it, and see that others enjoy what my silly brain comes up with.

i'm ready to come back, but i'm honestly still really overwhelmed with life. i really, really don't want to disappoint anyone…and i can't promise that i won't leave again anytime soon. i never want to leave. and honestly, i don't think i'll ever really leave for good. i will forever love avatar, and all that it’s done for me for the past 14 years. i guess i’m just trying to say… thank you all for your patience and love.

okidoki, let me stop here while i can lol.

ill be posting the chapters as soon as i'm done with them, ofc. i love you guys!! i’m heading to bed and will try to clear out my inbox and dm’s asap

-issy 💜

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there will be mature content in later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: I will be posting individual warnings for each chapter so look out for that! In this teaser: swearing, alcohol, frat party

☆word count: a big fat 145.6K (slow slow burn I said)

☆series masterpost

☆a/n: THE BIG BOY IS READY!!! After two months and a half of work, I can proudly say that I have finished writing the longest fic/book/story I've ever written in my life. The fic will upate every Friday starting from this Friday, April 7 2023, unless I specify that it doesn't (I do have other upcoming projects lol). Once again, I have @moonleeai to thank for beta-ing like the queen she is! You are the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden by @daechwitatamic, the fic that inspired this big boy! It follows the story of Taehyung and Jo (who's the reader in that fic). Jo, words can't describe how thankful I feel for you writing What Was Hidden. It was a masterpiece from start to finish, and look where it brought us? The Forgotten Spaces wouldn't exist without you, and I thank you with every beat of my heart for giving me this opportunity. Thank you for reading every chapter, for screaming and crying and laughing with me during this whole process. You are amazing and I love you <3

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

You turn around to make your way through the crowd. Jungkook’s lips stretch into a smirk as you move closer, and he cocks an eyebrow once you stop in front of him.

“Missing me?”

You roll your eyes. “Why are you fucking staring at me, Jeon?”

For a second, darkness overcomes Jungkook’s gaze, but he blinks and it’s gone. “I’m just chilling here, I wasn’t looking at you.”

You say nothing, raising your eyebrows as you fold your arms on your chest. He scoffs, glancing away from you.

There’s a moment where you both don’t speak, and you realize you have nothing else to tell him. You’ve never been friends, and you’ve never wanted to be friends with him. You’re about to turn on your heels to head back to the dancefloor when a question pops into your mind.

“Did you leave because of me?” you ask.

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open. You rarely see him expressing something other than contempt when it comes to you, and it makes you want to disappear.

“Is that what you all think?”

You scoff. “What else do you think they believe?”

He doesn’t know what to say. He just shrugs his shoulders, looking anywhere but at your face. You even notice his eyes dipping to your cleavage, but he’s quick to recover and look at a spot on your shoulder instead.

“Seriously, Jeon, why did you fucking leave?”

“I told you earlier, it’s none of your business.” He runs a hand through his hair, which makes it fall in front of his eyes a little. You only then notice his hair is longer, fluffier than what it was last year. “And no, it’s not because of you. Though I’m pretty sure you like me being gone, huh? Hoba told me you took my place.”

"Someone had to," you mutter.

In fact, yes, you like being second in command. You and Jungkook had fought for the spot a few years ago, when the last leader had to leave the group because his girlfriend was pregnant. Hobi, who had been second then, became the leader, and it had taken him forever to choose who would replace him.

The only reason why he had chosen Jungkook was because Jungkook was his friend. Yet, Jungkook had never let you live it down, had always felt the need to remind you of it. Even today, when he’s been gone for over a year.

“Are your choreographies any good?” Jungkook asks. It’s a little condescending because he knows damn well you’ve never been good with coming up with a choreography. One of your many shortcomings when it comes to dance. “Wait, have you even created one?”

You see red again. "Fuck you", you say through gritted teeth.

“That’s what I thought.” You want to punch him, to curse him for giving up on the group and then making you feel like you shouldn’t be second. But Jungkook’s not done yet. “The crew’s not going to last long, is it?”

“Maybe if you didn’t fucking abandon everyone out of the blue we wouldn’t be in this position.” You shake your head. “But no, you’ve always been so important uh, you think the world revolves around you and you don’t care that your actions have consequences.”

Jungkook wasn’t really angry before. He was mostly trying to get on your nerves because it’s always been his favourite activity. But now, his face flushes red, and a vein pops on his neck as he stares you down. “You have no fucking idea why I left. I had no fucking choice.”

“You could have told us.”

You’re almost screaming now. But you’re alone where you stand, and you wonder if the crowd has moved to give you space on purpose, sensing the storm that is coming.

"I had nothing to tell you guys," Jungkook says.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath before looking at him again. “You know what, I don’t even fucking care anymore. We don’t need you on the crew.”

He chuckles, bitterly. “Oh you don’t? I recall you fucking up on live TV last year.”

Because Scottie had to take his place in the choreography. A choreography you had been working on for years, gone to waste because Jungkook had disappeared.

“You watched us?” It’s your turn to let out a bitter chuckle. “You missed us too much? Couldn’t stay gone?”

“You’re a fucking bitch when you want to, uh?”

It takes you by surprise, not expecting him to straight up insult you. “Excuse me?”

“No, but you really are.” He looks around, before settling his big eyes back on you. “I had my reasons. You getting angry at me about it won’t change anything.”

Chapter one

☆☆☆☆☆

SO ARE WE EXCITED?? Bc I sure am! Let me know what you think!!!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[cowboyemeritus]

Il Suo Campione (Copia/Reader)

Chapter Eight

Series Masterlist

Summary: Copia learns the horrible truth.

Content Warnings: references to gang violence, drug abuse/addiction, brief mention/description of a corpse

Read on AO3

notes: hey everyone! sorry updates are getting farther apart - i've been having some problems staying motivated. seeing all your support for this story helps, though, so thank you all so much :)

as of right now i'd say this is about the halfway point of the story. i genuinely do want to finish it, so please bear with me while i sort out this writer's block issue.

i feel like there are a few clunky parts of this, but i got to the point where i felt i just needed to publish it lol. sorry in advance. i hope it's somewhat interesting, at least.

a few people have asked to be tagged when new chapters come out, so if you want in on that lmk!

thanks again! feedback is always welcome. you all are the best :)

Copia has struggled to keep you off his mind since the night of the match. The evening’s events had only confirmed his growing suspicion that there is something seriously amiss with you. It’s easy for him to look back and recognize you’ve always been quiet and detached, yet constantly on guard and prone to bouts of explosive rage. Whatever, or whoever, instilled that in you had exited your life long before you met. What is new is the hate he saw reflected in his bedroom mirror, and the shame in your eyes when you lost. From his experience being Nihil’s son, those are feelings with which Copia is intimately familiar. They’re easy for him to recognize and treat accordingly in others. The rest he’ll have to work on.

He ties not to think about the emptiness in your eyes as you watched Diego bleed out on the cold, dirty concrete. Something tells him that’s out of his wheelhouse.

Copia’s cheek is still tender from where Mary had hit him. For the scrawny creature that he is, the greasy punk can sure pack a punch. As much as he wants to drag him through the streets for it, he really should have seen it coming. Mary is the protective type, and Copia certainly didn’t help himself by neglecting to call or make your whereabouts known until the next morning, returning you to your bother concussed, battered, and zoning in and out of reality. Copia knows he deserved it, at least in part.

“You don’t know anything about her!”

Mary is naive; he doesn’t know half of what goes on in the dark recesses of this city. He hasn’t had to make the painful choices, the sacrifices, that keep this kind of business flowing. But, he’s right. Copia has no idea who, or what, you really are. The notion is starting to eat at him.

Heaving out a sigh, he pulls into Secondo’s driveway. The crunch of the gravel under the car makes him nervous; he’s always convinced there will be glass or nails or something sharp waiting in there to fuck up his tires. He holds his breath as he drives up to the house and parks, slowly letting it out only once he’s certain nothing has popped. Stepping out of the car, he looks up at the blocky, brutalist home, a shock of gray against the blue sky and rich green of the surrounding pines. In a very childish part of his mind it looks like some sort of supervillain lair, an ominous thing ready to swallow up all who dare enter. Considering what business-related activities occasionally go on inside, it’s not a far off comparison.

Copia groans. He’s not as bad as Nihil, but Secondo has always been the runner-up for family hard-ass. It’s a product of their childhood, he thinks. Secondo and Terzo were so close in birth they were raised like twins. As they grew up, someone naturally had to balance out the ambitious, reckless energy of the third brother. While he’s no stranger to debauchery, at his core Secondo is a calculating, exacting man, brutally efficient in everything he does. Seldom does he waste time with pleasantries and fluff.

The garage door begins to lift, the racket startling Copia. As the panels slide upwards more and more of his brother is revealed. First, it’s his shoes, fine Italian leather polished to hell. Then, his slacks, starched and pressed like he’s having tea with the Queen. There’s a clean, white dress shirt and then Copia is looking Secondo in the face. He doesn’t appear as put together as he usually is, something a bit haggard about him. The creases under his eyes are deeper, a dusting of stubble across his jaw. From behind him two men appear, each holding the end of a large mass wrapped in sheets. As they pass by him, carrying the bundle out of the house, Copia instinctively knows that Diego will be resting in peace from now on.

“Come in.” It’s not quite a command, but not an invitation either. Copia would have preferred a “hello.” Sheepishly, he follows as his brother turns and walks briskly to the door separating the garage from the rest of the house. It’s a short journey. As with all of Secondo’s things, the space is staggeringly neat, no boxes of junk colonizing the floor like at his home. He glances over at one of the parked cars, a 55 Coronet, and smiles to himself, remembering when it was new. It had been bright red back then. Secondo’s face had been a similar shade as he sat in the back seat, knuckles white while Primo gave Copia his first driving lesson. With every jerk of the vehicle a new vein appeared on his forehead, Terzo lauging harder and harder until he’d nearly pissed himself. They went to the creek after that, Copia battling nausea from a cigarette, his first, that he’d bummed off his third brother. That had been a good day.

At some point in the 60s, Secondo had the coat changed to black. By the 70s, it had been involved in so many crimes he’d stopped driving it altogether, the plates removed and shredded. Now here it sits, gathering dust, a relic of more innocent times. As Copia crosses the threshold into the house, he finds he’s not smiling anymore.

Despite his home’s harsh exterior, Secondo is a man of taste. A sensualist. His decor reflects that, all dark leather and silk, shelves lined with antiques and souvenirs from his travels. His office, however, is the only room that actually looks lived in. It wouldn’t be a surprise to Copia if he slept in there. There’s very little in the way of mess, but with a trained eye, he easily picks out the hints of disorder that are hidden around the room like Easter eggs: crumpled wads of paper on the floor by the wastebasket, a coffee cup perched precariously on the windowsill, the contents long cold. The decorative pillows on the couch could use a good fluffing, and there’s a quilt, the once colorful fabric faded, folded haphazardly and draped over the back. Maybe he has been sleeping here.

Secondo clears his throat, putting an end to Copia’s scavenger hunt. He looks across the desk at his brother, suddenly feeling like a child again. From the expression on his face it’s clear he’s in for a scolding. Copia holds back a groan, crossing his ankles and tucking them beneath his chair. He’d better get this over with.

“Is this about what happened the other night? I don’t have any details other than-“

“The girl,” Secondo says. “This is about her.” Copia is stunned. For a moment he stares at his brother, blinking, before even trying to open his mouth.

“I-” Suddenly he feels a bit flustered. “What- The fight? I know w- she lost, but…“ His underarms are uncomfortably sweaty. Terzo said he’d work on it. Perhaps he’d been drunk that night after all, the bastard. “What did you think?”

“She is far too attached to you. That is what I think.” Copia is taken even farther aback.

“Excuse me,” he sputters, quirking an eyebrow at his brother. “But I do not understand why that’s any of your business. Do Primo and Terzo’s,” for a moment he’s stuck on what to call you, “associates need your approval now too?”

Secondo rolls his eyes. “This is different,” he insists. “She is different.” Copia can’t meet his brother’s gaze, eyes darting to the window. Outside, a small, gray bird perches on a branch, preening its feathers. It looks up suddenly before taking flight, a blur of brown and white in pursuit. Copia swallows, crossing his arms.

“There is nothing wrong with that, fratello,” he grumbles, not sure how much he can defend you beyond that. He knows what his brother really means. But is this what he called him here for? To critique his choice in women? “And you’ve had your fair share of weird girls-“ He jumps when Secondo bangs a fist on the solid wood of the desk.

“Fucking Christ.” For a moment, there is something unreadable, but deeply frightening, in his eyes. He lets out a heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tension in the room is palpable, thick like tar and just as foul. Wordlessly, Secondo rises from his seat, shuffling over to a beat-up, old filling cabinet in the corner of the room. Flecked with rust, it is, perhaps, the only common-looking thing he owns. From his pocket he produces a set of keys that clink together as he unlocks one of the drawers. Copia can just barely see that it is full of documents, organized into neat folders. Carefully, he reaches into one of the files and produces what appears to be a newspaper clipping. He looks back and forth between Copia and the paper for a moment, the conflict surprisingly plain on his face. With another heavy exhale Secondo settles back in his chair, placing the slip face-down on the desk. With a look that says “I told you so,” he slides it over. Copia takes a shaky breath, feeling his brother’s eyes bore into him. Leaning slightly forward in his seat, he gingerly turns it over.

He’s confused by what he sees.

The cutting is of a portrait, taken in a department store studio. There are two people in it. One is a man in his early thirties. His face has a gauntness that immediately tells Copia he’s a user, his skin pale and slightly jaundiced. He smiles but his eyes are tired, the creases around them deep and the circles dark. He’s strung out, only just holding himself together for the sake of the little girl next to him. As his eyes drift over to the child, who cannot be older than four or five, Copia feels his blood turn to ice.

Even twenty years younger, the girl in the photo is unmistakably you. He would recognize that face anywhere. Still, it takes a moment for him to fully process exactly what he’s staring at. That smile… You look too innocent, too happy to be, well, you. Whoever this is, she is a copy, a sick fabrication of the person you could have been. It’s just not right. It’s uncanny.

“I don’t…” Copia tugs at the collar of his shirt, finding he’s in desperate need of oxygen. As the pieces begin to click together, a knot of dread settles deep in his stomach. “Why do you have this?” Secondo sits there with his arms crossed, eyes full of more emotion than he has seen from his brother in a long time. There’s anger, pity, and shame there. Copia says nothing; he already has half the answer anyway. “W-what…” Unable to find the words he sighs, letting the breath out slowly. A few strands of hair have fallen in his face and he brushes them back, steeling himself. With a look to his brother that he hopes conveys resolve he straightens in his chair. “Tell me. The whole story.”

Without breaking eye contact, Secondo pushes his readers further up his nose. When that hand comes down the tip of his pointer finger is resting on the forehead of the man in the photograph. “One of ours. Started dealing to pay back some debts. I am not sure who he owed, or for what. I never knew him personally.” There’s a moment of understanding, an unspoken agreement between the two brothers. They don’t know, but they know. It’s too familiar a story, one Copia has heard hundreds of times to the point where he’s sick of it.

And yet, the show goes on. The coffers must always be full.

“He tried to make a deal and it went sour. Nearly got us busted. Fuck, I have never seen Nihil so pissed.” A memory resurfaces: his father, fists still shaking, setting down a pair of bloody brass knuckles on the breakfast table. They never managed to get the stain out of that tablecloth. “The numbers were already suspicious. It did not take us long to find that he had been skimming off the top for his own use. He stole from us, fratellino.” In this line of work, that’s enough to justify almost anything. Secondo glances back down at the photograph. “So we did what had to be done. Those were father’s orders.”

There is a long moment of silence between them. Copia is reeling, still trying to make sense of this devastating information. This can’t be. This has to be some cruel joke. He looks down at his hands. They’re far too clean. A disturbing thought crosses his mind. “She was there?” Secondo shrugs.

“We did not see her.” An even worse thought rears its head.

“If she…” He swallows, not wanting to accuse his brother but needing an answer. “Would you have… You know.”

Secondo shakes his head, gazing out the window. The disgust bleeds through even the most minute shifts of his face. “No. Not for anything. And certainly not for Nihil.” Copia feels his shoulders drop but is still on edge. His brother is never this forthcoming and it’s overwhelming. It’s all too much.

“I see,” he says, feeling a little sick. We made her this way. Before he can stop himself the image of you lying on that old boxing mat, confused and hurt, flashes through his mind. You had told him you were sorry. Whether he wants to laugh or cry at the cruel irony of that he doesn’t know.

This is all my fault.

“Does the old man know?”

“No,” Secondo grunts. “And he never will. But the girl has to go.” Copia is stunned, then enraged.

"I won't let you touch her."

Secondo waves him off. "I meant she should skip town."

“Still, why?” The anger returns to his brother’s face.

“Vengeance, Copia. What would she do if she were to find out the truth? She may already know. For all we know, she could be feeding information to the Giordanos as we speak. That would certainly explain why all our fucking product is going missing.” The insinuation lights a spark inside of Copia.

“You think I don’t know the people who work for me? That I share Family secrets for pillow talk?” He scoffs, crossing his arms. “I haven’t told her anything about the business. She is innocent in all of this.”

“Then all the more reason why she must go. You will get her killed, if she does not kill you first.” Logically, Copia knows he’s right, but the implication that he can’t protect himself, that he’s become your unwitting fool, just makes him feel like a child. If he had wanted that, he would have gone to Nihil. And there’s another, deeper part of him that knows he can’t abandon you now. Not after what his family — what he — has done to you. His heart aches at the thought, despair beginning to take root. He has to make this right, but how? How do you even begin to repair damage like that? It seems like an impossible task.

“Why would you tell me this,” he mutters, still staring at the beaming little girl in the photograph. He can’t recall ever seeing you smile. Have you even felt happiness since that day?

“Because we are family. I have an obligation to protect you.”

Copia grunts, angry and sad and ashamed. He glares up at his brother. “When has that ever mattered?” Secondo furrows his eyebrows.

“It has always mattered.”

For a moment, Copia forgets himself. “Where was that rhetoric when Terzo-” He stops, pressing his lips together. Across from him, Secondo sits silently, but there is the faintest trace of hurt in his eyes. Copia wants nothing more than to curl up and vanish, to turn into a little bug and crawl away. “I’m sorry, I-“

“That is all I had to say,” Secondo states, unwavering. “I strongly suggest you take my advice. You can be on your way.” Copia knows it’s not a suggestion. Nodding, he rises from his chair. Secondo stays seated, skimming over one of the papers littering his desk, no longer paying him any mind. He doesn’t bother saying goodbye, mind racing as he sees himself out of the house.

When Copia gets back in his car he sits there a while, his head in his hands.

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night | Chapter 2

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: As you arrive in King's Landing, you realise that the city is in even worst shape than you ever could have thought. When you are face with a deadly situation, will you be saved in time?

Notes: Hello everyone! I hope you all had lovely holidays, for me this time of year is always bittersweet as it is close to the date of my dad's passing away. But it was still lovely to have some time off (for the first time ever I am working somewhere which closes during the holiday season!!!) And if you do not celebrate any holidays, I hope you had a very lovely regular week doing something that gave you some joy 💚

I finally had time to sit down and finish this chapter (the longest so far!) I hope you all enjoy it, I am not really good with action scenes, but I am trying to get better at it and I know that the more I work at it the better I will become. I feel like some part of it might feel a bit rush, but I wanted to finish the chapter and go into more details in the next one.

Once again, thank you to everyone who commented, relogged and liked my work, I appreciate you all so so much. If you want to be added to the taglist lmk, and if I forgot to add you, lmk and I will remediate to that right away. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy this chapter!!! 💜💜💜

Love you all

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts

My dearest friend,  

When Father returned from Starfall, my heart sank. Not only had he visited you, my soul's companion, without a whisper of it to me, but the reason... oh, the reason cuts far deeper. To hear that you, my most cherished friend, are to be wed to a Targaryen whelp is nothing short of a cruel jest. Had I been the ruling Princess of Dorne, never would I let you be torn from our sun-kissed lands to that pit of treachery. 

Father speaks of alliances, of securing our houses' futures, but what of your heart? Your laughter? If such a future means dimming the light in your eyes, I say let the sands of Dorne turn to glass in dragonfire before I witness your spirit fade. Give me but a sign, my beloved friend, and I will defy the world to bring you back to where you belong. I will hide you away in the lush secrecy of the library of Sunspear, our childhood haven, where no prying eyes could ever dream of finding you. 

Never forget, you are the other half of my soul. Wherever you go, my spirit will be entwined with yours, ever ready to rise in your defense, to be your shelter, to protect your heart.  

With all my love,  

Your Aliandra 

Princess of Dorne.  

Gently, you kiss the letter, feeling the delicate texture of the paper against your lips before pressing it close to your heart. It's a small comfort, a tangible piece of Aliandra you can hold onto. The pain of leaving without a proper farewell to her gnawed at you, a regret that lies heavy in your chest. You were torn apart so suddenly, with no chance for one last embrace, no opportunity to exchange final words that might have eased the ache of your separation. 

As the cart lurches over a rough patch on the brick road, it jostled your mother awake from her peaceful doze across from you. Watching her, you envy her momentary escape from worry. Your thoughts, however, are clouded with the fear that you might never see Aliandra again, casting a pall over the passing scenery that blurs outside the cart's window. 

“The road is getting more unsteady. It is a wonder horses and carts are not toppling over all the time.” your father grumbled from your mother side as he puts her back solid in her seat.   

"Given that King's Landing is the largest city in Westeros, it's not surprising," you mused aloud. "The roads bear the weight of countless travelers. Without regular maintenance, they are bound to deteriorate more quickly than those in quieter regions." 

The news of your circumstance had unfolded all too swiftly. From the moment you were informed about the arrangement to wed prince Aemond Targaryen, you had anticipated some months to come to terms with the idea. Yet, fate allowed no such luxury. Barely a fortnight had elapsed before you found yourself, alongside your parents and younger brother, embarking on the long journey away from the familiar comforts of your home. The swiftness of it all left you reeling, with nothing to tether you to yourself other than Aliandra’s letter. 

The fortnight following the announcement of your betrothal was a blur of melancholy. You spent most of it confined within the wheelhouse, gazing listlessly at the world transforming outside its windows. The familiar sandy dunes of your homeland soon gave way to the verdant, rolling hills of the Reach. The air was thick with the scents of fragrant flowers and sweet honey, an assault on your senses accustomed to the arid desert air filled with spices and sweet blooming oranges.  

By the end of the second week, you had developed a certain aversion to the Reach; everything was too lush, too green. It was also no secret that Dornishmen were viewed with skepticism here. Truthfully, this sentiment seemed to extend across Westeros, where your customs were considered peculiar and too promiscuous, your traditions alien, and your gods too lenient.  

With each mile that brought you nearer to King's Landing, another mile stretched between you and your home. You tried not to dwell on the past, yet occasionally found yourself gazing wistfully out the back of the wheelhouse, eyes tracing the path that led home. In those moments, a quiet hope flickered within you, a wish for your father to suddenly steer the carriage around and return to the familiar embrace of your homeland. But such thoughts were the whims of a child, and you were no longer that - you were a woman grown, bound by duty and family. 

Your brother's lively banter abruptly drew you out of your pensive state. Turning towards him, you saw him nestled snugly in your mother's embrace, his tiny forehead receiving a shower of gentle kisses from her. His eyes, bright and curious, were wide open following his nap, which had likely been disrupted by the jostling ride over the capital's unevenly paved roads. He seemed to be bubbling with excitement, his small hands pointing animatedly towards the window, captivated by the new sights as your wheelhouse neared the imposing gates of King's Landing. 

As the procession drew closer, the stern-faced gold cloaks at the gate were methodically examining each entrant. The presence of the knights accompanying your family, a small but formidable escort clad in armor and ready for any threat, was a reassuring sight amidst the bustling activity at the gates. Upon spotting your family's sigil of the white fallen star set against a deep purple background, the gold cloaks' expressions subtly shifted. It wasn't a look of welcome but rather one of begrudging acknowledgment. They seemed to recognize the necessity of allowing your party entry but did so without enthusiasm or warmth. With a barely perceptible nod, they allowed your group to pass through the gates. It was a reluctant concession, one that made it clear that while your arrival might be expected, the arrival of a Dornish retinue was not exactly celebrated in the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. 

After your carriage was waved through into the city, your brother's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Sister, is this where you're going to live forever?" he asked with wide-eyed curiosity. 

 "Yes, Gerris, it seems this will be my new home," you replied, trying to mask your apprehension with a serene tone. From the corner of your eye, you caught your mother's melancholic expression. "Gerris, give your sister some space," she cautioned gently. "She's about to meet the man she will marry and needs time to prepare herself in peace." 

"I've had plenty of time to think these past weeks while stuck in this wheelhouse Mother," you interjected softly, "I'd welcome a distraction from my charming little brother right now." Gerris' face lit up at your invitation. He wriggled out of your mother's arms and settled beside you, eagerly pointing out every new sight he saw outside. 

As Gerris animatedly described every novel sight outside the window, your mind wandered slightly, though you kept nodding and smiling at his observations. The reality outside was a stark contrast to his cheerful words. The streets were filled with people whose life seemed to be a daily struggle, their worn-out garments telling stories of hardship. The smell of the city was overpowering, a pungent mixture of waste, overcrowding, and something harder to define — perhaps the desperation of those trying to survive in the capital. The stench made you miss the pungent smell of roses of the Reach, at least people were not starving there.  

The carriage came to an abrupt halt, jostling everyone inside and causing a chaotic tumble of limbs. From outside, a cacophony of shouting voices penetrated the carriage walls. Curiosity piqued, you attempted to peer out of the small side window for a better look, but your father's quick movement halted you. With a firm gesture, he signaled for you to remain seated, his expression stern and alert. 

Meanwhile, your brother's lower lip began to tremble with the sudden scare, and he quickly buried himself in your mother's embrace. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, offering a comforting shield against the confusion and noise outside.  

"Stay in the carriage, all of you!" your father commanded, his voice tense with urgency. 

"But Father, I—" you began, only to be cut off. 

"Stay inside!" he reiterated sharply. "I'll return shortly. We're strangers in this city, and I need you to be strong, my little star. Take care of your mother and brother for me." With these words, your father quickly opened the carriage door and stepped out, moving swiftly towards the source of the disturbance. 

From the corner of your eye, through the small gap as the door swung shut, you caught a glimpse of the chaos outside. About 100 meters ahead, a blockade of overturned carts sprawled across the road. As you sighed, offering Gerris a strained, reassuring smile, you couldn't help but notice his tight grip on your mother. "It's just some overturned carts, Gerris. Nothing to worry about," you murmured, but your heart was heavy with unspoken fears. Watching your little brother, you realized the innocence he still held, a stark contrast to the burdens you had borne from when you were his age. 

Gerris managed a timid smile, yet the sight only deepened your sorrow. He would one day need to don the armor of a lord, to face the harsh realities of ruling a strong ancient seat like Starfall. You quickly brushed aside the thought, reminding yourself he was merely five summers old. Still, a painful realization crept in – he had time to be a child, a luxury you were never afforded. 

"When were you ever just a child?" the bitter voice in your mind accused. "Always groomed to be the perfect future lady of Starfall, diligent in your studies until they decided you were no longer needed." The realization felt like a tightening vice around your chest, each breath becoming more labored. 

"I... I need air!" The words escaped your lips in a choked gasp, tears threatening to spill over. 

"Wait..." Your mother's voice, laced with worry, reached out to stop you as you lunged for the door. "Your father said..." 

"I know what Father said!" you snapped, the words sharper than intended. Pulling your arm free from your mother’s grasp, "I'm just going to stand outside the door. Nothing will happen. I... I just need a moment alone!" With that, you pushed the door open, desperate for a few breaths of fresh air and a brief escape from the confines of the carriage. 

You slammed the carriage door behind you, effectively silencing your mother's protests that echoed faintly through the wood. Taking a moment for yourself, you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply, each breath an attempt to soothe the turmoil within and restore your composure. When you finally opened your eyes, you saw your father in conversation afar with a gold cloak. The guard's expression was one of indifference, seemingly unimpressed by whatever your father was explaining. Your father was a foreigner to them, you were a foreigner, and you knew deep in your heart that you would always remain a foreigner in these people’s hearts.  

After taking several steadying breaths, you let your gaze drift across the bustling scene. Women hurried by their dresses worn and their eyes weary, each absorbed in their own world of tasks and toils. Nearby, men argued loudly over some trivial matter, their voices blending into the city's cacophony. Merchants hawked their wares, each vying for the attention of passersby. 

Across the walkway, a small market caught your attention. Among the various stalls, one in particular stood out with its display of brightly colored silk pieces. Glancing back at your father, you noticed he was still engaged in a seemingly fruitless discussion with the gold cloak. Making a quick decision, you shrugged and stealthily made your way toward the silk stand, evading the guards that had remained near the carriage. It would be a brief detour, you reasoned. You'd have time to explore this little slice of the city and return before the carriage was ready to continue towards the castle. 

You approached the stall, immediately drawn to the array of silk pieces displayed in a riot of colors, from a brilliant azure to a deep orange reminiscent of a breathtaking sunset. 

The shopkeeper, a portly man with a twirling mustache and a shiny forehead partly concealed under a vivid purple cap, noticed your interest. "Find anything to your liking, m'lady?" he asked with a friendly twinkle in his eyes. 

"These silks are quite stunning," you remarked, admiring the craftsmanship. "Your selection is impressive." 

The man leaned forward, curiosity lighting up his face. "Ah, I detect an accent there! From Dorne, aren't ya, m'lady?" he inquired. 

You offered a hesitant smile. "Quite perceptive, good ser. I hail from the Torrentine region." 

"Dorne's a land of beauty, no doubt about that. Shame about the recent troubles, though," he mused. "My wife, Margy, often says them highborns complicate life more than necessary. But when you meet a girl as pretty as you’self, you wonder, why even go to war eh!?" He raised an eyebrow in a playful, flirtatious gesture, eliciting a light chuckle from you. 

"I hope the rest of King's Landing shares your open-mindedness and hospitality," you said, still smiling. 

"For a lady as charming as yourself? I'm sure you'll find plenty of warm welcomes here," he reassured. 

"Are you originally from King's Landing?" you inquired. 

 "Indeed, born and raised in this very city," he beamed. "Left as a lad to see the world, ended up in Myr where I got into the silk trade. Met my Margy there, and we returned to set up shop. The war in the Stepstones made things difficult, but we're getting back on our feet now." 

A pang of sadness hit you. "I'm sorry. I know Dorne played a role in that conflict, one that might not have been favorable for your business." 

He waved off your concern. "Don't you worry about that, m'lady. You didn't make those decisions, did you? We all just play the hand we're dealt." 

Your laughter lit the air. "I suppose not. Nonetheless, please accept my apologies on behalf of Dorne." 

"I'll do you one better," he proposed, "I'll accept your apology if you accept one of my silk scarves." 

"Oh, I couldn't possibly impose," you demurred. 

"It'd be my pleasure, m'lady. Perhaps you could show it off at court? It's not every day a future princess visits my stall." 

"And how did you guess my identity?" you asked, amused by his astuteness. 

"HAHA, we don't see many Dornish ladies of your stature around here. I recognized you the moment you approached my stall," he chuckled. 

“Well, if I am to accept your offer, may I know the name of the kind gentleman who extends it?" you inquired with a teasing smile. 

“The name’s Dougas m’lday, pleased to make the acquaintance of such a’ pretty princess!”   

