#I have cried every day since Sunday so far which is not normal for me I cry like five times a year usually

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 3: Let's Have a Baby

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: MDNI, mentions of canon typical violence and death (ofc), implied child loss Note: The much-awaited part 3 of The Captain! Thank you so much for all of your support! And don't y'all, Part 4 is brewing ;) Enjoy and blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

“Mohawk’s gettin’ particularly long, Johnny boy. When’s the last time you took any off the top?” Freyja asked, tugging at the end of a long strand at the back of his head.

“Dinnae dae that!” Soap whipped his head around and gave her a look of playful irritation. “If it weren’t for that wee barra in your belly I’d knock ya one, lass.”

“You wish, tough guy.”

“Just you wait, soon as y’return to full duty, we’ll have a square go, ye fuckin’ weapon.”

“I’ll block off my calendar.”

She and Soap had grown rather close since they all returned to England following the mission. As promised, Ghost spoke with Price, who convinced Kate to transfer her to the 141 permanently. While she was on desk duty for now, being on the same team would be tremendously helpful in keeping their schedules in sync. The couple could carpool to and from the base together, and John would do his best to keep them from being deployed at the same time.

Plus, she got to spend all her day with her friends and husband, which was a phenomenal change of pace from their previous setup. It was far less lonely being surrounded by the bustle of the busy base and having other friends to talk to besides Price.

They had a standing ��play date’, as Price called it, every Friday night, where they watched movies, played board games, and ordered takeout. Board games usually ended in a heated exchange between her and whichever unlucky soul had crossed her (usually during Catan), her normally fiery temper heightened with each month of pregnancy that passed. There had been several instances of Ghost scooping her up in his arms and hauling her away to cool off before (any other) objects were lobbed at someone’s head.

One time, Freyja was in rare form when Gaz refused to trade for a material she desperately needed, and whipped a pointed dinner knife in his direction.

“What is with you guys and throwing bloody knives at me?!” he cried, throwing his hands in the air as Ghost dragged her off, screaming obscenities in various angry-sounding languages.

Soap jerked the blade out of the wall. “Dunno if I should be turned on or terrified,” he had said thoughtfully, turning it over in his hand. 

“BOTH, YOU SLIMY, CHEATING MOTHERFUCKERS!”

Catan was banned for a few weeks after that incident, and Freyja gave Kyle the following day off as an apology, though he insisted it wasn’t necessary.

Freyja lowered herself into a chair on the other side of Soap’s desk and leaned her head on her fist, watching him do his paperwork. She’d already finished for the day but was waiting for her husband to fetch her and bring her home to prepare for another Friday with the boys.

“So, Captain, any big plans for this weekend?” Soap asked, still scribbling away at the stack of forms in front of him.

She pursed her lips and shrugged. “Nah. It’s our anniversary on Sunday. Have a routine visit tomorrow to see how the baby’s growing. Nothing crazy.”

“Anniversary?! You didn’t tell me that was comin’ up!”

Her eyes rolled with a chuckle. “Soap, we aren’t showy people. Never have been,” she started, adjusting to sit straighter after having slid down in the chair a bit. Her round belly had started to weigh down her body a few weeks back, and she was starting to feel the effects of back and neck pain. “We weren’t together for very long when we got engaged, if you’d even call it that. We got married a few days later, as soon as we got back to the UK. Didn’t want to waste time, given our line of work.”

Johnny laughed at this, tossing his pen into a mug he fashioned as a stationary holder. “Oh, I’d bet he just loved slappin’ his name after ‘Captain’, too,” he joked with a raised brow.

The image of a spinning circle on a computer came to mind because that was exactly what she was doing. Buffering, her mouth open slightly while she processed his comment. Her mind screamed at her to say something, anything, but nothing came out as she stared at the Sergeant.

He clearly picked up on her inner turmoil, because he asked, “What? What’d I say?”

Goddamn pregnancy brain. “Ah…Nothing. He didn’t like me taking his name, actually,” she mostly muttered, unable to find a way out of the conversation at this point. “He asked me not to change my name and I did it anyway.”

“I don’t get it, why wouldn’t Ghost want ya to change yer name?”

Freyja sighed as she rubbed a hand over the top of her bump, a recent habit for comfort. The baby hadn’t been particularly active that day, only offering a bit of shifting. “You’d have to ask him, John.”

She rarely called him John, so he knew the conversation was over on her part. “How’s your back?” Best to change the subject and move on. 

She was grateful for it. “Terrible. Even sitting here is bothering me.”

Soap lit up and he practically jumped to his feet. “I can do that thing I saw Ghost doin’ last week!” He was already in front of her before she could even answer.

He had been relentless ever since he caught their cute little private moment in the kitchen when she was supposed to be getting herself some fruit to snack on. Simon followed shortly after, offering to get her fruit bowl together for her so she could sit down again. Craving some semblance of independence, she instead offered to cut up her snack while her husband took some of the weight off her back.

“Walked myself right into that one. You just want an excuse to grope my belly.”

“Me? Never! M’offended that y’would say such a thing, Bonnie,” he feigned hurt feelings, pouting with his best puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, fine! Come’ere, I’ll show you,” she laughed, high up in her chest. Freyja pulled herself up with his hands and moved them to the more open space in his office. “Alright, so I’m gonna stand here—“ She turned to press her back against his chest and took his wrist in her hands. “—then you just wanna put your hands flat like this—“ She flattened his palms just under the swell of her stomach, by each point of her pelvis. “—and now you carefully pull up. Emphasis on carefully.”

She groaned at the sudden relief, her head falling back against Soap’s shoulder as he just barely lifted her stomach. 

“There w’are. Steamin’ Jesus, how’s such a wee thing so bloody heavy?”

“Yeah, now imagine carrying that around with your back twenty-four-seven.”

They stood silently for a minute, soaking in the relief from the lack of pressure on her disks. A small hand dragged across the underside of her stomach, pressing against Soap’s hand. His chest rumbled against her back, but he held steady.

“Will anyone be coming for a visit? When she’s born?” It was bold of him to bring up such a sensitive subject, but his curiosity got the better of him.

“No.”

“And you’re alright with that?”

“I have everyone I need right here, Johnny. Who else outside my husband would give my back a break and hold my giant belly?” She reached back to jokingly slap his cheek a few times.

“Where’s that husband o’ yours at? It’s gettin’ late.”

A soft knock on the open door had her turning her head. “I’m comin’, Jesus,” Ghost said, approaching with his hands in his pockets, t-shirt tight as ever. He took in her smiling form, intrigued by the scene in front of him. He smiled beneath his mask, eyes crinkling slightly. “How are my girls?”

Freyja flinched, a hand flying to her belly at the sharp kick. She sported an angry pout. “Ow! That hurt, you little–”

“Be nice. She can’t help that I’m her favorite.”

She pulled out of Soap’s hold, sad to lose the help on one hand, but thrilled to see Simon on the other. “You’re so obnoxious. I’m literally creating her organs and limbs, making sure she has ten fingers and toes, and I don’t get so much as a single hand or kick. But the second she hears your stupid voice, she’s suddenly an MMA fighter,” she complained, shoving at his shoulder. “Un-fucking-believable. I hate you.”

“Mmm, sure you do. How will I ever get back in your good graces?”

“I want Chinese tonight.”

“I think I can manage that.” Ghost bent down to gently, but briefly, touch his forehead to hers, one of their familiar gestures to refrain from more overt displays of affection on base. She would occasionally give him a peck over his skull mask, and they often shared passing touches, but neither partner was a huge fan of PDA. In the comfort of their own home, they were much more obvious, even around the other members of the team. Just not on base (save for a quick romp. Or two. Or– y’know what, never mind).

“Aw, lookit ya wee sook,” Soap cooed, nudging Ghost with his elbow as he walked past, gathering his things to head home.

She giggled and patted Simon’s pec. “He really is!”

Simon grumbled but guided Freyja to the door with a hand on her lower back. “If you lot keep talkin’ nonsense around me, I’ll pop a gasket.”

“It’s not nonsense, Simon. It’s a beautiful language. One that your people just so happened to smother into near extinction,” she sang, pursing her lips in a challenge as she looked up at him walking next to her.

“OOO, sick burn, lass!” Soap smacked their hands together, laughing heartily.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

~*~

Simon checked the time on his phone again with a deep sigh, shaking his head. He detested getting to work anything past ten minutes early, and it was currently five past six. Freyja had told him to go ahead and toss their baby bag in the car, which he had done ten minutes ago. He insisted they keep their ‘go-bag’ (her word, not his) with them, either in the car on errands or on base during the work week.

The area around their front door was littered with broken-down cardboard boxes from various toys and furniture from the nursery. The Task Force had turned out to be extremely generous uncles, to the point where the Rileys hardly had to buy anything. Johnny and Gaz were by far the worst listeners, continuing to purchase mountains of clothes long after Freyja and Ghost begged them to stop. Enough clothes that she would never have to wear the same outfit twice for the first year of her life.

Not even born yet and already spoiled rotten.

Her boots weren’t in the tray by the door, so she must have gotten to that part of her routine, at least. He pushed off the door frame in their entryway, making his way toward the living room. “Frey, what are you doin’? We’re already five minutes late–”

He cut himself off when he laid eyes on the sight in front of him – his wife, now 39 weeks pregnant, attempting to contort her body around her bump to lace up her boots. Simon allowed himself a moment to watch in amusement before clearing his throat and grabbing her attention. “Do you need help?” he asked, about to kneel in front of her.

She grunted and shook her head, then tried to smooth the mussed-up fly-aways that had started to poke up at the edges of her tied-back hair. “No, I can do this. I just did it on Friday.”

“Darling, that was three days ago. There’s no shame in askin’ for help–” He stopped again at the icy glare thrown his way, crossed his arms over his chest, and sat in the armchair across from her. “A’right, if you insist.” He had long noticed that she sometimes struggled to accept help with tasks she could normally complete on her own, if not for a protruding bump being in the way. He knew if she really needed help, she would ask.

This time, she propped the heel of her boot on the coffee table and attempted to stretch over her belly. She was proud of the strength and flexibility she had been able to maintain throughout her entire pregnancy, up until now. Not many people could say they could even see their feet this far into their pregnancy, let alone tie their shoes. After another minute of huffing and puffing, fingers just barely unable to graze the laces, she held her foot out to her watchful husband and sighed. “Fine,” she mumbled, crossed arms mimicking his.

He smiled softly under his mask, blue eyes twinkling with silent laughter as he slid to his knees at her feet, pressing the sole into his chest. “Thank you,” he praised, taking his time to focus on doing her shoes up at the tightness she liked to support her ankles, but allow breathing room at her calves. As he finished up the second foot, he heard a quiet sniffle and jerked his head up to meet her eyes.

Bloody hell, not the waterworks again…

He gently pushed her legs apart and settled between them, his gloved hands covering and rubbing her knees. “What’s wrong, love?”

Freyja wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then used the neckline of her t-shirt to swipe at her wet cheeks. “Nothing, I’m just annoyed. Feels like I can barely function on my own.”

“If I recall, you’re the one who insisted on working until she’s born.”

“Fuck you.”

“Promise?”

She playfully shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes as she scoffed. 

Ghost pulled his mask up to his nose, just enough to steal a long, soft kiss from her, fingers still gripping her thighs. When they broke apart, he swooped down to press wet kisses on her belly. Freyja put the fabric back in place with deft fingers. “A’right, we sorted?” He smacked her thigh twice when she nodded and offered her hands to help her stand. “Good, you know how I am about bein’ late.”

“Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be an early bird like her daddy.”

“Better than always being late like her mum.”

“Low blow, baby. Low blow.”

They made jabs at each other back and forth the entire ride to base (lovingly, of course) and during their walk to their offices, only pausing for the occasional passerby.

~*~

Kyle handed off a steaming mug of tea to Ghost, taking a small sip of his own as they watched the recruits spar with Soap. Most days, the three of them worked with the privates for a few hours, varying from marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, etcetera. Ghost tugged his mask up enough to enjoy his caffeine, the steam dampening the wrinkled fabric.

“How was your weekend, Ghost?”

He hid his subtle smirk behind the cup, the memory of their anniversary evening at the forefront of his mind. Ghost met Gaz’s gaze with a side eye, to which the Sergeant snorted with a throaty chuckle. Gaz fixed the brim of his hat lower to shade his eyes from the sun better. “Shouldn’t have asked,” he said, a bright, cheeky grin on his face. “Change the subject.”

Ghost thought back to that morning, snickering himself and cradling the mug with both hands. “Frey couldn’t tie her boots this morning.” He tried to hide his amusement, he really did. But both men burst into deep laughter, Gaz shamefully covering his eyes with his free hand as he imagined the Captain working around her stomach.

“Bloody hell, poor thing.” When they finally composed themselves, Kyle took a deep breath and wiped a stray tear from his eye. He sighed and placed his now empty mug on the ground, his hands now hanging onto the lip of his tactical vest. The Brit observed the training session, occasionally glancing over at Ghost to gauge his mood. Maybe he should mind his business, but Gaz also wanted to be a good friend to the Rileys. In the end, he decided to take the plunge. “I see it, y’know,” he said, choosing a careful tone.