"Thank you, Ser Dougas," you said sweetly. "By any chance, do you have a scarf with some purple and white?" 

__________________ 

As you perused Dougas's collection of silk scarves, you found yourself hesitating. Each scarf, while beautiful, didn't quite match the calming purple hue you had in mind. They were either too bright or too dull, never hitting that perfect shade. Dougas, however, seemed unfazed by your indecision, confident that somewhere within his stock lay the exact color you were seeking. 

While you sifted through the vibrant array of fabrics, the carriage remained stuck amid the traffic caused by the overturned carts. This gave you the luxury of time to carefully consider each option. Just as you were about to decide, a loud cry from the market abruptly interrupted your thoughts, drawing your attention away from the scarves and making you turn toward the noise.  

A small figure caught your eye amidst the commotion – a boy, no older than Gerris, but his appearance was marked by the harshness of what life in Knig’s Landing is like for those less fortunate. He was clad in threadbare rags that hung loosely on his small frame, and his hair, a dirty mousy brown, was tousled and unkempt. His young face, smudged with grime, bore the unmistakable look of poverty, likely a young resident of Flea Bottom. 

You recalled a lesson from your tutor back in Starfall, whose words now echoed in your mind: "In King's Landing, especially in places like Flea Bottom, you'll witness the depths of despair and poverty. Crime there is often a byproduct of extreme circumstances. Remember, my lady, those driven to such acts are often at the edge of their humanity, their moral compass skewed by hunger and desperation. Our response to their plight, whether it is one of disdain or compassion, is a testament to our own humanity." 

" ‘Tis young Davos again," Dougas murmured with a heavy sigh, his eyes following the small boy struggling in the firm grasp of a gold cloak. "Second time this week he's been caught stealing. They'll likely make an example of him now." 

As the boy writhed and squirmed against the guard's unyielding hold, you scanned the crowd. Indifference was the prevailing response; some onlookers snickered; others deliberately looked away. The merchant who had been the victim of the theft was loudly demanding justice, his voice filled with frustration and anger. 

A growing sense of anxiety began to pulse within you. The ease of being a passive observer, of being the Ghost who roamed the hallways of Starfall and who murmured sweet nothings in the ears of Aliandra, now felt uncomfortably inadequate here in the bustling streets of King's Landing. 

Without another thought, you grabbed hold of a beautiful purple silk scarf from Dougas's stall, its intricate white threadwork catching your eye. "I'll take this one, thank you, Dougas," you said quickly, laying some gold coins on the counter. "And please, accept this if not as payment, as an apology for any hardship Dorne's actions in the Stepstone may have caused you." 

With a brief nod, Dougas acknowledged your gesture. But your attention was already elsewhere. You turned swiftly, making your way towards the commotion. The boy's small feet kicked futilely in the air as he tried to free himself from the gold cloak's grip. 

"Let him go! He's just a child!" The shrillness of your own voice surprised you, piercing through the market's din with an urgency you had never expressed before. 

Both the gold cloak and the boy snapped their heads towards you. In that brief moment of distraction, the boy seized his chance, delivering a sharp kick to the guard's shin. The guard winced but, recovering quickly, caught the boy by his dirty, tangled hair, yanking him back with such force that a pained cry escaped the boy's lips. 

"Stay out of this, wench! This isn't your affair!" the guard sneered at you. 

"This boy's been thieving from me for weeks!" the merchant screeched, still in the throes of his tirade. "He needs to be taught a lesson!" 

You strode determinedly towards the merchant, your resolve steeling. "And what? He deserves to be beaten? Killed, perhaps, because he stole from you? Look at him – he's just skin and bones, starving!" 

Reaching into your purse, you pulled out ten gold dragons. "Will this cover what he owes?" you asked, extending the coins towards the merchant. His eyes, greedy and calculating, fixated on the gold. "It'll do... for now. But if I see him near my stall again, no amount of gold will stop me from dealing with him myself, you hear that, boy?" 

You whirled towards the guard, your voice firm. "Didn't you hear? Let the boy go this instant!" Yet, the guard only tightened his grip on the boy's hair, drawing another pained cry. "Please, help," the boy whimpered. 

"You think I'll just let him go because that fat merchant said so?" the guard scoffed. "I am the law ‘round here, and it's my call who gets punished. This boy is nothing but a common thief and I’ll serve him the king’s justice as I see fit, so stay outta it!" 

"If it's money you're after, then I can pay," you offered, desperation creeping into your voice. "Would 10 gold dragons suffice, for the boy’s life?" But the guard only sneered in response. "You think you can bribe a member of the gold cloaks? Your money means nothing to me." 

With a harsh shove, he pushed the boy to the ground, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. Then, turning his attention to you, the guard advanced with a menacing leer. You suddenly felt like prey – you recalled the time your father took you fox hunting in the desert. Back then, you were the hunter, patiently pursuing your quarry. But now, here in the heart of King's Landing, you were the cornered fox, vulnerable and exposed, ready to be killed. 

Your eyes scanned the crowd, seeking an ally, but found none. Dougas's concerned gaze met yours, and you could tell he was contemplating stepping in. Yet, with a subtle shake of your head, you silently implored him not to intervene. This was your battle; you couldn't bear the thought of anyone else suffering for the situation you had escalated. But only a look at little Davos whimpering on the ground and you knew you had made the right choice, you could not just stand by and see this little boy suffer for the sick amusement of this guard.  

"Then what do you want in exchange for the boy's freedom?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. The guard stepped closer, alarmingly close, and insolently grabbed a strand of your long hair, taking a deep, unsettling sniff. A shiver of revulsion ran down your spine. "I fought in the last Dornish war, you know, little lady? I can spot a Dornish whore a mile away." He yanked your hair painfully. "I know your kind are loose and easy. So, prove how badly you want the boy freed. Satisfy me, and maybe I'll let him go." 

The guard was so close that the foul stench of sour wine on his breath was overwhelming you. Without thinking, you slapped him hard across the face. "Don't you dare touch me!" you shouted. "Do you have any idea who I am?" 

"I know exactly what you are," he sneered, reaching for your throat. "A self-important little Dornish slut." But before he could tighten his grip, he suddenly crumpled to his knees. Little Davos, wielding a sizable rock, had struck him from behind. 

"Come on, lady, we gotta run!" Davos urged, but you stood frozen, overwhelmed by the chaos and the unfamiliarity of your surroundings. The fond memories of Starfall's serene dawns, the fragrant lemon air, and Aliandra's gentle touch over your body seemed like distant dreams, replaced by foul a foul stinking stench, crying little boys and discussing greasy hands tugging your hair and pressing upon your throat.  

As the gold cloak staggered to his feet, spewing obscenities, you instinctively grabbed Davos, positioning him protectively behind you. "Stay behind me; I'll protect you," you asserted, but the boy refused to stay put, instead wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. With one arm, you held him close, while with your other hand, you braced yourself as the guard drew his sword and pointed it at you.  

“YOU STUPID FUCKING WHORE! YOU SHOULD HAVE JUST SUCKED MY COCK WHEN YOU HAD THE CHANCE!” The guard was purple in the face from all his screaming, you tightened your arm around Davos who was weeping, his tears wetting your gauzy skirt. “I’m gonna enjoy killing the boy, but I am going to enjoy dealing with you even more, you Dornish slut!” The guard raised his sword to your neck and let it drop to your cleavage, pushing your dress down and revealing the top of your breast, “You imma strip naked in front of everyone, then I am gonna give you the beatin’ your daddy should have given to the little bitch that you are, and I am gonna show everyone what happens when someone dares to disrespect the gold cloak!”  

Your heart pounded in your chest as the guard menacingly dragged his sword across your chest, not deep enough to draw blood but enough to make you squirm, the cruel glint in his eyes holding your gaze as he toyed with you. Paralyzed with fear, you desperately wanted to urge Davos to run, to escape this nightmare, but you knew you couldn't - it would only put him in more danger. 

A wave of despair washed over you. You had thought you could make a difference, naively believed that you could help this little boy. But now, you realized just how misguided you had been. What a foolish idiot to think that you could go against an armed guard. "I'm so sorry," you whispered to Davos, your voice trembling. Gently, you stroked his hair, pulling him as close to you as possible, a futile shield against the imminent threat. 

Davos lifted his eyes to meet yours, and you found yourself looking into deep, warm pools of brown, brimming with tears. In his gaze, there was an unmistakable look of trust and love, as if you were the Mother reborn. Despite the layers of grime on his face, his still soft youthful features were still apparent – the rounded fullness of his cheeks and the small, upturned nose. After a moment of shared eye contact, laden with unspoken understanding and fear, he buried his face back into the fabric of your skirt, his grip around you tightening as if to say, “It's alright you did your best.”  In that moment, you steeled yourself, determined to stand your ground. If it came to it, you would fight, not just for yourself, but for this boy who had shown more bravery than anyone else you had ever known. Your eyes remained fixed on the guard, refusing to look away. If this was to be your end, you would face it head-on, protecting Davos to your very last breath. 

You clenched your teeth, “You better do your worst you piece of shit, because if I get up, you certainly won’t!”  

The guard menacingly lifted his sword, a sinister glint in his eye. "Perhaps I'll start with you," he sneered, "Let the boy watch." 

In a desperate attempt to shield Davos from the impending horror, you whispered urgently, "Don't look." You braced for the blow, but it never landed. What happened next was a blur of motion – one moment, the guard was poised to strike; the next, he was howling in agony, clutching the bleeding stump where his hand had been. His severed hand, still gripping the sword, lay on the ground beside him. He crumpled to the ground, his cries piercing the air, as chaos erupted around you. 

Clutching Davos tightly, you frantically scanned the crowd, hoping against hope that your father had noticed your absence and come searching for you, perhaps with some of the guards in tow. But amidst the onlookers, there was no sign of the familiar soft purple that marked your family's entourage. 

Then, your gaze locked with the most striking eyes, well eye you had ever seen – a deep, piercing sapphire. The owner of this mesmerizing eye was the most handsome man you had ever encountered, wielding a bloodstained sword. Standing a few paces behind him was a man with distinct Dornish features, garbed in a white cloak. The identity of the younger man became unmistakably clear as you noted his long silver hair and the distinctive eye patch. Prince Aemond Targaryen, your betrothed, stood before you, the very person who had just saved your life. 

Your breath hitched, and your heart raced as Prince Aemond held your gaze. There was a steely intensity in his eye that seemed to harden further when he took in your disheveled state and the small figure of Davos, who now timidly peeked out from behind the folds of your skirt to witness the unfolding scene. 

The wounded guard writhed on the ground, his voice a mix of pain and anger. "My Prince, why?!" he moaned, clutching the bleeding stump of his arm. "That Dornish whore insulted the royal guard! She must be punished." But Prince Aemond's response was non-existent; his intense gaze remained fixed on you, causing your breath to quicken and a familiar warmth started to pool inside your belly.  

For several agonizing seconds, the only sound was the guard's plaintive moans for help. Finally, Prince Aemond broke the charged silence. Tearing his gaze from yours, he delivered a forceful kick to the guard's abdomen, eliciting a sharp cry of pain. 

"Ser Criston," he commanded, and the Dornish-looking man behind him immediately snapped to attention. "Remove this filth from my sight. Make sure he serves as an example to others." 

His voice was deep and resonant, wrapping around you like velvet. Meanwhile, the guard's pleas escalated into a panicked babble as Ser Criston roughly hauled him up by the collar. "No, no, no," the guard stammered desperately. "The whore disrespected me! The boy's a thief! I was only giving them what they deserved. I did nothing wrong!" 

"Watch your tongue, you wretch!" Ser Criston's voice thundered, thick with disdain. "You dare insult a future princess of the realm, the betrothed of Prince Aemond Targaryen!" 

The guard's demeanor crumbled into desperation, his eyes brimming with tears. "I... I didn't know, please! I swear, if I had known, I would have never acted so... Please, forgive me!" His voice cracked with fear and panic. 

Ser Criston started dragging the guard away, and he turned his wild, frightened eyes towards you, pleading. "You have to believe me; I didn't mean any harm by it! I didn't know who you were!" All you could smell was the sour wine and all you could see was Davos scared brown eyes.  

"Wait, Ser Criston." Your attention immediately shifted to Prince Aemond at his commanding tone. He stood, resolute, beside the severed hand, still gripping the sword, exuding an aura of calm authority. His posture was impeccably straight, hands clasped behind his back in a stance of dignified composure. He then turned his gaze towards you, and there was a discernible edge in his voice, a mix of curiosity and challenge, as he spoke. "The affront was directed at my betrothed. It is only fitting that she decides his fate." The words, though spoken casually, carried the weight of a test, his single eye fixed on you with an intensity that belied the nonchalant sneer. 

The weight of every gaze in the vicinity pressed upon you. Davos gazed up with innocent eyes, still clinging to you for safety. Dougas, from his stall, looked on in horror at the unfolding drama, and the crowd around you had swelled, drawn by the prospect of witnessing a spectacle involving a prince of the realm – a rarity in the city. In the distance, you spotted a flash of purple – a sign that your family's retinue had noticed your absence and was making its way toward the commotion. 

Your eyes then fell upon the guard, a pathetic and almost crazed figure now pleading for mercy. You searched within yourself for the compassionate girl who once blushed under Aliandra’s gaze and bawdy laugh and cherished reading beneath the orange blossoms, but she seemed distant now, unreachable in this moment. 

Finally, your gaze met Prince Aemond's. He hadn’t moved, save for an arched eyebrow signaling his anticipation of your decision. "My father taught me the virtue of grace and forgiveness," you began, the guard's eyes lighting up with a flicker of hope. "But this man was ready to subject me to a public beating, to strip me before all an humiliate me. Where I not of my birth, he would have killed both me and this boy for mere sport. He is no better than a dog, and rabid dogs must be put down." Your voice was steady, resolute, as you clutched Davos closer. "Soon, your words will be mine, my prince. 'Fire and Blood.' I trust your judgment in handling him." 

The guard's whimpering grew more desperate at your words. Prince Aemond’s lips then curled into a smile, a grim satisfaction in his eye. "You heard my betrothed. Take him away. I'll attend to him personally later." His command was final, and as the guard was dragged away, you stood firm holding onto Davos and softly stroking his hair, his whimpering had finally abade, but he refused to let go.  

As more gold cloaks began to arrive, they efficiently dispersed the gathering crowd, their presence imposing order on the chaotic scene. Amidst the commotion, you heard your father’s voice growing louder as he approached. Suddenly, a gentle, warm hand tenderly lifted your chin, guiding your gaze upwards. You found yourself looking directly into the eyes of your betrothed, Prince Aemond, the unkown man who had hunted your worst nightmare of dragons and blood had now become your unexpected protector. 

Were you harmed?” he asked with concern. 

He listened as you explained, “He mostly threatened me, but the boy... he was hurt, and he was going to kill him. I couldn't just stand by.” 

“Shhh,” Aemond interjected softly, halting your anxious recounting. “You showed remarkable bravery, more than anyone else here. Standing up for a child facing unjust punishment speaks volumes of your character. Few would have had the courage to intervene, but that boy was fortunate to have your kindness and protection. You've not only honored yourself today but also brought honor to my house, my lady.” 

As he spoke, Aemond gently stroked your cheek, then cupped your face in his hand. Overwhelmed by the tenderness of his touch, you instinctively leaned into his palm, closing your eyes and finding a moment of solace in his comforting gesture. 

Your father then burst into the scene, his expression a mix of worry and confusion, breaking the tender moment. "What happened?" he exclaimed, taking in your disheveled appearance and the tearful child in your arms. He quickly closed the distance and enveloped you in a protective embrace. 

Prince Aemond, who had been tenderly holding your face, discreetly withdrew his hand and coughed, as though to recompose himself amidst the sudden interruption. 

"Guards!" Aemond commanded, addressing the gold cloaks who promptly gathered around him. "Ensure that my betrothed and her family are safely escorted to the Red Keep. Let nothing like this occur again, or you'll join your colleague in the black cells." His voice carried an undeniable authority, prompting the guards to spring into action. 

As two gold cloaks moved to escort you and your father, another reached to take Davos from your arms. "No," you stated firmly, feeling Davos cling tighter to you. The guard hesitated, glancing at Prince Aemond for guidance. With a simple nod from the prince, the guard backed off, allowing you to lift Davos and secure him against you, his skinny legs wrapping around your waist. You whispered soft reassurances to the frightened boy as you began to move away with your father, who bombarded you with a flurry of questions. 

Before you got too far, you turned and called out, "Prince Aemond!" The prince turned, his posture regal, his hands clasped behind his back, his piercing blue eye fixing you with an intense gaze. Gently setting Davos down, you guided his hand into your father's, who received him with a puzzled expression. Then, making your way towards Prince Aemond, you reached into the folds of your bodice and retrieved the beautiful purple and white silk scarf you had discreetly tucked away earlier. 

Approaching the prince, you carefully wrapped the scarf around his bicep. Aemond watched, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as you performed this unexpected gesture. His usual composed demeanor seemed momentarily unsettled by your action, as he gazed at the soft uprple fabric now adorning his arm. "My thanks for saving me, for protecting us. A small token to show you that your bravery won't ever be forgotten," you said earnestly. Prince Aemond held your gaze for a moment longer, then gave a slight nod in acknowledgment before you smiled and made your way back to your father and Davos, taking the latter back into your arms. 

As the gold cloaks ushered you back towards the carriage, your family bombarded you with questions. You responded absently, your mind replaying the scene. Despite the turmoil, a smile found its way to your lips as you remembered the deep flush of red that had colored Prince Aemond's cheeks and ears at your display of gratitude. You held tighter onto little Davos and smiled, perhaps marrying a man like Aemond Targaryen might not be so bad after all.  

Next Chapter

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Spinoff Story Vampire & Vampire Hunter part 35

Warnings: betrayal, human being Turned, forced blood drinking, carewhumper

I included several Anon asks in this one! This is the final official chapter for the series! I finished this one at 1:47am Lol

Anon #1: dialogue idea for when Mallory wakes up: "You know I'm a selfish bastard"

Anon #2: Alex turns Mallory and Mallory is pissed at first before he realizes he can now also break Alex's nose

Mallory awoke with a blasting headache, his thoughts foggy and muddled. And he was viscerally aware of the sharp pain stabbing his stomach.

But he was dead. He shouldn't be able to feel anything...

...right?!

He groaned, taking a breath to steel himself before cracking his eyes open, finding himself staring up at the familiar white ceiling of the hospital room back at the hunter's base. How'd he get here? He shivered uneasily, suddenly aware of how cold he felt all over.

"Mallory! You're awake!" A relieved voice next to him made him jump, and his head snapped to the side to find Alex sitting in a chair right next to the medical bed he was laying in.

"Nnn... what... what happened?" Mallory croaked, throat dry and scratchy.

Alex's excited expression instantly shifted into one of pure guilt and shame, puzzling Mallory.

"I don't know how to express how incredibly sorry I am, and I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you, but..." Alex trailed off, the words catching on his tongue.

Mallory suddenly winced, sitting up and doubling over with a gasp as pain spiked in his gut again. "Ugh... why does everything hurt so much...?" He rasped.

"That's the thing," Alex whispered sadly, and pulled out something from a sack leaned up against the wall. He held it out to the hunter, eyes downcast. "I'm so, so sorry, Mallory."

Mallory's eyes went wide with horror, even as his stomach lurched with hunger. Alex was handing him a bag of blood. Human blood.

"No," Mallory breathed with dawning realization. "Nononono--I'm not--"

"You are," Alex confirmed, voice cracking. "I'm sorry... I couldn't sit back and do nothing while you died in my arms. You know I'm a selfish bastard like that."

"NO!" Mallory barked, "I'm not a vampire!" He clumsily half-slid-half-fell out of the medical bed, making a lurching dash for the door to get out, but Alex was faster, stepping in his path and grabbing his arm to stop him.

"It's not safe for you to go out yet," he said calmly, "there's human hunters all over, and you could easily go feral and--"

"LET GO!!!" Mallory roared, panicking. And without thinking, in his pain mixed with bitter anger, he wound a fist back and let it fly, clocking Alex square in the face with an awful wet crunch.

Alex released him with a sharp cry of genuine pain, stumbling backward, and Mallory recoiled, glancing in startled disbelief from his bloodied fist to Alex's face, which was now bleeding heavily, nose bent at an unnatural angle. He was not expecting that.

"Holy---I just broke a vampire's nose with my HAND!" He gasped in shock. Then the shock turned to dread and sheer horror. There was no denying it now. Humans didn't have that kind of strength.

Mallory's hands flew up to his mouth, feeling his teeth with his fingers -- and he felt fangs. Sharp and foreign and not supposed to be there.

So the nightmare was real. He was a VAMPIRE.

"No..." Mallory only froze for a second longer before springing toward the door again while Alex clutched his broken nose with a hand, hoping to get past him and escape.

He had no idea where he would go, or what he would do, but he just needed to get away, find someplace quiet and alone to process his new reality.

"Mallory, DON'T!" Alex tackled him to the floor, but Mallory jerked his elbow up to smash him in the jaw, making the other vampire lose his grip just barely enough that he could wiggle free and make a run for it. He desperately grabbed the door handle, ready to fling it open and sprint out -- when a sharp, metallic scent hit his nose, making him dizzy. His body instinctively spun back around before his mind had even caught up.

He spotted Alex with the bag of blood in one hand, which had two distinct fang marks in the top that had pierced it and let the intoxicating sweet scent free, intentionally letting him catch a whiff. Why did it smell so good?! He should be disgusted right now, not drooling like a rabid animal!

Alex held it out with a hand, gesturing with it. "Smells good, right? Irresistible? It'll help you get control over yourself before you lose your mind," he panted, his free hand covering his broken nose.

"No--I'm not going to--" but Mallory was already losing the battle, hunger surging deep inside him.

And suddenly, Alex pounced, wrestling him to pin him to the floor too fast for Mallory to react, pinning him down. He shoved the bag of blood right under Mallory's nose, gaze sharp and demanding.

"Drink," Alex growled firmly. "You'll feel a lot better when you're not starving -- then you can be mad at me all you want. Just bite into it and your instincts will take care of the rest. I promise you'll feel better."

"You also promised me something else once," Mallory croaked, voice strained. "And you lied."

Alex flinched violently as though stabbed through the chest, guilt twisting his features. But he tipped the bag so a few drops of red blood dripped out of the puncture holes he'd made and fell onto Mallory's lips.

Mallory's gaze darkened and glazed over, and with a primal snarl, he snatched the bag from Alex and plunged his fangs in, ravenously gulping down the human blood contained inside.

Alex watched with sad eyes as the newblood went half-feral with hunger, knowing it likely wouldn't be the first time Mallory would go through such an awful experience until he learned to control his thirst. He stretched and snagged the sack the blood bag had been in, pulling it close and retrieving a second. Several of the hunters had generously volunteered to make the donations that would now help Mallory recover.

Alex kept Mallory pinned down as he fed him, and it was only after five whole blood bags that the feral cloudiness started to dissipate, and Mallory came back to himself. The feeding had been clumsy, and messy, and both Alex and Mallory were covered in spilled human blood by the time it was done.

Mallory licked his lips, twitching on the floor as he took a second to get used to his new vampire body, the blood sending new strength rushing through his cold limbs. Then his gaze flicked up to Alex, who was still sitting on top of him.

"You Turned me," he whispered numbly. "Everything's about to change for me, isn't it?"

Alex nodded grimly, slowly standing and helping Mallory up, both of them covered in spatters of blood.

"If you'll let me, I can... do my best to guide you," Alex offered guiltily. "I know I'm a terrible friend, and I've been cruel to you in the past, and now I've betrayed what little trust there was between us by breaking my promise. And I will spend the rest of my immortal life cursing myself for it. But... I can try to help, if you're willing to give me a chance. Though... I understand if you don't wish to, after all I've done." He hung his head and turned away from Mallory to hide the devastation on his face.

"I think we could... give it a try," Mallory tentatively answered. "I'm not sure if I'll ever fully forgive you for what you did, but... an eternity is a long time to hold a grudge. And now you’ve got all the time in the world to make it up to me.”

"In that case... here's to a hopefully better future?" Alex pulled out the last blood bag from the sack, lifting it into the air and watching Mallory hopefully, extending a desperate olive branch.

Mallory chuckled, though still looking slightly disgusted as he eyed the human blood sloshing around in the clear plastic.

"Yeah... a hopefully better future.”

Fun fact: from the very first chapter to now, this story has 60,499 words. That's a LOT! 😱 A huge thanks to everyone who's stuck around for the journey! ((Also, if anyone wants to read ANOTHER long vampire novel I've written, I'd recommend reading my story "Beautiful Blood"))

⏪️ Back Bonus alternate ending

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings @mj-or-say10

[fayedartmouth]

Too many but im a curious person <3

🥸 🫘 🦷 💥 🛏

I'm gonna put my answers beneath a cut because whatever. I talk a lot, lol.

🥸 Does anyone in IRL know you write fanfic or original fiction? If not, do you plan on telling anyone this year?

Yes! Though KNOWING is not the same as letting them read it, and I've gained a significant amount of comfort in telling people that I write and that I write fic over the years. I'm old enough now that I know who I am and what I like, and I'm not super keen to apologize for it. So I've told my sister-in-law that I write it but when she asked to read it, I politely laughed it off and she never brought it up again. I told my daughter (who is 13) I write it, but I'm definitely not ready for her to read anything.

My husband knows and he's read a limited amount of it. If he had the wherewithal, he could easily find my stuff online but he hasn't for whatever reason. He would like me to talk more about it, but that's just hard for me to do. I think it's not so much that I write fic, but like the very specific type of fic that I write. I don't feel like having to explain why I'm obsessed with whumping my faves.

I have one coworker who knows and he does seem to read my stuff from time to time and talk to me about it. Which is surreal and kind of neat. He's been very chill about it and doesn't seem to think I'm a complete weirdo for the fact that I write as much as I do or what I do.

But like people like my parents? They will never know. LOL, never.

🫘 Spill the beans. What's a new project you're doing this year?

I wish I had a new one to talk about it! But I think I've blathered about the big ones already. The fix-it is a huge project for me, and that will preoccupy me for a while. At some point, I have to get back to Best of a Bad Deal Book Three, but I think my goal is to finish the first fic of my fix-it series.

Beyond that, there's nothing "big." I'm writing a Sarah and JJ as siblings fic for a friend, and I've got a bunch of other WIPs. I also have like two-three other really pressing ideas for shorter fix-its I'd LIKE to write but it is unclear if I'd ever have the time.

But yeah, I don't think I have anything dramatically new I haven't talked about.

🦷 Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're dreading to write (but is necessary to your plot)? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Yes, I think so. With the fix-it, I ended up basically supplementing all of the back half of S4 because I just needed to for context and balance and in my head it was the only way to approach it. My problem is that I don't want to rewatch those episodes at all. In fact, at this point, I don't want to rewatch anything. Writing fic is great -- I'm good with that. But watching the show is still just too hard and I'm not sure I'll ever get to the point where I'll enjoy it again, even in small sections. Which kills me. To never watch Midsummers again? To never watch JJ's hot tub scene again? But it's just hard.

That said, I will do it because I need to ground the fix-it in what we saw on screen. I'd post a snippet but this answer is getting kind of long anyway. If you want more snippets, just ask. I'll share anything.

💥Is there a chapter, scene, or WIP you're most excited to write? Share a snippet or tell us about it!

Always! I'm excited about so many things. Most of the time, I tend to be most excited about upcoming whump. There's a scene in the second fic of the fix-it that I'm obsessed with but I feel like I shouldn't share it yet because I don't know. It seems like it gives too much away.

So I'll post a snippet at the very bottom here from JJ's recovery bit of the fix-it, when he's holed up in Morocco without the Pogues. Let's just say he's not doing well and his self destructive tendencies become a lot more overt as he takes a knife to his own stitches.

This fic is largely about JJ's downward spiral. The scene below isn't even his rock bottom, the poor guy.

🛏 Is there a new trope you'd like to write this year?

I don't know! I haven't actively thought about it. I think I've been doing fic a long, long time so I feel like I've been there and done quite a few things. I'm also guilty of going back to the same tropes that I love time and time again. So nothing is on my mind right now? But I'm really easily persuaded and I love new idea and new things. I love writing, so being challenged to do something new is always up my alley, even if right now my focus is nearly exclusively on making sure JJ isn't dead.

Here's the snippet:

It wasn’t as much a conscious thought as it was an inevitability.  His fingers were unusually steady as he reached the blade down, catching the first stitch and teasing it out–

And with a single, hard motion, he jerked his hand up, slicing clean through the stitch with surprising ease.  For a split second, the shock was all.  Then, blood welled up almost in protest.  And finally – belatedly – the numb echo of pain as it shuddered through his body.

The pain felt different, though.  It felt good.  It felt <i>right</i>.

At the very least, he decided, it felt real.

His lips twitched up with an unfamiliar rush of satisfaction.  The relief felt like the best kind of high, and it took nothing to catch the second stitch and rip it clean, too.

These quick fixes.  These temporary patches.

They didn’t work.

If they saved his life for a day, two days?  A week?

Even a year?

What did it matter?

They were just prolonging the inevitable.

Everybody knew it.

<i>Everybody</i>.

Luke couldn’t raise him.  John B’s friendship couldn’t save him.  Pope’s sacrifice was lost on him, and Kie’s love would never be enough to redeem him.

His mama had left him.

Groff had seen him, small and needy, and knew it wasn’t worth it.

Now, all JJ could do was let it bleed.

He had to let it bleed out.

There was no one left to hold him together.  He was alone, just like he was meant to be.

So he would take himself apart, stitch–

He cut the next one, slicing deeper with a grimace–

By stitch–

The pain hitched and his breathing tightened as he cut through the next–

By stitch–

The blood was weeping now, covering his abdomen.  He could feel it, trailing down his back and soaking into the sheets.  He watched, morbidly fascinated, as it left him, and the thrum of his heart rose tremulously in his ears.  His cuts were getting sloppier, reopening the wound and cutting into the healing skin.  He didn’t stop, though.  He couldn’t stop.

He grappled at the stitches, pulling the threads clean out of the skin until there was nothing left for his bloody fingers to grab.  His vision began to swim, and he had to put down the bottle to finish the work, pulling out the frayed edges until the blood made it too hard to see and there was nothing left to grab.

JJ exhaled, feeling light headed again.  His fingers were like lead weights as it slipped away from him, and he narrowed his focus as best he could, but it was a fleeting, impossible thing.  It hurt more than he thought it would, but the pain was part of it.  It defined him, and he held onto it as long as he could until he exhaled again.

His bloody fingers fell away.  The sound of his heart grew faint, and he lay there, open and exposed.  It was okay now.  He’d held on too long, he’d fought too hard.  He could let it bleed, let it go.

Until there was nothing left at all.

[cgetbrmj]

What to expect from Cgetbrmj

(besides posting at random times)

Not that I think anyone will really read this or care but I need a lil place to store the scheduled fic ideas and separate them from the scrapped fic ideas

Get ready for a lot of writing that nobody will probably read lol!

THERE'S A LOT OF TALKING IN HERE

the Evolution series - tlou

fic #9 is only just under 1000 words right now and very much still in the planning stage, and every fic AFTER that is currently still sitting in the 13k word doc of planning

There are around 30ish chapters that I had planned out a while ago, give or take, so if any of you like that series, I wouldn't stress about it being ditched lol

Also in tlou were two separate one shots that I had written at the start of the year, when the show's first episode came out and I liked both of them but I feel like they're both too ooc to post so I never bothered editing them but 🤷

I'd also planned another mini series for tlou that had four chapters, all sort of centered around silver lake/aftermath/healing but with a littles are known/classification au to it - which I do still like and plan on fixing up at some stage

The Walking Dead

firstly, covering the fics in the Daryl's acting weird series

Always A Losing Game has 2 chapters left - both with a loose plan but not a lot of actual writing finished for them

There was a one shot that was in the works for a bit - something short and sweet from Michonne's perspective during the night that This takes place that I never finished

After the events of Always A Losing Game I don't have any full fics written for the beginning of the Alexandria era (aka season 5b and season 6) just snippets and ideas and concepts that I'd written down that I need to go and sort through and somehow make sense of

after that weird brief section where I have nothing written for some reason lol, there's 8 fics that are all planned/at least partially written in a coherent fic form and ready to be edited all set between the latter half of season 6-season 9

There's also a bunch of ideas and concepts for fics Post Rick set in this series that I need to also sort through

The Dandelions series... If there is literally anyone out there who liked it, I'm so sorry for posting two fics and then never talking about it again. Still love the concept here!! Even if I hate the writing in the fics!! Trying to get the motivation to actually edit the other fics in the series. There's another 5 fics in the series yet to be posted, all kind of written but not edited. One of those fics includes the fix it version of my OWN FIC lol, with a good ending where Alden lives at the end of it, if anyone's interested. I love Alden so much and I think that that love should override how much I hate my own writing here and convince me to finish what I started lmao

The Stubbornness Series, my beloved. My true underdog I feel. I love this series very passionately for someone that typically doesn't like their own writing after like a month of having it posted.

There's another 4 one shots that need to be edited and a fic that needs to be split into 3 parts, I'm still unsure if they'll be chapters or all standalone - tell me what you like reading more lol

The first 4 are

Daryl staying up late to wait for Rick to come back from watch

season 11 finale/rosita's death

rough/restless night with lots of comfort and cg!Rick and Michonne

Michonne finding Daryl directly after the bridge in season 9

The other is about Daryl finally returning to Alexandria in season 9, with Lydia, Henry, and Connie - where him and Michonne have lots of angst and trauma talk- try and fix their problems and help each other/try and get Daryl to go into headspace-go to the kingdom-heads on pikes- getting back to Alexandria- snowball fight

It has around 6000 words right now, and I'll be honest I was so close to dropping it and trying to rewrite it (it being the first part of the three) It came out SUPER angsty, even for me, and I felt like I couldn't make any of it work, hence why it didn't get posted on my bday, but maybe I was stressed because I was so busy at the time idk. I need to reread it and see what I can do

James Bond

the further down the rabbit hole, the nicher it gets lol

There's around 12 fics I have written that need to be edited before they're posted here, most of them were made last year and are just snippets, but I still like the concepts and want to finish them at some point

Too many concepts to do dot points for plots here, so if anyone really wants more info, which I kinda doubt lol, feel free to ask for more <3

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

WOah, that one came out of nowhere, right? Well what if I told you that I binge watched the 3 captain america movies and this show purely to take notes, and my GOD did I do some serious note taking, last year? The year before, I think? Definitely the year before. So that I could create this story about previous cg!steve L!bucky that was angsty and fun and then turn it gradually into cg!sam?? Would you believe me? Because I honestly don't think I've ever brought it up before lol. Anyway that was something that I did do. And wrote for. And now I have a planned storyline and snippets of writing and absolutely no idea whether or not I should do anything with it

Now the fun miscellaneous fics

There's one rpf (real person fic) that I wrote purely for my own enjoyment and comfort and author projecting needs - written for a show that I can't believe I would ever write agere for but anyway. I loved it, will probably never post it?

There's a couple other misc fics that I'm always on the fence about posting or not so

one of them is also an agere littles are known/classification au of Mission Impossible of all things, since I rewatched the new movie so much and brought back the hyperfixation once again.

There's also another MI fic I wrote that I genuinely really loved and want to post that ISN'T agere??????? What?? From me??

So that's that. Those are the main fics waiting to be edited and fixed up and posted as of right now. These are the ones I plan on not giving up on. If anyone is interested in any of them and want to talk about any of them, I'm always excited to talk about my fics! And always excited to hear if someone likes my fics! Don't be shy!

I know no one will probably read this but this will probably be good for my brain to sort out my shit with these fics and stop confusing myself with the fics that I'm scrapping lol

[bluesylveon2]

Frozen

Summary: The Kingdom of Marley is now open to everyone and it is Pieck's coronation day. However, tensions rise between her and her sister, Annie. Also, since when did Annie have ice powers?

Disclaimer: Frozen is a computer-animated musical fantasy film produced by Walt Disney Feature Animation and Walt Disney Pictures.  Attack on Titan is a manga/anime series written by Hajime Isayama and published by Kondasha. 

A/N: Here is pt 3 of my Happily Ever After series starring Porco x Pieck! I already have half of it written out so it should be updated soon before spring break ends (I will also clean up the masterlist too lol). Enjoy!

Masterlist: Here

Chapter 1:

Knock knock

"Princess Pieck, it's time to wake up!" 

A jet black-haired princess let out a groan and buried her head under her pillows. She was too tired from yesterday that she could not tell you today’s date.

"Five more minutes." She mumbled, letting sleep come to take her again. She could feel herself going back into dreamland. 

The maid sighed. "Princess Pieck. It's your coronation day."

"My coronation day…." Pieck mumbled to herself. Suddenly, everything hit her like a switch on a lightbulb. "IT'S MY CORONATION DAY!" she exclaimed and rushed out of bed….not before she tripped from her sheets and fell face down on the floor.  

"Princess? Is everything alright?" 

"I’m peachy." She replied as she picked her head up. Pieck immediately got up and slammed the door open, revealing her “I just got out of bed look” to her maid. The maid immediately grabbed Pieck’s hand and brought her back to the room to get ready. 

Meanwhile, another princess was already ready for the coronation in another part of the castle. This princess looked nothing like Pieck. She had blonde hair and icey blue eyes in contrast to Pieck’s black hair (with a few white strands) and grey eyes. She was busy staring at herself in the vanity mirror when a knock interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in.” She called out, and the door opened to reveal the royal advisor, Magath.

“You look nervous.” He said as he took a seat on the foot of the princess’s bed. 

The princess rolled her eyes. “No, I have a big smile on my face.” She replied sarcastically before turning to Magath and letting out a sigh. “I just don't want to ruin Pieck’s day.”

Magath smiled solemnly. “I know but I know that you will not mess it up, Annie.”

“How?” Annie replied. “There are people from all over here to watch my sister become queen, and what if they realize that she has a monster for a sister? No one will want to trade with the country, we will lose money, and it will collapse because of me.” 

“I know, but you remember what your father said to you before.”

“Conceal, don't feel. Don’t let it show.” Annie replied automatically. 

Magath smiled, got up, and ruffled Annie’s hair a bit before the princess swatted his hand away. “Remember to have fun, okay? It may be your sister’s day, but nobody is stopping you from meeting new people and eating lots of sweets.”

Annie chuckled, her mouth moving up into a small smile. “It was only one time. I was a kid, and I didn’t think anyone was awake at that time.”

Magath laughed at the memory. “And you ended up with a stomach ache that night.” He stood up and started heading for the door. “Now I have to get going to check up on your sister.” 

“Is she finally awake?”

“I hope so,” Magath replied and opened the door. “Oh, and Annie.” Annie looked at him with her utmost attention. “Don’t forget to smile.”

---

It was times like this when Magath questioned if Pieck really was the eldest child. The princess was already dressed in her gown, but now she insisted on meeting the guests. Why couldn’t she be like Annie, who stayed inside until it was time for the coronation?

“Pieck, you need to finish getting ready.”

“But Magath, it's been 15 years since I got to go outside and meet new people who are not here to discuss treaties! I'm not a little girl anymore.” Pieck argued. 

“You're not, but you're about to be queen. You still need to prepare.”

“Magath, I have prepared enough. I know what to do, what to say, and how to react to everything today.” Magath stared at her sternly, not breaking his stance. “Please, Magath. I at least want to get some air.”

His stern look remained, but his facade began to break. 

“Fine.” Magath sighed. “You have thirty minutes and can only go to the garden. There should be some guests in there-oof”

Pieck runs over to him for a hug. “Thank you, thank you!” She cheered and ran off immediately. 

Magath sighed for the hundredth time that day. He glanced over at the wall where the portrait of the late king and queen stood. “Please make sure your daughters do not have any incidents today.” 

---

Pieck gracefully weaved through the countless servants preparing for her coronation. Pieck looked like a kid who got candy to any outsider, but the servants knew better.

“It seems like Magath let the Princess explore.” A maid wearing glasses chuckled as the Pieck passed by her.

“He always had a soft spot for her.” Another maid, who was holding a stack of salad plates, added. 

Pieck continued running until she reached the garden. The normally quiet place was filled with new faces. They were most likely some foreign guests who came early to get a glimpse at the new queen. 

The princess was unsure about where to begin. Should she start with the old couple near the pond looking at water lilies or the young man in the corner speaking to his retainers? Pieck shook her head. It was best not to waste time pondering over it and just meet somebody. She let her feet guide her through the garden. The garden itself was large and full of different flowers. Her mother, the late queen, would take care of it with her and Annie’s help, but now it was Pieck who did the work. If Annie did help out, then Pieck was unaware of it. She rarely sees her sister nowadays. 

“Oof,” Pieck was lost in thought that she did not notice the newcomer walking up to her. “I am so sorry, sir!” she stepped back and apologized. She looked up at the man she ran into was very handsome and tall, had blonde hair, a beard, and wore glasses.

He chuckled, “No need to apologize, Your Highness. I should have looked at where I was going.”

Pieck gave him a confused look. “You know who I am?”

“You may not have shown your face in years, but figuring out who you are is not difficult. Also, you indirectly confirmed my suspicions just now.”

Pieck lightly blushed. “Okay, you know who I am, but I don’t know who you are.”

“Prince Zeke Yeager. The Crowned Prince of Paradis.” He said while picking up Pieck’s hand to kiss the back of it. “I came here because of my father. He wanted me to expand my horizons, but I know it is his way of telling me to strengthen relationships with other nations.”

“That does not sound like fun.”

Zeke nodded. “Especially when the diplomats have a stick up their ass.”

Pieck laughed loudly, causing some nearby people to look at her. She cleared her throat and attempted to change the subject. “I don’t think you got to explore much of Marley, have you?” Zeke shook his head. “What about I give you a tour before the coronation? It can be your excuse to ‘expand your horizons,’” She grinned. 

Zeke chuckled and extended an arm out to Pieck. “Lead the way.”

The two talked for what felt like hours. The topics ranged from Marley culture to siblings (Pieck was curious about Zeke’s younger brother, Eren.) and to their favorite foods (Pieck went on a long rant about sandwiches). Pieck was laughing at one of Zeke’s jokes when the church bell rang, signaling that thirty minutes had passed.

“Shit!” Pieck said and stood up. “Magath is going to kill me if I am late!”

Zeke chuckled. “I guess it is time to go?”

“I’m sorry. We can pick up our conversation after the coronation.”

“You might be busy. I think everyone is going to want to get a glimpse of the new queen.”

“Well, the queen will save some time for you.”

“How about a dance?” Zeke asked with a hopeful look in his eyes.

Pieck smiled. “I would like that. See you then?”

“See you then,” Zeke confirmed, and Pieck ran off to get ready. His hand automatically dug inside his pocket for the small box, and he genuinely smiled. He could not wait to meet the new Queen tonight.

©: This is where I insert all rights reserved stuff. This story belongs to me. Do not modify or republish.

A/N: So Annie and Pieck basically switch roles...bear with me yall lol. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! See you all at the next one!

[wonwoonlight]

my way to you / jeon wonwoo | chapter 2

➝ Wonwoo x fem!Reader

➝ rich!AU // heir & heiress!AU // best friends to lovers // idiots to lovers lol // fluff // a lil drama bc why not // somewhat angsty // clicheeeee <3

➝ series warning: OC is Dense with a capital D, so many cliches but idc, implied sexual activities (but no actual smut scenes), eventual suggestive scenes, theyre both idiots, food, insecurity and self doubts, somewhat toxic parents, someone fainted like once, not always proofread am sorry ;-; that’s probably it? tell me if there’s more!

➝ A/N: the first few chapters are really just me laying down the characters and the backgrounds sooo hopefully they wont bore you hehe enjoy as always and pls dont hesitate and drop by to give me your thoughts!

series masterlist

“Have you eaten dinner?” Wonwoo asks as he opens the door to the room you’ve claimed as yours in his penthouse. He’s just gotten back from work, and when he sees your shoes by the door, he immediately goes to your room before even washing up.

You shake your head, not even bothering to turn to him. “Too sleepy. Night, Won.”

Wonwoo smiles to himself, shaking his head in amusement before he steps inside and forces you out of the blanket. “You’re not staying over if you’re not going to eat. Shua told me you have three events to handle this month?”

You groan at the mention of your cousin, mumbling about how his mouth is too loose but immediately stops once Wonwoo gives you that pointed look. “It’s two. And I’ll just go home then.”

Your best friend sighs tiredly at your words, though he knows you don’t mean it—plus, he’s told Seungcheol, your personal guard, to go home already because Wonwoo will drive you to work tomorrow himself.

He’s seen the guy standing sturdily in front of his door earlier, and if Seungcheol’s there at this hour, it means it hasn’t been long since you’ve arrived because the guard usually left an hour or two after you told him he’s free to go.

Your driver has probably left first, already used to your arrangement with Wonwoo. But Seungcheol has only worked with you for a year at most and still feels the need to stand on guard at all time even though Wonwoo’s place has been considered safe since the beginning.

“Come on, accompany me eat at least,” Wonwoo tries again. “You’re probably here because you had too many meetings today and the last one is nearby, aren’t you?”

“Why ask if you already know?” you mumble as you reluctantly sit up on the bed before clinging yourself to his side. “Do you even know what to eat?”

Wonwoo shifts so you can lean more comfortably on him, your hair brushing his neck after you settle yourself there. “I’m just in the mood for some ramyeon, to be honest. Ordering would take too long and I’m not really in the mood to cook.”

“‘Kay,” you slowly nod, offering to make it for him despite your claim of being too tired just minute ago. “You go wash up. The ramyeon should be ready when you’re finished.”

“Thank you,” he squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “You can cook two just in case you feel like eating some. I’ll eat the rest if you can’t finish it.”

“I know, I know,” you scrunch your nose; ramyeon doesn’t sound so bad after all, and maybe you are a little hungry because you might or might not have skipped proper meals today and chose to fuel your body with nothing but bread and caffeine.

Fifteen minutes later, Wonwoo finds you playing with your phone on the dining table, two bowls of ramyeon already sit on the table.

“Can’t resist ramyeon, huh?” he jokes as he sits down across from you. His portion is a lot more than yours and he can only guess you only want to eat half the portion and place the rest in his bowl.

“I’ve only had bread and coffees since morning,” you honestly confess to him, grinning sheepishly at his disapproving eyes. “Didn’t have time to eat, Won. And you know I can’t sleep if I’m too full, else I’d be eating one full portion.”

“Why didn’t you eat earlier then?”

“I told you I’m too sleepy,” you huff. “Don’t feel like eating alone too, so I figured I might as well sleep it away.”

Wonwoo frowns once more in disapproval, and you’re already reassuring him you’re fine and you’re freer tomorrow than today so all should be okay. But Wonwoo doesn’t buy your excuse, well aware about your tendency to skip meals when you’re too busy because eating seems like a waste of time and you’d rather finish your work faster than take a break to eat when you’re in a trance.

“When did you even meet Shua?” you try to distract him.

“I didn’t. Needed to discuss something with him over the phone earlier,” he says as he stirs his noodle. “He said you dropped by their place a few days ago?”

“Yeah, I was bored and you had that shareholder meeting I think,” you shrug. “Didn’t we eat lunch together that day? Didn’t I tell you?”

Wonwoo shakes his head, taking off his glasses so it wouldn’t fog up. “You just told me you had a meeting for Yoon Holdings annual party.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” you easily brush away. “I wasn’t there for long anyway. Which is good because else they’d talk my ears off.”

“But they are true, princess,” he starts, already knowing what you’re referring to. “I don’t think it’s healthy to take on three projects at once like this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you stubbornly say. “It’s only 8PM and I’m already sleepy, Won. My brain isn’t functional enough right now. You’re lucky I didn’t burn the house down making the ramyeon.”

Wonwoo holds back the urge to say that’s exactly why he doesn’t think you should be handling all these projects; that you’re already too tired and you're going to be even more tired for days to come. But he settles for a worried sigh, making a mental note to make sure you’re at least eating proper meals everyday.

“Speaking of, is your schedule full tomorrow? I only have one meeting in the morning and then I’m free for the rest of the day,” you ask, too tired to notice the way Wonwoo gets immediately silent at your question.

“I… My mom told me to do something for her in the afternoon,” he answers after a beat. “I don’t know how long it’ll take but I’ll tell you once it’s done.”

You’d usually prod more, not because you demand Wonwoo to tell you everything he does, but because you like hearing about Wonwoo and his day. But right now, you’re barely even conscious and Wonwoo isn’t sure if he should be glad that, for once, you don’t notice the awkward hesitation in his tone when he answers you, nor the vague reason he just tells you.

“I’ll just go call Chaeyoung then,” you shrug, taking the last bite of your meal already. “Do you want to watch something after this?”

“Sure, just let me finish this real quick,” he says as he slurps his noodle. “You know, I still don’t understand why you can’t sleep after eating. Most people feel like sleeping after a meal.”

“Dunno. I just feel sick and bloated if I lie down immediately after I eat,” you explain as you lean your face on your palm, watching Wonwoo drinking up the soup.

After he’s done, he tells you to pick the movie while he cleans up after the both of you. And when he steps into the living room, you’re already buried in the blanket you’ve reserved for watching movies. You turn to him, telling him to quickly take a seat so you can start the movie already.

So Wonwoo does exactly that, slipping under the blanket next to you and prompts you to automatically latch yourself to him, your arms hugging his as your head rests on his forearm.

It’s kind of crazy that his heart would still flutter at the gesture when you’ve been doing this to him since you were all kids; but he knows there’s no one to blame when he’s been in love with you for as long as he can remember, and he’s probably used to the butterflies in his stomach by now.

Not long after the movie starts, Wonwoo hears your breath evening as seconds tick by and your head getting heavier on his arm. So he tries his best to subtly shift himself to make you more comfortable; if you’re going to fall asleep on the sofa, then he’d make sure you’re not sleeping even more uncomfortable than it’s already bound to be even though he knows he’s also gonna be unnecessarily sore in the morning.

As you press yourself closer to him in your sleep to seek his familiar warmth, Wonwoo can only wonder if you’ll ever know the effect you have on him.

It’s Friday night when you get to see Wonwoo again, three days after that time you slept over in his place, because you’ve both been busy that you can only bother him through the phone. Even now, the only reason you finally catch him in person again is because The Kwons is holding a 75th birthday party for their elder, who, according to your parents, is the founder and owner of Kwon Tech, the giant technology company that’s probably bigger than Yoon Holdings.

That said, this is just another rich people party that you go to because your parents force you to come in their place; for publicity, you assume. Because if you’re not going to be the head of Yoon Holdings, then at least you should be the face of the company.

You used to be reluctant to come to this party, mainly only there to accompany (bother) Wonwoo as you whine about how much you want to go home. But ever since you’ve started taking care of your company’s events three years ago, you end up coming to these parties to look for references.

Plus, the food is usually good and you’ll be with Wonwoo, so you figure it’s not so bad to be there as long as you have him by your side.

Your eyes wander around the venue, taking in the classic white and gold decoration everywhere. The buffet is pretty diverse; probably because they couldn’t be bothered to ask about each guests’ diet. At least they do have a ‘vegan’ and ‘peanut-free’ sections. The desserts are pretty good too, and you could’ve sworn the chocolate mousse they’re serving is the best one you’ve ever tasted. Maybe you should dig around and find out the catering service for this particular party.

“The strawberry mousse is better, you know,” a low but cheery voice says from beside you.

“Huh, really,” you say in a bored tone, not even bothering to turn to the person. Wonwoo goes to the toilet for one second and someone’s already trying to talk to you. Don’t people here usually think you’re dating Wonwoo? What’s with this guy? That rumour has always been successful in warding weirdos off that you never bother to correct them when they think you’re dating the youngest Jeon.

“Yeah, unless you don’t like strawberries I guess,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

Well that’s unexpected. You thought he would either: 1. drop a pick up line. Or 2. introduce himself and ask for your name. But this stranger seems to just want to share his thoughts on the dessert table.

“Do you not like strawberries?”

“Eh, I prefer chocolate,” you hum happily at your spoon, finally turning to take a look at the guy. You don’t know him--at least not personally, but it bothers you that he looks familiar for some reason. So you shoot straight to it. “Why do you look familiar?

He blinks in confusion, pointing to himself as if there’s anyone else you might be talking to. “Is that your way of asking who I am? I’m Kwon Soonyoung?”

“Huh. So are you one of the Kwons or are you from another Kwon family?”

“You’re funny,” he grins in amusement. “Yeah, that’s my grandfather right there. Thank you for coming to his party, I guess?”

You nod as you take the information in. Soonyoung looks about your age, and even though he’s not as tall as Wonwoo is, he’s still considerably tall compared to you. You expect him to ask for your name now that he’s told you his, but Kwon Soonyoung seems to be making a habit of doing things other than what you expect him to do.

“You’re Yoon Holdings’ heiress, aren’t you?” he with a friendly smile, his tone sounds like he’s making sure he doesn’t get the wrong person. “Jeonghan’s cousin?”

“You know Jeonghan?” you ask instead, not really answering him though that’s your way of basically saying yes.

“We might’ve met from time to time,” he shrugs.

Before you can say anything more, a familiar arm lays around your waist and you automatically lean into the touch. “Hey, sorry I got too long. Met Jinyoung’s friend and talked for a bit. And… this is?”

You know Wonwoo is pretending, because Wonwoo probably knows all the heirs of the companies that matter and is a possible partner for his father’s company. He’s more attuned to his company’s needs than you are, and you know Wonwoo knows who Soonyoung is--at least by name. He’s probably doing this because he thinks the guy is hitting on you.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” he introduces himself without hesitation. “Jeon Wonwoo, right? I’ve seen you both around at parties.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow at this. So he’s seen you both together but still talks to you? He spares a glance at you, at which you just subtly shake your head to tell him all’s fine and Soonyoung isn’t doing anything weird. Wonwoo nods, but the protective arm around your waist doesn’t move.

“Right. Happy birthday to your grandfather,” he says politely.

“Thanks, the food’s pretty good, right?” Soonyoung grins, and you wonder if Soonyoung is really that proud about the overall food they’re serving or if he’s just making small talk. Nonetheless, you see this as your chance to ask about the catering service they’re using for this event.

“Oh, it’s actually my sister’s company,” he gleams with pride. “Are you interested in using her service?”

You chuckle amusedly at this; you’ve never seen someone from this society promoting their siblings’ business this way. Usually, people would just be pretentious and snottily offer a business card or something, being annoying about it in any way possible. Still, it’s a breath of fresh air and you honestly tell him that the chocolate mousse in your hand is the best you’ve ever tasted.

“It really is!” you laugh at Wonwoo’s questioning stare--because you don’t normally talk this much to a guy, or anyone you just meet, even though it’s essentially linked to your wish to probably use this catering place for future events. You take a spoonful from your precious dessert before holding the little spoon in front of his mouth. “I know you don’t like sweets, but this is dark chocolate, Won.”

Wonwoo looks at you hesitantly, but eventually gives in and opens his mouth so you can feed him the chocolate treat. Wonwoo’s ready to cringe, but instead hums in appreciation as the chocolate melts in his mouth. When he’s about to tell you it doesn’t taste as bad as he thought it would, you’re already looking at him with your ‘what did I tell you?’ face and a smug smile. So Wonwoo rolls his eyes and turns to Soonyoung instead, telling him his sister did a great job.

Soonyoung laughs, and happily nods his head in agreement. “I don’t have my sister’s business card with me. But here’s mine if you want to contact her through me.”

You half expect him to give his card to you, but he’s actually only giving it to Wonwoo. You wonder if this is his way of telling Wonwoo he means no harm towards you, that he isn’t here to flirt and all that.

“I… only have one card, it turns out,” he smiles sheepishly. “You both can share my card, I guess. But you can also just look up Lilac&Co on Google for my sister’s website.”

You decide you like Soonyoung. So you give him your phone and tell him to just put his number there, surprising not only Soonyoung himself but also Wonwoo beside you. If you haven’t been so taken on finding a new friend in Soonyoung after so long, you would’ve noticed the way Wonwoo’s grip tightens on your waist. But you just happily call Soonyoung with your phone so he has your number too, telling him you should hang out sometimes.

Just then, someone calls Soonyoung over, so he has to excuse himself from you and Wonwoo and says he’d love it if you guys can really find the time to hang out properly someday.

“He’s funny, isn’t he?” you grin to yourself.

“Huh,” he grumbles, not liking the way your eyes don’t leave his figure until Soonyoung’s out of sight. “Is he?”

You just look at Wonwoo pointedly. Maybe the fact that you two aren’t too keen on meeting new people is the reason why you’ve been friends for more than a decade--probably nearing two now, but Soonyoung seems like a fun person to be with and, if he manages not to make you roll your eyes in the span of five minutes, then he must be a decent enough person unless he’s just that good in hiding his pretentiousness.

Before either of you could say anything, Chaeyoung happily chirps in and joins you two by the dessert buffet. “Hey! Haven’t seen you guys since I’ve arrived.”

“Have you tried the mousse? They’re so good,” you tell her, and Chaeyoung is nothing but quick to snatch one from the table, already frowning in delight the moment the dessert goes into her mouth.

You both stay there to talk some more, with Wonwoo joining in from time to time though mostly he’s just there to listen. But, after some time, Wonwoo notices the way you’re fidgeting on your feet and suggests you move to the table so you can sit down and continue the talk there.

Wonwoo automatically scoots his chair closer to yours, just like the way your body immediately inclines to lean against his despite the chair between the two of you.

“Speaking of,” Chaeyoung suddenly stops talking and addresses Wonwoo, remembering something at the back of her mind. “Did you go to Golden Boat a few days ago for lunch? I think I saw you there with someone.”

Behind you, Wonwoo tenses a little; it’s so subtle--and you wouldn’t have noticed if you haven’t been sitting so close to the guy, but he stiffly shakes his head when you ask if he’s okay.

“Yeah. Needed to meet someone there because of my mom,” he answered after reassuring you he’s fine.

“Is it when you said your mom asked you to do something?” you question, remembering that day Wonwoo said he couldn’t have lunch with you. “Another date, huh?”

He nods, but doesn’t explain further. You don’t ask either, because there are times when Wonwoo just doesn’t feel like talking and he’s always reluctant to talk about the dates his Mom makes him go. You figure either his social battery is already out for the night, or he just doesn’t think it’s important to talk about.

You never really know how those dates go except that Wonwoo finds them bothersome and he only goes under certain circumstances. So, as you continue to converse with Chaeyoung about your next trip to Switzerland with her, you link your fingers with Wonwoo’s because that’s always something that calms him down since you were kids.

“Should we go back in a while?” you whisper when Chaeyoung’s busy stuffing her face with pasta.

“Your parents will say something again if you go back early,” he nudges you as he smiles a little. “Am fine. We can stay until the party ends.”

You hold his gaze, not buying it even a little. Furthermore, you’re pretty much used to your parents’ scolding so you don’t really mind getting the end of it once more if Wonwoo’s not feeling well. “We’ll go back in an hour at most, okay?”

Wonwoo simply scoffs in amusement, already knowing your mind is pretty much made. So he just nods as he squeezes your hand tighter, whispering a thank you as he gently bumps his head against yours.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever let go of you even if he could.

��wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

taglist: @hoe4wonwoo @dnylwoo @yslshua @twogyuu @najaemin138 @blueixnie

@boowanie@pwettytae@itsveronicaxxx@aphrodyteeth@leechanniee@jeoonghann@sdoulc@kyeomjjigae@ru-lin@listxn@justasoftstan@02psh @vynnz @yngreid @amymoonl @lilactangerine @lovelywoo @pusangmamon@yoontaedotin

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song epilogue (m).

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher living with your best friend, and have never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire.

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, romance, fluff, a final resolution, smut; oral (male receiving), penetration, got a lot spicier than i initially imagined, oc was feeling herself words; 6,503

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue  (+ drabbles)

author’s note; fun fact, I’ve never actually written an epilogue before, but it felt fitting this time around, to tie up all the loose(ish) ends and satisfyingly bring it to a close – she says as if she isn’t writing drabble upon drabble (and more) lol but you get what I mean. I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ~ 

“The rabbits!” Seokjin cried out of the blue, jumping to his feet. 

Immediately you found yourself slumped into the sofa, having been leaning against him, cuddled up all morning. You sat up, confused as you looked at him. “What?”

His eyes were wide with panic. “I need to feed them! Arin will kill me if she finds out.” 

“Relax,” you chuckled, taking a hand in yours to tug him back to you. He stepped between your legs but kept standing. “They won’t starve to death. When did you feed them last?”

“Last night,” he thought. “Just after I came home from work. Maybe 7.” 

You checked his watch, seeing it was just gone eleven. “They’ll be fine for another half hour.” You stood up, tugging his hand again, but this time to lead him to the kitchen. “Come on, let’s take the stuff for brunch to your place.” 

You’d stayed in bed for a while this morning, just happily holding and kissing one another, still buzzed and definitely still basking in that post-orgasm glow. When you’d finally managed to escape the warmth of your sheets, you’d showered together. Your bathroom was a lot smaller than his – obviously – and your shower bath was even tinier, but you made it work, until you didn’t, Seokjin nearly toppling out over the side while simultaneously nearly getting rolled up in the shower curtain. Of course that had given you the giggles, but you’d composed yourself, finishing up, getting dry and then getting dressed for the day. Luckily, Seokjin had some clothes at your place, so he didn’t have to recycle the ones he’d slept in last night. 

You were treating this day like a Sunday, making the most of being lazy on the sofa before you inevitably had to go and cook brunch up. 

He stopped in his tracks, making you turn back. “You sure?” He asked, pulling you to him, nuzzling his nose against your jaw as his arms wrapped around waist. “I wanted to stay here this weekend.” 

You couldn’t stop yourself from chuckling, linking your hands around his neck as he placed a kiss behind your ear. “It doesn’t matter where we are as long as we’re together.” 

He pulled back to see you, his plump lips already curved into a smile. “You speak such truth. I’m forever awestruck by you.” 

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, but that didn’t stop you from stealing a small kiss. 

Seokjin decided he wanted more, pressing kiss upon kiss to your lips with enjoyable hums. “I love you,” he declared causally after the last that lingered a little. Then he grinned. “How many time will I say that today before it gets annoying?” 

You smiled fondly at him. “You could never be annoying.” You got the last kiss. “I love you.” 

.

.

A lazy day was a lazy day regardless of the house. After Seokjin made sure the rabbits were happy, fed and had fresh water, you started brunch, eating it on the kitchen island as the rain continued, falling down against the tall windows. Any other day you would have found the weather depressing, but not today. Not when you were bursting with happiness and beautifully content. Besides, that just meant you had even more of a reason to do nothing, cuddled up on Seokjin’s large corner sofa as you picked up the series the both of you had started watching a couple of weeks ago. 