Simon turned his head fully to shoot him a probing look, urging him to continue.

Gaz sighed to himself. In too deep, now. “Just something I’ve noticed. Seems like she’s done this before, s’all.”

Damn Kyle Garrick and his perceptiveness. How long had the Sergeant been sitting on that thought, watching and observing her mannerisms? Simon stood staring blankly at his companion, unblinking for too long. His heart clenched painfully, twisting and beating violently against his ribs. When his eyes did finally come back into focus, he covered his face again. “As you were, Sergeant,” he commanded, his tone stern and unyielding. Neither of them noticed the Scot break away from the recruits, reading a text from his phone.

“I don’t mean to pry, sir–”

“Lt?” Soap held the device up, brows knotted together. He didn’t make much of an effort to hide his emotions and was concerned. “Price needs ya, sir. Said he’s pretty sure yer wife’s been in labor for the last hour.”

The trio quickly appeared in her office, where she sat behind her desk, beads of sweat on her forehead as she typed away at her computer. John shrugged helplessly and then scratched at the stubble under his chin. About an hour into their daily morning meeting, where he brought her peppermint tea while they worked over files and potential recruits. They were mid-discussing her scheduled c-section when he noticed her breaths sporadically shake, or the muscles in her arms tightening for seemingly no reason. Price asked her if she was okay and was brushed off every time he prodded at her; when he finally had enough, he decided to call for reinforcements.

Freyja glared at the men, mainly aiming it at Price. “Traitor,” she growled, continuing to work through another contraction.

Simon tossed the keys to their car to Price, who swiftly snagged them out of the air and slipped behind them. In the meantime, he tucked his mask into the back pocket of his jeans, his slightly overgrown blonde hair and the top of his head sticking up. He sat on the edge of the desk, looking down at her as she attempted to ignore his presence. His foot slipped a little on the floor, and he found a small puddle trickling across the floor from the space under her chair. “Anything you want to tell me?” he asked, impossibly soft and gentle for a usually deep, gruff military man.

“No.” She was an accomplished sniper and a skilled linguist and had been deployed on hundreds of special missions, interrogations, and rescues during her military tenure. She, however, wasn’t very convincing when it came to lying to her husband, especially when another sharp pain rippled through her body, forcing her to flinch.

“Wanna try that again?”

Her eyes watered uncontrollably, her lip trembling as she tried to keep herself together. The notion didn’t last long, and her head shook from side to side.

“How long?”

“Long enough.”

“Hm.” Simon turned her chair with his shin until she faced him. As he suspected, dark wetness was creeping up the fabric of her jeans. “We should get going then, yeah?” He tilted his head to the side, watching as she grabbed his hand in a fierce grip.

“Simon–” The woman choked on her tears, panic starting to claw its way up her stomach and wrenching her tight throat. “The OB’s out of the country,” she whimpered, barely a whisper.

“I know. Seems that she’s taken after her old man, like y’said,” he offered in an attempt to give her some comedic relief in her state. Simon could see the panic attack set in, and while he knew he couldn’t stop it, he could at least lessen its effects some.

“I was kidding.”

He smiled softly at her and squeezed her palm, drawing soothing circles with his thumb. “Don’t think she’s quite old enough for sarcasm, there, sweetheart.” He got down to his knees in front of her, sitting back on his heels, just under eye level now instead of towering over her. A familiar position for them as of late. “Looks like we’re doin’ this the old-fashioned way.”

She started crying hysterically now, nearly crushing his hand and cradling her belly. “Simon…I–”

“I know.”

It was as if their audience had completely disappeared, leaving just the two of them for what should be a private moment. But Soap and Gaz were still pressed to the wall by the door. In the months they had become close friends with Simon’s wife, she was almost always composed, her moments of hormonal rage the only outlier they witnessed. They’d never seen her such a panicked, blubbering mess, but Gaz had an idea he knew what it was about, even without specifics. For that reason, he chose to keep his distance and advised Soap to do the same with a tap to the shoulder.

“This–This isn’t the plan. I wanted…they’re supposed to take her out. I don’t want to push again.”

“I know,” he repeated. “I’m sorry, love, but you’ll have to.”

“Can’t we just–” A gasp cut her off, her features pinching together in pain while she rode out yet another contraction.

“No. We can’t.”

“I can’t do this again, Simon! I can’t!” Her chest heaved and she sobbed, struggling to catch her breath. Panic attacks had become more frequent during her pregnancy. There had been about five or six instances where an odd feeling or uncomfortable pain had anxiety washing over her, sending her into a spiral until they could get to an emergency room or OB, snapping at them to ‘just fucking check, for fuck’s sake’. This was definitely one of the worst. All of her meticulous planning, down to every nitty-gritty detail to ensure she didn’t have an episode went right out the window because a certain impatient Riley was eager to make her exit and simultaneous entrance to the world.

The world was collapsing around her, dark and suffocating. The cold pit dragged her back to what seemed like another life, where she lay curled up in a hospital bed, sick and hot and in the worst agony she would ever experience. Her bones burned and ached, struggling to sit still yet unable to move at the same time. Price’s phantom touch ghosted up and down her bare back in that place, brushed her sticky hair off her forehead, pressed a cold towel to her neck as violent sobs and forced, unnatural contractions tore through her—

She blinked when different, gloved hands slipped under her hair, the warmth of her skin bleeding through the material as he cradled her face. Her fingers slipped down to dig into his tattooed wrist. “You can, and you will. Take a breath,” he took a deep breath, guiding her through the exercise. He held the air in his chest before letting it out in a slow exhale, which she mimicked. Ghost summoned Gaz over and rose, pulling her up with him. “Good girl. Can you walk?”

When she nodded, Kyle slipped into the space beside her, offering his forearm for support. She knew Simon could have handled her himself, but it warmed her heart to see him leaning on their friends. John had been a great support system when Simon deployed on his own, but having so many hands to hold made her feel loved and understood.

“A’right then, let’s have a baby, yeah?”

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[kpopfanfictrash]

Raise the Barre (Ch. 8)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Eventual Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: underage drinking, angst, hoseok’s bare abs

Word Count: 10,705

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  

“Okay, even you have to admit this is too soon.” Finn stared, appalled at the chalkboard. “It’s not even Halloween!”

Laughing a little, you looped your arm around his to drag him towards the back. Plopping down in a chair, you placed your order number in the center of the table. Seating himself across the table from you, Finn began to undo his coat.

“Come on.” He grinned, brown hair flopping when he leaned forward. “Admit it – this is too early for holiday drinks.”

“Okay, maybe it’s a little early,” you acquiesced. “But Halloween is tomorrow! They probably just put up the holiday drinks so they don’t have to do it on Sunday.”

“Laziness!” he cried, jabbing a finger in the air.

Shaking your head, you smiled when Namjoon, the barista, placed a pumpkin soy latte before you.

“Thanks!” you said, pulling this towards you.

“No problem,” he said, flashing his dimples before he turned to leave.

Taking a long, slow sip of your drink, you groaned. “Oh my god. This is it. This is heaven.”

Finn laughed. “Is that seriously your first pumpkin drink of the season?” Sadly, he shook his head. “I remember our senior year, you dragged me out of bed at 7:00 AM on a Saturday just to get the first pumpkin drink of the year.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But I’ve needed the extra caffeine jolt each morning. Sweet drinks just don’t cut it anymore.”

“Ah, the first step in addiction.” Finn nodded sagely.

Smiling, you settled back in your seat as he took the first sip of his black coffee. It had been two weeks since your fight at the club and since then, Finn had been on his best behavior. For about a week, things between you had been awkward but slowly, your relationship was returning to normal.

Seated in the corner of your favorite coffee shop, you drank from your cup and glanced around the room. This was what you’d pictured when you imagined you and Finn living in the city together. Coffee dates, going on new adventures and continuing your relationship where it had left off.

Of course, this morning was only possible because Miss Britt’s ballet class had been cancelled. A contemporary master class had been scheduled for the afternoon, but your day before then was free – something you’d immediately taken advantage of by calling Finn. It was becoming easier to fit each other into your schedules, more like second nature, but things were still tense whenever things didn’t line up.

None of this was eased by the burgeoning whatever-it-was you’d shoved to the back of your mind regarding Jimin. Since the day of Mr. Vlad’s ballet class, you’d managed to keep your emotions in check, but were constantly on the lookout for dangerous situations. You and Jimin were professionals, obviously, but you were also only human. It was reasonable to have subconscious wants and desires, but these weren’t important unless you chose to act upon them.

You didn’t tell Finn about it because honestly, there was nothing to tell. Okay, so you’d felt an errant spark one day during a lift. Big deal. Finn had been your boyfriend for over two years – it would take more than that to threaten your relationship. A relationship which, frankly, had been getting stronger as of late. Telling him something as inconsequential as a spark you had with Jimin would only take you further down the wrong path.

“Are you sure you’re okay with us doing separate things tomorrow?” Finn interrupted your thoughts. His brow furrowed. “It is Halloween, after all.”

“Ah, yes.” You nodded. “Halloween, the internationally known couple’s holiday.”

He laughed. “Okay, point made – but still.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him. This was something you’d already been over. “It just makes sense like this! Your friends are going to that off-campus party and I promised Noelle I’d go to this club thing with her.”

“Right, of course.” Finn grinned. “I’m bummed I’ll miss seeing you as the Powerpuff girls, though. Who’s going to be the third one, again?”

“Well, I’m Blossom – obviously.”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Miss Responsibility.”

A twinge of annoyance went through you, but you pushed it aside. You didn’t think you were always the responsible one but admittedly, you’d been more on edge than usual lately.

“Anyways,” you continued with a roll of your eyes. “I’m Blossom, Noelle is Buttercup and Irene is going as Bubbles. It’ll be fun! Aside from the whole club part, of course.”

“It does sound fun,” Finn admitted, a tad mournful. “Meanwhile, I’ve been roped into the classic college bro costume of Ghostbusters.”

“Oh, come on! That is classic! You’ll be super cute in your… suit? Cargo pants? What do Ghostbusters wear again?”

“Knowing Ben, something tragic from Party City. Pray for me.”

“I’ll light candles.”

Finn grinned, sipping his coffee again and your conversation slipped naturally to other topics.

Halloween fell on a Saturday this year, which meant every college campus was gearing up for some epic parties. Noelle had managed to snag tickets to a club fancy enough to require an RSVP. Apparently, said brother she missed was a DJ and could get tickets to a lot of things if Noelle bothered to ask.

A bunch of people from Russet were going, which made you excited. There hadn’t been many parties with your classmates so far this semester. Despite technically being in college, your classmates were all under the same intense pressure, only made worse by constant early morning ballet.

This week though, even your teachers seemed to have decided you needed a break. Aside from the master class you had this afternoon, there were zero Russet classes until Monday morning. The break in schedule meant you could actually go out – and drink – if you so decided. You and Noelle were planning on attending a ballet class tomorrow, but your entire day after would be free.

You’d originally planned on seeing Finn during the day, but then he’d been invited to a Halloween darty (day party) starting at noon. Despite not seeing Finn on Halloween, you weren’t feeling stressed. It was only one holiday and not even a couple’s one, as you’d said.

After coffee, you kissed Finn goodbye and headed to class at Danley Hall. The atmosphere was different as soon as you entered the classroom – all of the students were buzzing, excited by the prospect of the weekend ahead. The excitement only grew when coupled with the fact that today’s class was contemporary.

For nearly two months, your training had been mostly ballet. This was the foundation of all western dance, and where most dance students were expected to start. Finally though, you were being given a chance to show off. Today’s teacher, Luna Jordan, was a well-known contemporary choreographer across the globe.

You’d done a master class with her once back in high school and honestly couldn’t wait to learn from her again. She wasn’t alone, though, you noticed as you walked in – an unfamiliar, dark-haired guy stood beside her, stretching lithely before the room’s mirror.

“Holy shit,” Noelle whispered as she came to a stop. “That’s Jeon Jungkook.”

Startled, you looked twice and saw she was right. You hadn’t recognized him without his bevy of followers, but Jeon Jungkook was known in the dance world. A child prodigy, he’d been on America’s Got Talent at age eleven and finished in second place. Following this, his family had moved to LA and he’d been in high demand for movies, music videos and performances ever since.

You remembered hearing he worked with Luna Jordan, but the thought hadn’t crossed your mind before now that he might be here.

Noelle cocked her head to one side. “He’s hot.”

“Noelle,” you hissed, trying to shush her.

“What!” A devious grin spread across her face. “Am I supposed to be blind, as well as mute?”

“Well, no, but –”

“Alright, everyone!” Miss Luna clapped her hands together. “I know everyone is excited for the weekend, but we unfortunately have an hour and a half together before then. Everyone spread out for warm-ups!”

A few people laughed, spreading out on the floor as class began. Noelle wriggled her eyebrows, pulling you towards the front in order to get the best spot. Hiding a smile, you ducked your head and settled beside her into a stretch.