At around 5pm you started toying with the idea of going out for dinner somewhere, but then you hadn’t brought along the right clothes and by now it was raining heavier than it had all day. The idea of putting on makeup made you feel even lazier, so you decided on takeout in the evening and a movie instead. 

As Seokjin was arranging the containers and plates around the coffee table, ready to dig in, movie ready to go, you slipped out a question. There’d been something on your mind all day, nothing major of course, but still, you didn’t quite know how to bring it up. 

“What time is Arin coming home tomorrow?” 

“I’m unsure,” he replied, briefly looking over at you before he opened up the black bean noodles. “I need to text Nana.” 

You nodded, opening you mouth to ask a follow up question, but hesitating last minute. He looked at you again, sensing your caution and raised a concerned eyebrow. You hated seeing him worried, so you rushed ahead. “Do you want me to go home beforehand?”

“No, of course not,” he exclaimed, before he furrowed his brow. “Unless you want to of course… If you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I don’t,” you were quick to reassure. You wanted to be there actually, if he was okay with it. “I was thinking her and I should clear the air.” 

You could see Seokjin deep in thought for a brief second before he nodded, sitting back against the sofa to take your hand. “It won’t be like last time. I promise.” 

Seokjin had already told you some of what he and Nana had spoken about Thursday evening, so you knew not to be worried about any potential conflict, but still, you didn’t want to blindside her. “We should probably check with her first though, right?” 

“Okay,” he agreed. Giving you a smile, he squeezed your thigh. “I’ll call her after the movie.” 

.

.

“Should I turn off the lamp?” 

You nodded in reply, watching Seokjin lean over his side of the bed to flick the only form of light you had off. When he rolled onto his back, you immediately pounced, hooking a leg over his hip to settle yourself on top of him, your stomachs flush. It may have nearing 12am, but sleep was not the thing on your mind. 

“Oh, hello,” he responded, happily surprised as his hands found your hips, nudging you closer. 

“Hello,” you smiled, wasting no time with meeting your mouths. 

You were a woman on a mission, knowing exactly what you wanted. Today had been lovely, and yes, you’d already had sex today, but when had that ever stopped you before? You were happy and in love and just couldn’t keep your hands (and lips) off of your boyfriend. On top of that, you were just in a great mood, full of positivity. Nana was fine with meeting tomorrow and that meant you could all clear the air and move forward. You’d finally get to see Arin again too, you’d missed her.

Things were perfect, if you did say so yourself, everything heading in the right direction, and right now you wanted to celebrate that. With Seokjin. In the best kind of way. 

“I would have kept the light on if I knew we’d be kissing,” Seokjin murmured wetly against your lips, his tongue missing yours by a second as you started to trail your way down his chin, throat and then his chest, kissing over his pyjama shirt. 

He felt you start to undo the buttons, his cock beginning to rouse expectantly which was highly amusing for you. As you exposed more and more of his chest your lips followed suit, kissing down his stomach, past his belly button to stop just above his pyjama pants, the tiny hairs that littered the skin tickling. You pulled the shirt open, working your way up again, Seokjin helpfully keeping your hair out of your eyes as he tried to hungrily watch you at work, the light of the moon shining through the gaps in the drapes casting enough light to be able to make you out. 

He let out a shaky moan when you flicked the tip of your tongue against his right nipple, laughing at himself afterwards. 

Back at his mouth, you didn’t stay too long before you sat up, straddling him. 

“Where are you going?” He wailed, annoyed you didn’t want his kisses. 

But it wasn’t that you didn’t want them, more like you wanted something else… 

You moved downwards, covers collecting at the end of the bed as you slotted in between his eagerly opening legs, his hips bucking when you cupped his now fully erect (and trapped) member. You began to run your hand up and down it, a grin on your face as you looked up. “You’re so easy.” 

Eyes having adjusted, you saw his grin was a little more bashful, eyes half lidded as he admired the view before him. “Only for you.” 

Ever the flatterer, you had him inside the warmth of your mouth in no time. You weren’t shy by any means, especially now what with all the times you and Seokjin had been intimate, but there was something about being surrounded in near darkness that gave you a fresh surge of confidence. In the glow of the moon, you could make out Seokjin’s parted lips, his eyes piercing the ceiling, giving you a glorious view of his thick neck, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down slowly as his breathing got shallower, just enjoying the moment. He looked handsome as hell – mixed with that pyjama shirt pushed sinfully open, his toned chest and stomach on full display. For you. 

Taking him deeper, you reached for him, running your hands up his stomach, feeling the firm ridges of muscle. He let out a deep moan, looking down to take your hands in his, eyes heavy with desire as he clasped them tight. You eased up a little, smiling around his cock before you started sucking the tip, caressing your tongue over him time and time again. 

He lifted his hips up, eager for more and you wrestled one of your hands free from his to clasp it around the base of his dick, feeling how wet it was from your saliva as you slowly started jerking him off, placing small, wet kisses against his slit. 

With the hand still on his torso, he slipped his fingers between yours, head relaxing back, eyes shut once he felt you softly begin to massage his balls, coating them in the spit that had dripped down onto them. You took him deeper again, picking up speed as you bobbed your head up and down. The sensation just about exploded his mind. 

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” he gasped, free hand running through his hair and tugging at the roots. “If you keep that up I’ll cum.” 

You found it cute how bad his voice trembled, pulling off to smirk. “And is that a bad thing?” 

“Nope, it’s not bad,” he agreed, a little more himself now that you’d spared him for a few seconds. “I just thought we could do some other stuff too.” 

“Some other stuff?” you laughed, lifting on your knees to crawl closer to him. You continued to massage his balls, feeling them tighten. “Like what?” 

He took a shaky breath, rolling his hips into your touch. “Like…” He paused to groan. Now you were jerking him again, your thumb rolling small circles against his slit. “Sex.” He tried again. “I want to have sex with you.” 

“You do?” 

“I always want to have sex with you.” 

And impatient now, his hands gripped your waist, tugging you to him. You squealed, fingers slipping from his cock to land on his chest, the movement sudden enough to make you think you were falling. He kissed you hastily, a soft growl in his throat as his palm grazed over your ass, fingertips playing with the frill detail of your shorts. 

“I’d be inside you 24/7 if it was possible.” 

“God, I want it to be possible so bad.” You practically lamented, his mouth on your neck now, licking strips up and down the sensitive skin. 

He made another noise, cock twitching against your thigh. You felt impatient yourself now, hands finding the collars of his shirt to push it over his shoulders, needing to strip him. He lifted his back of the bed, letting you shimmy the item off before his hands grabbed at your vest, lifting it up over your head in no time. Your mouths met in a rush, his hands palming your breasts, making you moan out, nipples sensitive as he pinched them between his thumb and forefinger. 

You went to move, wanting to get rid of his pants but he stopped you, fingers wrapping around your ribs. 

“W-wait, wait, wait, wait,” he babbled, pulling you closer. “Let me taste them.” To explain further, he caressed a finger down your left breast, making you shudder. “Mine,” he whispered possessively and then you found yourself hovering over his face, his hands cupping the soft, sensitive flesh as he kissed and sucked them in turn. 

You could feel yourself growing wetter and wetter, shorts uncomfortable as he swirled his tongue around and around your nipple, nipping it gently as he pulled away. “I love your body,” he breathed – hard. “I love you.” 

“Mhmm,” you moaned deeply, watching him suck on the other boob now. Your fingers dug into the pillow, arms trembling with pleasure. “I love you, too.” 

He made a noise of approval, finally letting you break free so you could get his pants down over his hips. His erection was so hard by now it almost stood poker straight, veins angrily visible even in the faint lighting. Pyjama pants below his knees, he eagerly kicked them off the rest of the way, watching as you peeled off your shorts. Both naked, he moaned as you straddled him, sliding up and down his cock teasingly, coating it in your arousal. 

“Honey, please,” he pleaded. His voice shook. “Don’t tease. It’s not very nice.” 

“You tease me all the time.”

He groaned weakly, unable to think of a comeback. You sat straighter, chest wet and shiny in the moonlight, his doing, and you knew he could see it too, his dark eyes watching you silently – hungrily. He looked so good, you couldn’t wait any longer. Wrapping your hand around him, you ambitiously went for it, pushing down and taking him whole. It surprised you both, groaning together as you caught your breaths. 

Although, you didn’t give him much time to get used to the feeling of your warmth hugging him tight before you began to ride him hard and fast, bouncing up and down loudly before you stopped to swivel your hips. He could feel you everywhere, his eyes practically rolling back into his head as you continued your onslaught. 

“Y/N…” He murmured, voice weak as he watched you begin to bounce on top of him again, his hands travelling up your thighs to land on your waist. “Y/N,” he tried again, unable to piece together a sentence. “Shit, keep going like that…mmfph, yeah, just like that…” 

When you felt his fingers digging into your skin you wrapped your hands around his, pushing them away. “N-no touching,” you panted, feeling him lift his legs and fold them at the knee behind you, giving you something to lean back on. 

“Seriously,” he asked, sounding annoyed, yet dreadfully turned on. 

You smirked. “I want you to lay back and watch.” 

He matched the curve of your lips. ‘Oh, I can do that no problem, honey.” He stubbornly kept his voice steady, thrusting inside of you once before he stilled his hips completely. “Could watch you ride me all night.” 

On cue, he folded his arms behind his head, biceps bulging. The casual manner got you instantly hot, bouncing along his cock a couple more times before you leaned forward, changing the angle and in turn hopefully sending him crazy. You moved back and forth, griding all over him, your arousal soaking into his pubic hair. You were wetter than usual tonight, turning yourself on as you rode him, hearing the soft squelching where your bodies met, the pressure on your clit eliciting moan after moan. 

You stared him straight in the eyes, noticing the way his jaw was clenched tight, a muscle twitching in his left cheek, but he continued to persevere, stubborn to the bone. 

That was until he felt your breasts graze against him. His hips jerked up, moaning as he was unable to stop rolling into you, and you let him, let him fuck up into you, moaning softly. 

He grunted. “Someone’s getting tired.” 

You shook your head with a whine. You could be stubborn too. Sitting up, you attempted to bounce again but his hips were working too fast by now, his fists grabbing the pillow below his head to gain some momentum. You cried out as he thrust harder, Seokjin’s own noises of pleasure gasping out of him as if he’d been holding his breath. 

“S-seokjin,” you panted, shakily holding onto his thighs. 

He wasn’t relenting. If anything he fucked you harder. “Honey, just give up,” he said matter-of-factly, yet his voice was strained, veins in his neck visible. 

Confidently he brought his hands to your hips, knowing you wouldn’t stop him now, too far gone. You let your eyes flutter closed, concentrating on how good his cock felt inside you. The beautifully crude sound of him pounding into you. 

“Yeah?” He breathed. “Let me make you feel good now. It’s your turn…” 

You nodded, moaning brokenly, and in the blink of an eye you found yourself on your back, Seokjin situated between your spread legs, finding home once again inside the warmth of your body.

You grasped his shoulders, making more noise as he rolled his hips into you, and hooked your legs around his waist, wanting him as deep as possible 

“Uh-uh-uh,” he grinned, taking your hands off him. “No touching.” 

You started complaining but then he pushed your hands above your head, holding your wrists tight with one hand. “Nghnn. Seokjin,” you moaned, feeling him start to fuck you with his entire weight. His back looked delectable and all you wanted to do was rake your fingernails down it but you couldn’t. 

Although, being pinned down by him wasn’t such a terrible thing. 

After a couple of minutes he pressed the elbow of the arm that had you imprisoned into the mattress, careful not to squash you as he brought the other hand between your legs, beginning to roll your swollen clit between his fingertips. Gasping, your legs fell back to the bed, circling your hips in time with his motions, wanting to cum now that he’d put the idea into your head. 

He chuckled at your eagerness causing you to whine. “Why d-don’t you put those lips to good use?”

“Like this, baby?” He smirked, leaning his face in closer, mouth millimetres from yours, and you just about lunged, kissing him desperately. 

He matched that urgency, at some point unable to keep your wrists in place and as soon as he let you go, you had your arms wrapped around him longingly. A groan tore from his throat, thrusts more determined as he continued to rub your clit, and you could feel your back begin to arch, toes curling into the sheets. 

He could obviously feel you squeezing around him too, ripping himself away from your mouth with a moan of your name. “Y/N. Fuck.” 

That’s all it took for you to crumble, face contorting with pleasure as you stared up at him, pulsing around him uncontrollably. 

“You’re so pretty when you cum,” he cooed, removing his hand from between your legs as he pressed soft kisses to your mouth, your orgasm continuing to wash over you in waves. “Am I pretty when I cum?” He joked, but you were too far gone to snort, let alone reply. 

He kept rolling into you, determined to keep your pleasure going for as long as possible, and you almost felt overwhelmed, back arching higher as you clung to him, a tear escaping out of one eye to run down the side of your face. He kissed it away, continuing to adore you, voice cracking, close himself now.  

“You’re my pretty woman. So pretty.” He murmured against your lips and you kissed him hard, the last of orgasm rocking through your body. Holy shit, that was a powerful one. You felt lightheaded but couldn’t get enough. 

“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling the effects as you squeezed and spasmed around him, and with one final thrust he stilled, beginning to spill inside of you. 

You cupped his face quickly, hands trembling and pushed his head up, wanting to admire his face. His plump lips were parted and shiny, beads of sweat collecting along his hairline, gaze unfocused, eyelids heavy with the weight of his pleasure. He looked positively sinful. 

You gave him a drunken smile, your own eyes barely open, and told him simply, “You’re pretty when you cum.” 

.

.

You awoke just as Seokjin was rolling over, a muscular arm reaching for you, pulling your body into his warmth. It was still raining, even harder this morning, but you didn’t care, not when you were so cosy and in love. You were still both entirely naked, which Seokjin took full advantage of, hand cupping a breast – nothing sexual in it though, more like a comfort thing. You smiled, eyes still closed and cuddled in deeper. 

“Where is he this morning?” 

There was a brief silence as he tried to work out what you were asking, but soon enough he realised and laughed, sound cracked and raspy with sleep. “He’s tuckered out after last night.” 

“Aw, diddums.” 

A Sunday morning without a boner? Blasphemy. His morning woods were part of the package, so honestly it was quite surprising to not feel him hard between your butt cheeks. 

Seokjin kissed the top of your head, making a sleepy sound, hugging you tighter to his body. “He just wants to stay in bed and cuddle this morning.” 

“That sounds perfect to me.” 

You honestly couldn’t think of anything better. 

.

.

Once you eventually dragged yourselves out of the warmth of Seokjin’s giant bed, the rest of the morning and early afternoon went by in the blink of an eye. You had just about enough time for a quick lunch before Arin was due back at 2pm, and even though you were ready to meet Nana this time, you still couldn’t stop yourself from feeling a little nervous. It was only natural, you knew that, so you didn’t dwell on it too much, but as you heard the intercom start to ring in the entryway, signalling her arrival, your worry must have been written all over your face. 

“Hey,” Seokjin said softly, calling you as you hovered by the doorway of the family room. When he saw he had your attention, he smiled warmly. “Everything’s fine.”

You gave him a reassuring smile of your own, watching him answer the call to Nana before he opened up the front door, waiting their arrival. 

Arin came in full steam ahead, her little backpack on her shoulders, her carry-on hopping behind as she attempted to ram it over the step to get inside. Nana was only just getting out of the car, you could see her slightly from where you still stood in the doorway of the family room. 

“Hello, Arin.” Seokjin greeted, amusement clear in his voice as he watched his daughter struggle. “Did you have a fun time?” 

She was too busy huffing and puffing to reply and that’s when he finally took pity on her. He reached out his arm, “Let me take your case.” 

“No!” She insisted. She was a determined little thing. “I can do–” 

She never got to finish off her sentence because as she looked forward she caught sight of you smiling at her. 

“Y/N!” She squealed, case (and dad) immediately forgotten as she ran towards you. You weren’t expecting the wave of emotion that hit you when she wrapped her arms around your middle, face in your stomach, but it was there, and it got you right in the gut. You hugged her back. “You’re here,” she beamed up happily. 

“I am,” you grinned, swallowing back your wavering voice. 

“I missed you. It’s been ages.” 

You could always count on kids to be straightforward with their words. She was going to make you cry if she carried on like this. “I missed you too.” 

“It’s only been a week, sweetie,” you heard Seokjin say. 

Arin turned to him quickly. “It’s still a long time.” Then back at you. “I thought you’d never visit again.” 

You felt your heart constrict, and unsure what to do you looked over at Seokjin, finding him equally as afflicted by his daughter’s confession. Teacher mode activated then. “No, no. I was just... busy with work, that’s all.” 

You winced inwardly at your stupid excuse, not wanting to lie to her, but unable to really tell her the truth, especially at a time like this. 

On cue, you heard Nana’s voice greeting you. “Hi, Y/N.” 

You looked over to see her stood just behind Seokjin, a small smile on her face. She seemed a little nervous herself, which selfishly relaxed you. 

“Nana,” you smiled back, “hi.” 

Seokjin cleared his throat, taking a few steps towards his daughter and you. One look at him told you he was feeling the jitters too. This was brand new territory after all – for all of you. 

“Arin, why don’t you take your backpack upstairs and I’ll tell you when mommy is going home so you can say goodbye?” 

“Okay,” she agreed simply, pulling away from you to bound upstairs before she stopped abruptly. She turned back to Seokjin and ran forward with her arms forward. “Sorry, daddy. I forgot to hug you.” 

He chuckled, bending down to kiss her head before he ruffled her hair. “That’s okay. Now, unpack your things. I’ll bring your case up later.” 

She nodded, giving her mom a wave before her attention returned to you. “Will you still be here when I get back?”

“Of course,” you nodded, ignoring the fresh tug at your heartstrings. 

“She really likes you,” Nana observed just as you lost sight of Arin going up the staircase. 

You shook your head, chuckling as you replied modestly, “I don’t know about that.” 

“She does,” she insisted, smiling afterwards. “It’s nice to see. I’m glad she’s happy with everything.” 

You nodded, unsure what to respond with, but Seokjin saved the day. “Do you want something to drink?” 

Nana shook her hand. “I’m okay, thanks. I won’t stay long. I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon.” 

Seokjin gestured her to enter the room, then moved back to take your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as he brought you forward, wanting you to go next, putting the hand on the small of your back instead now. His touch calmed you. 

“Sit,” he prompted Nana warmly, and she perched herself on the edge of the teal love seat. 

“I like what you’ve done with the place by the way,” she said politely, looking around. 

“You and me both know I just threw some new throw cushions down,” he laughed, attempting to ease the atmosphere.  

Nana joined in just as you sat down on the far end of the sofa. Instead of taking the seat next to you, Seokjin perched himself on the armrest, loosely throwing his arm around the backrest, fingers grazing your shoulder. 

Nana’s attention fell to you, her expression now serious. “Y/N, I want to apologise to you.” She began. “I was out of order last weekend. I was angry but that’s no excuse.” 

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding your bearings. “I understand it was a shock to find out about me.” 

“It was, but I still acted embarrassingly.” She looked down at the floor, ashamed of herself. “To think that’s your first impression of me.”

She had said some terrible things, yes. Not only to you, but Seokjin too, but, Seokjin had also said plenty of cruel things back. You weren’t one to hold a grudge, especially if she was showing genuine remorse, which you believed to be the case. 

“We can start anew if you like?” You offered with a small smile. 

She visibly relaxed. “I’d like that.” Then she hesitated before deciding to carry on. “I meant what I said, it seems like Arin really likes you. I trust my daughter’s intuition.” 

“She really does,” Seokjin agreed with a hum, rubbing your shoulder. 

“She’s been talking about you over the weekend – not that I’ve been prying of course,” Nana was quick to clarify. “You’re good with her.” She looked you straight in the eyes. “Thank you for accepting my child.” 

You weren’t used to having this much praise and attention thrown your way, you didn’t really know what to say, but that was alright, you didn’t think Nana was looking for an outright response. You understood how important this was for her. She needed to trust the woman that spent time with her daughter, just like Seokjin had grown to trust you. It was slightly more difficult for her considering she wouldn’t be spending a lot of time in your company, so all she really had to go off was Arin’s opinion on you. It meant a lot to know she had given you a chance. Last week you had been afraid that might not be the case. 

You smiled gratefully. “She’s really special.” 

“Yes, Y/N says she’s a talented storyteller,” Seokjin mentioned soon after, helping the conversation along as if he could sense that you felt awkward with all the attention cast on you. He knew you too well. 

“Oh really?” Nana looked delighted, eyes on you as she waited for more information. 

You nodded, complimenting Arin coming easy to you. “The stories she wrote while I was her teacher were amazing.” 

“I have the copies somewhere if you want to read them yourself,” Seokjin offered. 

“I’d love that,” she beamed. “Thank you, Seokjin.” 

“No problem. I’ll find them this week.” 

Nana’s gaze happened to fall to Seokjin’s hand still comfortably on your shoulder then, and her smile faltered. In its place appeared guilt. “Listen, I... I hope I didn’t come in between you both because of last weekend.” She turned to you. “I know mine and Jin’s relationship seems toxic and it was until a few days but I,” she paused to glance at Seokjin, “I really want to change that.” 

“You know I do too,” he agreed. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore, or have things tense between us. We both love Arin.” She caught your eyes. “We all love Arin, so that’s the most important thing.” 

You looked down at your lap but nodded in agreement. Arin’s happiness was what mattered the most. 

“It is,” Seokjin replied. 

Nana smiled, satisfied, and stood up. “Okay, I should get going.” You both followed her, starting to walk towards the doorway. 

“Um, I managed to get that Wednesday afternoon free,” she told Seokjin, “is it okay if I collect Arin from school and take her for something to eat?”

“Of course. I know this great pizza place she loves if you want the name.” 

“She already told me about it,” Nana chuckled. “I think she was dropping hints, but directions would be great. Thanks, Jin.” 

“No problem.” He stopped by the staircase, voice raising quite a lot to reach Arin in her bedroom. “Arin, your mom’s leaving. Come say bye, sweetie.” 

In no time at all she was galloping down the stairs. “Will I see you Wednesday?” She asked her mom eagerly. 

“You betcha! How does pizza sound?”

“Yay, thank you, mom!” She squealed, going in for a hug as Nana bent down.  

“I’ll see you in a couple of days, okay, darling. I love you.” 

“I love you more,” Arin murmured sweetly, kissing her mother’s cheek. 

Nana kissed her back, chuckling. “Not possible, but okay.” Then she stood up, nodding to you and Seokjin with a small smile. “Bye both. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“See you Wednesday,” Jin confirmed. 

.

. 

You spent the afternoon playing board games together, Seokjin finding a bunch of his old collection in the attic and you had fun teaching Arin how to play, although she didn’t quite grasp the full idea of monopoly yet, wanting to buy everything in sight regardless of if she had enough money or not… It was funny to say the least, even more so when Seokjin was unable to refuse her, loaning her money from the bank time and time again. 

Where’s my special treatment, you’d teased quietly when Arin was distracted, secretly finding it adorable how much of a softie he was when it came to his daughter. 

“You know I’d buy you anything you want,” he’d replied with a grin, unable to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss. 

At around 6pm, you and Seokjin began preparing dinner for the three of you. Only you left him in charge for a little while when you followed after Arin who had gone to feed her rabbits, wanting time alone to talk with her. You hadn’t been able to stop feeling guilty about effectively lying to her earlier and after confiding in Seokjin about it while Arin was unpacking her suitcase, he’d suggested you speak to her about it. He agreed that honesty was the best policy from here on in (within reason, of course) and that she obviously understood something had been wrong last week else she wouldn’t have reacted the way she had when she’d seen you earlier this afternoon. 

She was only getting older and that meant as much transparency as possible when she was personally involved in something. She was at that age where these things would stick with her. Although hopefully nothing like last week would ever happen again. 

You stood by the doorway watching as she cooed and conversed with the Olive and Ariel at first, not wanting to interrupt. She was such a great little pet owner, making sure they were fed and watered enough, helping to clean their hutch, watching over them when they played outside. She adored them. 

After a few moments she noticed you. “Oh, Y/N,” she smiled, “is dinner ready?” 

You shook your head. “Not yet.” Stepping closer you joined her, watching the rabbits bound about. Seokjin had found the largest hutch imaginable. “Did you miss them?” 

“Yes, but daddy has been feeding them well.” 

You stifled a laugh, remembering Seokjin’s panic yesterday morning, but then crossed your arms, clearing your throat. “Hey, listen,” you began cautiously, feeling a little nervous. Arin looked up at you curiously. “Remember when I said I didn’t come over because I was busy with work?” 

She paused to think and then nodded. 

“I was lying actually, Arin.” 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “How come?”  

“Because… I didn’t want to worry you.” 

She took some time to process what you were saying before she shrugged matter-of-factly. “I was still pretty worried last week anyway.”

You smiled sadly. “I know, and I’m sorry about that. Your dad and I…” 

“Did you have an argument?” She was looking up at you curiously, finger playing with Olive and Ariel’s water bottle. 

“Something like that,” you nodded. “It was more of a disagreement.” 

“I thought so because daddy was sad all week.” 

Her honesty stabbed at your heart. 

“Were you sad too,” she asked. 

“Very.” 

“But you’re happy now?”

You smiled at her. “Yes, everything is all fine now. Me and your dad are happy.” 

She looked happy herself at that piece of information, relaxing visibly, but then she asked a question that caught you off guard. “Do you know if daddy and my mom are happy too?” 

“I think so.” You replied as vaguely as you could, not wanting to overstep the mark. But it didn’t feel right. You tried again. “I think things will be different from now on, Arin.” 

“I hope so. I hate it when they argue.” She sounded sad, her gaze cast to the floor. 

“I know. No one likes watching their parents fight.” you sympathised. 

“What about you and my mom?” She asked suddenly, changing the subject a little. “Are you happy?” 

“Yes, I think so.” You smiled at her. “I like your mom. She’s very pretty just like you.” 

Arin beamed and then added, “You’re pretty too.” 

You wrapped an arm around her shoulders, giving her a squeeze. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t worry,” she almost whispered, “I won’t use that word again.” 

You were clueless for a moment, not understanding what she meant but then it hit you. She carried on. 

“Not until we all decide. Mommy said I might call you that one day if you want me to.” 

For the second time today you felt emotional, throat tight as you choked up suddenly. You composed yourself expertly though, taking a breath before you smiled and replied. “That’s right. There’s no rush for when we all decide.”  

Arin nodded along happily and you took her hand. 

“Should we go and check on daddy now? See if dinner’s ready?”

“I think so.” She agreed, her eyes rolling slightly. “Last week he set off the alarms because he burned my chicken nuggets.” 

“Oh, gosh,” you said, soon spluttering out a laugh. Arin joined in. Seokjin had failed to tell you that (hilarious) piece of information. “Well then, let’s hurry.” 

Seokjin was searching the pantry for something when you arrived back at the kitchen. “Hey,” he said, shooting a warm smile your way. “How’s my two favourite ladies?”

You looked down at Arin, wanting her to reply and she beamed at her father. “Happy.” 

You nodded in agreement, catching Seokjin’s eyes as you shared a private moment, silently telling him everything was fine now. He shot you a playful wink then, closing the door. “That’s funny, because I’m happy too.” 

You moved closer to him, collecting the messy ties of the apron he insisted on wearing whenever he was in the kitchen to retie them properly. “We were just checking in to see if the chef was burning dinner again…” 

With a surprised huff, he turned to his daughter, eyes wide. “Kim Arin did you tell tales on me?”

Arin erupted into a fit of giggles, you and Seokjin joining in immediately. “Maybe…” 

“It was an accident. Happens to the best of us,” he tried to defend. 

“Sure, sure.” 

Arin was greatly amused by your flippant response, but soon grew sympathetic towards her dad, stroking his elbow. “It’s okay, dad, I forgive you.” 

“That’s very kind of you,” he laughed. 

“Should I set the table?” 

“And that’s very sweet of you,” he added, eyes shooting wide. “Thank you.” 

You helped her get all the cutlery she needed and watched her leave for the dining room determinedly. But your attention soon got stolen away, pulled into Seokjin’s warmth as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. You hooked yours around his middle. 

“Okay?” He murmured, checking in as he placed a kiss on your forehead. 

You looked up at him, a smile on your face and gave his waist a squeeze. 

“Okay.” You confirmed. 

Everything was more than okay, actually. 

Everything was perfect. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[yoonjinkooked]

Chemistry | JHS (6 (pt 1))

Part 6 - Just Do It

(pls ignore my old URL, i’m too lazy to change it now RIP)

DRABBLE SERIES, TONS OF SHORT LITTLE CHAPTERS.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Hoseok / Reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: FWB, university AU, smut

Warnings: blonde Hobi (yes, that’s a dang warning), heaps of dirty talk, public groping, lots of sex discussion, them being responsible adults and getting tested before doing it, cursing, drinking. It ends on a bit of a cliff hanger cause this is just an intro of the smut fest that the next chapter will be Also, IMPORTANT: the ‘Spring Cleaning’ party that I am describing is fictional (that I know of at least) and I BEG OF YOU, please don’t mix your drinks. Just don’t. It won’t end well. Don’t mix drinks, don’t drink and drive, don’t drink what a random person gives you and never ever ever leave sight of your glass. Please. Drink responsibly and stay the f away from it if you are underaged. That also means you need to stay the f away from this story, too 💜

Word Count: 3k

Summary: After a few years of being immune to Jung Hoseok’s charms, you suddenly fall into them, head first. All it takes is one night, too much alcohol and a lot of balls.

A/N: Again, DRINK RESPONSIBLY! The smut fest part 2 is coming super fast (no pun intended). Unedited, so please forgive me, I needed to get this shit out to you and i just need more Hobi. these are drabbles after all lol

“I’m clean,” Hoseok informs you with the widest grin possible. “Got the results emailed this morning. 100% clean and ready.” 

 You don’t register his words at all - first of all, he had startled you, appearing directly in front of your path, probably seeing you from afar, making your way to the study hall where the first class of your day takes place. And on top of that, you are way too shocked with his appearance to even bother understanding the words he was telling you. 

 “You’re… you’re blonde,” you mumble as you stare at his hair, wondering if it’s your mind playing tricks on you. Sunlight makes hair lighter, doesn’t it? It doesn’t make it almost platinum, though. Looking him over, you realize that nothing else has changed - still the same height, still the same weight, still his signature casual but colorful clothing - but the blonde is there and it’s magnetic - it’s impossible to look at anything else before your eyes are glued to his new hairstyle again. It suits him so damn well. If someone had told you he’d look this good blonde, you wouldn’t have believed them. 

 “Oh, yeah,” he waves his hand off, laughing, as if it’s a completely irrelevant thing. Honestly, to him it might be, but not to you. “More importantly, I am clean,” he repeats his earlier words and this time around, you do get to properly register them, as well as the meaning behind them. Clean. Safe to have sex. No worries in that department. You should be overjoyed but not only are you still hypnotized by his sudden change of looks, you’re also refusing to focus on that particular information. 

 It’s weird - you did stuff, discussed even more, agreed on everything. You blushing at him informing you that it’s finally safe for him to fuck you and finish inside you is weird. 

 “You’re blonde,” is all you can say, and it earns you an eye roll from Hoseok. 

 “Oh come on Y/N,” he whines. “If you’re going to be like this just take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

 “Hey!” you snap, smacking him on the shoulder in retaliation, which only makes him laugh. “Have mercy on me here, give me a moment to get used to this new look of yours. If I showed up with a completely different hair color, would you be able to focus on anything else?” you demand, absolutely positive that he’d be equally as lost as you are. 

 “If you telling me that you’re clean and we can finally fuck, yeah, I wouldn’t be focusing on hair, even if it had all the colors of the rainbow in it,” he answers honestly. 

 “Okay, okay, we get it, we’re on the same page - you’re stupidly hot, clean and want to fuck,” you laugh at him, although you would be a fool to deny that it’s getting to you - the way he is so upfront about liking you and being attracted to you is impossible to ignore - it makes you feel a lot more confident than you have felt in a long while. 

 “Oh Y/N, you know me so well,” he acts as if he’s genuinely touched and it’s this reaction that makes you melt and laugh. No matter the hair color, no matter how casual he references his intention to get his dick inside you, it’s Hoseok. And that’s all that matters. “Seriously though, we both have our results so whenever you’re ready, if you’re still up for it…” he doesn’t finish the sentence but the raise of his eyebrow says it all. 

 “I’m not missing out on that piece of ass if that’s what concerns you,” you joke, looking him up and down as you speak. It’ll never cease to amaze you how he can whisper the dirtiest things to you, or even say them casually out loud, but turn as red as a tomato when you do the same thing. “What are you doing tonight, do you have any plans?” you ask. 

 “Aren’t you going to Namjoon’s?” he frowns in confusion. “Spring Cleaning party season?” he reminds you and starts laughing immediately, probably at your look of realization mixed in with disgust. “Is this about Namjoon or about the Spring Cleaning party season?” he laughs. 

 What you guys refer to as spring cleaning is exactly what it sounds like - all the leftover alcohol that somehow managed to survive the past year is gathered in one place in the ‘bring-your-own-booze’ manner. It’s usually a mixture of hideous drinks and half empty bottles and once it’s all gathered, you make it even worse, combining it into borderline poisonous mixtures. Everyone attending and everyone drinking does so on their own responsibility, fully aware of how the night might end. 

 A year ago, it was still fun. Now, you know you’re too old for that shit. 

 “It’s about both,” you answer Hobi’s question in a whine. “I don’t wanna deal with wasted frat boys who’ll spend half the night throwing up and Namjoon is insufferable.” 

 “Namjoon is one of your best friends,” Hobi laughs. 

 “I know - that’s why I’m well aware of how insufferable he is,” you grunt in annoyance. “I know it’s tradition and all but can we skip all of that? Coochie in exchange for avoiding a party we’re too old for anyways?” you suggest. 

 “Wait,” Hoseok’s eyes widen and you can imagine a lightbulb turning on above his head. “You think Namjoon’s insufferable?” 

 “Incredibly so, yes.” 

 “And you want to make his life a living hell in retaliation?” he continues asking. 

 “Absolutely,” you reply in a heartbeat, despite loving Namjoon like he was your family. You adore him but you cannot stand him at times and ever since this little thing with Hoseok had started, he had not stopped teasing you. It’s time for him to suffer. 

 “Hear me out,” Hoseok moves closer to you, as if he is about to share a conspiracy theory that no one except you is allowed to know about. “How about we go to the party and stay there a bit - laugh at the idiots, dance to bad music - just a regular Thursday. And then, when the shitshow starts, and it will start, we go upstairs and seal the deal?” 

 “You want us to fuck in Namjoon’s house?” you start laughing. 

 “Is there anything that would annoy and traumatize him more than knowing two of his closest friends fucked in his house?” he points out. 

 “Yeah, if he walks in,” you burst out laughing. “Honestly, sold. Fuck it.” 

 “I plan to,” he wiggles his eyebrows at you in the most sleazy manner possible - jokingly, of course. He knows he has you hooked and he can play around with it. And you’ll love it. 

 “Ugh, stop doing that,” you laugh, smacking him on the shoulder again. “Don't try too hard, you already have me, blondie.” 

 “I look that good, huh?” he laughs, hitting the bullseye. 

 You don’t answer that question - you offer him nothing more than a smile and a shrug before you slowly walk past him and make your way to a class you’re probably already late for. He knows you enough to realize that to you, yes, he does look that good. And you cannot wait to find out what other things he can do to you, hoping that the movie is as promising as the trailer was. 

  Standing across the room, Hoseok keeps his eyes glued to you, the same way he did from the moment you entered the house. You aren’t hiding from it either - you make direct eye contact with him, smiling in a knowing manner as you listen to whatever it is that Taehyung was yapping on about. You tried to listen - you really did, at first. But the problem is that Hoseok’s very presence demands your attention - it’s something you can’t control. If he’s around, if he’s in the room and if you have this feeling of the two of you alone knowing something, knowing this secret about what’s going to happen tonight - no one else stands a chance, not even your friends.

 “Are you seriously ogling Hoseok while I’m asking you for relationship advice?” Taehyung sounds exasperated and you feel guilty - even more so when you realize that the only reason he did manage to get your attention was because he had mentioned his name. 

 “Ugh, I’m so sorry Tae,” you don’t try to defend yourself, knowing you’re guilty as charged. “My mind is a mess, I’m a useless friend. I just… can’t focus on anything else,” you admit sheepishly, not really wanting to go into details. They know that something is happening and that’s it. You don’t want to share more, neither does Hoseok, nor do you think any of your friends is particularly thirsty for details. Except perhaps Jimin, but tough luck for him. 

 “Then go!” Tae urges you and for a moment, you think that he is angry at you - the urgency with which he said it makes you wonder if he’s pissed with you for not listening to him carefully - but when you look up at him, you see his signature smile. He’s not angry - he’s cheering you on. “Go and get your guy!” 

 You want to  sigh, roll your eyes and remind him that Hoseok is not your guy - but in a weird, fucked up way that only you and him understand, he kind of is. It’s you he’s looking at - not any other girl, and there are plenty. It’s you he’s had his eyes on ever since he first saw you - it’s you he’s waiting for. 

 So you go for it - the same way you did the night it all started. Without thinking twice about it, you approach him, walking through a crowd of people to get to him - his eyes follow you every step of the way, standing straighter as you finally get to him, mere inches separating the two of you. 

 It’s electric. The feeling between the two of you, it’s purely electric, making you wonder if he’d burn to the touch if you were to reach out. In your mind, he always was the epitome of the Sun, so it wouldn’t be no surprise. You notice his smile despite not breaking eye contact - he smiles at you with them too, the signature wrinkles appearing on the edges. 

 “Well, don’t you look lovely tonight,” he tells you, giving you a quick once over. “Black has always suited you.” 

 “Now’s the time when I say something quirky yet charming like, ‘it matches my soul’,” you joke, laughing along with him. “Thank you - I had to dress in my finest, seeing as it’s a special occasion after all.” 

 “Is it?” he laughs. “I thought it was just a Spring Cleaning party.” 

 “Hoseok…” you shoot him a warning glare. 

 “I’m just messing with you,” he laughs, pointing out the obvious. “Can I… kiss you?” 

 This question takes you by surprise - you have decided to be public with whatever the hell this thing is - simply to avoid confusion, especially since you’ve agreed that you won’t be sleeping with other people while this deal of yours is standing. It’s a nice surprise, though - the fact that he still wants to ask, the fact that he is making sure that you are comfortable with it - whether it’s with the kiss itself or it being in public. It warms your heart to know that even though you had never planned any of this with him, he ended up being the right choice. 

 “Hobi, honestly, we’re past the point where you need to ask,” you admit, wanting him to know that you’re not going to back out and that you do feel comfortable. 

 He says nothing, instead deciding to kiss you immediately. It’s slow and gentle, lazy and languid, in a way that shows no rush or urgency. It’s obvious that he is enjoying it, and so are you, every move of his tongue against yours, every breath of yours that mingles with his. To the two of you, the rest of the room no longer exists - the sounds toned out, the people long forgotten. It’s almost as if it’s you and you alone - and the rest of the world doesn’t matter. You move your body closer to his, anchoring your hands around his neck as you press against his front - as you have found out, making out with Hoseok has plenty of merits, and one of the bigger ones is simply the feel of his body against yours. 

 His hands wander, slowly and likely aware of the audience around you - it’s highly unlikely that anyone spared you more than a glance, but despite what it feels like in your mind, you are definitely not alone. So when his fingers graze your ass, he doesn’t grab it firmly like you know he’d like to - he simply rests his hand there, with pressure that promises that there’s more in his mind than a simple touch. You know very well that if the two of you don’t slow down soon, he’ll pop a boner in the middle of Namjoon’s kitchen and even though you’re hardly keeping this a secret, that would likely be a bit too much for him to handle. 

 With your mind heading in that direction, you begrudgingly stop the kiss, but you don’t move too far away from him - your hands still around his neck and his hands still on your ass. For what seems like minutes, neither of you says a word, simply looking at each other, your eyes scanning the face of the other - the way his lips are wet and how he nervously licks at them, the way his cheeks also changed shades (and you know alcohol is not to blame for it) and the glint in his eye that likely mirrors yours, with both of you knowing what’s in the other one’s head. Tonight is the night, the night you will finally seal the deal. 

 And if all goes well, start something that will make you explore things and areas you dared not speak of, much less try them before. All of it, from the sweetest and most romantic to the nastiest, kinkiest shit imaginable - you want to do it all with him and it’ll start tonight. 

 “So...” You start, in what you hope is a sexy voice. “Are we going to go and piss Joon off by fucking in his house?” you ask, making sure that the sexy voice you’re trying to use is also low enough for no one else but him to hear. You take it a step further, pressing your lips to his ear, whispering. “I want to suck you off before I ride you until I can no longer hold myself up. Then, I want you to fuck into me with all that strength you have and fill me up, watch the cum drip out of me and then watch me finger it back inside my cunt.” 

 Pulling away just in time to see him swallow a lump, you move one of your hands from around his neck, down his chest and stomach, very slowly, before grazing it over his already noticeable growing dick - you don’t tease him more than that, knowing that even though you might not feel them, you likely do have eyes on you by now - you simple careers the area where his jeans are starting to stand out, a sign of his eagerness that completely mirrors the way your underwear is sticking to your core. Both of you are horny as all hell and if you don’t act on it soon, you’ll jump his bones right here, right now, on Joon’s kitchen sink. 

 “How ‘bout I use my fingers to push the cum back inside you and when it dribbles out again, I eat you out until you want to scream my name but you can’t, ‘cause you’re sucking on my fingers, licking every drip of cum left on them?” he suggests and you for a second, you think your knees are going to give out and you’ll fall flat. You don’t, likely because he still has his hands pressed to your backside. 

 “Oh, I’d want nothing more,” you shamelessly admit. 

 “Then we’re not doing it here,” he announces, laughing at the immediate sulky reaction it elicited from you. “Don’t be like that, it’s better if we go to my place,” he chuckles at you, gently squeezing your butt. “I want us to enjoy the night, go for as many rounds as our bodies can take and then do it again in the morning. We can’t have that here while some freshman is doing a keg stand and anyone can walk in on us at any second. We can piss Joon off later - but it’s the first time we’re gonna do it and damn it, I wanna do it right.” 

 “You wanna do it right?” your eyebrows rise. 

“I could stand here all night and list all the things that I want to do to you, and you to me, and still remember more on the way home - and we’ve already discussed a bunch. I want to treat you good and give you the best fuck of your life - I promised as much and I want to deliver. We can fuck in Joon’s house any other day, honestly.” 

 “Do you want to… use something tonight?” you ask, pressing your hand against his crotch a little bit harder this time. “I have some toys back at my place but we won’t be alone there.” 

 “Nah,” he shakes his head immediately. “I have my cock, mouth and fingers - I don’t need much else to make you want to never do anyone else. We’ll have plenty of time for all the toys - and when I say all, I mean all. I’d go for anything with you.” 

 “If you keep talking like that, I’m just going to cum right here, right now,” you admit. 

 “While that would be a sight for sore eyes, I have other plans. Let’s go,” he takes you by the hand and away you go, making your way through the crowd, not caring if anyone notices how quickly you’re leaving or how you’re walking hand in hand. 

 You simply don’t give a shit, at all. All you care about is Hoseok right now - his dick, mouth and fingers and all the things he plans to do with them. 

[captainsimagines]

To Topple A Giant || Chapter Six

Summary: You had made it your mission to destroy even the smallest evils. When the opportunity arises to finally take down your own family after years of gaining their trust, you reach for it. And so does Steve, the man who represents a symbol of everything you hate.

Pairing(s): Steve Rogers x Reader || Avengers x Reader

Part 6 of 10 ~ Mini-Series

Warnings: This story contains mature themes and discussions such as extreme canon violence, strong language, emotional angst, mentions of Endgame deaths and recoveries, sexual situations, and emotional/physical abuse. All trigger warnings will be listed before the chapter. This is purely fanfiction.

Warnings in this Chapter: physical assault; mentions of past sexual assault (brief); abusive parental relationship; canon violence; ANGST; mentions of attempted suicide; mentions of drugs, drug smuggling, and human trafficking; bullying and harassment; SMUT (unprotected sex; hair pulling; ass smack!; ALL THAT GOOD CONSENT; talking a lot during sex lol); 18+ ONLY PLEASE!

Word Count: 21,400+

A/N: ya’ll my timeline is completely fucked (age wise)... like... anything remotely romantic happening between Steve x Female Reader happened AFTER Infinity War when the reader was already 19-20. I just realized that my years were off in a certain flashback......... so yes, everyone knew the reader while they were still in their teens but they’re literally 26-27 present day so don’t think too much of it lmao i can’t really fix it now lol

~

An Avengers Safehouse, 2023, 10:45 pm  

    Every door was closed and locked for the night. You had made sure of it. A distraction now would ultimately destroy any other chance you might get, and this chance was already overdue. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you jogged down the hallways to the common room you knew he was in. He had been catching up on his reading for the past two days now, a small pinch of solace during this hectic week. 

Your feet were heavy, invisible anchors shackled to your ankles and dragging you lower to the depths of that personal hell you had been burning in. Glancing over your shoulder, you measured the distance between you and your room, chest beginning to feel tight as your lungs forgot the taste of air. It was like you were walking to your own personal execution, flesh and bone ready to disconnect from your essence. But you weren’t walking toward anything dangerous - you were walking to him. To speak with him. To be with him. 

You knew you saw it when everyone returned from the heist. He wasn’t himself - he regretted not using the stones for himself, possibly - you truly didn’t know why. You enjoyed the reunions and getting to reconnect with everyone. Grasping and holding Wanda in your arms was outright magical, to touch one of your best friends after nearly accepting the possibility of never doing that again - you had a similar reaction when you collapsed into Peter’s arms with the weight of those five long years. 

And you knew Steve was grateful as well, he had to be, but his exclusion of you hurt. You had shrugged it off the first time - perhaps he was tired, wanted more private time to catch up with Sam and Bucky, to be with his friends as you were with yours. The second time he dismissed you, it was during a dinner. The seat beside you was empty, it wasn’t even that close to you, and he decided to skip dinner altogether. 

But the third time, the most wretched of times, had shown you that something was truly wrong. This wasn’t the Steve you had grown close to these five years. He was distant, cold, a completely changed person that only spoke when absolutely necessary. 

It was a nightmare, one of the worst ones you ever had, and Friday had alerted the only other room near yours - Steve’s. The knocks were loud, frantic in their purpose, and Friday unlocked the door. You were shaken awake, tugged into a chest that wasn’t as firm as the one you remembered, and soft whispers of ‘you’re okay, you’re alright’ drowned out the sounds of your panicked whimpers. You reached out to stroke the person’s face, eyes snapping open when you realized it wasn’t him, it wasn’t Steve. 

‘Bucky?’ you had whispered, hands still stroking his face as he held you. 

‘It’s me. You’re okay, you’re alright.’

‘Where’s Steve? Is he okay?’

Bucky immediately tensed, expression turning somber as he tried to give an acceptable explanation. 

‘He’s… he’s not coming, doll.’

‘What do you mean he’s not coming? He always comes, he-”

‘Doll, hey,’ he shook his head, biting his bottom lip. ‘He’s not coming.’

The broken question of ‘why?’ had tumbled from your lips until Bucky’s rocking had calmed you enough to fall back into a deep sleep. And the next morning, Steve announced he was moving from the safehouse and back to his apartment permanently. 

And it made no sense considering you two were on wonderful terms just a few weeks ago babysitting Morgan. It was like he flipped a switch and erased you from his memory. 

You deserve an explanation. You deserve to have your questions answered, to see the look in his eyes as he tried to explain himself, to witness his fumbling as you caught him off guard. You deserved to know.  

“Why are you avoiding me?”

The common area was illuminated by a soft, yellow light from the lamp in the corner of the room, the moonlight only shining over the kitchen. Steve sat on the lone couch near the soft light, book in his lap and already half-way read. 

No one really snuck up on him - no one had the chance to with his enhanced hearing - but you succeeded. The book nearly fell from his lap, a hitch in his breath alerting you that he really wasn’t expecting anyone. He set the book down on the nearby table and slowly stood up. “I’m not avoiding you.”

You will not cry right now. 

You scoffed, “So, leaving a room when I walk in is just a common occurrence now? What about avoiding me completely? You don’t say good morning, you don’t tell me hello, you don’t even sit near me anymore-”

“It’s late, and these briefings have really taken a toll on me, agent.” Steve sighed and avoided your eyes as he walked right past you and into the kitchen. 

He hadn’t actually done it, but that certainly was a slap in the face. The invisible shackles wrapped around your ankles were pulling harder, drowning you in your grief.

You mindlessly whipped your head at him, watching as he grabbed the milk carton and proceeded to do absolutely nothing with it. You clenched your teeth, “Agent?” 

He did not immediately correct himself. The room was now deathly silent, minus the quick breaths under your nose. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Don’t make this into something it’s not.”

Your forehead strained from the pained expression you held, tears brimmed and burning as they threatened to fall. You walked towards him and tried to keep a steady demeanor, anger drowning your veins the quickest it ever has. “What is it then? ‘Cause you’ve been calling me by my real name for the last five years! You’re my friend!”

Everytime your name slipped from his mouth it made you like him more. His presence was no longer uncomfortable or forced, but rather calming and needed. This friendship was built high and mighty these five years, walls seemingly strong. You worried there was true vulnerability in those foundations.

Speaking to Rhodey or Bruce just wasn’t the same as speaking to Steve. Helping him take out the trash, buying coffee for one another, asking the other what they wanted to watch on television. But now your name was absent from his voice, restrained and gutted from existence as if to purposely hurt your now healing mind. 

Steve ignored the desperate portion of your argument, “It’s time to focus on the new threats this world faces-”

“What are you talking about? Why are you shutting me out like I’m not important to you?”

His jaw tensed, eyes still distant. “I’m not shutting you out. I’m saying we need to focus on the fights we thought we left behind-”

“You mean my dad? Because I’m pretty fucking sure he’s looking to only kill me.”

“Don’t joke about that-”

You had no physical control now. The anger was at its boiling point, seeping through the corners of your eyelids and corners of your mouth. “Joke about what? Why are you not letting me in?”

Steve gripped the counter, head hanging low but voice powerful enough to shake through you. “Stop interrupting me!”

A solitary tear hit the floor beneath you, voice now wobbly and unsure of its chosen words. “What happened to you?”

Steve remained silent for only a moment, hands still gripping the expensive granite. “Nothing happened.”

He ran his right hand down his face to relieve some of the tense muscles. He continued to speak.

“Now that everyone’s back and the same threats are picking up where they left off, I’ve got bigger problems on my hands.”

You scoffed again, “Oh, so now Scott’s time heist has another negative consequence?”

In a matter of a millisecond, Steve turned suddenly and was now towering over you. Your back instantly straightened. “Don’t be smart with me. You know what this means.”

You just looked up at him, eyes slightly fogging up but the rest of your face still determined. You spoke low, searching his face for any indication that he would swing. No, he wouldn’t. Ever. “Spell it out for me then. I’m still seething from not hearing my first name yet.”

Steve ignored your quip, “Now that your father’s back, we need to finish what we started.”

You stared at him in disbelief, “You don’t think he’s actually going to pick up where he left off, right? Not now!”

“He already has. Fury notified me through a secure channel,” Steve declared, stepping away from you as his mind finally rewired. 

You instinctively wrapped your arms around your torso, “No…”

“Business as usual.”

Your voice raised an octave, desperation now dousing your plea of ignorance, “No, you’re lying. You’re a goddamn liar!”

“Calm down, agent. This isn’t the time-”

It was your turn to crowd Steve, stepping toward him and pushing him backwards. Your mind told you to not touch him, that he never touched you, and that it was horribly wrong. But his blank face prompted another push, your body acting on its own will. 

“Agent? Agent! Steve, what the fuck is going on?”

His voice was deeper, “If you yell one more time-”

“You’ll what?” 

Neither of you spoke. In that moment, you wondered if anyone had heard this fight as you and Steve weren’t exactly being quiet. You knew your voice traveled down several hallways and his strong one practically shook the floors. So you pushed that thought to the back of your cramped brain, head held high and eyes boring into Steve’s.

“Now that you got your old friends back, I’m useless. Is that right?”

His eyes widened, “Where in the hell is that coming from?”

“I’m right, right? You don’t want to be my friend anymore, I was a rebound all these years?”

Steve started shaking his head, eyes closed as he tried to calculate the best possible response. He could feel his lungs burn, almost like they did before the serum, and he realized he was throwing himself into a panic attack. It tickled its way up his throat, clenching the sides and dragging its nails across the sensitive surface.

You were still speaking.  

“You know, you’re still pissed that the first name I spit out to Fury when I went undercover was yours. You never wanted to help me with it.”

“Don’t start-”

You knew you shouldn’t have continued, this argument proved childish since he first called you by an old, nameless nickname. But it seemed he had no intention of apologizing or providing you with an explanation for his sudden absence.

“You’re still fuming about it. You’re still fuming about your image being ruined. Good ol’ Captain America as a secret, undercover drug dealer!”

Steve finally showed proof of cracking, hands gripping his hair harshly. “Y/N, I said don’t start! I’m finished!”

But you persisted, now screaming and countless, frustrated tears tainting your red cheeks. “You can’t fucking stand me because I tarnished that fucking star on your chest! I made you look bad to a bunch of fucking criminals!”

Steve grabbed the nearest object, the coffee maker Tony had bought for their six year formation anniversary, and flung it across the room. It shattered into the wall, leftover cold coffee staining the peach paint, the glass littered over the floor. “That’s enough!”

The sound of its impact made your stomach churn. You were frozen in place, almost certain that Steve would throw you next, and your legs were suddenly cold. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know anymore,” Steve choked out, tears forming in his eyes as well. His chest rapidly raised and lowered, his breathing becoming erratic. Even he wondered why no one had come to check up on you two.

For the sake of Steve’s sanity, you whispered your next reply. 

“You hate me that much-”

“Y/N-”

And you were suddenly overpowered by a sense of calm acceptance. “You hate me so much that you can’t even stand to look at me.”

“Please...”

“I’m finished, too. From now on… you’re my Captain. I’m just an agent. I’ll answer your call to help fight. That’s it.”

You had thought he would drop to his knees and apologize. This Steve wasn’t your Steve - not that Steve or any part of him was ever yours - but it was almost impossible to comprehend such a blank set of emotions from the same man who helped you with laundry, remembered the captions of your photo posts and teased you about them later, or casually sketched your outline in his sketchbook. He began to disregard your kindness, your presence, your voice the moment Wanda held Vision’s face as he whispered his goodbye, as she got her closure, as she had to say goodbye for the thousandth time. 

But nothing could prepare you for his quick acceptance of your offer.

“I think that’s for the best.”

You nodded slowly, arms falling to your sides. It shouldn’t have hurt as much as it did - hell, you didn’t love the guy - but he was so much more than just a colleague now. You had literally saved the world together. He was your shoulder to cry on and you were his. Did you love him? 

“Just so you know, I wasn’t faking any of it.” 

Steve looked as if he was going to say something but closed his mouth. You swore you could see his bottom lip trembling, but he remained still. He stared anywhere but your face. 

You turned to leave, body ready to give away and tumble into the mound of pillows calling your name. But you held yourself up at the doorway, turning back to Steve and meeting his eyes - he was already watching you walk away. 

You swallowed hard, “And I’ll be the honest one here, tonight - you were the only thing stopping me from putting a bullet in my head for five years.”

Present Day, 2025, 7:02am

     You awoke startled, your gasp a little raspy as it sounded off in the quiet room. Your internal clock was already stressing you out, letting you know that you seriously had to get up now, even before your alarm rang. 

Dread swam in the pit of your stomach, swirling the pound of breadsticks you had last night. Yesterday had been your last ‘in between’ day, the last day to truly map out your next steps before you actually had to execute them. You would see everyone today, tomorrow, and the next - the next the final, the endgame. 

You rolled over and glanced at Steve. His bed was empty, sheets folded and pillows fluffed, and the bathroom was open and empty. 

With a pinch of your eyebrows, you groaned as you flipped your legs over the side of your bed. You stilled, but there was no other sound. 

Steve really wasn’t here. 

For a second, you were angry. You couldn’t believe he literally left you alone, after basically defiling you and you himself, on a day that would for sure strike a major nerve in your crippling anxiety. It was low, like you were left to pick up your heels and proceed with the walk of shame down the hotel hallways.

But then the next second, you were relieved. You could take this moment to relive last night, to hatch out every single detail, to somehow make sense of just what the hell happened. It had been so fucking hot, so fucking overdue, and god, did you want to do it again. Steve’s absence allowed you to squeal in both delight and disbelief. 

You had fondled… had sex with?... humped?... your literal Captain. Sure, you had crossed a boundary in this ten-year friendship and rivalry, a boundary that was now completely exed out and erased really, but it wasn’t literal sex. Right?

It was certainly something if you had learned one thing from Sex Ed 101. Intimacy was intimacy. Yeah, you and Steve shared… intimacy. 

It took all your willpower to shrug off the rest of the blankets and start getting ready. There wasn’t much to do except hope that your guns didn’t jam or Seda didn’t ambush you. Quickly shooting off a text to Wanda, you waited for her much needed call. 

‘Hey, what’s up?’

You let out a long hum, face lifted toward the ceiling as you thought about how you would phrase last night’s events to her. “So, like, I’m gonna kill myself.”

‘Back up. Explain?’

“Ahhhhh, Wanda! I fucked up. We fucked up.”

Wanda’s voice sounded frantic, ‘Did the mission go wrong? Where’s Scott? Steve? Torres?’

You groaned, stomping your foot like the literal child you were. “Wanda, me and Steve did something last night.”

Wanda was silent for a few moments, her quick breaths evening out as she collected her thoughts. ‘Are you trying to tell me, that while trying to tell me you had sex with Steve last night, you made it sound like we would have had to all suit up to save your asses all the way across the country?’

Grateful she couldn’t see you blush, you responded as if you were trying to still keep the events a secret. “Well, when you put it like that!”

‘Did you and Steve actually…?’

“No, no! But we… touched and stuff.”

‘Is this high school? Spit it out.’

It was basic instinct to inspect the room again before you admitted it. “We sort of just, got each other off. Like, handjobs and such.”

Wanda let out a sound that resembled both a groan and a chuckle. ‘High school.’

You threw yourself back into bed, rolling around and throwing pillows all over the place. “It was so hot.”

‘You don’t need to give me the specifics.’

“Who else am I supposed to talk with? Bucky?”

Wanda choked on her laugh, ‘Okay, okay. I see your point.’

“What does this mean?” you asked both her and yourself. 

‘I’m gonna tell you something that you might not like to hear, okay?’

“Ugh, don’t scare me.”

Wanda chuckled before she continued, ‘This doesn’t surprise me.’

You practically strained your back from snapping up from bed so quickly. “What do you mean ‘you’re not surprised’?”

There was slight shuffling on the other line. ‘I owe Peter fifty dollars.’

You huffed loudly, “What do you mean by that, Wanda?”

Wanda sighed, ‘Look, we weren’t here during those five years. We weren’t here to see you two together. But Bruce told us how you two were during that time. Even when you were ignoring each other for months after, you didn’t hesitate to protect each other.’

You shook your head, as if she could see you. “He abandoned me for a good while.”

Wanda interrupted, ‘You saved him at the height of your fighting.’

You rolled your eyes, “He’s my Captain, of course I saved him.”

‘You didn’t have to.’

Your thoughts were flying at a hundred miles an hour, colliding with one another at top speeds. You opted to forgo that memory. It was shelved, to be revisited later. 

Changing the subject to a much less dramatic topic, the phone call lasted for another fifteen minutes before you seriously had to finish getting ready. 

The talk helped. But it didn’t answer any questions you had. The answers lay in the one place you really didn’t want to explore right now. Maybe after breakfast.

      Scott stumbled out of the elevator with very sleepy eyes, fingers still digging into their corners as he made his way to the hotel bar. Steve was seated in the farthest chair from the entrance just casually sipping orange juice. 

“What was so urgent that I had to wake up before my alarm?” Scott groaned as he slid into the seat beside him. 

Steve’s eyes were glued to his drink. He was bouncing his leg wildly. “I’m sorry, I just…”

It didn’t take a genius to know that when someone was nursing an orange juice in the hotel bar, head hanging low and with a massive pout, there was something incredibly wrong. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m just cranky when I have to get up early.”

Steve waved his hand, “No, don’t apologize. I get it. I mean it.”

Scott ordered his own glass. He spread his lips into a thin line, “Did you want to talk? I’m a great listener. I could listen to Luis go on for hours on end.”

“I need to tell someone.”

“I’m all ears.”

Steve hesitated for only a second, downing the orange juice as if it was a shot. He ordered another. “I kissed Y/N last night.”

“Are you serious?” Scott’s eyes widened and he gurgled his juice on accident. He didn’t know what to say. Congratulations? 

“And we messed around a little bit.”

Now Scott tilted his head to the side and gave the super soldier an amused glare. “Messed around? What is this, the third grade?”

Steve cringed, “I hope to God no third graders are messing around.”

His juice was long forgotten now. “Then call it like it is, Captain. You ‘serviced the Venus’, you ‘made whoopee’, you -”

“That’s calling it like it is?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Very. We just… touched and stuff.”

Steve’s awkward hand gestures caused Scott’s lip to twitch itself into a weird smile. “You ‘cleaned your rifle’? You did the ‘loop-de-loop?”

“Where in the hell are you getting these things from? You think we actually talked like this back in the forties?” Steve covered his ears and lay his forehead against the counter. 

“Sorry, sorry. I was just having a little fun.” Scott apologized, trying to make eye contact even as Steve’s head was lowered. “Sorry, no fun.” Still, Steve remained sheltered. “Damn, man. Did something else happen that you’re not telling me?”

Finally, Steve turned his head to look at Scott but left it resting against the counter. “I feel like we crossed a line.”

“You technically violated the mission code of ethics, but.”

Steve snapped up and covered his face with his hands, index fingers pinching the corners of his eyes. “But kissing her didn’t feel wrong. Holding her didn’t feel wrong.”

Scott was in the middle of a rom com. He had to be. There was always that scene where one of the partners freaked out because they themselves didn’t know their own feelings. They would cower in their own little world for about fifteen minutes, or at least fifteen minutes of screentime, and then gain the courage to talk it through. Scott was just that random friend who happened to ask what was wrong. 