Noelle was nearly as excited as you were for the opportunity to dance contemporary. Most of your classmates knew this to be your forte – you caught glances from the corner of your eye while you warmed up, trying not to let their attention get to your head.

Jimin was also near the front, although on the opposite side. You suspected your class was equally excited to see him perform – as talented as Jimin was at ballet, there was a reason you hadn’t thought he’d be at Russet this fall. Jimin’s strength in jazz and contemporary was unparalleled. You would’ve thought he’d gone to LA to become a dancer like Jungkook.

Speaking of whom – Jungkook really was attractive; that much couldn’t be denied. He had dark, wavy hair pulled into a bun and cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass. When he glanced up from his stretch, his gaze somehow found yours and he smiled.

Eyes widening, you stared until you caught sight of Jimin behind him. Glancing between the two of you, Jimin’s expression soured before he looked away. Lips parting, you felt the sudden urge to say something, but there was too much distance between you.

“You ready?” Miss Luna called, an upbeat pop song blasting from the stereo. “Let’s go!”

She launched into isolations, leaving the rest of the class to follow. Warm-ups passed quickly and before you knew it, you were gathered at center to learn the combination. Miss Luna’s style was right up your alley. The steps came easily and, once you’d learned the whole chorus, she left you alone to practice.

You were helping Ari with a difficult move when you caught sight of Sabrina as you turned. She’d positioned herself near the back, which had to be a first. Usually, Sabrina was front and center to allow for maximum receipt of teacher praise.

The decision to stand near the back could’ve been strategy – sometimes, dancers did that at conventions. Conventions were giant weekends of competition with teachers from all over the globe who taught master classes to hundreds of dancers in hotel ballrooms and convention centers. Space at the front tended to be limited, so some stayed at the back, where there was more room to dance and be seen. You had a greater likelihood to capture the teacher’s attention when you had the room to do incredible leaps.

Sabrina’s decision didn’t seem strategic, though. While you watched, Sabrina stumbled transitioning from one move to the next. A brief twinge of pity went through you.

It was easy enough to spot ballerinas dancing anything but ballet. Although ballet was the root of modern westernized dance, it could be hard to translate into other styles. Ballet was more rigid than contemporary, jazz or hip-hop. In ballet, each position was defined, individual style was limited, and dancers were expected to all look the same. Standing out in the corps de ballet was equally frowned upon as missing an entrance.

Not that ballet wasn’t important to all dance styles, mind you. Even hip-hop dancers took ballet to improve their balance, core strength and general understanding of the body. There was an element of individuality in other dance styles, though, which lacked in ballet. Contemporary and hip-hop dancers were expected to have relentless technique all while creating their own, unique flair.

Just looking at Sabrina you could clearly see the holes. She was trying so hard to emulate the moves of Miss Luna, she was kind of missing the point. When Miss Luna did a certain flick of the wrist, it wasn’t a defined part of the choreography, but rather an individual choice.

Without thinking, you took a step forward – only to stop. Sabrina wouldn’t want your help; she’d already made that abundantly clear. Besides, you knew her friend Katie to be a contemporary dancer. She could help Sabrina and yet, when you looked, you saw Katie practicing near the front with Jungkook.

Jungkook obviously knew the steps, since this was probably the tenth time he’d learned the combination. Dance teachers often did that – selected a dancer to attend classes with them, traveling to different cities to demonstrate the combination and help when they weren’t free.

Before you could decide whether to help Sabrina, Miss Luna clapped her hands again.

“Let’s do groups!” she declared. “I’ll count you off into groups of four, and each group will showcase. Sound good?”

It wasn’t really a question so much as an announcement. The rest of the class nodded, waiting while Miss Luna counted you off. You ended up in the same group as Irene, Paulo and a few others. Jimin and Noelle were in the group two, while Sabrina was in the group after theirs.

Jogging off to the side, you waited while the first group took center. You were part of group four, which meant you’d be amongst the last to dance on the floor. When the music began, you closed your eyes and began to mark the combination. You tried not to focus on what anyone else was doing, but this became difficult once Noelle’s group stepped up.

Noelle had trained in jazz and contemporary, although she’d stopped in high school to focus mainly on ballet. Still, her artistry shone in her movement. She could definitely stand to loosen up a bit but was still one of the best in the bunch. You found yourself smiling when she landed a turn, silently cheering her on from the side.

While you were watching, Jimin cut across your vision.

Dropping to the ground, he rolled and arched as his forehead brushed wood. His quality of movement was breathtaking and for a moment, you felt like you were back in high school.

Suddenly returned to those dimmed auditoriums, you watched Jimin take the stage like an otherworldly being. His body seemed to move before your mind could comprehend. Barely did he finish one move before he was starting another, the steps flowing endlessly together like unhindered water. Although you knew the combination and knew how you would dance it, watching Jimin perform was a different experience entirely.

Ballet required dancers to stay on the beat but in contemporary, they were expected to lag. Extensions were all the more breathtaking when they clung to the last second, seeming as though the dancer might not make it before they caught up. Jimin was an expert in this, knowing exactly when to hang precariously over the edge and when to pull back.

Watching him dance, that pesky, strange something bloomed in your chest again.

Squashing this quickly, you looked away and resumed marking the combo. The end of the song was improvisation though and, unable to stop yourself, you found your attention drifting to Jimin again. He was ridiculously beautiful – you nearly didn’t hear when Miss Luna called for them to stop. As she turned off the music, she applauded the group while they walked from the floor.

Breathing heavily, Noelle came to a stop alongside you and – somewhat guiltily, since you hadn’t been watching – you gave her a high-five.

“That was awesome!” you said with a grin. “You definitely stood out in the group.”

Noelle snort-laughed. “Not with Jimin up there, but that’s okay. This is his specialty – and yours,” she added with a wink. “I’m psyched for group four.”

“Ah,” you groaned, rubbing your neck. “Too much pressure.”

Noelle laughed, shaking her head as group three took the floor. Both of you fell silent to watch, your curious gaze finding Sabrina in the back. Sabrina looked almost nervous; an emotion which seemed out of place on her features. It made her look almost human.

As soon as the music began, you stifled a wince. Sabrina stood out from the group, and not in a good way. She had the combination down but moved with a woodenness you would’ve expected from someone half her age. It was enough for you to glance at Miss Luna, wondering if she had noticed.

“Wow,” Noelle whispered, looking almost gleeful. “Sabrina is terrible.”

“Noelle!” you whisper-laughed.

“What? After everything she’s done? After everything she’s said?” Noelle’s gaze narrowed. “Sabrina deserves this.”

Despite privately agreeing, you couldn’t help but feel bad as Sabrina continued. Not wanting to watch any longer, you turned towards the front and resumed marking the combo. As soon as Miss Luna cut the music and polite clapping ensued, you turned back around.

It was time for group four. A shaky, sick feeling entered your stomach as you walked to center. So many eyes were on you, but it had been so long since you danced contemporary. You couldn’t help but wonder if you were as good as people seemed to imagine. Surrounded by so many dancers at Russet, surely your own talent would pale in comparison.

As soon as the music began though, everything faded. Insecurities slipping away, a lightness entered your chest as, eyes falling shut, you slowly inhaled.

Taking a step forward, you opened your eyes and began.

To you, dance had several phases. The first was learning, where you memorized each step and put them in order. The second was understanding, where your muscle memory began to take over and the combination felt smoother. The final phase, performance, was when you thought not of the steps, and were free to just dance.

This was your favorite phrase. In this phase, your mind separated from your body, leaving you only with sweat and emotion. Dance was the only art form composed solely of the body. An odd combination of physical strength and artistic beauty, it was both a testament to human capability and human emotion.

Losing yourself in the music, you ebbed and flowed through the combination until the choreography ended and improvisation began. Finally, you let go and held nothing back. Raw, unbridled passion poured out as you lost sight of yourself, so consumed by the movement.

When the song finally finished and you came to a stop, you were panting for breath. Glancing up, the first person you saw was Jimin.

He stood off to one side, leaning casually against the rungs of the barre, but his expression was anything but. Focused on you, his gaze had turned dark in a way which made you catch your breath.

Miss Luna clapped both hands once again, returning your attention to her. Blinking, Jimin shook his head and in your peripheral, you saw him straighten.

“Very good!” Miss Luna scanned the group. “I know our time is nearly at and end, but why don’t we have a few students come out and demonstrate?”

Again, this was fairly common in master classes. After learning the combination, teachers would often single out students to perform as examples. It wasn’t always the students with the best technique who got chosen. Oftentimes, it was as much for passion and performance quality.

Taking a step forward, Miss Luna began to call out names. You were one of the first – setting your water down, you jogged back to center. Jimin was the next person called, then Noelle, much to your excitement. Jungkook was also instructed to join on the floor.

Turning the lights halfway down, Miss Luna pressed play and let you improvise until the combination began. Jungkook started dancing and honestly, he was beautiful, but you couldn’t linger on him for long. 

Catching sight of Jimin again, you were once more transported to earlier times. This wasn’t the first time you’d been called out together. Oftentimes, this had happened at conventions but back then, your mind had been too clouded to see him for who he was.

You’d always wanted to beat him in high school, but now, you were consumed by the oddest desire to see him do well.

Glancing up, Jimin caught your gaze and he smiled – but then, the combination began.

By the time you were finished, you could hardly catch your breath but somehow, you felt the most alive you’d been in ages. Back in your own element, surrounded by some of the most amazing dancers in the world – this was what you’d imagined when you came to Russet.

People around the room clapped, some of them begrudgingly. You got the impression many of your classmates weren’t used to not being chosen. As you walked from the floor, you saw surprisingly, Sabrina wasn’t amongst them.

Instead, Sabrina simply looked tired – as though she’d tried her best and it hadn’t been enough. You knew that look. You sympathized with that look.

The look lingered in the back of your mind while you packed up your things and listened to Noelle discuss Halloween tomorrow. When she mentioned Ari had decided to visit her family this weekend, an idea began to form in your mind.

“Wait,” you interrupted, looking up. “Ari can’t come tomorrow?”

Noelle shook her head. “Her brother just turned eighteen, so her whole family is having a party or something.”

“So… her ticket is free, then?”

“Yes…” Noelle paused. “Why? Y/N, what are you planning?”

“Okay. Hear me out,” you said as you shrugged on your coat. It was cold enough now for the coat to be necessary.

Noelle sighed, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, I’m listening.”

Glancing away, you saw Sabrina packing her things on the other side of the room. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you returned to Noelle.

“What if we invited Sabrina?”

Noelle snorted. “Pass.”

“Noelle,” you laughed, reaching out for her arm. “Come on! Do you really think she’s doing anything for Halloween?”

“Probably not. And that’s her own fault.”

“Maybe,” you said, glancing at Sabrina once more. “But how could it hurt? We have an extra ticket, there’ll be tons of people tomorrow night. She’ll probably say no – at least this way, you can claim a write-off on your way into heaven!”

Noelle upper lip twitched. “Oh, is that how write-offs work?”

“Well, I can only assume.”

Finally, she laughed. “Ugh, fine. You can invite her – but only because it’s Halloween, and Halloween is a time for peace. And slutty costumes.”

“Thanks, babe,” you said, squeezing her waist in a one-armed hug.

Sighing exaggeratedly, Noelle waved aside your thanks. Hiking your bag higher, you began to make your way across the room. As you closed in on Sabrina, you began to rethink your choice. It had been nearly a month since anything bad had happened between you but still, you found yourself feeling wary. As tough as you pretended to be, rejection hurt you just as much as the next person.

Still, dancing with Jimin had been a reminder of just how bitter your relationship used to be. If that relationship could change, you had to imagine things with Sabrina could, too.

Coming to a stop at her bag, you waited for her to look up. When she finally did, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

“What?” Sabrina asked, sounding defensive. “What do you want, Y/N?”

You couldn’t really blame her for her suspicion. Had your situations been reversed, you would’ve been equally distrustful. It was likely Sabrina thought you were coming over to gloat, or say something to do with class today. Another twinge of pity went through you as Sabrina zipped her bag shut to stand.

“I just wanted to know what you were doing tomorrow,” you said, trying to smile. “Noelle has an extra ticket to a Halloween party, and we thought you might like to come.”

Sabrina stared. “What?”

“Tomorrow is Halloween,” you said, a bit slower. “You know – when we were kids, it was all about costumes and candy. Now, it’s about costumes and booze?”

Sabrina failed to crack a smile. “And you want… me to come to this party?”

Something about the way she said this made you sad, as though she genuinely thought this might be a joke. As though at any moment, someone might jump out and yell SIKE.

“Yeah,” you said, softening a little. “Look – it’s not a big deal if you can’t make it. A bunch of our class is going though, so we thought of you.”

Sabrina hesitated, then glanced at the door. “Okay,” she said, looking back. “Okay, yeah. I’ll come.”

Stifling your surprise, you nodded. “Great. I’ll text you where to meet us tomorrow before the club. Wear a costume,” you added before walking away. “Noelle said it’s required.”

“Alright,” Sabrina said, so quiet you almost missed it.