But you and Steve were his teammates. The two of you had helped him get his family back. You had been so excited to try out the time machine, shutting everyone else up as they bullied him for simply having the idea. Steve risked his life for him more times than he could count in the past two years. He always suspected something was wrong between the two of you. But no one was brave enough to openly speak about what had happened that night. He just knew what Sam had told him - ‘It’s none of our business. They’re both acting like children. But Steve, even though I love him with all my heart, royally fucked up.’

“Then why are you so worried? Steve, I wasn’t around those five years. Only you know your relationship with her.”

“I don’t deserve it,” Steve mumbled.

His ears were playing tricks. He had gone deaf. “Huh?”

Steve explained further, his face falling with each new confession he spoke verbally. He hadn’t even discussed these feelings with his therapist. Granted, he only spoke of you when you were being a pain in his ass, but romantically? “I don’t deserve to touch her, to have her, to be with her. I left her alone at her most vulnerable, and that you were here for so you know.”

Scott shook his head, “But I have no real say in that. Like I said, only you know what you feel.”

He finished his juice and leaned back in his chair. He clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder and they both turned their attention to the tiny television mounted on the wall playing the morning news. It was hard to believe that a couple years ago, Scott had completely fangirled over being in Steve’s presence. Now he was one of his closest friends. 

His next thought seemed to register slowly and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Wait, did you leave her to wake up alone?”

Steve paused and bit down on his tongue. “I, may have done that.”

Scott nodded as he received the confirmation. “You know, Bucky and Wanda have a bet going on over which of you will kill the other first. I think you tipped the victory to her, man.”

Steve returned the slap to the shoulder and stood up. “Thanks, Scott.”

He followed Steve out the entrance. “I don’t feel like this conversation is over, but you gotta go back up there. I’m always here if you want to talk.”

Steve sent him a genuine smile as he walked backwards to the stairs instead of the elevator. “Don’t bring it up.”

Scott saluted him, “I may be an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“That didn’t make any-”

Scott clicked the button for the elevator and waved Steve off, “It’s from a show my daughter used to watch, hey, you know what, forget about it.”

    Steve doesn’t quite know what propels him up the stairs instead of the elevator, but it’s probably the need to burn at least one calorie before facing the music. It was an idiotic move leaving you alone to unravel such a major change, and Steve was tired of running. The amount of times he claimed he could ‘do this all day’ and yet, he let the final battle dictate his life afterward. He was just so tired of running from things that required him to stay, and staying for things that destroyed his mental health. 

Scott carried the conversation as they reentered the room, finding you already dressed and smiling bright. But that smile was directed at Scott, a brilliant smile that Steve had been the recipient of just yesterday. 

God, he really fucked up, didn’t he?

“We got a plan?”

It was like clockwork, movements fluid and known. The three of you were slightly out of it, missions depleting in urgency and all. The last mission you had been on in the last two years, besides the ones your father sent you on, had been to a base in Prague where you ran a two-week surveillance on a doctor who was trying to recreate the super soldier serum. Even then there wasn’t much of a physical fight and you were mainly there to assist Sam and Bucky. 

“We’ll get there by 9. You’ll have to shrink down before we even pass the gates.”

Scott drafted the specifics in his notebook, taking careful notes on what he was to look for inside your father’s office. He was instructed to hack the keyboard to list the most used formations of characters, scan for fingerprints, and work through the paper files your father hadn’t yet had time to put away. Once a password was figured out, then the hacking would commence during the rehearsal dinner. 

“Y/N and I will be led through the estate by Seda, no doubt. Once you hear that we’re seated and enjoying breakfast, you can start your deep search.”

Scott added the finishing touches to his suit - upgrades from both Hank and Tony, before he passed of course. 

“Anything I should know? I’m going in blind while you guys have some experience with this crowd.”

You attached the camouflage mic to the back of your neck as you responded, “His office hallway doesn’t have cameras. Neither does the inside. You, as well as Steve and I, are under strict orders to not kill anyone.”

Scott squinted his eyes, “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

You chuckled, “These are violent people, Scott. In order to win, we need to play the part. Which means unless we say the safe word ‘widow’, you can’t intervene.”

Scott searched your face for a joke, the briefing you all had before you shipped out replaying in his head. You had mentioned Seda shot you and that your father basically hated you, but to see you serious now - it was a little unnerving. Sure, he fought aliens and faced off against some of the most evil forces in the universe. But this was family, and when it was family with the evil gene, it made everything much more horrible.

“Okay.”

You all gathered your equipment and headed down to the car. Steve safely hid the shield in the trunk, foregoing any additional weapons than those already attached to his person. He couldn’t risk Ernesto’s men randomly searching the car during breakfast. 

You were already waiting in the passenger seat when Scott gripped Steve’s arm as they finished loading the trunk. 

“You protect her, alright?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. He knew Scott wasn’t doubting his ability to do so, but his trust was being enlisted. There wasn’t even a second option. 

Steve would grip the heavens by their feet and pull for the creation of even more fallen angels just for you. 

“I will.” 

     The drive to the estate was a lot less stressful this time. Only because you knew who to expect now. You wouldn’t be catching up with your sister until tomorrow, and you already had an idea what your father was scheming up. The three of you just drove in silence, Steve at the wheel and Scott in the backseat. 

You thought, maybe Steve didn’t fully regret what happened after all. Leaving in the morning was for sure a dick move, but his attitude wasn’t one of someone who would simply ‘hit it, and quit it’. You took pride in what you knew about your Captain, about Steve as a separate entity, and you always expected the best from him. 

Anyone who thought or assumed otherwise was an idiot.

Scott had shrunk down and prepared his own mics as Steve drove onto the deserted dirt road. There were dozens of cars parked outside, but it looked as if their owners were all workers. Considering the wedding was only two days away and the rehearsal dinner was tomorrow, the workers multiplied and were working overtime. Leave it to your father to make the finishing touches at the last minute. 

Once again, Seda stood outside to greet you and Steve. He looked extra chipper this morning, his aging face contorted into an almost painful smile. And you knew that whenever he smiled at you, he wasn’t harboring the greatest intentions. 

“Good to see you again!”

You slung your arm through Steve’s, unconscious to the fact that Scott stood on your shoulder and hid behind strands of hair. You responded, “Careful, you’ll get cavities with that much sweetness.”

His smile fell slightly, and he looked away to roll his eyes. “Must be contagious considering you’re so full of sugar!”

“You’re weird when you’re nice.”

“Now, I was just about to say the same thing.” Seda held his hand out to Steve, delighted in the strength of his grip. “Captain.”

Steve smirked, a dangerous glint settling in his eyes. The longer hair and beard really did make him look like the anti-Cap. “Sir. Are you joining us for breakfast?”

Seda turned to walk through the open doors. “Of course. Ernesto’s business is as much mine as it is his.”

You let out a tiny snort, “Don’t think he would agree.”

Seda rotated on his heel so quickly the sound of the squeak echoed through the vast mansion. He held his finger out at you, that famous scowl you had grown accustomed to finally making its appearance. “Bite your tongue.”

In an instant, Steve gripped your cheeks and chin with one hand, holding you still to look at Seda. He hated this. He wanted to fight them now.

While you were held in place for him, Seda stepped closer. You could feel the heat of his breath. “I carried this empire while he was dirt.”

Steve’s hand was loose, but his wild look could easily be mistaken for anger toward you. 

Seda’s eyes were cold, filled with an undeniable amount of hatred and selfishness, like he wanted to see you beg for forgiveness. No matter the countless times when any other human being would be crying for mercy, you never did. And Seda despised this skill with all his tainted soul. 

“And look where that got you. Right back in second place.”

For the second time this week, Steve wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole. 

Seda’s facial muscles flinched, but he kept his composure. There were too many outside workers wandering around, instructed already to keep their mouths shut about who employed them and were to be paid under the table. With his own tongue bitten, he muttered almost achingly. “Breakfast is this way.”

Letting go of you after Seda turned back around, Steve gently massaged the sides of your chin for a few seconds as you walked. Turning your head quickly left and right and passing a room with no traceable cameras, you caught his hand and pressed your lips gently to his knuckles. Before he could truly enjoy the gentle gesture, you pulled away. And he knew you had to. You had to.

Scott took his leave, jumping onto the nearby potted plant and connecting back with Torres. 

Breakfast was served on the large patio near the west side of the estate. It overlooked a massive man-made lake, rocks circling the bank, and multiple lake chairs facing it. The estate was well hidden away in the forest, tall pine trees enveloping the illegal nature of all that was said and done. The clouds were creating a dark overcast that meant it was going to rain later, maybe soon, and it was going to be heavy. The crew outback had constructed a massive wooden canopy ‘tent’ that extended from one side of land to the other. So if it did rain on the day of the wedding, the only evidence of it would be the wetness reflecting off the soft violet lights they were just now hanging. The tables were set up, minus the chairs and wall decorations, and the staff were barely constructing the floor. 

By instinct, you had already clocked the easiest exit routes and hiding places. The warehouse near the lake looked sturdy - two windows wide enough to shoot from. Steve would have to crouch down low though, so perhaps the wooden table could serve as a temporary shield. 

There had to be a way to casually bring that shield to both the rehearsal dinner and wedding without raising red flags. 

Seda paused and excused himself. While Steve entertained the questions of some of the men casually strolling through, you reached into your pocket and pulled out some new tech you had been dying to finally use. Tony had messed around with so many personalized gadgets for everyone. Peter had his flying spiders, Clint had his flying stars and arrows, and you had your flying butterflies. Little metallic wonders with life-like wing speed that recorded its surroundings and transcribed for your report later. 

It flew gracefully, circling around the tables and even stopping on the window’s edge for a natural effect before flying near Seda and whoever he was talking to. It fluttered and settled, a small light emitting from its antennas. It would fly back once the subject chosen finished speaking. 

While you waited, you wandered. You hadn’t really explored this estate since you were a child but from what you remembered, there was always something new to discover. As a kid, you had asked whoever was present, ‘Is this real?’, ‘Was it alive before?’, ‘How old is this?’.

Roman busts, paintings hanging and stored alike, the ivory tusks. Didn’t seem like your father was collecting much these days. Dust was settled and undisturbed and the stuffed animals needed a serious scrub. You honestly wouldn’t be surprised if your father had stashed away the damn tesseract at one point or another. 

“Oh, yeeesss,” you whispered, scurrying to the trunk hidden below the pile of discarded tablecloths and curtains. No one else ventured to these rooms, and although there were priceless items stashed away here, they normally functioned as the children's playrooms. There was more money to be made selling drugs than selling ancient artifacts. 

Just like many of the other rooms, this room was basically abandoned. No evidence of swiped fingers or anything. Your attention was drawn to the black trunk, scratched up on the left side and lock practically useless. If you remembered correctly, your iPod shuffle and middle school diary should be in here. 

As corny as that sounded, perhaps the diary had something inside you could work with and use to help aid in the mission. 

The trunk creaked and moaned as you lifted the lid open. You blew the excess of cobwebs away, scanning the corners quickly for any live spiders. Just in case. 

You did, in fact, find the diary. But only the first ten pages were filled out and dated, detailing the story, and quote, ‘2011, what a stupid number! Can’t anything but violence happen?’

Yes young Y/N, you thought to yourself, 2012 was one hell of a year and infinitely worse than stupid little 2011. 

The mountain of miscellaneous items was astounding, swirling up the childhood emotions you seriously missed. There was just something about random, mix-matched, old items that made you giddy. 

When Shield returned Steve’s belongings that had been locked in storage or in the museum when he was pronounced KIA, you were the one bouncing up and down behind him as he opened the boxes. He’d inspect the old watch, pencil set, photographs, clothing item, whatever and then pass it over to you. And he’d pretend to act annoyed by your interest, but the fact that you wanted to learn more about Steve and his life before the war - it was humbling. 

‘Hey, Y/N. You want to know how much porn I just found on Seda’s personal laptop?’

Your whole body was overcome by shivers. You nudged the mic to turn it up louder. “Scott, what the fuck?”

He tried to contain his laughter. ‘My mission is to hunt, gather, and hack. You’ll be pleased to know I got more than just their internet history.’

“Ew.”

A small, red velvet box shoved in the upper left hand corner caught your attention. It’s engraving showed none other than ‘Oxford University’ and that was enough to conclude this too was stolen. You chuckled at how ridiculous this all was. 

Believe it or not, the most legal things in the estate were the stuffed exotic animals and tusks of ivory that had been collected before the nationwide bans. 

This small box contained a few dozen coins from ancient Rome, all of different faces and years. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” you mumbled, finger-fishing through the box. You made a mental note to instruct your team to also seize and catalog everything that was stolen here. Give Fury more of a headache. 

The figurehead on one of the coins made you pause for a second. The artwork was not as professional as much larger engravings found on the other coins or artifacts, but the features were proud. It was of a man, curly hair and beard to match, with a prominent and strong nose. If you squint hard enough, the hair and beard were Steve’s, absolutely as he had it groomed right now. Last time Steve had grown his hair out this long he was on the run. Guess he really missed the rugged look. 

But that nose. Strong and long and definitely punched to the brim many times before. The last person to set it had been Clint - and the reset had left it looking slightly crooked. Just like the man on the coin. 

“What a beak you got on you, Rogers,” you smiled. You shut the box after pocketing the coin. Making sure everything else was in place, you exited and checked your mic for any unusual activity. You could hear Steve casually speaking and Scott humming under his breath. 

Your little butterfly was spinning in a large circle until it spotted you. It reattached itself to your belt discreetly. 

Seda marched back, looking more annoyed than when he had first greeted you. “Shall we?”

Similar to how he was situated back in his office, comfortable and relaxed in his element, your father sat closest to the lake around the round table, no doubt enjoying the breeze aimed in his direction. The table was full of various foods - mostly fruit and drinks - but there were sides of meats and bread hidden in the pile. 

Ernesto looked like an innocent old man bathed in the colorful array. He was eighty-two (if you count those five years, then he’s only seventy-seven), and it wasn’t just the fruit that made him seem innocent - with the absence of a scowl or a gun in his unbelievably steady hand, he looked like every old man on the planet. An old man with a secret. 

“It’s not everyday you get to dine with the Captain America!”

Already his voice annoyed Steve. But as eloquent as ever, he responded lightly. “It’s an honor, sir.”

Your father sipped his juice, waiting until you were both seated to continue. “So polite, I remember how it used to be.”

Steve shrugged, “The good ole’ days.”

“Exactly. You see, I’m hoping to bring those good ole’ days back.”

“Gonna run for office?” you quipped, reaching over to pop a grape into your mouth. 

Keeping his eyes trained on Steve, your father retorted. “Your jokes aren’t that funny, Y/N.”

“I think I’m pretty funny,” you mumbled through a funny frown. 

The sooner you get some valuable information, the sooner you could leave. At least, that’s what Steve had been reciting in his head as he bit his tongue at your attempt at being funny. “What did you have in mind?”

Ernesto stretched, motioning for the men behind him to pass him some documents from a nearby table. He passed them to Steve, completely ignoring you. “You see, I’m thinking of expanding business. Not just here in the U.S and in Mexico, but across the Atlantic.”

You resisted the urge to sneak a peek at the documents. So you opted to keep him talking. “Woah, you’re not thinking of toppling White, are you?”

Ernesto scoffed, “You think I have a death wish? No, I’m thinking of joining forces.”

You played dumb. “What?”

Seda squinted, stepping forward and gripping your wrist mid-air, evidently stopping you from popping another grape into your mouth. Steve turned his head to stare at Seda with a real and deep grimace, basically instructing him to let go of you as soon as possible. Acting like an asshole when your father was the instigator was one thing, and he hated that he had to bend over for him. But Seda wasn’t in charge, nor would he ever be again, and his hand on you didn’t have to be tolerated. Yes, he knew to keep up the asshole act, but obsessive and protective boyfriend fit the bill as well, he assumed. 

Reluctantly, Seda got the message and let you go. He answered your question after a few awkward seconds, “Expanding into Europe means we dominate the world. Everyone knows that. Europe is the epicenter.”

Oblivious to the whole stare down, you resumed your questioning. “And we come in, where?”

“Your missions - they take you across the ocean, yes?” your father chimed in. 

“Sometimes, sir. We’re away pretty often.” Steve answered. 

“Then that’s perfect. All those opportunities to smuggle my product on your company planes.”

You scrunched your eyebrows in deep thought, almost like you were doing the math in your head. “I doubt the quinjet would pass a weight inspection, Father.”

Ernesto raised his hands in mock offense. “Your Captain here should be able to pull some strings, no?”

Hiding his discomfort, Steve shrugged like it was no big deal. “It would certainly be a difficult task but we can pull through.”

No. Steve has never handled the product, he has never seen the product being moved, he has never signed off on anything pertaining to said product. Fury did - Fury set up everything, he made sure to keep Steve out of it, he protected the shield, he protected Steve. On your word.

Ernesto knew you were the one handling it. He knew Steve wasn’t anywhere near it since you made it abundantly clear that he only green lit the passage routes. 

He was doing this on purpose. Testing Steve’s loyalty in a way. Tying any Avenger’s gadgets to the smuggling, especially transportation methods that were rarely, if ever checked when entering a foreign country, was a violation.  And this violation would then make every Avenger a drug smuggler - a real one - and no one, not even Torres could back you up.  

Blinded by this possible reality, you countered with the best argument you had. “He’s ‘Captain America’. Which means he stays within our borders.”

Ernesto paused mid-drink, a grin forming. He stared at you in surprise, “I’m sorry, did you just give me an order?”

You backtracked, breath still steady. Steve tried to mask his worry by also drinking. “No, I’m trying to help you. What about Ramirez?”

“Curiosity killed the cat.”

It was silent for a long while. Steve knew better than to come between the uncomfortable glares you and your father were sharing. Ernesto’s answer was confirmation enough for your proposed theory.

He ventured a glance at Seda, who was already looking at him. Confusion rattled him to the bone, but before he could dissect any possible assumption as to why, your father snapped his fingers. 

Seda moved too quickly. He always followed Ernesto’s orders like they were holy commandments, but he had seriously wanted this. He was the muscle after all. 

Seda picked you up out of your seat with the force of one hand, fingers gripped under your chin and squishing your cheeks painfully. With his other hand, he pushed your back forward and held you down on the table. The impact of your body had shattered the plate beneath your chest. But that pain was minimal compared to the elbow digging in between your shoulder blades. 

Almost as quickly as Seda had pounced, Steve was standing. The sound of every gun on the patio cocking rang in his ears, but god forbid that be louder than the sudden squeal that had left your mouth from the force of your assault.  

“See? I give the orders,” Ernesto said, still sitting casually in his seat. “Now, test me again.”

      “There are worse ways to go.”

Natasha was always so calm during these types of situations. A blank face that disguised the true fright she really felt, a mask in other words. But Steve knew the only reason she did that was for the benefit of those around her, regular civilian or superhero alike. She would always keep such a calm demeanor, voice steady and eyes boring into one’s soul as if to transfer whatever inner peace she could find. 

When he had found out Bucky was alive, unresponsive and an empty shell of a man HYDRA had made him, he crumbled into the panic attack he had long awaited. Being thrust into the 21st century without a lick of his past was one thing. But to barely start getting used to this new world, only to be handed the most crazy plot twist of his life, well, it was enough to destroy whatever progress he thought he made. 

And while he rocked himself through it, massive shoulders poking his jawline uncomfortably as he curled in on himself, Natasha had simply laid a cup of tea in front of him and retreated to the other corner of the room, no words exchanged. Good, because he didn’t want to talk about it. 

“Is everyone on?”

The planes were being loaded at the fastest rate they could, the only remaining Avengers on land being him, Natasha, and Clint. From what he could see.

“I gotta go get Banner. You head on over to Clint.”

And they functioned like that for the next few minutes, grabbing civilians along the way and praying they themselves would make it to one of those planes. The sudden shower of bullets crushed the hope of that, and Steve stared down at Pietro with an immense guilt about not getting there sooner. 

Losing a teammate, even if that teammate was recruited just a day ago, always hits hard. But they were the Avengers, and if any comic book or superhero movie had been right, then no one ever really died! Yeah, fat chance. 

Steve counted as many heads as he could. He saw Natasha off to the side, and Clint had just stumbled on, and Y/N was-

Wait, where were you?

Steve grabbed his shield and hooked it onto his back, running off the plane and back onto the floating land, ignoring Clint’s yells of ‘get the fuck back here, Rogers!’

“Does anyone have eyes on Y/N?”

The responses were no help; Rhodey had circled the city twice over searching for you, and there was no sign. Maybe you were with Wanda, maybe you were on another plane, maybe you were with Thor and he promised to pick you up and protect you once he catapulted himself - 

‘I’m gonna need you to get your ass back on that plane, Capsicle,’ Tony yelled, interrupting himself as he made painful contact with falling debris. 

Steve was on autopilot, scared out of his damn mind. He never wanted this job, he never wanted to continue working for the government, it was just war after war after war. He just wanted to find Bucky, he just wanted to settle down with a fucking cat or something, he just wanted to live the life he missed out on. But he was also hell bent on saving everyone he could. A sick satisfaction of using the serum’s gifts for what he was built for, a science project and weapon of war. He hated it, he wanted to shrivel back down to his ninety-pound self and pay a goddamn penny for a movie screening again. 

But he had a job to do and he was one of the few people on earth who could actually accomplish it. So, no - Steve will not quit when people need him. He’ll just have to bear it some other way; belt in between his teeth as he clenches down. Because Steve would literally destroy himself for any of his teammates until he was nothing but a pile of discarded remains. 

“What the hell are you still doing on land, Captain?”

He whipped his head to the side and found you, holding a frightened looking dog in your arms, smudges of rubble covering your cheeks and bodysuit. “Oh my god.”

You stomped over to him, the dog clutched to your chest and a tiny limp in your step. “Answer me, Rogers!”

Steve only stared, blinking quickly until an invisible boot kicked him back into gear. His voice was high-pitched as he screamed at you. “You went back for the dog?”

Your face contorted, “Of course I went back for the fucking dog!”

A ridiculous thing, an utter masterpiece of work you were, a vice that gripped him by the throat and would always press down tighter until he was gasping for breath. You went back for the damn dog, and he was about to break down crying not knowing where you were. He just lost one teammate - he couldn’t lose another.

“Well, let’s go!”

Your voice seemed to shock him back into Captain America mode, and as the city leveled and the ground started to break apart, he hoisted you up and onto the plane while making the leap himself. 

     At this point, Steve would blindly agree to anything. If it meant pulling you out of this, he’d do it. He found himself negotiating instantly, like any other hostage situation he had dealt with. “I’m sure our planes can handle a few extra pounds.”

Made sense for Steve to agree - wasn’t like it was going to happen anyway. But the mere thought of having him take the fall for this entire mission going sideways, well, it had ignited the stupid part of your brain. You could have blown this whole mission. You could have blown it all because your father had been doing what he does best: taunting you. And you let it happen. 

“I have already sent word to White that your Captain will be working with him now, too. Anything to topple Ramirez from the top three.”

You lifted your head to glare at your father. “Why didn’t I get a say? I’m as influential as you two!” You grit your teeth. “You did this without consulting us first. So, then what was this?”

Seda applied the full force of his weight, his elbow now pinching into the muscle and causing you to see black spots. You tried to restrain your scream, but it escaped. A few birds left their perch, flying away from the high-pitched noise.

Steve saw red. Bursting flames that climbed and licked up to formless heights and blurred his vision to the point he was pre-serumed, standing small and physically weak again. And pre-serum Steve would happily accept the punches he had coming if he dare intervene. But even if this red was bolstering hot and clawing at his flesh, stepping in now would mean chaos. He couldn’t do anything, he was restricted, strapped down by your own rule, and helplessly watching as your face twisted in pain. 

He felt his heart tearing in two, and yet his face remained calm. Calm and collected. 

“See this as a means to inform you.”

If Seda were to push down again, you figured you’d go out fighting. “A coup? Father, you shouldn’t have.”

“Do we have a deal?” 

If he hooked his arm under the left side of the table and threw it at the correct angle, he would blindside your father and throw Seda off balance, allowing you to take him down. But there were men posted to both his sides and behind him, guns already cocked like they had suspected Captain America to react negatively. 

Scott had to be hearing everything, the poor guy, but you had also instructed him to let you be thrown around like a ragdoll, that you were used to it. Knowing Scott, he would honor your word as scripture for the sake of the mission.

Steve couldn’t stand to look at you in pain anymore. A small part of him wanted to yell, ‘Well stop talking and he’ll get the hell off you!’, like it was ultimately your fault, but he swallowed that shallow thought and bargained instead. “I’ll be needing a copy of your word. For insurance purposes.”

If there was one thing Ernesto respected, it was a man with his own personal agenda. “I knew I liked him, Y/N. A man who knows what he wants and how to make sure it lasts.”

You reached over discreetly, finding Steve’s hand to squeeze tightly. He squeezes back.

The next few minutes were a blur, really. You passed it with pinched eyes and a few uncomfortable moans as Steve and your father wrote up a formal agreement. 

Seda removed himself after Steve signed. You tried not to think too much of it; the contract can be considered void. Torres would look into it. Steve will not become truly involved. 

Your father excused himself and Seda after the pen left paper, leaving the both of you alone.

Steve wanted to hold you, to shield you with his own flesh and bone, to remind you he was on your side. That he would always be on your side. 

The men who escorted you were deep in their own conversations, guns still raised but minds momentarily distracted. So he reached for your hand, an involuntary chuckle escaping him as he saw Scott’s miniature self hiking up the arm he had just grabbed. Your grip was loose, like your mind was elsewhere. 

You all entered the car and buckled up without alerting the men of any wrongdoings. Scott waited until you drove past the cameras and the estate grew smaller in his eyes to return to his normal size. 

They were both worried, eyes meeting in the mirror as if to communicate it. You were so silent, so still, simply looking out the window. Their voices were slightly distorted, far away calls for your attention and you were drowning, suffocating and forgetting that when caught in a riptide, you need to swim sideways and not directly to land-

One quick sob was all it took for Steve to check his mirrors and turn the car into the crowd of pine trees, burying the three of you in their depth and providing temporary solace from the outside world. Your throat burned and itched with the need to cry harder, but you stopped yourself. 

This had happened before. You’ve been subdued and taunted before. Hell, worse has happened to you and you always seemed to hold in the tears until you were in the comfort of your own room or in Natasha’s arms. 

But there was no single room for you to run off to and there was no more Natasha-

It took a moment to register that your seatbelt had been unbuckled, Steve had exited the vehicle, and Scott was already tugging you by the underarms and into the backseat. You were then squished between the two men, with Steve manually tilting your head to rest on the expanse of his chest and Scott with his arms wrapped around your waist to mimic a massive bear hug. 

They let you ride out whatever broken sobs your body produced. There were few tears and your breakdown was amateur at best, but you still broke. There was no point in trying to diminish its importance. You were here, and you had both fresh and dry tear streaks, and it was important to feel. 

At least that’s what Steve had been reciting for the past two minutes as he ran his fingers through your hair. 

You sniffed and wiped your cheeks, rolling your eyes at yourself. “I’m sorry, this is really embarrassing.”

Scott leaned back to stare at you in pure disbelief, “You have every right to scream, to cry, to tear this world apart. You have a right to feel.”

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to believe him. 

If Scott wasn’t here, perhaps Steve would allow himself to cry with you. His masculinity was intact, thank you very much, but Scott didn’t need to console two people at once. So he swallowed his pain, secured it back into the safe within his heart that was specifically constructed for you, and held you tighter. 

Out of nowhere, Scott patted your thigh multiple times like a child begging for attention. “We need comfort food. We’ve all had a rough day and it’s not even two o’clock yet! Nothing some french fries and burgers can’t fix!”

It had slipped your mind how little you had actually gotten to eat. Just a few sips of coffee and some grapes. Wasn’t your fault there were more important things to focus on. 

“Can we get, like, a massive tray of fries?” you smiled. 

Scott’s eyes lit up. 

Lots of things are so simple. Or, in theory. Boiling water is simple. Doing laundry. Pumping gas. 

But then there are those simple things that are just not so accessible to everyone. Like, it was simple for Bruce to learn and teach theoretical physics. It was simple for Peter to catch a bus with his bare hands. It was simple for Thor to call upon thunder and lightning and for Loki to cause some mischief. 

For Steve, eating his body weight in fries was simple. 

For Scott, opening the ketchup packets without his thumbs sliding was simple. 

For you, stealing Steve’s fries was simple. 

Maybe because he didn’t stop you. 

     It’s crazy how just a few hours with some close friends made every problem in the world seem nonexistent. You were replenished, in a sense, ready to put any embarrassment and self-hatred behind you in preparation for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow. Everything up until now was child’s play - now, there were no restraints. You were instructed to strike on the wedding day as that was the day the shipment was moving, but if anything truly dangerous occurred tomorrow, Fury had given the green light to shoot.

It would have been a blessing to just have one more quiet night in, maybe enjoy some more special alone time with Steve. There was a conversation to be had, feelings to be discussed, an argument to start. There needed to be screaming, and crying, and eye rolling - all needed to happen. 

Yes, that would have been great. 

Steve launched the shield across the room the second Scott pushed open the door, the crack of bone and vibranium sounding off. Scott had already unclicked his gun safety, weapon pointed directly at the intruder - who had collapsed to the floor with a bleeding shin clutched in between his hands. You didn’t even realize your gun was also out and cocked. Instinct - skill you had acquired from Natasha and Rhodey. 

Sometimes you wish you could forget how to hold a gun altogether. 

Ramirez was on the floor, having only released a loud howl when the shield connected. He just panted lowly, eyes squeezed shut. He desperately tried to raise his hands. 

“Please… don’t shoot.”

Steve stepped forward, shield braced and covering both you and Scott. You stayed near the door in case Ramirez had any other friends visiting. 

You turned on your mic and hoped it patched through. “Widow.” 

“How did you get past security? How did you know which hotel we were at?”

Ramirez looked over at you, eyes pleading for help from Steve’s questions or from the physical pain. You really couldn’t tell. 

“Answer the questions, Omar.” You used his first name - that told him you were serious. 

“Someone took their smoke break.” He breathed in uneven cycles. “I followed you the first day you arrived.”

Completely baffled, you looked to Scott for some answer he clearly didn’t have. 

“That’s not possible. Our people swept the area, we had eyes on you and-”

Ramirez interrupted shyly, “You had eyes on me. Not my connections.”

“Your men were followed, too.”

Although he was groaning, he still responded as softly as possible. “Connections, mija. They aren’t all a part of the mob.”

Every guest who checked in and out of the hotel were screened for that week. Every employee was vetted. 

“If you’re wondering who it was, I’ll save you the time and say it was simply a passerby who didn’t even enter the hotel. Just followed, then made a U-turn.”

Scott scoffed and lowered his gun, “If it really was that easy…”

Steve kneeled to be eye-level with Ramirez. “Then that means Ernesto already knows about Scott and Torres.”

As quickly as Steve declared this, Ramirez shook his head. “No! I’m not on Ernesto’s side anymore. Haven’t been for a long time!”

“Prove it.”

Ramirez stared at you, eyes pleading for trust. He didn’t look all that intimidating. Short black hair, wrinkles minimal and clothes well-pressed, slim and dark skin clear of any blemishes - he looked like every guy who you would see at the bank. He remained pleading even after Steve patted him down. 

Still kneeling and leg slightly extended to relieve some of the pain, he started to explain himself. “I know when people are acting.”

“What?”

“When you pressed the gun to her chin,” he motioned his hand between you and Steve, “you held her hand.”

Lowering your gun and dropping your shoulders, you released a deep sigh. “You were behind us.”