Walking away, you were nearly at the door when Jungkook popped up before you. Flashing a smile, he fixed a loose strand of hair away from his face. Feet fumbling to a stop, you could only stare.

“Y/N, right?” he said, sounding shy.

Unable to find the words, you blinked in response. The way Jungkook danced had been so confident, you’d only assumed this to be his off-floor persona, as well. Hearing him sound shy was unexpected. 

Also – you hadn’t expected him to know your name.

“I… yeah, that’s me.” Shaking your head, you smiled. “Jungkook, right?”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I just wanted to say I’m such a big fan of your dancing. It was great to take class with you today.”

Without meaning to, a laugh escaped your lips. Jungkook stared at you, baffled until you quickly waved him off.

“Oh, no – no! Sorry,” you said. “I’m not laughing at you! I’m just laughing at the ridiculousness of you saying you’re a fan of me.”

Some of Jungkook’s wariness disappeared, and a small smile played across his lips.

“Well, I am.” His grin widened. “I used to assist on the convention circuit, too and I remember you being called out all the time. You and Jimin,” he added, glancing across the room.

You looked, too and saw Jimin still packing his things. His back was stiff, pointedly not looking in your direction. Lingering on him a moment, you returned to Jungkook.

“Still,” you said with a laugh. “It’s a bit of a stretch to say we took class together when you’re the teacher’s assistant.”

“True.” Jungkook paused. “Well, next time you’re in LA, let’s fix that. Let me know if you’re ever in town and we can take a class together.”

Despite yourself, your brows raised. It was harmless, but Jungkook was definitely flirting with you. He was attractive, sure and seemed nice, but he lived in LA and you had a boyfriend. You should probably leave before things had the chance to go any further. The last thing you needed was another complication. Adjusting your bag, you gave Jungkook a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan,” you said before turning away.

Jungkook chuckled from behind. “Bye, Y/N.”

As you joined Noelle at the door, she stared over your shoulder.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop.

Noelle’s gaze moved to yours in disbelief. “How?” she demanded as you exited class. “How do you have all these men just… tripping over themselves for you?”

Heat rising to your face, you shook your head. “That’s – I,” you sputtered. “You’re being ridiculous!”

“Am I?” Noelle grinned. “First Jimin, now Jungkook… and all this while having a boyfriend.” 

“I… you... Jimin is not tripping over himself for me!”

Both her brows shot way, way up. “Is that the only part of the sentence you took objection to?”

“Shut up,” you groaned and shoved her in the side.

Noelle laughed but nodded. “Alright, fine! I’ll stop. Did Sabrina say she’ll come?”

“She did.”

“Great. I still don’t like her,” Noelle said, pushing open the door. “But I guess you’re right, I have an extra ticket. It’s nice to be nice.”

You laughed, pulling your coat tighter as you walked outside. “You’re a saint.”

While you walked, your phone dinged and pulling this from your pocket, you saw a notification on Instagram. Jeon_Jungkook97 has followed you.

Shaking your head, you returned this to your jacket as you continued. While it was nice of Jungkook to compliment your dancing, his approval didn’t mean as much as certain other peoples had. This realization stuck in your mind, making you wonder about Noelle’s teasing jibe.

She had said Jimin flirted with you, but that wasn’t true – was it? You would have known if Jimin were flirting. It was hard to pick out though, since Jimin was friendly with everyone. That was just who he was; as he’d said earlier, he liked to be liked. A note of uncertainty entered your thoughts though, recalling the ballet class with your chest pressed to his. Shoving this away, you forced yourself to focus on the upcoming weekend.

Halloween was a night for fun, for letting loose and enjoying yourself with your friends. You refused to let the night be spoiled by any lingering feelings – either from you, or towards you.

The next night was perfect Halloween weather.

Chilly, but not cold enough to risk snow falling. There were several Halloweens from childhood you could recall trick-or-treating with a winter coat flung over your costume because the temperature had dropped below freezing.

You, Noelle and Irene showed up to Paulo’s house around 8:00 PM, shivering a little while you stood on his doorstep. Paulo was one of the few freshmen who lived off-campus, having known several upperclassmen before he came to Russet. The brownstone he lived in was cute, with window boxes you imagined hosted flowers in the summer.

Tugging your pink and black minidress down, you adjusted your bow as Paulo opened the door.

Blinking, he took in your costumes. “The Powerpuff girls!” He cheered, raising an arm overhead. “Try not to take down any of the villains upstairs, yeah?”

“No promises,” said Irene, flicking hair over her shoulder.

Entering the house, you heard thumping bass from an apartment upstairs. Paulo lived on the third floor and as you climbed the steps, the music grew louder. It took Paulo two tries to shove open the door – “warped wood,” he explained – but once you were inside, you saw familiar faces.

“The Powerpuff girls!” Jasmine cried, jumping up from the couch. “Finally! Thank god – can you take down Eamon? He came here dressed as a potato, or something.”

“It’s an avocado!” Eamon shouted from the kitchen. He was dressed in a round, green costume with a halo overhead. “I’m ‘holy guacamole’ – get it?” he said, pointing at the halo.

Jasmine stared at him a moment. “That’s terrible. Worse than mine,” she said with a wave down her body. “I’ve been Princess Jasmine for the past five Halloweens. It’s easy to remember and I already have the outfit.”

Laughing, you shrugged off your coat and added this to a pile on the couch. “It’s a classic,” you agreed as you turned.

Noelle had managed to procure at least twenty tickets to the party tonight, so a lot of your freshman Russet class was in attendance. Including Sabrina, who stood in the corner, talking to Louis over cups of red punch. She looked up when you entered, pausing before she gave a small wave. Surprised by the gesture, you did the same.

“No.” Noelle groaned, coming to a stop alongside you. When you looked, you saw she’d already removed her coat. “Tell me Sabrina didn’t come to this party dressed as a ballerina.”

“We did invite her at the last minute,” you laughed. “Hard to find a good Halloween costume in a day.”

“Hey,” Noelle argued. “There’s no we here. You were the one who invited her, and you’ll be the one to accept the consequences should your social experiment fail.”

“Done,” you agreed. “Speaking of social experiments though, I’m ready to get drunk tonight. Where’s the alcohol?”

“Kitchen!” Irene called, brushing past. “Or – that’s where Brian disappeared to when we entered, so I can only assume.”

Telling Noelle you’d be back with drinks, you wound through the room towards where Irene had pointed. The kitchen was tiny, on par with most city apartments. There was only room enough for one or two people, so you were lucky it was deserted when you entered.

Surveying the counter, you found the usual party staples. A bowl of red punch, a bunch of beer and various liquor bottles with chasers. Skipping over the communal punch bowl, you reached for a bottle of diet coke and coconut rum.

“Oh,” a voice said as they entered the kitchen. “Sorry – I didn’t know you were in here.”

Glancing up, you saw Jimin and froze.

He’d dyed his hair black – that was the first thing you noticed. Jimin’s hair was no longer blonde, but completely dark. His outfit confused you at first – a frilly, white blouse with slicked-back hair and dark trousers – until you saw his bright red contacts and the dribble of blood at his mouth.

“A vampire,” you said, finally recovering your voice. Scanning his body, you frowned. “Where are the teeth, though?”

Jimin blinked, his gaze jerking up from your waist.

“Huh?” he said, sounding a bit strangled.

Cheeks heating a little – your dress was pretty short – you repeated yourself. “The teeth,” you said, pointing at your own lips. “Don’t vampires have fangs?”

“Oh, right.” Jimin dug around in his pocket – fuck, were his trousers tight – to produce twin fangs. “I took them off when I got here. They’re really hard to talk in.”

“Go on then, Park,” you said with a grin. “Put them in.”

“One second.” Twisting to face the wall, Jimin popped them in his mouth. Turning around, he bared his teeth. “Sexy?”

With the teeth in though, the word came out more like shex-shie and you burst into laughter. “So sexy,” you agreed, reaching past him for a cup.

Jimin stiffened when your arm brushed his front. Unbidden, you thought about what Noelle had said – Jimin had been flirting with you. Pulling away, you resumed making your drinks and tried not to look in his direction.

Even so, you remained aware of his presence. Jimin inched his way behind you, reaching for the whiskey on the other side. His arm brushed your elbow as he went, right knee nudging yours in an intimate gesture.

Glancing up from the counter, you accidentally caught his gaze. Despite your earlier joking, he did look sexy. Devastatingly so. Even the blood-red contacts weren’t enough to deter the shiver which ran down your spine.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, you grabbed both cups and pulled back. 

“So, what’re you drinking?” you asked. 

You decided it was best to steer the conversation away from how sexy Park Jimin was or was not.

Seemingly oblivious to your inner turmoil, Jimin poured whiskey into his cup. “Whiskey and coke. Can you pass me that bottle?”

“Sure,” you said, leaping at the chance to prevent him from walking past you again. “Here you go.”

Pushing this forward, you watched Jimin pour both drinks all the way to the brim. He paused near the end, staring into the depths before he looked up. He seemed to be warring with something, debating whether or not to speak whatever was on his mind.

“So…” He paused. “Do you know Jungkook, or something?”

You blinked. “Jungkook…?”

“You know, Miss Luna’s assistant. Jeon Jungkook.”

“Oh! Jungkook. No, I don’t really know him.”

“You were talking to him at the end of class, though?”

Hearing the curiosity in his voice, both your brows raised. “And?”

“And nothing,” Jimin said, sounding uncomfortable. “I just… I didn’t know you knew him, that’s all.”

“I mean, I don’t.” You paused. “But even if I did, what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t.” His cheeks began to redden. “It’s just – ah, never mind. We don’t have that great a history, that’s all. He’s kind of the reason I’m at Russet this year.”

You stared at Jimin a moment. “Wow, what a tragedy,” you said, stifling a laugh. “To have been forced to attend one of the most prestigious dance institutions in the world.”

His upper lip twitched. “It’s not that. I was deciding between attending Russet and accepting a job offer out west. I was asked to join this pop star on tour… anyways, Jungkook’s never liked me much. It’s a long story.” Jimin’s brow furrowed. “My offer was rescinded at the last minute. The artist never said why, but I always got the feeling he had something to do with it.”

You stared at Jimin a moment, unsure how to respond. Jungkook hadn’t seemed like that kind of person, but you supposed you’d only talked to him for a few minutes. If that was true, what happened to Jimin sucked and yet, the next words from your mouth nearly had you face-palming.

“And here I thought I was your biggest rival, Park,” you said.

Jimin’s eyes widened. “Are you… jealous, Y/N?”

He sounded almost pleased by the notion, which sent a different kind of shiver down your spine.

“Not at all,” you said quickly, turning back to your drinks.

Jimin made a soft tsk-ing sound, as though he didn’t believe you.

“That sucks,” you continued, determined to change the subject. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“Yeah. Maybe it was all for the best, though. Things happen for a reason, right?”

Looking up, you caught Jimin’s stare. He didn’t look immediately away and you got the oddest sensation he meant more than what he said. Hastily, you pushed this feeling aside, clutching your drinks as you entered the main room. Jimin followed close behind, two cups in his hands.

“When did you get here?” you asked. “Been here long?”

Jimin shook his head. “Nah. Hoseok and I got here like, ten minutes ago. He should be around here somewhere, he –”

“Y/N!”

You looked up just in time to see Hoseok, Jimin’s roommate, barreling towards you.

“It’s been so long!” Crushing you to his chest, Hoseok wrapped you in a hug. “Hope Jimin isn’t boring you to death,” he stage-whispered before he pulled away.

“Just for that.” Jimin arched a brow. “Both these drinks are for me.”

“No – wait, wait. I’m sorry!” Hoseok pouted. “Hand over the drink, Park. It’s been the longest fucking week.”

Jimin grinned and relented, handing Hoseok his cup as you laughed. Hoseok was a newer friend, but he was close to Jimin, so he’d gradually bled into your latest gatherings. Despite not being on the ballet track, most of the dancers at Russet knew of him. Hoseok had that way about him.

Glancing down at your outfit, Hoseok held up a finger. “Let me guess – Blossom,” he said, turning to scan the room. “Which means… aha! Irene is Bubbles and Noelle is Buttercup. Makes sense.”

“And you are…” Pausing, you squinted at his outfit. “Someone at the spa?”

“Sure.” Hoseok shrugged. “Honestly, I just wanted to wear a bathrobe.”

Said bathrobe was paired with only boxers, the front of the robe open to display his toned abs. The costume didn’t surprise you, based on past interactions with Hoseok.

Casually, he twirled the robe tie in a circle. “Impressive, no?” Hoseok glanced away. “Whoa, wait – they have beer pong? See you all later!”

Hurrying off, he left you alone with Jimin. Shaking your head, you glanced in his direction and saw Jimin down his whole drink. Arching a brow, you were about to ask why when Irene called your names from across the room.

“Y/N!” She waved her hands. “Jimin! Get over here, you two – we need more for flip cup!”

You found yourself pulled in this direction despite your insistence you didn’t do well under pressure. Jimin ended up at the other end of the table and you lost sight of him when you started to play, paired with Jasmine for a partner.