He agreed, “I was behind you.” He inspected the room with a small smile, glancing at all three of you in amusement. Once his sight rested on Steve, he tipped his chin up and smirked. “I heard you could pick up Thor’s hammer.”

“Oh my god,” you mumbled, annoyed, and turned to check the hallway. Your mic was muffled, but you swore you could make out the voices of Torres and Sam.

“Any man who can do that is good, right?”

Scott nodded, “According to legend-”

Steve blinked at him, “Scott.”

“That little gesture of care, plus the cell phone videos I saw you in from two years ago-” Ramirez started, but was interrupted. 

Steve squinted, “Saw us where?”

“The phone videos on Youtube.”

You stepped back into the room, stuttering over your words. “What phone videos? Be clearer.”

“You defended that child. The - the spider child,” he pointed at Steve, wincing as he shifted his leg. “And you got into that bar fight, busted someone's head into the floor.”

“No, PR made sure they were deleted. Hill said there was no trace of them-”

“My two youngest daughters were fifteen at the time. They knew about the video the minute it aired. They saved it.”

Scott sighed, shaking his head at the memory of having to bail both you and Sam out of jail. It was a nice turn of the tables, though. “...We didn’t factor in the possibility of teenagers screen recording?”

Ramirez chuckled, “Seems not.”

     It was certainly an eventful night for PR. A complete disaster they had to cover up and twist for the media. There were four Avengers mixed up in this chaos, and since the perpetrators didn’t quite succeed in kicking your asses, PR might just finish the job for them. 

On one side of town, Steve was responding to an urgent call from Happy asking if he was in the vicinity. Peter had been visiting a study group in Brooklyn, careful as ever, but still stumbled upon bullies. Steve lived close and instead of ringing the whole team, Happy put his trust in the person Tony would have also called. 

It was a scene he hoped he would never have to witness again. To see such cruelty months after the final battle, a battle everyone knew the kid played a major part in, it tore Steve apart shred by miserable shred.

Peter was crouched against an alley wall, shielding his face with his arms as five boys around his age pounded away. He appeared to be clutching his phone, the line still connected with Happy, and he was begging them to stop. 

Steve had never run so fast. He dodged a few cars and strollers along the way, mind fogged with desperation and anger. He now knew how Bucky felt when he saved Steve from all those alley fights back in the day.

It didn’t even register in his mind that he had pulled at least two of the boys away and threw them into the opposite wall, or that he had clutched one's throat so tight that Peter’s thumbs were now digging under his clenched palm with the plea of ‘Cap, let him go!’.  

He dropped the boy, no more than seventeen, on the ground and stepped away to inspect Peter. A busted lip, what looked to be two purpling eyes, torn clothing, and bruises along his ribcage that showed through the new holes in his shirt. The five boys all stood and cowered backwards. 

They shouted and name-called, spit on the floor and taunted the two superheroes. It wasn’t until Peter leaned into Steve’s chest and pushed him back that Steve realized one of the boys was recording the whole thing. 

Against his better judgement, he let them go. There wasn't anything beneficial to be done besides file a police report - not that it would do much anyway. 

He took Peter back to his apartment and called Happy himself. He stitched the nasty cut on the kid’s forehead. He fed him some soup and crackers. He gave him some spare clothes that had shrunk in the washer. Peter’s smile was so broken as he interrupted the silence while Steve cleaned away the dry blood, a simple explanation of ‘I obviously couldn’t fight back’. 

And fuck, Steve knew the kid was right. 

On the other side of town, the night had started pretty nicely. Two beers in and your conversation with Sam was littered with constant laughter and childhood stories. The bar wasn’t that crowded for a Thursday night, just a few regulars and a small office party.

Your conversation was interrupted by two men who had clearly been holding their tongue. First they harassed you for being Avengers and destroying the city every other week - which granted, was a pretty reasonable argument. You let that one slide. But then they hassled you on who you employed: an ex-con who was clearly only abusing his influence on Hank Pym, a mental woman who took an entire town hostage because she was obviously evil at heart and a witch (‘fuck her children, what about mine?!’), and a teenager who had murdered a true superhero who was only trying to warn and rid the world of him. 

You and Sam remained seated, jaws clenched and hands wrapped tightly around your drinks. If you ignored them long enough, they would go away. The bartender will surely throw them out, they were becoming too rowdy. You were better than them and there was absolutely no need to freak out over words. They were just words. 

“I say we head on over to Queens and pay that sweet Aunt of his a visit!”

Sam let out a quick and prepared sigh, “Shit.”

He threw the first punch, launching himself at the biggest of the two men and hitting the ground. You leaped over the bar counter and tackled the second guy before he could join Sam’s fight. He was clearly caught off guard, arms fumbling wildly as he tried and failed to keep his balance. But your sudden momentum caused his decline, and you were hammering your fist down onto his face like your life depended on it. 

Sam quickly took his gun from his pocket and threw it across the room. He couldn’t risk either of the guys getting a hold of it. He rolled onto all fours before sweeping his leg to trip the guy as he attempted to stand. He shuffled and grabbed one of his arms, legs wrapping themselves over the dude’s shoulders and squeezing his neck. If there was one thing Natasha had taught her friends, it was how to subdue a man with just the thighs. 

The brawl lasted maybe a good two minutes before other customers stepped in and separated you. Out of anger, you kept kicking and struggling. It wasn’t until the doors burst open and police drew their batons that you realized you royally fucked up. Everything was eerily silent and out of pure personality, you scooted away from the remnants of the fight as discreetly (but most obviously) as you could. 

You were booked, charges later dropped. Sam’s mugshot showcased a thin smile, like he knew the record would be expunged within the hour. Yours displayed a cocked eyebrow and slightly pursed lips. 

Yeah, PR didn’t have a nice night.

     “What about the videos, Omar?”

Ramirez gave you a sincere look, “No one on Ernesto’s team risks their reputation like that. You have his rage, but he doesn’t have your morality. Save the next question, I know what you two were fighting about.”

Even if you did get caught and the videos went viral, there was no way the world could know your connections. “The world doesn’t know about my family connections. Fury made sure to never input it into Shield’s database.”

“Imagine how terrified Ernesto was when the Russian spilled all their secrets.”

“Natasha,” Steve asserted. “Her name was Natasha.”

Ramirez bowed his head, “Natasha. I’m sorry.” He turned back to you. “You were barely starting out when that happened, no?” 

You were getting impatient with no backup. “Your point?”

“You’re working against him, aren’t you? You’ve always been working against him.”

You raised your gun again and stalked toward him. “Choose your next words carefully.”

Again, he raised his hands in defense. “I’m not with him. He doesn’t know I’m here, neither does White.” 

There was a long pause as you all pondered over his admission. Even though you vouched for him just yesterday, there was still so much to consider before jumping to his conclusion. “I think they’re plotting to kill me.”

Steve chuckled under his breath, “We know.”

Ramirez reacted like he was just slapped in the face. “You know?”

After a long train of thought, Scott interjected with his own idea. “That plot of land you bought - it’s not for drugs, is it?”

“I mean, half of it is for drugs.”

“Omar,” you demanded.

“Yes, yes. But the other half is entirely unrelated.”

Scott motioned for him to continue, “Enlighten us.”

And the small, proud smile on his face gave you the feeling he really was telling the truth. “It’s a refugee camp.”

Steve stuttered, “Drugs and refugees?”

Ramirez pushed himself toward the nearby chair and hoisted himself up. “I know it sounds crazy. Trust me, I know.” He let out a pained hiss. “But the Mexican government has already approved it. Well, if you can call it a government. They’re one of the few who still haven’t recovered from everyone coming back.”

“So, what? Are you making the refugees work for you?” you questioned. 

Ramirez widened his eyes. “What? No, no! The drugs are for income. For food, shelter, medicine, todo lo demas!”

Steve huffed, “Let me guess. The drugs aren’t real and anyone who finds out the truth will turn a blind eye.”

“Exactly.”

It was obvious why Ramirez wanted someone to know about the possible scheme. But why that someone happened to be you and your team, you honestly didn’t know. By logic, if you had been playing your father all this time, wasn’t it reasonable to assume you had or continue to play Ramirez?

“And you’re telling us for what? To save your ass?”

Ramirez countered with a question of his own, “Why are you here? After what Seda did to you, I can’t believe it.”

“Stop, just stop.” You were about done with all of this.

“You’re here to arrest us, right? I’m assuming I’m included.”

You raised your head, trying desperately to depict true regret in the stare you gave him. “I’m sorry.”

He sadly shook his head, “Don’t apologize. I know why you’re doing it.” He turned to Steve. “I’m just asking for a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“Protect my daughter.”

Your jaw dropped lightly as you heard his selfless favor. “Your daughter?”

“Her name is on the deed. I think Ernesto wants my land.”

“And once you’re taken out, she’s the only thing standing in his way.”

“Either he marries her-” he took a long pause to breath in deep. “Or he kills her.”

“Take her off of it?” you stated with confidence since it was more of a suggestion than a question. 

A deep frown etched into his face. “She’s somewhere in Asia right now. I need her signature. And all the forgers haven’t called me back.” He sighed and reached down to grip his bloody shin again. “She won’t make it back in time for the legal route.”

Steve nodded in understanding. He surprised you by setting the shield down on the couch. “Then we won’t let anything happen.”

“Promise me.”

You started to express remorse about the situation but were immediately cut off. “We aren’t in the business of making pro-”

“We promise.” 

You turned your head sharply, eyes round and mouth dropped. It was all you could muster up to show Steve your shock. He ignored your judgement, even if he did just break one of the top ten rules on the ‘what not to do as a superhero!’ list. 

Finally, uniformed officers scrambled into the room with their weapons drawn. Torres led them, hair all disheveled and cheeks pink.  “I’m so sorry. The connection was hacked and the cameras were delayed-”

You moved to stand near him, “It’s okay. Hey, we’re okay.”

Torres kept eye contact with you for only a second more, not really accepting that his tardiness should be casually swept under the rug like that. He immediately signaled for his officers to arrest Ramirez. “Get on your knees.”

Ramirez raised his hands and tried to stand. “With all due respect, your Captain might’ve broken my leg. I can’t kneel again or else I might cry.”

You tugged at Torres’s jacket and whispered. “Joaquin, just take him in for questioning. But you gotta release him-”

His eyes rounded. “What? We finally got him!”

“You have to release him. He has to be at the wedding.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answered after a long pause and internal struggle. 

Just like that, Torres and his officers hoisted Ramirez up and dragged him from the room. For him to risk coming here, with no backup (according to security cameras and his word) and trusting his gut that you weren’t dirty - he must have been telling some truth. Steve followed Torres out, leaving you and Scott to report back to Sam and Bucky. 

Steve had only made it down the hallway when Ramirez stumbled into the wall. “Stop here, please.”

Steve was immediately defensive. “I’m not going to apologize for protecting my team.”

Ramirez didn’t seem to mind that he would be having trouble walking at the wedding. Granted he didn’t play a major role in the actual wedding, but he still needed to be present during the shipment transport. He inwardly thanked the fact the rehearsal dinner was only for close family. “Captain. Joaquin, is it? I know you heard everything I said. Mexico is your homeland. Your people.”

Torres allowed Ramirez to lean on the wall without his help. “I know my roots.”

“I wasn’t lying about the refugee camp. And I know you’ve done a lot in that area of work.”

“How do you-” Torres stammered, eyes flashing to Steve with worry. 

“Mijo, I have connections all over the world. And because I’m not an evil son of a bitch, I tend to keep them.”

Torres looked from Steve to Ramirez debating on whether to entertain this conversation any longer. But if training taught him anything, it was that if the suspect is talking, keep him talking. He motioned for his officers to leave them. 

“What are you getting at?”

“Ernesto knows about the camp. He knows the size of land. He knows my connections. He will kill me for it.” 

Steve mumbled, “Ernesto doesn’t seem like he’s much into the business of helping the less fortunate.”

Ramirez takes a grand leap here, Steve thinks, because the next words out of his mouth completely blindside him. It seemed like even saying them also left a bad taste in the criminal’s mouth. “You have to swear not to tell Y/N.”

Stepping forward and looking down at the injured man, Steve had to restrain himself from yelling his response. “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let her know right now.”

Torres held the same expression as Steve.

“You expect me to keep a secret from my partner? About her own father?”

“For the sake of your mission - yes, I know you’re planning on intercepting the shipment during the wedding - you cannot tell her until the day of the wedding.”

Steve hates that his reasoning is valid.

“Can’t tell her what?”

“The shipment isn’t a ‘what’. It’s ‘who’.”

“A hostage?” Torres almost yells because this changes the landscape, the game, the whole entire mission. 

“Multiple.”

“No, he’s not - he can’t be,” Torres is stuttering now, phone in his hand and about a dozen numbers he needs to call. 

Still, Ramirez seems like he’s telling the truth. Or at least, that’s what his body language tells Steve. “I would not lie about this.” 

Ramirez takes a deep breath before hanging his head in what looks like shame. “Ernesto is planning to kill me, marry or kill my daughter, and use the land to traffic humans.”

It immediately clicks with Steve. The reason why Ramirez was being edged out, the reason why your father wouldn’t tell you where the shipment was currently located, the reason business was going to boom in Europe. 

Ramirez continued, “Drugs are big business, Captain. But the sale of human lives…”

“The shipment - where is it?” Steve asked. 

“He wouldn’t tell me or White. That’s why we have to wait until the wedding. We can’t risk-”

Torres ended a phone call Steve hadn’t even known the kid had been on. He hooked Ramirez’s arm around his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”

Ramirez accepted the help, limping a few steps down the hallway before turning back to Steve. “Trust me when I say I know your partner, Captain. She can’t know right now. She’d kill him.”

But wasn’t that what you all wanted?

Flustered and quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened this morning and afternoon, Steve took a few minutes in the quiet hallway. 

There wasn’t much for him to do. Except set up security - because if there was one thing Steve was definitely going to do, it was see this whole mission through. 

The rest of the team back home would be briefed in the next few hours. And since Torres would be giving the briefing, everyone would know that this was a major secret kept from you. It would eat away at everyone, especially Steve. 

Digging into his pockets for his burner phone, he dialed the one number he thought you would be satisfied by.

“Maribel, hey. It’s Steve Rogers. I need a favor.”

     It wasn’t hard for Steve to conceal secrets. He was trained in code, intercepted Nazi messages during the war, and negotiated the safe return of hostages more times than he could count. 

Not telling you this would perhaps bite him in the ass in the long run, and there would most certainly be a dreaded argument in his future. But when he truly thought about it and what it could possibly mean if you seriously went out of your way to end this mission quicker than it was planned - the best possible choice was to keep this secret. 

Either he could tell you right now and have you do with it what you will, or he could tell you on the day of the wedding when all bets are off and the mission could be a success. 

That’s all the both of you have ever wanted, this he knows for sure. Getting rid of these people, getting rid of your father with help from the Avengers and their close connections, was worth more than a petty argument with the top crime boss who would never change his ways. It was best to stick it out, and tell you when the time was right. 

Because he will tell you. He promises himself that. 

After discussing the day and the rest of the plan over video chat, it was concluded that Sam and Bucky would be flying out a day earlier than planned. Having Ramirez simply waltz into the hotel when someone was having their regular smoke break was much too insane to ignore, and the more backup you guys had tomorrow and the next, the better. 

Scott took his leave after triple-checking if you were alright. He even offered to have a couple drinks with you down at the bar. You declined, excuse being that you would drink tomorrow at the dinner. 

Shrugging off your jacket and shirt was more painful than you hoped. It felt like someone had punched you with all their strength smack-dab in the middle of your fucking spine. Which, come to think of it, kind of happened? The pressure Seda applied was meant to subdue in the most awkward and painful of ways. He was trained to do so. Still, removing your bra should have been a simple task and instead it hurt like a bitch. 

The warm water from the shower relaxed the strained muscles as best as it could, and you only suffered minimally while applying your shampoo and conditioner. It was the hair drying and brushing of the hair that would prove difficult. 

Giving up halfway, you opened the bathroom door and peeked through, hoping Steve decided to stay in for the night. He was simply lounging on his bed, back pressed against the headboard as he watched Finding Nemo on Disney Junior. He was already dressed for bed.

“Steve?”

He glanced at you, worry etched on his face as he took in your embarrassed expression. “What is it?”

You opened the door fully, pajamas already on and a wet towel in your hand. You blushed madly. “Could you help me dry my hair? It hurts when I raise my arms.”

Steve was out of bed the second he heard the word ‘help’. “How bad is it? We can always fly in Dr. Cho to get you checked out-”

You giggled, passing him the hotel hair dryer. “I’ll just pop some advil every few hours and annoy you for a massage before tomorrow’s dinner. That sound good?”

He didn’t want to agree. If you were actually in severe pain, it wasn’t helpful to you or the mission. He cursed himself for not relieving you of Seda’s elbow sooner. 

“If you say so.”

You turned back to the mirror and gripped the counter, fingers tapping away as Steve grabbed the essentials. He used one of the hand towels to squeeze the excess water from your tips and separated your hair into sections. He blow dried your hair for a couple of minutes before deciding to alternate with the brush. 

The brush was shaped like a cylinder, the bristles much softer than that of other brushes he’d seen. 

“Just use it like any other brush. But once you get close to the tips, start twisting it. It’ll make my hair wavy.”

Steve nodded, doing exactly as you instructed. It was fifteen minutes of pure laughs and jokes as Steve styled your hair like some seventies movie star. He had always enjoyed the culture from that time and even if the show wasn’t actually set in the seventies, it was one of his guilty pleasures to watch That 70’s Show with Wanda. 

     Once finished, the two of you brushed your teeth and finished the rest of the movie in comfortable silence. He didn’t want to become distracted by something new so he shut off the television and turned to you, all snuggled up and scrolling through your phone. 

It was now or never. 

His voice was tinier than he hoped it would be, “Do you regret what we did?”

You were lying on your side facing Steve, phone plugged into the charger. You looked up, voice as equally tiny. “Oh, we’re talking about it now?”

Steve smiled, “You haven’t exactly brought it up either.”

“Well,” your chuckle came out as a huff. You put your phone back onto the bedside table.  “No, I don’t regret it.”

“You don’t?”

“Did you want me to?” you sounded surprised, but Steve knew you well enough to know you were only teasing. 

“No, I just-”

“Do you?”

“You gotta stop interrupting me,” Steve sighed. You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t regret it.”

You bit your lip and sat up straighter so your back was also leaning against the headboard. “So we both don’t regret it.”

“God, you annoy the hell out of me, you know that?” Steve admitted, kicking off his sheets and presenting what looked to be both a sad and honest grin. 

You laughed, kicking the sheets off as well and dangling your legs over the side. “Do I! You only remind me every damn day!”

Steve softened his voice once more, grin still present. “And yet, you never take a hint.”

You craved this playfulness and if you could continue like this for the rest of the night, for the rest of your lives, you would. But you remembered that there was a real conversation to be had. About the last seven years, the last two years, the last couple of days. Whether that conversation remained civil or evolved into an argument, it had to happen. 

“I guess we both act like everything is past us when it clearly isn’t. What should we do?”

Steve hesitated, “Do you want to fight?”

You shrugged, “I think we need to. I don’t plan on not speaking to you for months after if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

He huffed an involuntary laugh, body leaning forward slightly, “I hope not.”

You shared small smiles from your sides of the room, the air growing thicker but not uncomfortable enough to leave the room altogether. 

Steve decided to speak first. “I was stupid. And I made the wrong fucking choice. I was the biggest goddamn idiot on the planet to do that to a friend.” 

You chewed on your bottom lip, “Yeah. All of that’s true. But you still haven’t told me why you did it. You just gave me a half-assed apology because Sam forced you to, and you wonder why we never had our nightly girl talks again.”

“When I apologized, I hardly meant it.”

You nodded sarcastically, “Good start, Steve.”

“No, I-” he laughed, getting up to sit beside you. “I realized that I was truly, actually sorry… when you gave me your blood.”

You cringed, looking away from him and at the random monitors. “It sounds horribly cryptic when you say it like that.”

He smiled big, “It wasn’t even a mission. And if I recall correctly, you told me you would only help me again if we were on a mission.”

“Oh.”

He scooted closer to take your hand in his. “No, not ‘oh’. I was in and out of it but I can clearly make out when I’m getting a blood transfusion.”

“You weren’t gonna die-” you rolled your eyes, absentmindedly drawing circles on Steve’s knuckles. 

“Recovery would have been a hell of a lot harder.”

“I wasn’t the only volunteer-”

“You were the first.”

“So you’re interrupting me, now?”

Steve's smile never faltered. He leaned in and squinted playfully. “How does it feel?”

Pursing your lips, you surrendered. “Go on.”

“You won’t believe me when I say that I truly don’t know why I quit on you. I was just tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“God, no,” he responded quickly. “Tired of myself.”

“Steve…”

He stood up again. Running a hand through his hair, he took tiny steps back and forth. “We brought everyone back and they didn’t know they had been gone for years. I had to tell -” 

He swallowed hard, holding back tears. “I had to tell everyone Nat sacrificed her own soul for theirs.”

“Steve, we could have done it together. I was by your side,” you stood up as well, reaching out to grip his forearm. 

“And then Nick told me about your father. And how he was just picking up where he left off. Like Nat’s sacrifice meant nothing. Like it still means nothing.”

You sighed, a disappointed pout on your face. “So you took it out on me?”

His shoulders fell in defeat as he gently slapped his arms down over his hips. “I have no other excuse.” 

He didn’t try to sugarcoat it. It was the truth. No matter who asked the question, no matter how much he thought about it, the answer truly was that Steve had no excuse. You were the one thing connected to the evil of the past that he so desperately wanted to leave behind. “And then the world was just… we didn’t fix it.”

“How can you say that?”

He explained further, “People moved on. Five years was a long time and we just mucked it all up again.”

“Do you feel like Nat’s sacrifice wasn’t worth it?”

“She died for us. And the world was so chaotic the first few weeks. There were no breaks, there was nothing we could do but… watch.”

You could see where he was coming from. “Pepper has donated so much money. Created foundations. Bruce is locked in his lab all day trying to help slow down the sudden CO2 emissions. Bucky joined the Avengers for a fresh start. And Wanda-”

Steve pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. “Oh, god, Wanda.”

“Steve,” you stepped in front of him and tried pulling his hands away. He let you guide his arms back to his sides. “You can’t just blame yourself for something we all did.”

A tiny puff of air left his lips before he forced a smile. “Can’t I?”

“You tell this to your therapist, right?” you teased, happy to see him break slightly as he rolled his eyes. “You blame yourself, but I’m saying you don’t have to.”

He traced his index finger down from your shoulder to your wrist. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

And you believed him. The world could explode and erase you from existence and you would still believe him. 

“I feel like saying ‘sorry’ doesn’t cut it.”

“I’ll work with whatever you can give me.”

And God, Steve thinks about how beautiful you look in the muted light of his bedside lamp, hair still a little frizzy from the hair dryer and the most radiant smile. So… soft. Again, the only sound besides your easy breathing and slight whistle was that lamp, the most annoying, fuzzy sound. Everything just felt so hazy, so tranquil, so… and yes, he’ll use the word again: soft. He could stay in that moment forever, where you were his and he was yours. 

“What are you thinking about?” 

Steve shakes his head, wonder drowning out all other senses as he focuses on you. He steps closer, enveloping you in a tight hug, mindful of your bruised back. Before he could overthink this moment, to ruin it with the side of himself he was trying to lose, he leaned in to capture your lips in a most chaste kiss. 

It had been a long time since Steve had kissed anyone. The kiss you shared yesterday was the catalyst, but this was a promise. His last kiss was before the snap while he was on the run and trying to avoid responsibility. But it wasn’t like someone before wanted to bask in the warmth of Steve Rogers - no - there was actual emotion to this kiss. 

An ache swelled in the middle of your chest, hammering surely and true. Your mouth falls open the same time Steve inches his hand up your neck, allowing for the kiss to deepen and last. 

His heart was breaking and repairing itself all at once. Breaking for the time he had lost, repairing for the time he had gained. He needed you, wanted you, lost himself in your touch. That same ache in your chest grew in his, pulsating and heavy. His fingers crept into your hair, curling themselves in the loose strands.

He swears you were born for this - to be willing and wanting and breathtakingly good at kissing. He’s so desperate to feel more of you, to taste more than he thinks he deserves, and he almost whines when your fingers also start to tangle in the hair near his neck. 

“Steve, are you sure we should be doing this?” Your voice prompted him to kiss deeper, apply more pressure in the fear that you would change your mind - change your mind about him. 

Almost immediately, red flags propped up and he had to force himself away. He didn’t know your dating history, he didn’t know if you ever emotionally recovered from your assault, he didn’t know. He cursed inwardly for last night, keeping a respectable distance as he checked. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want to do. I promise you that.”

His voice was thick like honey, smooth and true in the honest words he was saying. 

You had been hesitant for a long while after what had happened to you. You couldn’t stand the simple touch of anyone besides Natasha. But she helped you through it, she shared her own experiences from the early Red Room days, and she had never officially recognized your recovery - she didn’t have to as long as you knew in your mind and body that you had. 

‘The dreadful experience will be a part of you, but it will not ever control you.’ Her words were like prayer. 

But Steve’s touch was natural and wanted. You never shied away from him, not ten years ago and certainly not now. He would never hurt you, you knew this, and he was double-checking to confirm it. 

“I only want you.”

His face resembled a literal question mark, like he didn’t quite accept your admission. Like it was hard to believe you wanted to be with him after everything he put you through. “Do you want me?”  

“Yes. Honest to God, I’m just going with what feels right.”

“That’s just a nicer way of saying you’re thinking with your dick.”

Steve couldn’t contain the burst of laughter that left his lips and hit yours. He pulled back and smiled, eyes crinkling at the sides. “I promise you it’s not that.”

You cupped his face and drew tiny circles on his flushed cheeks. “Hm, so you don’t know what you’re doin’? Thought you always had a plan.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “And apparently I’m always brave.”

“And righteous.”

“Downright patriotic.”

You grinned up at him, your toes sore from how long you had been bending them to hoist you up. “So, your plan?”

Steve kissed you once, twice, three times. “I don’t have one.”

“Pretty brave of you to admit that.”

Steve’s smile dropped slightly to showcase a more serious emotion. Still, his eyes held the most genuine quality. “I just want to be yours.”

You pressed up against him, tiptoes straining and fists clutching his shirt. The kiss was desperate now, as were the both of you. You gasped in between each long peck. “All this time? Why didn’t we say something?”

Embracing you once more, Steve led the two of you to the foot of his bed and fell forward. He landed on top of you, weight nowhere near actually crushing you. His legs were slightly parted, his knees touching the lateral sides of yours. Accepting that the both of you had played a role and delayed this portion of your relationship - Steve was a coward, he knew this, but hearing you say that you also realized your mistakes made him feel weirdly glad. Like he wasn’t alone in this.

“Tell me if you need to stop,” Steve breathed in your neck, kissing the depths of your collarbones and the points of your shoulders. 

“Never,” you whispered, gasping a moment later as he sucked particularly hard. You reached below and tugged the end of his shirt upward. He took it off quickly and before resuming his conquest on your neck, he tugged yours off as well. 

It functioned like this for another ten minutes, strong kisses and gasps and whines, before you were both down to your underwear and simply petting each other higher up on the bed. 

Steve pulled away abruptly, a blush spreading along his neck and down his chest as he thought about the best way to phrase his next sentence. “I didn’t really pack any condoms.”

You actually snorted, pushing away loose strands of your hair as you looked up from beneath him. “Woah, how far did you think you were going to get here, Rogers?”

He was used to the sarcasm, but oh my god did it do something feral to him while in bed with you.  He suddenly flipped you over, holding your hips above his as you settled yourself. It was like a case of whiplash, and before you knew it, you were placed on top of him to grind down and do all the work yourself. 

“Seriously?” His voice was light but raspy, both a sweet question and a warning. 

You grind your hips down on him, feeling the way his hard cock rubbed against your clothed core. Last night was different - you could feel the heat of him, the initial size not lost on you whatsoever. But here you were actually seeing the thick outline in all its glory, a small wet patch forming on his briefs near his twitching tip. “Years of sleeping in my bed only to want to fuck me now?”

He rolled his hips up, his palms beginning a slow and steady pace smoothing alongside your stomach. You relaxed right away, even though it felt like your insides were going to turn upside down, and you rested your hands over his to help guide him. 

“You gonna let me?”

 And fuck, if that wasn’t the hottest fucking thing in the whole world. His palms continued their tracks, reaching up to cup your breasts through your sports bra.  You got the message, giggling as you lifted your arms up. He lifted it up and over your head, throwing it to the other side of the room. Steve immediately attacked, lifting himself and readjusting your hips as well. He sucked your left nipple like a goddamn professional, swirling his tongue around the tight nub and using his teeth only briefly, delighted in the sharp hitch in your breath as he did so. He moved on to the other one, repeating the same process and grinding your hips down on him to match. He trailed quick pecks along your chest and up your neck, his hand finding its way back to your hair. Just below your occipital, so very sensitive, and he tugged your head back at an awkward angle. He kissed his way up, stretching your neck out, and you adjusted to the burn as quickly as the pleasure from it came. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, mind scrambled but still coherent enough to remember you were on birth control and clean. “I have the shot.”

This had Steve reeling, balance now off as he flipped you once more, hips coming down to meet yours as you thrust upward looking for some relief. The thought of spilling into you with no barrier had to be one of the kinks he didn’t know he had. 

“Safe word?”

You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully, “Really, Steve?”

“Safe. Word.”

It wasn’t like you were about to tie each other down for your first time together, but you knew what was flying through his mind. He needed to know you felt safe during whatever the two of you did tonight, make sure you felt calm and at ease and relaxed. Steve would rather die than hurt you physically. 

“Widow.” You paused, smirking up at him as he accepted your decree. “Great, now I’m thinking about Natasha and that time she entered the compound in just that little, red bikini-”

Steve thumbed your bottom lip, then carefully shoved it into your mouth and placed it over your lax tongue to get you to stop talking. Your jaw instantly relaxed and you waited a few moments before locking eyes and enclosing his thumb in your lips. You sucked and swirled your tongue around it, pushing slightly so it rested on your puckered lips. Steve rolled his hips down again, his heat meeting yours in a mash of uncoordinated thrusts. You spread your legs to allow him more room. He had to remove his thumb in fear he would come right then and there.

He inched down lower, hands reaching down to cup your ass and lift you up slightly. He kissed all along your thighs, up to your hip bones, expertly avoiding the one area he knew you wanted him. His beard scratched and poked on your delicate skin, tickling you as he moved closer to your center. This would most certainly hurt in the morning, but nothing a little lotion and vaseline couldn’t fix. You mewled embarrassingly loud, a long drawn out sound that caused Steve to involuntarily rut against the mattress. It had been so long since he had been with someone. But this someone was you. He honestly didn’t know if he could hold out for as long as he wanted. He slowly peeled off your underwear. 

“Where do you want me?”

You lifted your head from the pillow to look down at him, eyebrows furrowed and cheeks incredibly red. “Games, Rogers?”

Steve growled and hoisted your open legs on his shoulders, pulling you closer so that you could feel his stuttering breath. “I’m the one playing?”

His question didn’t quite land considering his sudden manhandling had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and momentarily blinding you. After such a harsh day, the roughness of this particular situation shouldn’t have been so well received by your body. But it was consensual, it was with someone you trusted, and you were also in control. Just knowing that made you crave it. 