By the end of the first round, you discovered you weren’t as horrible a player as you’d imagined. Then someone suggested mixed drinks for the second round, and things became fuzzier. There were more people present than just current students of Russet. One of Paulo’s roommates knew Seokjin, so you saw him in the room, along with Sana.

You chatted with both over the course of the evening, in addition to a guy who’d recently debuted on Broadway, Kim Taehyung. Apparently, there was already buzz around him for a Tony. Taehyung was nice, but it was sometime during this conversation you realized how tipsy you were. Apparently, not drinking for several months and then going ham made for very low tolerance.

Collapsing onto the couch, you joined Irene and Brian’s conversation. In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of Noelle – a terrible flip cup player, she’d roped Hoseok into giving her private lessons, but these seemed to be going terribly. Or perhaps very well, given how much the two of them were laughing.

You completely forgot about Jimin until you spotted him across the room talking to Sabrina. Seeing them together, you straightened. Both seemed fairly comfortable, which struck you as odd. Since that morning in Jimin’s dorm, you hadn’t really seen them hang out together.

Despite this, Jimin was laughing at something Sabrina had said. Tearing your gaze away, you forced yourself to focus on the conversation at hand. It didn’t matter who Jimin spoke to, or even who he decided to go home with tonight. He was your dance partner and friend, nothing more and besides – you had a boyfriend.

Blinking, you reached into your clutch and pulled out your phone. To your disappointment, you’d gotten no texts from Finn since this morning. You assumed he was still at his party but didn’t know for sure. Shooting him a text, hey, you waited for a response and when you got none, returned your phone to your purse.

Across the room, you heard Noelle yell your name. “Y/N!” She cupped her mouth with both hands. “We need another person for flip cup!”

Laughing, you pushed yourself from the couch and were immediately roped into your fourth game of the night. The night blurred again after that, turning into a pleasant hum of conversation and booze. At some point, Ubers were called to bring you to the club. As you rushed downstairs, you realized you forgot your coat as soon as you stepped outside.

Shivering violently, you rubbed your arms and cursed yourself for poor foresight.

“Y/N?” Jimin came to a stop alongside you. “Hey, where’s your coat?”

“Inside,” you said through chattering teeth. “I-it’s fine, though. I’m fine!”

Jimin gave you a look. “Where’s Paulo?” he said, glancing around. “I’ll grab him, we can get your coat before we go –”

“The Uber’s already here, though,” you argued, grabbing his sleeve to drag him towards the curb. “I’ll be fine from here to the club!”

Jimin sighed but gave in, following when you rushed to the grey SUV. Irene had claimed the front seat, so you and Jimin pulled open the middle door – Noelle and Hoseok were crowding behind you, so you and Jimin ended up together in the backseat.

Collapsed in a heap, you giggled as Jimin tried to squish himself in a corner. “Sorry,” he said, trying – and failing – to keep his knees separate.

“Jimin.” You snorted. “Are we going to go through this again? Your hands have been in way more inappropriate places than that this semester.”

Jimin’s lips parted, shocked, but you were already hoisting yourself over the middle seat. Draping your arms next to Noelle, you begged her to play your favorite song on the radio. Had you been more sober, you might’ve recognized your position to be precarious – perched on the edge of your seat, your ass hovered inches away from Jimin’s face.

Plopping back down, you glanced sideways at Jimin and found him frozen. Suddenly, you realized the visual he’d had.

“Um, so what happened to the teeth?” you blurted, determined to change the subject.

Jimin blinked and managed to meet your gaze. “Casualty of flip cup,” he said. “One of them fell out during the game and I couldn’t find where it rolled.”

“Well, that’s okay. You can just be one of those vampires who blend in with normal humans. You know, the kind whose fangs only come out when they want to bite someone.”

“That’s true.” Jimin arched a brow. “Lucky for you, I’m not hungry.”

“Lucky for me? Lucky for you,” you retorted. “My blood is about half alcohol right now. If you drank my blood, you’d be a very silly vampire.”

The idea of a silly vampire made you laugh – even more so when you pictured said vampire as Jimin. He seemed much too coherent for your liking right now.

“A silly vampire, huh?” Jimin looked on, amused. “Damn, Y/N – when was the last time you went out? Your tolerance is shit.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I haven’t drunk much this semester. Too much dance, too little time. I think the last time I went out was –”

“We’re here!” squealed Noelle, throwing open the door.

A blast of cold air hit you and you shivered, wishing you’d worn your coat. Jimin’s gaze remained steady on yours.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he said lowly. “I can give you, uh…”

“Your shirt?” you said dryly, lifting a brow as you brushed past. “Then you’d be shirtless, Park. Let’s think this through.”

Jimin chuckled before he followed suit, although you cursed as soon as you left the car. He was correct. It was freezing, even with your alcohol-induced blanket.

“Come on!” you yelped, following Noelle towards the entrance.

Bypassing the line, Noelle walked straight towards the bouncer and showed him her phone. He nodded and waved her past, counting your friend group who followed. Not everyone from Paulo’s place had gone to the club, but enough for you to make quite the entrance.

“Y/N!” Noelle doubled back to link arms with you. “Come on – this way! That guy’s going to show us to our table.”

“Table?” you asked her, wide-eyed.

Tables in a club on Halloween night were ridiculously expensive, but it seemed Noelle had downplayed her brother’s connections. Your group was led right to the front of the upper balcony, getting a coveted spot overlooking the dance floor below.

This was undeniably the coolest club you’d been in. Not that you’d been in many, mind you, but this one had to take the cake. A half-circle of tables took up the top floor, with twin staircases descending to the main room below. Most of the lower floor was for dancing, although you saw additional tables pushed to the sides. Fluorescent bars and dance platforms were dotted throughout and above all was the DJ booth, blasting the latest songs.

“Whoa,” you breathed.

Noelle grinned, squeezing your arm to pull you into the booth. As soon as you settled in, Jasmine leapt up and clapped her hands.

“I want to be in one of those!” she said, pointing to a glowing cage at the center of the dance floor.

“Oo, me too!” Irene leapt up to join her.

“Me, three!” said Paulo, clambering out of the booth.

“Awesome.” Irene beamed and glanced your way. “What about you, Y/N? You in?”

The idea was tempting for a moment, but then Finn flashed through your mind. You highly doubted he’d be on board with you gyrating for a room full of strangers without him. Somewhat dejectedly, you plopped back on the bench.

“That’s okay,” you sighed. “I think I’m going to stay here for a while. I’ll join you later!”

Irene frowned but nodded, following the rest when they left for the stairs. About half the group went, clearing out the table while you stared at the dance floor.

Jimin slid into the bench alongside you. “You don’t want to dance?”

Startled, you glanced in his direction. While you watched, Jimin began to undo his cuffs, casually rolling the sleeves of his shirt. His hair, which had been slicked back at the start of the night, was starting to fall. Several dark strands hung over his forehead, although this only seemed to make the look more appealing.

“No,” you said, crossing your legs. “I just… don’t really feel like it.”

“Is this the whole hating clubs thing again?”

“Kind of.” You laughed. “I don’t know. Club dancing isn’t like normal dancing, you know?”

“It is when you’re at the club with all dancers,” Jimin pointed out, nodding towards the floor.

Following his gaze, you saw Jasmine dancing full-out in a lit-up cage. She wasn’t so much gyrating as she was creating choreography on the fly. The mere mortals around her looked on in awe. Fighting a smile, you returned to Jimin.

“Okay, that does look like fun,” you admitted. “The last time I was at a club was with Finn.”

Jimin blinked. “Sorry – what?”

“In the cab,” you said, leaning closer in order to be heard. “You asked me when I last went out. It was that night… um, the night you came and picked me up.”

Jimin stared at you a moment, as though contemplating something important. Abruptly, he stood and held out a hand. You blinked at this like he’d offered a football.

“What are you doing?” you said, glancing up.

“Taking you down to the dance floor.” Jimin retracted said hand. “Come on, Y/N! You don’t have to give out dry lap dances, or whatever.”

“Hey!” In disbelief, your mouth fell open. “You said you’d forget all about that!”

His smile turned impish. “Seriously, we can just do the sprinkler, or something. It’ll be fun!”

“The sprinkler?” Starting to laugh, you stood. “Was that really the first move you thought of?”

“Nah. My go-to move is the criss-cross, but I figured this was more your speed.”

Snorting, you shoved him in the arm before following Jimin to the dance floor. It didn’t take you long to spot your other friends, clustered near the front and around the DJ booth.

“Y/N!” Noelle cheered, breaking off from the pack. “You made it!”

She nearly spilled her drink while she danced, catching herself just in time as she spun around. You grinned, entering the circle with Jimin by your side. He did, in fact, pull out the criss-cross – Hoseok joined in and soon, there was a Fortnite dance battle between them. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve seen a TikTok dance-off between two semi-professional dancers.

This ended with both declaring mutual defeat, and Hoseok disappearing to buy the next round. Noelle shimmied her way over to Jasmine, accepting the hand given to stand on the platform.

You laughed at their ridiculous dance moves, choosing instead to stay on the ground. The crowd around you had thinned since you’d joined. Eamon disappeared a few minutes later, saying something about needing a drink upstairs. Before long, Irene had joined Jasmine and Noelle on the platform, leaving you alone with Jimin on the floor.

Under other circumstances, you might have felt uncomfortable, but Jimin was so good at putting you at ease. Determined to keep you in the present, he came up with more and more complicated dance moves which had you snorting with laughter.

On a particularly flamboyant spin, Jimin accidentally smacked the drink from someone’s grasp. Blue vodka splattered everywhere, drenching its owner – a burly man in leather who snarled in frustration.

Looking up, he met your gaze and his eyes narrowed.

“Shit. Run!” you blurted out.

Grabbing Jimin by the arm, you dragged him into the crowd.

“No, wait – let me apologize!” Jimin tried to twist around. “I can pay for his drink! I can –”

Once there was suitable distance between you and the guy, you came to a stop. Laughing so hard you nearly fell over, you turned sideways to face him.

Bodies pressed against you from every side but rather than feel claustrophobic, all you could think about was Jimin before you. His hair had become thoroughly mussed during the night and you fought the sudden desire to smooth it down.

Although your breath came hard, the club around you seemed to slow. The music somehow had narrowed to pinpricks, a heady thump of bass while everything dulled.

What you should’ve done was taken a step back – but you didn’t.

Instead, your gaze drifted across his face. Jimin stared back, something intense to his gaze you couldn’t quite name. Breath caught in your throat, his eyes dropped to your lips.

Before you could react, someone bumped into you from behind, sending you careening forward. Jimin caught you easily, one arm around your waist and your chest pressed to his. You could feel every hard line of his body, his thigh wedged between your legs while you grasped at his arms. Heart thudding traitorously against your ribcage, you tried to ignore the emotions which followed.

It was impossible. 

The song playing was slower, sexier than the one which had inspired the dance-off. Without meaning to, your weight subtly shifted. This caused your hips to move against his as Jimin quietly sucked in a breath. The effect this had on him was instantaneous. His grip on you tightened, gaze heady with desire and something more. Before you could second-guess what you were doing, you moved your hips again – this time, on purpose.

Jimin’s eyes darkened. Without looking away, his grip on you tightened as he slowly dragged you up his thigh. Suddenly breathless, your hands gripped him tighter while your eyes fluttered shut. The heat of his body on yours, the faint smell of cologne and sweat, the tension in his limbs and the knowledge of what he could do to you – it all left your head spinning.

“Y/N,” Jimin murmured, low in your ear.

You weren’t used to him saying your name like that.

You were used to him saying your name in every other way, but not that. Sharp with dancer’s critique, brusque with instruction, light with teasing – but not like something heavy was lodged in his throat. Maybe his heart.

Panicked, your eyes flew open.

What were you doing? This wasn’t some random stranger and this sure as hell wasn’t your boyfriend. This was Jimin. Stumbling backwards, you broke from his hold. Jimin seemed equally stunned, staring at you on the dance floor.

“I have to go,” you blurted and whirled around.

Shoving into the crowd, you heard Jimin emit a soft groan. Despite this, he didn’t immediately pursue, for which you were grateful. Stumbling through strangers, strobe lights flashed brightly overhead. You squeezed between someone dressed as a go-go and another person dressed as a werewolf. Skidding to a stop on the edge of the floor, you scanned the room and saw no one from Russet.

When you glanced over your shoulder, you saw Jimin now followed. Panicking again, you began to move. Beside one of the bars, you spotted a hallway labeled restrooms. Heading in this direction, you quickly disappeared inside the door marked women.

Once inside, you locked yourself in a stall, lowered the lid and sat down. Head in hands, you slowly exhaled. You were a coward; that much was clear. Jimin was probably out there looking for you right now, but you’d rather hide in a bathroom than face him.

The fluorescent lighting overhead was too bright – it made you feel overexposed. After a long moment, you fished around in your purse and pulled out your phone. Flipping to your thread with Finn, you saw he’d sent no response since your text. Complete and utter silence.

Heart cracking a little, you slid this in your bag and stared at the door. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. When you imagined you and Finn at college, you’d always pictured you together, attending the same parties and sharing the same adventures. Tonight though, had proven to be anything but that. Finn hadn’t once glanced at his phone judging by the unread mark next to your text.

Dimly, you wondered why you weren’t more upset about this. It should bother you that Finn hadn’t called or even texted throughout the day. Sure, he was out with friends, but so were you and you’d reached out – as soon as you thought this, your heart sank.

You weren’t sure you could call Jimin a friend after what had just happened.

Sure, you’d only danced, and it had only been for a second but still, guilt bloomed behind your ribcage. The idea of Finn doing the same thing with anyone else made your heart twist. You wouldn’t feel that way if what you’d done wasn’t wrong.

Groaning out loud, you lowered your head to your hands. After several minutes, you felt calm enough to stand and pretend-flush the toilet. As you exited the stall, you walked to the sink and began washing your hands. Staring at yourself in the mirror, a million things ran through your mind.

Clearly, the situation with Jimin was worse than you’d thought. The spark you’d felt kept returning, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Maybe the only solution was to find a new partner. The very idea made your heart sink, but you couldn’t deny things had gotten out of hand.

Before you could seriously consider the option, the door to the bathroom flung open and banged against the wall. Sabrina stormed in, wiping both eyes with the heel of her hand. You froze, staring at her in the mirror but she didn’t seem to notice your presence.

When she finally lowered her hands and took a deep breath, she saw you and froze.

For a moment, you both only stared at each other and then – you coughed. Awkwardly, you began to dry your hands.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tentative.

Sabrina stiffened. “I’m fine,” she muttered, walking to the sink.

You watched her wash her hands, struggling and failing to control her expression. Sabrina’s hair was a mess and you stared, wondering where she’d been. You hadn’t seen her since you’d entered the club, but had assumed she’d stayed on the second floor.

“Are you sure?” you pressed, remembering your night at the other club. “You know, you can –”

“Will you… just stop.” Sabrina closed her eyes. “Will you … stop pretending like we’re friends, or something?”

Struck with disbelief, you could only stare. “I… are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” You shook your head. “Just wow.”

Her lips tightened and finally, she whirled around. “What?” Sabrina demanded. “What is it?”

The look in her eyes was familiar. Her frustrated, angry look was mirrored in your expression, but you found you didn’t care. Sabrina was clearly going through something, but her rudeness to you was the final straw. Tired from Finn, Jimin and the constant pressure you were both under, something about Sabrina’s words made you break.

“Why are you always such a… such a bitch,” you blurted, hurling the word like a knife. “What did I ever do to you? Why do you always act like you hate me so much?”

Sabrina’s upper lip curled. “Why do you always think this is about you, Y/N? Maybe I just wanted one second of peace and instead, here you are. Like always.”

“Here I am, in the public restroom of a club we’re all at?”

“No. Here you are in my life,” she snapped, pushing herself from the sink. “People won’t talk to me? It’s because you’ve run your mouth about things you think I’ve done. I’m falling in the class ranks? It’s because you’re after my spot. Jimin doesn’t want to be my partner? It’s because of his feelings for you. I’m sick of turning around and always seeing you there!”

“Okay, but none of those things – I, Jimin doesn’t have feelings for me,” you sputtered.

Sabrina gave you a look. “Oh, please, Y/N.” Her laughter was harsh. “Why else would he turn me down?”

“Um, maybe because he’s a decent human being? Unlike yourself.”

“Great, yeah.” Sabrina glared. “Make me the bad guy again.”

“I’m not the one doing that,” you huffed. “You are. You want to blame me because no one wants to be your friend? Maybe try reaching out first. Maybe don’t talk shit about people behind their backs. And I’m improving because I’m taking extra lessons. No thanks to you, of course.”

“Don’t try and make me feel bad because I didn’t have time to give you lessons.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to explain why I’m improving and you’re not.”

Sabrina bristled. “Are you saying I don’t work hard, too?”

“No.” Mirthless, you laughed. “I know you work hard – maybe even as hard as I do. But you know what the big difference is between you and me?” you said, drawing yourself to your full height.

Sabrina’s eyes glimmered while she stared you down. Still, she retained her aloofness when she said, “What? What’s the big secret?”

“You think everyone’s out to get you,” you said, stepping closer. “You think not asking for help makes you stronger, but it’s the exact opposite. At least I’ve improved since the start of the year. What have you done?”

Not waiting for an answer, you pushed past Sabrina and walked out the door.

Shoving it wide, you entered the hallway. Dance music flooded your senses and you winced, remembering where you were and what you’d been doing. Luckily, Jimin was nowhere in sight. He must not have seen where you’d disappeared to.

Shoulders slumping, you pulled out your phone and dialed a number. Walking to the front, you concentrated on breathing while you waited for them to pick up. Coming to a stop beside coat check, you didn’t leave the club – a lesson you’d learned the hard way.

Noelle answered on the third ring. “Babe?” she yelled, barely audible over the din. “What’s going on? Where are you?”

“Are you…” Closing your eyes, you paused. “Can we leave?”

Noelle paused, then muffled her phone with one hand. “Irene!” you heard her yell. “You good to get a ride home for these people? Okay, cool. Bye!” Her phone became un-muffled. “Where are you, babe?”

After explaining your location, you hung up and hugged yourself with both arms. Noelle burst into view a few moments later, scanning the crowd like a mom on a mission. When she saw you, she rushed over – and you promptly burst into tears.

“Oh, no!” Pulling you into a hug, Noelle began to rub your back. “No, no, babe! Don’t cry! What’s going on? Do I need to kick someone’s ass?”

Hearing Jimin’s words said by Noelle only made you cry harder. Wisely sensing this to be a problem not easily solved, Noelle continued rubbing your back while walking towards the exit.

The two of you went outside and, as luck would have it, saw a group of people arriving at the club. Noelle snagged their taxi, helping you in the backseat and giving the driver your address. As you settled against her, your head on her shoulder, Noelle kept rubbing your arm and waited for the tears to stop.

You weren’t really sure why you were crying.

Of course, Sabrina was terrible, as was the situation with Jimin, but it was more than that. Dancing with Jimin hadn’t caused problems in your relationship with Finn. There had been problems in your relationship Finn and so, feelings had crept in which led you to dance with Jimin.

More than that though, you couldn’t help but notice Noelle had come to your aid much faster than Finn ever had. Even Jimin had dropped everything when you asked, and he was someone you’d once called your enemy. Noelle had been having fun, but she’d cut her night short because you were upset. This knowledge crushed you and for the very first time, you realized your relationship with Finn might be unfixable.

Curled up on the backseat, you let yourself cry a bit more. You could be calm and rational in the morning, you decided but for now, you just felt defeated.

When you finally climbed into bed at your dorm at night, you looked at your phone and saw Finn still hadn’t texted.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! 😊 New chapters of Raise the Barre are posted weekly; dates are listed on the series Master List. Requests for updates will be deleted.

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 

© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.

[five-rivers]

Changeling Chapter 1

A DP Fae Au fic. I've been promising you this for so long XD. I can hardly believe I'm finally delivering, even if it's only one chapter for now.

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Chapter 1: In the Beginning, There Was an Offer

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They studied legends. According to those legends, today, Beltane, was a time of renewal, of birth, of fertility.

It was not supposed to be… this. Their dreams weren’t supposed to be crushed today. Not under this sun, not under these blue skies and among softly blooming flowers.

This kind of news should have come with rain. It should have come with storms.

Maddie wiped tears out of her eyes and Jack patted her on the back. The air smelled sweet and dusty at the same time. The bench was uncomfortable.

“We could try adoption,” said Jack. He sounded shocked, too. Drained. His voice was pulled taught over a great hollowness. “Lots of people adopt. We can- can do some good in the world, maybe.”

Maddie sniffed and cried harder. She’d wanted her own children, and Jack knew it. Adoption was all very well and good, but at this point the suggestion felt like some consolation prize, and she felt terrible for even thinking it was, because Jack was right, it could be a good thing, and…

She wanted children. Her own children.

“Excuse me, I believe I can help.”

There was something about how he said that, about how the voice wound and slipped through her ears that had Maddie’s head snapping up. The man who stood to the side of the bench wore a long coat with a deep hood. Symbols, symbols that Maddie had spent hours, days, weeks, researching were stitched into the fabric. His eyes glittered in the shadows. The fingers of his hands, clasped in front of him, were too long, their coloring faintly lavender, as if they had been dipped in ink and retained the stain even after they’d been washed clean.

This was not a human.

“How?” asked Maddie, feeling hope drip back into her limbs even as Jack tensed behind her. “How can you help?”

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“We shouldn’t have done that,” said Jack as they drove home. “We really shouldn’t have done that. Maddie, they’re evil, there’s always a catch and it’ll always be looking for a way to push us into it.”

“The catch is in the open,” said Maddie, leaning back against the seat of the car and closing her eyes. “It isn’t as if it’s in the fine print and we’re going to stumble into it. We have one, and then I get my tubes tied, or you get snipped, and we go on with our lives.”

“What if we have twins? Triplets? Maddie, we should have talked about this.”

“There wasn’t any time,” Maddie said defensively. “I had to decide right away.”

“What are we going to do if we have twins, Maddie?”

Maddie bit her lip, her eyes opening without her full permission as she thought. “We know how to deal with things like him.”

The car jerked just a little to the right as Jack failed to suppress his flinch. “Do you remember our work on motivations? On why they take artists, musicians, children?” he asked. He forged on without waiting for an answer. “Creative sterility, we called it. For this one to be able to cure sterility, he has to be powerful. I don’t think nails in pockets and inside-out clothing is going to stop him.”

Such protections were hit and miss to begin with. One faerie might hate bread, another might love it. The sound of bells would drive off one, and another would wear them in their hair. Even cold iron was no guarantee against them.

“We’ll have to find something better, then,” she said, firmly.

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Maddie laughed. Not a twin. A single child showed on the ultrasound monitor. A girl. A beautiful baby girl. Perfect.

On the other side of the bed, Jack sunk into a chair, obviously relieved. “She’s healthy?” he asked the OB/GYN.

“Completely,” she said. “This is quite the miracle the two of you put together here.” She shook her head. “We must have gotten something wrong during our examination. I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am to have put you through all that, and I won’t blame you if you wanted to find a new doctor.”

“It’s fine,” said Maddie, patting the woman’s arm. “It happens.” Yes, being approached by a powerful fae just ‘happened.’ “The important thing now is to make sure there aren’t any complications.”

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They made sure Jazz was born on a Sunday, with two middle names, one of which Maddie made sure to forget. They scheduled her baptism for as early a date as possible, even though both Jack and Maddie were as lapsed as it was possible to be.

Precautions.

Jack had his surgery only a month later.

They were safe. They had won.

The family of three snuggled together on the couch. Well, Jazz snuggled inasmuch as a newborn was able. They watched TV.

“Jack, dear,” said Maddie, roused to awareness by a news story about a rising young businessman. “Is that our Vlad?”

Jack blinked at the screen. “I think you’re right,” said Jack. “I haven’t seen him since college. I don’t think we’ve talked to him since college.” He frowned. “Did something happen? The three of us used to be so close… He was the only one in the whole folklore department that would put up with our theories, do you remember?”

“I don’t know,” said Maddie, trying to remember. “It was like he was there one day, gone the next.”

“Do you think he’ll mind us getting back in touch?”

“Only one way to find out.”

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(As it turned out, Vlad did not particularly care to get back in touch.)

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Jazz was not a normal child.

She saw too much. She understood too much. Her teeth grew in early. She learned how to get the milk out of the fridge at about the same time she learned how to walk. Her eyes were too large, even for her age. She didn’t start talking until she was almost two, and when she did, it was in complete sentences. She took to responsibility like a duck to water. No, she demanded responsibility, from waking up the family in the morning to answering the door. She loved rules and games, and the rules of games.

But they had never raised a child before. Perhaps this was simply how they were. Perhaps this was within the expected variety of humanity.

Most importantly, Jazz was theirs. Completely.

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Maddie was not terribly concerned when her period missed a few days, or even when it was late by a week. But when it started pushing two…

She bought a test.

It came back positive.

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Danny’s birth was different from Jazz’s in almost every particular. Instead of being infused with a sense of joy, proceedings were overshadowed by dread. Jazz had been born in a hospital. Danny would be born at home, behind every ward and protection Jack and Maddie could conceive of. The midwife they hired was more than used to odd belief systems and threw a few of her own traditions in as well.

It couldn’t hurt.

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It didn’t help.

After the birth, Maddie held Danny in her arms. He’d been born in a caul, which had been slightly alarming, even though Maddie had known that it was a thing that happened regularly, and that, by most accounts, it was lucky.

He was such a tiny little thing. Smaller than Jazz. Which made sense, he was a little premature.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promised him, whispering into the silky, wispy curls on top of his head.

Someone knocked on the door. Maddie jerked her head up, even though the front door wasn’t at all visible from the basement. Jack flinched hard enough to drop the towels he was holding. The midwife froze.