“If you don’t get your mouth on me-” you started, trying desperately to move your hips closer to his mouth. And god, did he want to dip lower and suck your glistening heat under his waiting mouth. You were positively dripping, all shiny and welcoming. He hadn’t ordered dessert with dinner, and hey, this would do nicely. 

But your quick quips ignited the Steve that would pick you last during training line-ups. He would leave you for the end, without a team, foot tapping rapidly on the floor as you glared at him with an amused smile. Then he would act like you were the last choice he just had to pick, which you were, and you’d lose the first match on purpose to ruin his scoreboard. It always worked like this, he knew, but did he ever pick you first the next time? No, your bothered attitude excited him too much.

Now, with an impatient attitude bolstering underneath his body, he found himself raising his hand a few inches up in the air. “Stop sassin’!”

The slap echoed after it connected against your bottom, the angle at which it impacted clumsy and inelegant. He smacked the side, surprised by the sharp scream you exhaled. As quickly as he acted, he pulled back. “Oh my god, I should have asked first. I’m so sorry.”

You opened your eyes, the soft light illuminating the room still too bright. You shook away the white spots from your vision. You seriously didn’t know if that was an orgasm or simply a tidal wave of intense pleasure. Still, you were sort of out of it as Steve’s voice tried to draw you back in. 

You looked down at him, “Do that again.”

Steve blinked quickly, unknowing if he truly registered your words correctly. “Are you sure?”

“I didn’t think I’d enjoy that. But oh my god, do that again.”

Steve hesitated and to ease into it better, he decided to not keep you waiting any longer and attached his eager lips to your gleaming ones down below. You fluttered your eyes shut, surprised by how quickly he found your sweetest spot, and you rutted against him harder as the minutes flew by. He swirled his tongue in tight O’s and figure eights, teeth barely scratching but when they did, sent you flying upwards. But he just gripped onto your thighs and readjusted you on his shoulders, fingers digging in almost painfully. His beard burned the inside of your thighs, rubbing deliciously and uncomfortably. He shifted his soft and wriggling tongue to that special spot on the inside of your left lip, his fierce grip not allowing you to shift away as he ate. The hands that were clutching the bedsheets now flew onto his scalp, gripping his hair tightly and you pushed him in deeper. Steve groaned from the pleasant sting, cock straining in his briefs as he rutted into the air. 

The pressure was too much and you wanted him off of you and on you at the same time. Moaning so loud it was deafening, you didn’t notice he lost his grip on one of your legs to connect his palm back to the side of your ass. 

“God!” you yelled blissfully, one hand leaving his head to slam back into the headboard. He repeated the action, his own moans vibrating on you and sending you to a different plane of existence. Each slap grew in strength and he alternated sides, his mouth never leaving your sweet center.

He was sweating now, dying to touch himself and get you off at the same time. He circled his hips mid-air, the friction against his briefs not enough and all too much. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you like that,” he whined. 

You chuckled through desperate moans, “Are you judging me right now?”

“I’m judging how fucking wrecked it makes me,” he admitted, mouth now working overtime and ready to lead you off the edge. He worked faster, tongue now assaulting your clit eagerly. Steve can feel both his pulse and your pulse gaining momentum, thrumming away inside his skull and vibrating deliciously as he brought you closer. He suspects you’ve got a few good seconds before you’re coming on his mouth. 

“Steve… Steve!” you begged, hips bucking awkwardly against him. He wrapped both arms around your thighs again and headed for the finish line, humming against you and basking in the glory of your end. You broke around him, the scream you let out causing the heat in his stomach to tighten and spread to his own thighs. You wiggled fiercely, attempting to get away from him as he continued to lick you. He made sure to leave some of your release behind, even if his lips and chin told another story. 

He set your legs back down on the bed with him still in the middle. He could still see how shiny you were in between. Selfishly, Steve maneuvered to get himself out of his briefs and settle back in the middle. There, he took pleasure in simply viewing himself, strained and practically purple with desire, at level with your wet mound. 

“You’ve been practicing, huh?” He snapped from his dirty thoughts and looked back at your blissed out face. You also had a soft luster on your skin.

Steve chuckled, hands gripping the sides of your hips to massage them. “Not recently. But the USO girls were just as tuned up as I was at the time.”

You grinned wide, “Now that’s something I didn’t know about you. You fuck ‘em?”

Steve reached down to grip the base of his cock, the pressure building and he seriously didn’t want to blow his load before you both took the next step. He willed himself to calm down before he responded. “Yeah, but please don’t go tellin’ everyone.”

“Who knew you were such a slut?” you teased, voice dripping with such intensity that Steve shut his eyes to drown in it. You wrapped your leg around his waist and tipped him over, coming back to rest your hips atop his. Hands sprawled along the expanse of his chest and unclothed heat now rubbing along his bare cock. Steve tipped his head back, a deep groan rising from the middle of his chest as your drenched lips parted to swallow the thickness of his cock. You rocked back and forth, your sensitive clit nudging his tip every so often. You had already come once, and you reveled in the simple fact that this must be torture for Steve. “Tell me, Steve. How do you want me?”

Steve short-circuited. 

“Doll, I want you in every imaginable way,” he whined, bucking his hips. He grinned when his short movement caused you to whimper. “I want you on top of me, doing nothing, as I fuck up into you.”

You let out a ragged gasp, hips moving faster. You were practically dripping along his cock. Steve continued, “I want you underneath me as I fold you in half and your ankles are dangling in the air. I want you on your stomach as I use your hips how I want.”

Your eyes were wide, the blush on your cheeks extending all the way down to your naked chest. This was so surreal. Just last week you switched his special sugar for salt and watched him literally sob and almost throw up as he sipped his morning tea. 

“But I also want you to hold me down and fuck me however you see fit. I want you to steal my control, I don’t want it. I just need you.”

His voice was wrecked, choked whimpers caught in between his syllables and eyelids fluttering slowly. You shot down to kiss him hard, hands tangling in his hair and hips grinding long and slow. You were rewarded with a sticky bead of pre-come from his sensitive slit. You were already milking him and he hadn’t even entered you yet. 

“Y/N, are you sure?”

You detached your lips, forehead now resting on his and your breaths intermingled. “I’m sure.”

He didn’t know what willed him to flip you over so fast, whether it was the serum or his desperate need to sink into your tight warmth, but he succeeded. His gaze was intense, like he was trying to find any hesitation he so didn’t want to find. But there was none. Your eyes were bright and happy, and he had only seen this look a few times. He felt incredibly lucky to experience it now. 

“I’m sorry I lost you,” he spoke without thinking. Because he truly was sorry, he was so fucking sorry. But to have you here, so vulnerable and allowing him to see you so defenseless, he felt like he didn’t deserve it without telling you once again that he was sorry. 

You gave him a toothy smile, cheeks rising and causing the skin by your eyes to crinkle. You guided his head down to plant his lips on yours again. It was innocent enough for the circumstances, just a gentle press with slow movements. 

You pushed him back to meet his eyes. “I probably should have held on tighter.”

He knows the color of your eyes, but never in this lighting. He knows the sweat of your body, but not when it mixes with his. He knows your talkative mouth, but never pink and swollen in a pleasant pout. He knows your voice, but never when it calls out his name while you writhe underneath him. He knows you now, all of you, open and vulnerable for him.

Steve presses one more deep kiss on your lips before positioning himself better in between your legs. He lifts you up slightly, bending your knees and spreading your legs so your feet are planted on the mattress. Then he slowly guides himself into your tight heat. 

It’s incredibly overwhelming for both parties. He hadn’t exactly prepared you with his fingers and his size is a little much. He was thicker than anything you were used to, and the sting left you wanting him to move already and pause to settle for maybe an hour. It’s like he read your mind because he moved even slower as he pushed deeper, head dropping to the curve of your neck, gasping against your skin. You tried to encourage him, rolling your hips and hooking one leg around him. The sting still overpowered any sense of pleasure, so you rolled your hips against his to try and better adjust for yourself. 

He grasped onto the side of your hip tightly, “Doll, if you don’t stop doing that I’m not gonna last.” 

You blushed, slightly embarrassed, “I was just trying to get comfortable quicker.”

Steve groaned and planted a few sweet kisses to your heated neck. “Do you want to stop? I can work you out one more time before we do this?”

You turned your head slightly to kiss across his cheek. “I want you now. I just need to adjust first.”

Steve nodded quickly, pressing in more and pausing to let you roll your hips. He bit his lip harshly, a cracked gasp escaping every so often as you worked yourself on him. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he closed his eyes and just held you. 

He tried not to think of anything else other than you. How you felt, how you smelled, how you sounded. Who you were, who you became, who you will be. He was swallowed in you and he didn’t ever want to leave that abyss. 

A rush of heat settled inside your stomach, maddening and burning with such intensity it was practically speaking to you. “Steve, you can move. I’m ready, please move.”

He’s as deep as he can go and you’re both breathing hard and he loves you, he loves you, he loves you. As far as declarations of love go, this was perhaps the most graceless, but he knew it was sincere and real. Steve felt a moment of unrelenting panic, like he had just accidentally verbally admitted it. But he hadn’t, and selfishly enough, he would keep it to himself for as long as he could until he himself could come to terms with it. 

There are definitely going to be marks on your skin once you’re done here, but you couldn’t care less - not when Steve just let go of his worries and started to thrust in and out of you, deep and slow. He meets you with a long kiss, hips picking up their pace as you match his rhythm. His hands grip your hips tighter, every thrust working deep into you and prying desperate moans for him to savor. 

The drag as he pulls out leaves you lightheaded. And as he pushes back in, it leaves you with a burst of satisfaction at the base of your spine. You can’t even form words as you’re reduced to a stuttering series of ‘uh-uh-uhs’, fully in the moment and fucked stupid. All you could do is push your hips forward and up to meet him halfway, match your moans to his, clench around him to draw out that choked sob from his throat that he tries and fails to contain. You tried your best to ignore the slight pain in the middle of your back, and the sting and stretch down below made sure of it. 

He was stammering around every syllable of your name. Breathy moans followed. 

“Steve, faster, please baby.” Steve stuttered in his movements, eyes squeezed shut as he registered your request. He followed through, however, lifting your hip in one hand and turning you at an angle that made him hit deeper and in a special spot you didn’t know you had. No one had reached it, not even when you played with yourself, and your squeal of delight alerted Steve of his accomplishment. Each pleasurable noise encouraged Steve to maintain whatever rhythm he had going. So he hit it over and over again, working at it hungrily, ignoring his shaking arms and praying the serum could be useful for more than just bullets and super speed. 

“You feel so fucking perfect. So fucking great,” he panted, watching your face as it contorted into a silent scream. You were coming again, hands braced on his biceps as your voice failed to warn him. You clenched and unclenched around him, head thrown far back into the pillow as your chest ripped with the sound it was harbouring. 

You had never come from penetration alone and you bet the fact it was Steve bringing you to climax was definitely a main factor, but it was so damn intense that your legs gave out and simply flopped onto the mattress. Steve stopped hammering into you for a minute, breathing heavily as he allowed you a cooldown. 

“I didn’t feel that coming, I’m sorry,” you laughed, arm coming up to cover your eyes. 

Steve chuckled and removed your arm, “You good?”

You were still seeing white spots and your head was slightly cloudy, but the knowledge that Steve hadn’t yet come fueled you. And the possibility of him coming inside you kickstarted another wave of desire in each of your vertebrae. 

“Yeah, I just have one favor,” you stated honestly, wiggling uncomfortably. “Could you flip me over? In this position, you’re really pushing down on my bruise.”

He moaned shamefully from the greedy thought of having you on your stomach. The angel on one shoulder chastised him, telling him to flip you over for the sake of your comfort. But that little devil, greedy and seeking his finish, told him to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress. He compromised. 

He flipped you over and helped you place a pillow just below your hips. He watched as you threw your hair to one side and bent your arms at the elbows. Hands now placed below your head and hips wiggling in front of him, Steve parted your legs and sunk into you again. 

“Yes, fuck, yes…” you mewled, hips raising ever so slightly to drag him in deeper. Steve watched the area where you were connected, wonder clouding his mind as he dipped deeper, deeper, until his hips connected with your bottom. He wasn’t used to this position and he never really thought that he would enjoy it so much. It was like he reached new depths, your pleasure could only come from the way he rolled his hips - yeah, he needed to put you in every position his mind could fathom. 

His jaw went slack as he pulled out and pushed back in, hair sticking to his own forehead and mouth feeling dry and watery at the same time. 

He fucked you in earnest, hoping he could draw out one more orgasm from you. You were putty beneath him, hair now mangled and sticking with the sweat on your neck and back. You were a repetition of ‘yes, yes, yes’ and ‘fuck please, fuck, please!’, sloppy in all senses. He didn’t slow down because one: he was chasing his finish, and two: you didn’t tell him to. 

You were a whimpering mess, a tiny pool of drool forming beneath your mouth and on the sheets. It wasn’t like you didn’t try to swallow it - you physically couldn’t. 

Steve was growing erratic now as his end neared. He fell over you, none of his weight actually on you as he wrapped one arm under your stomach and the other hand sneaking its way to your clit. His cheek was planted on your back and in that moment, he remembered your growing bruise. So he lifted his face back up and planted several wet kisses over, inbetween, and alongside your shoulder blades. The soft gesture had you tearing up from both adoration and heat. You fisted the sheets underneath you and met Steve’s ruts as best as you could. 

He rubbed quick circles over your clit, relishing in the feeling of your velvet walls pulsating around him. “Come for me, doll.”

You didn’t know if he could hear himself begging, but he repeated that sentence several more times before you spoke. It was like you chose for him. “Come inside me, Steve. Please, please, please!”

That strung-out whine of yours did it. Steve pressed his mouth against your skin with a breathless groan as he spilled into you in long spurts. Simply feeling him coat your walls with what sounded like a painful cry had you coming for the third time tonight. You didn’t have enough energy to vocalize it so just pushed your head into the pillow and prayed you could still walk tomorrow. 

Steve’s heartbeat is in his ears as he comes down from his high. He enjoys it for a few more seconds before finally snapping back to reality, lifting himself from you and slowly pulling out. He groaned deeply as he watched his spent drip from you and onto the pillow hoisting you up. He wrapped a hand around himself to milk whatever else he had as he watched. 

You two lay beside each other for several minutes, chests heaving and blood settling to its normal speed again. 

You glanced to your left and giggled as you witnessed Steve’s blissed out state, tip of his nose still pink, eyelashes creating such a lovely shadow on his cheeks, cock giving a few spent stutters as the rush of blood found another body part to supply. 

He turned to you as well, a lazy smile greeting you. “We’re good at that.”

This time you laughed loudly, throwing yourself over his chest and hugging him close. He laughed with you and kissed the top of your head as he enjoyed the feeling.

After another couple minutes, you both decided it was time to clean up. He resisted the urge to laugh when you stood up, legs wobbly and chest still trying to catch full breaths. You looked drunk, eyes glossy and hair disorderly. The look suited you, really. 

You thought the same about him. 

Steve swore he was about to crumble when you both returned from the bathroom and you headed for your own bed. It was a betrayal for only a millisecond before you commented on how you were not sleeping in soiled sheets and that he could ‘obviously’ join you in your bed tonight. You kept talking, telling him how you weren’t necessarily a cuddler but you would sacrifice one night for him. But ‘do not be alarmed when you find me on the other side of the bed in the morning!’, and the good ache in his chest swelled once again. 

     Once, in 1935, when Steve was seventeen and too weak to breathe in a lick of clean air, the pneumonia eating away at his lungs and taunting his mother, who was rotating between cold and hot rags; that 1935 sickness was one of the few times he was hopeless. Sure, he pulled through because he’s Steve Rogers. But not being able to breathe really scares a person, and so he didn’t feel hopeless - he was hopeless. His own body betrayed him and made his mother, who nursed him while Bucky worked extra shifts at the dock to help her with groceries, cry like a blubbering newborn - well, Steve was forced to put his faith in God. It’s what his mother would have wanted him to do.

And when he couldn’t reach far enough to grasp Bucky’s trembling hand, when he watched him fall into that icy ravine to his supposed death in 1944, he was hopeless. Completely obliterated from the bottom of his heart, up. 

In 2018, when he lost the ultimate battle and saw half the world disintegrate, and the itchiness spread itself far and wide to all the crevices in his crumbling soul, pouring into crack after crack after crack - there was no need to even label himself hopeless anymore. He hadn’t had hope in anything after he caused the destruction of one of his only true 21st century friendships; not since he dropped that shield at the feet of one friend while he walked away with another. There was no hopelessness - simply less. 

But now, with you in his arms and treading lightly along his second chance, his heart was bursting with the possibility of relearning the definition of hope, craving to feel human again - to feel like Steve Rogers again. Sure, he may still believe his glass is half empty instead of half full, and he was pushing the ideals of that shield far too much down the line, but Steve swore the awe in your eyes was the hope he had lost. 

He couldn’t believe you were the host of it all along. 

So he settled in his new home, in his new hope, praying God would let him have it, and closed his eyes. This Steve, who was asleep for over seventy years and was robbed of the life he was supposed to live. This Steve, who wished he could erase all the lost time filled with stupid tantrums and half-assed apologies and pretend it never happened. No lies about ‘maybe it helped you two grow!’ He had poisoned his happiness years ago and god forbid he would let himself do it again. 

This Steve, who only wanted to protect and be protected. Steve, with all his heart, his mind, and his soul, burning brilliant.

~

A/N: man i know this is long but i literally write the chapters in sections and i don’t realize until I paste them together omgggg xxMoni

Taglist: @dumb-ass-writer @justab-eautifulmess @supraveng @mycosmicparadise @missnighttigress​ 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 282: Aizawa Defeeted

Previously on BnHA: Oh my god do we even care about that at this point. Tomura made a speech; Gran Torino died; Deku lost his shit and tried to strangle Tomura to death with his bare hands; Ryuukyuu came back from Wherever She Was and tried to grab Tomura but he punched a hole through her giant hand; and now he’s grabbing his Quirk-Be-Gone bullets and is ready to cause some mayhem okay?? That about sum it up?? Is anyone even reading this?? CAN WE JUST GET ON WITH IT I’VE WAITED AN ENTIRE WEEK.

Today on BnHA: Well I guess let’s start with what doesn’t happen: Bakugou doesn’t lose his quirk. HE LUCKED OUT!!... for now, anyways. Because, thanks to a near-impossible-to-predict series of events (seriously, raise your hands if you had “Aizawa gets shot but goes full World War Z on his own ass” on your bingo card), Tomura has seemingly regained his regeneration powers, which means that his other quirks are probably back online as well! So we’ll see how that all goes. Anyway so in the meantime Shouto’s back, looking very mad that everyone temporarily forgot he was a main character. And Gigantomachia is back as well! Or almost, anyway. Also, you’ll never guess who broke another one of his arms! Go on, guess. But at least he still has the arm, though, which is more than we can say for certain other people’s limbs. Poor Aizawa is literally on his last leg. He and Tomura really got off on the wrong foot. He chopped his leg off, is what I’m saying. It’s that kind of chapter folks.

you guys I’m losing my whole fucking mind. I straight up deleted the tumblr app off my phone for 24 hours so that I wouldn’t be tempted to log in and risk potentially being spoiled. and I’m happy to say that it worked! so here we are now, completely spoiler free, and let me just say that if Horikoshi decides to cut back to Gunga Mountain now, I will either cry for hours or abandon the series forever and go do something more productive with the rest of my quarantine like learning how to play sad songs on the guitar

all right. here goes

so we’re opening with Deku, who is currently comprised of 100% rage and 0% mercy, and is doing that thing where only the whites of his eyes are visible. and basically he’s just thinking “I’VE REALLY GOT TO HOLD ON TO THIS GUY AND MAKE SURE HE DOESN’T DO ANYTHING ELSE HOMICIDAL.” which is a solid game plan, but perhaps not so easily accomplished

-- oh my god this poor kid is still in denial, I can’t. why are you doing this

is there even still a Gran Torino to tend to at this point? after Tomura bulldozed a hole through his torso, and you went and finished the job with your own fucking attack? sob

but I guess the law of Tragic Shounen Mentor Deaths mandates that Gran’s should be at least as drawn-out as Nighteye’s was, though. so he’s probably only Mostly Dead, which is still Slightly Alive if I remember my Princess Bride correctly, and I think I do

so now the rest of these stooges are finally catching up with us here

yes, my friends. a bullet. WELCOME TO MY LIFE FOR THE PAST FUCKING WEEK. anyways I have a LOT of pent-up energy here just fyi. there may be a lot of unnecessary screaming in this recap

FUCKING WYOMING SMASH Y’ALLSSSS

I HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED SOB. DID HE JUST HAMMER FIST TOMURA’S HEAD INTO THE GROUND. DID HE SNAP HIS FUCKING NECK AT 100%. IN AN IDEAL WORLD HE WOULD HAVE JUST CHOPPED TOMURA’S ARMS OFF WHILE SOMEHOW MANAGING TO AVOID BREAKING ANY OF HIS OWN BONES IN THE PROCESS, BUT I HAVE A FEELING THIS SITUATION WILL NOT BE RESOLVED IN ANY KIND OF MANNER ONE WOULD CONSIDER “IDEAL”

(ETA: fun fact: this attack did absolutely nothing except make things approximately 100x worse. but you tried Deku. you tried.)

THE FUCK KIND OF PORTENTOUS BULLSHITTING TITLE IS THIS. OH MY GOD, I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT EMOTION I’M HAVING RIGHT NOW, IT’S JUST A LOT OF LOUD THOUGHTS

anyway so if you’re just joining us, Tomura just pulled two bullets out of his pocket, the good guys finally noticed, and then Deku did a smash and everything exploded. the radius of this attack actually looks wide enough to have potentially involved Aizawa, who probably does NOT want to get any debris in his eyes right now, and also Gran, who probably doesn’t particularly want to be hit by another deadly attack for the third time in the past ninety seconds. anyway so I guess what I’m trying to say here is WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THAT YOU LITTLE GREEN LUNATIC

AHHHHHH

he got the one!! the one that was in Tomura’s right hand!! but what about the one in his left ahhhhhhh

(ETA: lmao at Kacchan being the one to blow up the same bullet I was so sure he was going to be shot with. saw the writing on the wall, huh kid? what do we say to the god of foreshadowing?? ‘NOT TODAY.’ ...except that we’re still not actually out of the woods yet so you still better watch yourself lol.)

...

based on the font here, these are Tomura’s thoughts. which he is thinking immediately after getting the lower half of his jaw very painfully cronched by the VERY homicidal sixteen-year-old still clinging to him. anyway so Tomura’s thought processes are as inscrutable to me as ever lulz

and Deku’s arm looks broken again, yaaaaay. but at least it’s his left arm and not his right! so that’s nice. now they can match

[SHRIEKS]

HE YEETED IT. IT HAS BEEN YEETEDED. HE DID A YEET. [sobbing] he DiD a YeEt oH my GOD

DID IT HIT SOMETHING!?!?!?

my reading process here is as follows: 1) scroll down exactly one panel. 2) scream even though absolutely nothing has happened yet. 3) WRITE THAT DOWN 4) REPEAT

DKSFJLKHSDLGKHLI

DID IT HIT HIM!?!? DID IT GET HIM IN THE LEG SOB ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS. JUST LIKE THAT?? BOOM GUN BULLET LEG!!?

YOU GUYS IT REALLY HIT AIZAWA AND NO ONE DID A GODDAMN THING?? it wasn’t even drawn out or anything??? it just HAPPENED, within like four pages??? NO SLOW MO?? NOT EVEN A REACTION PANEL WHAT THE FUCK

son of a bitch I would so dearly like to grab Manual and RockLockRock’s heads right now and just conk them together real hard. YOU STUPID FUCKS sob YOU HAD ONE JOB!!! IT REALLY WAS JUST ONE!! AND YOU WERE SHARING IT!! SO IT’S MORE LIKE HALF A JOB!! AND YOU STILL COCKED IT UP IN ABSOLUTELY NO TIME AT ALL OH MY GOD

(ETA: they should blow this panel up and make it into a t-shirt and make Manual and RLR wear the shirts every day for the rest of their lives. half a job, you guys. please go away I cannot even look at you right now.)

FUCK MY EVERYTHING

(ETA: I still can’t figure out if this horrific angle is due to the earlier damage from the Noumu, or if Tomura really just flung the bullet THAT hard. honestly I’m surprised it didn’t just slice right through him with that kind of velocity. “no thanks because then I wouldn’t get to write a scene where he chops his own leg off” oh okay well when you put it that way, Horikoshi.)

if I recall correctly this is the leg that he said was “twisted”, no? yeesh. might just want to chop it off real quick, then. s’not like it’s doing you any more good. does anyone know if zombie rules apply or not with this sort of thing?? shit

?!?!

“THANKS”?? okay what. did it hit him or not??

-- oh my god WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT. WAIT

I WAS -- I WAS JOKING I -- FFFFFFFFKJK

jesus fucking christ. when I said “might just want to chop it off real quick” literally FOUR PARAGRAPHS AGO, I can tell you that the one thing I did NOT expect was for Aizawa to be all, “you know what, that’s a good idea”, and then YOINK OUT HIS TRUSTY HERO SHANK AND GO FULL 127 HOURS ON THIS BITCH. "LALALA WE’RE GONNA DO IT RATIONALLY TEEHEE” like excuse me, the fuck

anyways. I don’t even know what to say. thank you Aizawa’s leg for your sacrifice, and for always supporting him. literally. oh my god I came here ready for my son to enter a new phase of character development, and for the manga as a whole to enter a new phase of glorious, glorious angst. no one told me I’d be sitting here making puns instead. what a fine, confusing day

anyway though let’s just fucking hope it worked. and side note, if Aizawa Shouta really did chop off his own fucking leg just now and somehow STILL managed not to fucking blink, I think we might as well just go ahead and hand him the Biggest Badass In The Series award right now because no one is ever going to top that. nope. not happening

it is truly a testament to Shigaraki Tomura’s unfathomably mysterious sexy villain energy that he still somehow manages to look hot with only half a face

also no one in this manga actually feels pain, do they. not Deku, not Aizawa, not Tomura, no one. no wonder none of them have any self-preservation instincts to speak of

um

did someone just randomly explode just now. at this point it might as well happen, right

oh it’s the shockwave from Deku’s Wyoming attack, apparently. how nice of it to have a delayed reaction for absolutely no reason

anyway so Deku’s being flung back, but he’s grabbing onto Tomura again with Blackwhip. but oh shit you guys, if Tomura escapes Deku and Ryuukyuu’s clutches and still has any bullets left in his pocket, we may still be able to salvage this Bakugou quirk situation after all. would be nice to be able to actually do something with all of these “happy quirk losing day” balloons that I ordered

(ETA: actually, believe it or not I honestly like this better. Tomura using AFO was always the more dramatic option anyway. and now that we’ve done the bullet thing everyone has presumably let their guard down again, which, good.)

I love how Tomura apparently hasn’t noticed that Aizawa’s just amputated his own leg? to be fair he’s probably distracted by all the explosions and such

also gotta love how Deku’s arm-breaking attack seemingly just made everything worse for no reason. and also how Manual and RockLockRock are once again just standing there doing absolutely nothing

SO NOW GUESS WHAT’S HAPPENING

I MEAN IT! GUESS. BECAUSE YOUR GUESS IS AS GOOD AS MINE LOL

OH WELL OKAY THEN

just like we all saw coming!! ...

so is this Endeavor’s attack?? Bakugou’s?? either way, hot damn. fortunately for Tomura he is apparently operating under the same guidelines as the U.S. Federal Reserve, in which mutilated bills may still be exchanged at face value if more than 50% of a note identifiable as United States currency is present. basically as long as roughly half of him is still vaguely Tomura-shaped I assume he’ll be fine

(ETA: in hindsight I should have immediately been able to identify this as a Shouto attack based solely on how murdery it was lol.)

OH MY GODDDD

KRANCH?!?

OH MY GOD LOL WHAT. LOL. REMEMBER EVERYONE’S THEORIES FROM LIKE TWENTY YEARS AGO LOL. SHOUTO WHAT THE FUCK. DID YOU STOP FOR DRIVE THRU

AND MEANWHILE DEKU’S BACK ON THE SCENE GIVING ARGUABLY EVEN LESS FUCKS THAN BEFORE, IF SUCH A THING IS EVEN POSSIBLE. SO FAR THIS CHAPTER HAS PRECISELY ZERO THINGS THAT I ACTUALLY EXPECTED IN IT, WHICH IS VERY IMPRESSIVE

IT ALSO HAS A LOT OF SMASHING

a LOT. of smashing, guys. feels like... 60% smashing, 20% severed legs, 20% Kranch

-- oh no oh SHIT oh shit oh shit

(ETA: um so I really can’t tell how far that wound extends and whether or not Aizawa still has his right eye, shit.)

first of all how did Deku get here next to Aizawa when he was just over there with Tomura, what. and second, I think Aizawa just blinked, oh shit. probably on the verge of passing out after CHOPPING HIS OWN LEG OFF which STILL hasn’t been acknowledged yet?? did I just completely misinterpret all of that back there or what

(ETA: there was seriously so little attention called to this that I scrolled back up to confirm it probably like half a dozen times. apparently Horikoshi thinks that THE MOST BADASS THING TO EVER HAPPEN IN THE MANGA should be completely downplayed. whereas if it were me, there’d be an entire two page spread of JUST THE LEG. WITH MUSIC PLAYING. EVEN THOUGH IT’S A MANGA.)

YEPPPPPPP. fuck

look at him though. he’s so happy. this is why I can’t stay mad at you no matter how deranged you get you little maniac

so is quirk-stealing back on the menu then or what. don’t think I’ve been lulled into any kind of false sense of security by any of this lol

-- ARE WE SERIOUSLY CUTTING AWAY

so Todoroki really went after them ALONE. the better to put his dad right back up at the top of the Lose Your Quirk Sweepstakes finalists. well... second-to-top, maybe. like I said I will not be lulled

yuh-oh

why do I feel like the odds of Gigantomachia arriving to herald the end of this chapter just shot up DRAMATICALLY

so the next page is almost entirely just a list of cities that the news anchor is telling people to evacuate because they’re in Machia’s path. along with a bunch of dead heroes lying around everywhere, and Ochako being all ominous

(: weren’t they, though? heh. this is going to be so, so bad (: (: (:

-- fuuuuuuuuuuu

aaaaaand that’s it. hahahaha. okay then let’s summarize

Bakugou defied all expectations and kept his quirk (FOR NOW)!

Aizawa cut his own fucking leg off and it WASN’T EVEN REMOTELY ACKNOWLEDGED FOR REASONS I CAN’T UNDERSTAND (R.I.P. AIZAWA’S PRECIOUS LEG. YOU ALWAYS PUT YOUR BEST FOOT FORWARD)

Kranch showed up after 157 years and is probably wondering why the heck I keep calling him “Kranch” now. THINGS CHANGE WHEN YOU’RE MIA FOR A WHILE MY LITTLE STARBUCKS CHRISTMAS CUP

Deku broke his arm for the 78th time

Tomura regenerated but seems to think Aizawa’s quirk is actually gone for good, which I’m pretty sure it’s not. so if they can keep him from destroying everything long enough for Aizawa to turn it back on again, we might possibly still survive this

and lastly, Machia is about to kill all of these stupid people frolicking around outside of this fitness club who are probably so proud of themselves for not being glued to their phones 24/7 because they prefer to LIVE LIFE IN THE MOMENT, THANK YOU VERY MUCH. well that’s on you my friends. at least it’ll be a quick death. ffff