“Hospitality,” croaked Maddie. Those rules were always humanity’s first defense against the uncanny. Don’t want something in your house? In your life? Don’t invite it in.

Although, she had arguably already invited in the fae they were worried about. Hence all the other contingencies.

The knock came again. And again, louder.

Jack let out a sigh of relief. “It can’t get in,” he murmured. Then he smiled, broad and bright. “We just have to wait it out.”

Maddie nodded, tears in her eyes. The knocking continued. This was far from ideal, obviously, but she’d been half expecting the fae to simply rip through the wards like tissue paper.

Perhaps the theory that more powerful fae were more bound by custom, more vulnerable to their weaknesses, held water? She and Jack had always dismissed it as fanciful, but they’d never been able to gather evidence before.

Then, a sound that made her heart stop.

“I’ll get it!” called Jazz, childish voice muffled by distance and the obstacle of the floors above. She’d been told not to answer the door when Danny was being born, to wait patiently in her room, but for all her unusual maturity, she was only three.

Faster than she’d ever seen him move, Jack bolted for the stairs, pushing aside several pieces of furniture and medical equipment in his haste. He took the stairs four at a time and nearly taking the door off the hinges.

He wasn’t fast enough.

“Who are you, mister?”

“Me?” said a voice Maddie had prayed against ever hearing again. “I am your uncle, my dear. Did your parents not tell you about me?”

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Jazz tipped her head to one side and stared up at the man, making her eyes extra big. She knew it made a lot of people uncomfortable when she looked at them like that, so she treated it as a kind of test.

The man smiled, kind and patient. He was kind of funny looking, but in a good way.

“No,” she said finally. “Are you Mommy’s brother or Daddy’s brother?”

“Ah, you already know about uncles, then. I was worried I’d have to explain. May I come in? I would like to greet your little brother, as your parents promised I could. I have gifts for both of you.”

Jazz liked gifts. “Okay,” she said. “But I dunno if Danny’s been born yet. Mommy said it can take a while. And I dunno if he can have gifts, yet. He’s gonna be really little. That’s what all my books say, and also the internet.”

“Jazz! Don’t!”

Jazz turned to see her Daddy skid around the corner, just as her uncle stepped across the threshold.

“Not quite on time, I fear,” said uncle. “Young Jazz has already let me in.” He patted Jazz on the head. She ducked away and stuck her tongue out, like she always did when Daddy did that. “Having greeted my niece, I would like to see my nephew.”

.

The fae did walk past the rest of the wards as if they weren’t even there. It didn’t even break them, just ignored them. Some of them he even commented on, as if approving.

He gazed down at Danny with his otherworldly eyes. The midwife had retreated to the corner of the room, refusing to look at what was happening. Jack had attempted to attack the fae with his bare hands, only to be pushed away with something approaching gentleness by an invisible wall. Maddie didn’t know where Jazz was. Upstairs, somewhere, hopefully.

“So beautiful,” the fae said, brushing Danny’s forehead with his off-color fingers. Faster than Maddie could react, he had a pair of scissors in his hand and was cutting off a lock of hair. “A lovely child.” The lock of Danny’s hair disappeared into the fae’s coat.

If Maddie didn’t know better, she’d call the expression on the fae’s face love. But she did know better. Love was as incomprehensible to the fae as fae laws were to humans, so she’d call it by its true name: avarice.

She tightened her grip on Danny, as if she could keep the fae from plucking him from her arms.

“Not now,” said the fae, after another moment. “Soon, I should think.” It ran a hand over Danny’s head. “Soon.” The fae looked up, meeting Maddie’s eyes. “I will return,” he said, “in one year.”

“For what?” demanded Maddie, unwilling to get her hopes up.

The fae blinked slowly. “For his birthday.” He tilted his head. “To determine whether or not he is ready. Perhaps, also, to visit my niece.”

“You stay away from Jazz!” snarled Maddie. “You have no claim on her.”

The fae merely shrugged, then smiled, slyly. “She does, however, have a claim on me. I promised her gifts, before your husband whisked her away.”

“Gifts,” repeated Maddie, hoarsely.

“For the sister of my child, yes,” said the fae, voice and face as calm and even as ever. “Would you ask me to forswear myself?”

“Then,” said Maddie, “you can leave them here, with us.”

“You will give them to her?”

“Yes,” said Maddie, through her teeth. She did not say how long she would let Jazz be in the presence of these ‘gifts.’

“Very well, then,” said the fae, pulling a number of boxes out from beneath his coat. “One year. Be prepared.”

And, with that, the fae faded from view, as if he had been an illusion all along.

Danny was still with them. Their son was still with them. Still theirs.

“One year,” she said, breathless. “Only one year.”

“One whole year,” corrected Jack, rushing to her side. “You’ll see, Maddie. Next time, that fae won’t know what hit him!”

“One whole year,” echoed Maddie, weakly.

“One year to prepare,” said Jack. “Look what we did with half that time! We’re Fentons! We can do it!”

“We can do it,” breathed Maddie. “One year. We’ll be ready.”

Jack nodded, firmly. “We’ll be ready.”

[cas-kingdom]

Bad Blood

A/N: Set towards the end of season 3. 

Title: Bad Blood

Summary: After Peter discovers Neal stole the ship’s treasure, you’re worried he’ll be mad at you for keeping the secret.

Words: 2310

The problem with loving your brother so much you couldn’t possibly do something to put him in jail, despite your personal opinions, is that it puts you in an awkward position.

You had never had that problem. From the age of three, you’d gone everywhere with Neal. You’d grown up among thieves and criminals, and that’d been all you’d known. Until Neal was caught, and you’d lived a more subdued life for four years, learning things and picking up what it meant to have a normal life. You’d grown your own opinions, stemming from the simplest of things, and slowly come to realise that there was a life outside your brother’s antics.

Maybe that was why Neal hadn’t told you about the treasure. Perhaps he’d thought you might tell Peter. He should have known, though, that you’d never do that. So, more plausibly, maybe he’d simply wanted to keep you safe. Maybe he hadn’t wanted to put you in that kind of position – stuck between him and Peter. He’d been doing that a lot in the year and a bit he’d been out of jail; keeping secrets, only letting you in on what he thought you needed to know. It was a swerve in your relationship, and it was constantly hitting obstacles.

Peter had taken you aside a while after the fire and asked you if Neal had stolen the treasure. You could still remember the flurry of emotions that had hit you then.

“I need to know,” Peter said. His voice was gentle. He was leaning on his forearms, staring at you from his place behind his desk. His eyebrows were raised, and you would have squirmed uncomfortably if you knew what he was talking about.

You sputtered for a moment, glancing down at the floor, before shaking your head and looking back up at him. “Neal?” you asked. “You- you think Neal stole the treasure?” Peter lifted his chin and leaned back against his seat. “I thought it was all lost in the fire.”

Peter sighed. “We did, too,” he said. “But… we found something that leads us to think otherwise.”

Your frown deepened. You turned your head, just about seeing Neal immersed in conversation with Jones. He glanced up for a moment, your eyes meeting, and he gave you a questioning look. You bit the inside of your cheek and turned back around to look at Peter, who was watching you intently.

“I don’t know, Peter,” you said honestly.

Peter nodded. “If you did…” He tilted his head a little. “Would you tell me?”

It wasn’t an interrogative look that he was giving you. He loved you. Every moment he was with you was spent treating you as his own. But that love included protecting you, even from your brother, and he wanted – needed – to be sure that you weren’t withholding anything from him that could put you behind bars, because he knew he’d rather be behind them himself than let you go.

You bit your lip, absently fidgeting with your fingers. You glanced up and shrugged.

Peter nodded slowly. “Alright,” he said. He couldn’t say he hadn’t expected that response. He drew in a deep breath and stood up, rounding the desk. He leant down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “As long as you’re safe, kid. That’s all I ask. Don’t get yourself caught in something I can’t get you out of. And… try get that in your brother’s head, too. You know where I am if you need me.”

Really, it should’ve been obvious to you that Neal had stolen it. You hadn’t wanted it to be – it was for that reason you’d never told Neal that Peter had even asked you about it – but you knew the man better than you knew anyone and anything. If the opportunity was presented, he would grab it up.

You’d cried after overhearing Neal and Mozzie discussing the treasure. They’d been quiet, whispering among themselves, and Neal should have known really that you wouldn’t have been asleep. He’d heard you sob, your pillow over your head, and got up from his chair so fast he’d knocked it over. Eyes wide, heart pumping, mind whirring, he’d slid into the bed beside you. You’d pushed him away, but he’d stayed, he always stayed, and he’d slept with you until morning, your back to him, his hand on your shoulder. You hadn’t talked about it the next day, and you’d been blunt with him since. You figured he’d worried you would tell.

“You have the treasure!”

You could hear Peter’s words. You’d been sat at the table when he’d come in, telling them Elizabeth had been taken, and you’d decided then and there that if Neal didn’t tell him, you would. Thankfully, you hadn’t had to, but the look Peter had given you after that had seared into your brain, and you hadn’t been yourself since. So, the moment Neal had been cleared – officially, anyway – you’d ached to speak to the agent.

“Peter, can we talk?”

It was a Sunday, and you, Mozzie and Neal were at Peter and Elizabeth’s for lunch. There was a sense of normality around Sunday lunch at the Burkes’. A familiarity that you had been terrified you’d lost for a moment back then.

Elizabeth and Neal were sitting outside, the both of them laughing about something or other, and Mozzie was sleeping on the deck chair he’d brought from June’s – nobody was sure why and nobody had bothered to ask. He was Mozzie, after all. You had been putting the plates away, Satchmo your shadow, and Peter had followed close behind, that smile on his face which told you he was happy. You didn’t really want that smile to disappear, and you knew he probably didn’t have anything to talk to you about, you were just being paranoid, but it would make you feel better, and you were too selfish to let that pass.

Peter glanced over his shoulder as you leaned against the kitchen counter. He nodded. “Sure,” he said, shutting the dishwasher. He turned around and crossed his arms, a look of slight intrigue crossing his face. “What is it?”

You swallowed, rolling your shoulders a little. You saw Satchmo nudge your hand with his wet nose and felt all the better for it. “I don’t…” you started, before feeling the lump in your throat stop your words. Peter, ever the concerned stand-in parent, moved forward immediately, his eyebrows furrowing together, those frown lines creasing his forehead. He stopped beside you, not wanting to invade your privacy yet needing to be there for you all the same, despite his not knowing what it was you wished to say.

He was a patient man, and so he merely stood beside you for a moment, waiting for you to speak up again. The open door was letting in the fresh breeze, the sound of Elizabeth and Neal’s laughter wafting in through it. It was the perfect day.

“I don’t want there to be any bad blood between us,” you said eventually, in a voice softer than Peter ever believed he’d heard.

He took a little while to mull your words over, staring fixedly at a spot on the floor. He shook his head as though preparing his words. “There isn’t any,” he said after a small moment, tilting his head to look down at you. When you didn’t reply, your hand on top of Satchmo’s head, he darkened his frown. “Hey,” he said, almost as softly as you. He pushed himself from the counter to move partly in front of you, taking your hands into his and waiting for you to meet his gaze. “What makes you think that?”

You swallowed again, foolishly feeling tears in the corner of your eyes. “I knew about the treasure.”

Peter made a face of realisation immediately. He squeezed your hands. “You knew about it after I asked about it,” he reassured you, shaking you a little, “you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Well, I should’ve told you anyway,” you said, sniffling. “I should’ve told you the moment I found out. That’s withholding evidence… or something.”

Peter huffed a short laugh, releasing your hands only to pull you against his chest in a strong hug. “Your mind’s been working on this one for a while, huh?” he said gently, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You rested against him, eyes staring blankly ahead, lips trembling as you tried to hold the tears back. You felt Peter rest his chin on the top of your head. “I’m telling you, kid,” he said, “there’s nothing bad between us. You didn’t know about the treasure when I asked, and you said you didn’t know whether or not you’d tell me if the odd chance you found out later came up. I accepted that. That’s all that matters.” He turned his head a little, looking into the garden. As he’d expected really, Neal was craning his neck, eyes concerned even from this far away. He rose a dark brow, a silent question passing between them, and Peter nodded his head once, causing the younger man to reluctantly turn back to his conversation with Elizabeth.

Peter imagined it was difficult for both you and Neal to have someone like him in your lives. It’d always been you for a long, long while, and allowing someone in, opening up to that person like you had, was something he felt almost honoured for. Holding you in his arms like this, feeling your hands grip his shirt and your head all but bury in his chest, simply because you were worried he was upset with you, made him feel something indescribable. It was a good feeling, though. The feeling he felt when Neal did as he was told without argument, and called him his friend, and just came into work that morning because he’d decided it wasn’t the day to cut his anklet and run.

Things had changed for the Caffreys. He hadn’t known you at all before a year and a bit ago, but even he could tell that. You were letting people in. Trusting people besides yourselves and each other.

He pat you on the back and pulled away from you a little, gently putting a finger under your chin. “I don’t blame you for wanting to keep Neal safe,” he assured you. “I know it was difficult enough to keep it a secret after you found out.”

You nodded, sniffling a little. Of course it’d been difficult. It’d been the reason you’d cried yourself to sleep that night. You hadn’t wanted the task of having to make a decision, and you were only grateful – and relieved, more than anything – that you hadn’t had to.

“I think...” You glanced down for a second, glassy eyes meeting the soft brown ones of Satchmo. “I think I would’ve told you eventually.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he was surprised at that revelation. He lifted his chin a little, dropping his finger from yours. "Really?"

"Somebody would have found out in the end,” you told him. “Better it be you. You’re the only person who cares about Neal enough to fight for him.”

Peter regarded you carefully, watching as you shuffled your feet and chewed anxiously at the inside of your cheek. He hadn’t really thought about it in that way before, but now you’d mentioned it, he could see it.

It was true, what you’d said. Mozzie and Neal’s treasure-hiding hadn’t been the smartest. There’d been enough leads to have found it eventually, and definitely enough to drive whoever was following those leads to them. Those people would not have been so lenient. They wouldn’t have understood Neal’s (partly) turned over leaf. They wouldn’t have understood his kindness, and his compassion, and his general humanity. And they definitely wouldn’t have understood his need to stay in front of the bars if only to keep Y/N happy.

Peter understood it all and more. If you had told him about the treasure before he – and Keller – had found out about it himself, he doubtlessly, with a small amount of consideration and hesitation, would have decided on some way or another to give Neal the lowest possible amount of punishment he could receive for a crime such as this. He wouldn’t have thrown the guy in jail and left you without your brother for another few years of your life, and New York without Neal.

He loved you both too much to do that to either of you, or to him.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, a little distant in his tone. He looked back out at the garden, Neal’s grin threatening to split his face as he laughed along with Elizabeth. Though Peter could still see his aching need to get up and ask what he and you were talking about. That was Neal Caffrey. The first responder to all his little sister’s life choices. All except some, Peter decided, and he didn’t half mind that.

He turned back to you and gave you a smile, letting it widen as you responded with your own, half genuine one. “You’re a good girl, sweetheart,” he said quietly, “and you help me keep that man within his limitations better than anyone. Make sure you talk to him. I’m getting a little tired seeing those puppy dog eyes every day.” Your chest heaved with a breath of amusement at that, and he counted it as a victory as he pulled you towards him once more. “The only way there could be any bad blood between us is if you killed Satchmo. Or Elizabeth. Or me. Now, go out and ask the beauty, the criminal, and the winter sunbather if they want cheesecake or profiteroles for dessert.”

[takenyoomies]

Bonten Abbey: (mis)Aventures to the Arcade

Summary:

Sanzu Haruchiyo was known for many things...pill-popping, being late, and most importantly, wrecking the flow of the weekly Wednesday board meeting. What would this week hold? None of the other members of Bonten wanted to find out when he was once again late to the meeting which only spelled one thing for them. Disaster. Word Count: 8.7k Read on AO3

It was a Wednesday, and a Wednesday meant one thing for the Bonten gang. The weekly board meeting that nearly every single member in the top brass gang seemed to dread, loathe, and despise. It was often typical for each member to discuss their part for the designated five minutes. However,  going over time would cause extreme tension in the sardine-can-sized conference room that would rival being trapped in a room with a rabid badger. In addition, there were times when other off-topic conversations occurred that in Akashi Takeomi’s quoted words were “an absolute fucking mess.” All in all, the meetings tended to go through without a hitch. However, today was not one of those days as Sanzu Haruchiyo strolled into the conference room with a shit-eating grin that rivaled no one else,  fashionably late, of course.

“Hey, Sanzu!” An annoyed Mochi shouted at the man who entered, whipping his head around at the sound of the door closing, teeth barred and fists clenched in anger.

“Yo, Mochi.” Sanzu waved, trouncing over and sliding down into the uncomfortable and hard leather seat.

“We have a set meeting time, jackass.” Kokonoi hissed.

“Like he’d  ever  listen to that Koko….” Ran laughed, shaking his head.

“Important business called me.” The pink-haired man sighed blissfully, shrugging almost sarcastically to the platinum blond accountant’s dismay.

“I doubt that highly.” Rindou breathed.

“Oh, and what would that be?” Takeomi chimed in, a brow raised as he put out his cigarette.

“I’m  so  glad you asked!”

Reaching into his pocket with excited fingers, the pink-haired mullet sporting man pulled out a folded piece of paper. One would think this was some grandiose plan, some information regarding their competition, something important. But, no, Haruchiyo Sanzu unfolded the piece of colorful paper and slammed it onto the mahogany conference table, looking up at the group of men with a smirk.

“...Please tell me it’s actually important this time.” One of them said with a sigh. It didn’t matter which one.

“Oh, trust me, it’s of the utmost importance.” Sanzu assured, holding up his right hand, “Swear on Mucho’s grave.”

“The last time you used that, we ended up deserted at some movie theater that was showing a crappy porno...so that’s out the window, and you’re about to be too if this is something-” Mochi ranted, taking a glance at the piece of paper, “Are you fucking serious?” He asked in disbelief.

“What is it this time?” Kakucho finally spoke with an exasperated sigh, standing up from his seat and walking over to take a look at the piece of paper, “An arcade?” He asked with a raised brow as he looked over to the pink-haired man.

“Yeah, they’re running a deal where if eight people come as a group, you get 50% off.” He leaned back in the chair, putting his feet onto the table with a thud, “Therefore, I think we should take advantage of it and get off our depressed asses for a change.” Sanzu concluded with a nod.

There was a click in the background as Takeomi lit another cigarette. “I’m fine without having to babysit for the day.” Takeomi stated, then taking a heavy hit off of the cigarette, exhaling upward, “Interrupting a meeting for this is rather pointless, Haruchiyo Sanzu….”

“I think it sounds like a good time. Reminds me of when we were back in Tenjiku, right Rindou?” Ran turned to his brother, who sighed and shook his head.

“Yeah, I guess there’s some nostalgia there.” The younger Haitani agreed.

“2-1.” Sanzu stated, pointing to the others in the room, “Mochi, Kakucho, Koko….” He said to each as he pointed to each of them with his index finger, pausing as he hovered over the sleeping Mikey, not daring to wake him up.

“It’s a waste of our funds, and judging from the fact we recently recovered from the great  Bonten Has To Eat Instant Noodles For Two Months issue...It’s a no from me as well.” Kokonoi explained as he slid his hands together, “I’m sadly not in the mood for instant noodles again.”

Sanzu rolled his eyes, “Stop being a drama queen, and it wasn’t  that  bad.”

“It was fucking awful. What the fuck are you talking about?” Mochi argued, “Just for that, it’s a no from me too.”

“Bullshit, you’re voting based on emotions.” Sanzu cried out, swinging his feet off the table and slamming his fists onto it with a loud thud.

“What if I am?!” Mochi screamed, holding his fists up, dropping the flyer onto the floor for Kakucho to pick up.

“Oh god, here we go again…” The younger Haitani laughed, laying onto the surface in front of him as he watched the fight unfold.

“Zero days without incident at a Bonten Board Meeting….” Takeomi sighed, shaking his head in dismay.

“Did we ever have a positive count…” Kokonoi asked in confusion.

“Nope.” Ran snorted as he shook his head.

“I think it’d be interesting.” The normally quiet Kakucho spoke up, placing the flyer onto the table near the sleeping blond.

“See? I knew Kakucho was my favorite for a reason.” Sanzu pointed towards Kakucho, who blinked and pointed towards himself to ask ‘who, me?’.

“Didn’t you say Rindou was your favorite last week?” Ran questioned, an index finger on his cheek in sarcastic thought, “Oh right, it was for  ‘agreeing with you about how strawberry shortcake is better than strawberry cheesecake’  …” Pointing at Sanzu.

Rindou jabbed his brother in the stomach with an elbow, causing the taller of the two to emit a dull ‘ ow,’  “Don’t bring me into this.”

“That was an important conversation. Mochi was trying to say cheesecake was better than real cake,” Sanzu clarified, “I’m not going to rehash old beef, though.” He held up two hands as if to say he didn’t care. However, it only seemed to anger Mochi more as he drew back a fist. Kakucho began to get ready to hold the brawny man back for the umpteenth time.

However, a small yawn from the front of the table, causing every person to freeze. Mochi and Kakucho returned to their seats quickly as the blond who had once been asleep opened his dark, inky eyes.

“...All of you are unnaturally quiet,” He finally spoke, looking around at each of the men seated at the table. He then glanced down at the sheet of paper that was settled in front of him, “What’s this?”

Sanzu gulped. This was officially a make-or-break moment for his plan, “Ah, Mikey...it’s for an arcade that’s running a deal….” He trailed off nervously.

The blond’s obsidian eyes glanced over the information listed on the paper before pausing at the section relating to food and looking back up at the group of men, “We’re going.”

Sanzu smirked and looked directly at Takeomi, who looked as though he wanted to crawl into a ditch and die, “Sanzu - 1 Takeomi - 0.” He jousted.

“If we were keeping track history-wise, you’d be so far in the red you’d be begging for someone to come save you,” Takeomi shot back, shrugging his shoulders and standing from his seat. He walked towards the door of the conference room, turning his head to Sanzu, “but you do that enough already, huh?” Finishing with a dry laugh as he exited the conference room.

“What the fuck? I’m not Koko.”

“I’m right here…?” Kokonoi shook his head in disbelief, standing from his seat at the table with a huff and kicking the chair back into place, “If I have to eat instant noodles for two months again, I will  never  forgive any of you assholes….” Pointing a finger around the room, stopping before Mikey, turning on his designer heels, and walking out of the room. You could hear the faint echo of his heels trailing down the concrete hallway.

“And then there were….” Sanzu counted himself and the heads in the room, holding up one hand to count only to realize he didn’t have enough fingers, “Anyways, when are we going?”

“The flyer said the deal is only good until Sunday; therefore, we need to go before then.” Kakucho informed the group, “Since it’s Wednesday, and we each have jobs to do until early Saturday morning...I’d suggest Saturday afternoon.”

“Overall, that sounds like it would work with our current plans, Kakucho.” Mikey agreed, his obsidian gaze staring holes into the heterochromatic man’s soul.

Kakucho nodded his head, “I’ll be taking my leave now. I have some things I need to tie up.” Then, standing up from his chair, pushing the chair in, and silently walking out the door to the conference room.

“We’ll get going as well, then.” Ran suddenly spoke as he stood up lazily, a scuffling noise coming from the chair.

“You act as though we’re going to the same place….” The younger Haitani breathed, shaking his head and rolling his lavender eyes at his brother’s statement.

“I thought you said we’re going out for lunch?” Ran pouted, hands on his hips.

“I said I was going to get lunch, and you invited yourself again.”

“I don’t see what the problem is with that?”

“Everything, everything is the problem with that.” Rindou turned to his brother as he finally stood from his place at the table with a huff.

“Can I come wi-” Mochi started to ask, only to be interrupted.

“NO!” Both Ran and Rindou yelled simultaneously to Mochi.

“Tough crowd…” Sanzu snorted to Mochi.

“Listen-” Mochi started, cracking his knuckles, only to be shot a look by Mikey.

“I’d be careful Sanzu, Kakucho already left, and that makes the chances of your face getting smashed in about 8-2.” Ran pointed with some underlying amusement, almost hoping that there would be another fight.

“Wow! Is everyone Koko today?!” He asked incredulously, putting his head in his palm and looking at the older Haitani, “If I didn’t know better...you did our taxes, Ran!”

“...But, I do help with those?” He questioned in a confused tone, blinking.

“Leave him. He’s hopeless.” Rindou sighed, “Mochi, come with us to lunch before you get put on punishment duty by Mikey.”

“I wasn’t gonna do shit.” Mochi huffed, glaring at the pink-haired man, “What are you lookin’ at?”

“Nothing, nothing...it’s just-” Sanzu paused, leaning forward in his seat to get a closer look at Mochi.

“It’s just what?” Mochi spat.

“Your beard...you shaved it crooked this morning, and it’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve  ever  seen.”

Yes, it was at this moment that Mikey indeed questioned if he formed the deadliest gang in all of Tokyo...or if he formed the most immature band of toddlers in all the land of Japan.

---x---

“So, who's driving?” Sanzu asked lazily on that faithful Saturday afternoon.

“The last time Rindou drove, he floored it past an old lady because she was driving the speed limit and nearly crashed us into a gasoline tanker, so...I vote not Rind-OW what was that for?!” Kokonoi yelped, getting elbowed in the side by Rindou.

“She was going eight under the speed limit, number one, and number two. I drive fine compared to somebody!” The long-haired man glaring over to Mochi.

“Eat shit.” Mochi replied, flipping Rindou the bird, “Let Kakucho drive; he’s safe.”

Sanzu groaned loudly, “But Kakucho drives like a grandma.”

“And how is that a bad thing?” Kakucho sighed, shaking his head.

“We’re gonna get there at sundown if you drive.” Sanzu pointed out.

“Oh, true.” Ran chimed in with a thoughtful nod.

“I don’t drive  that  slow.”

“Yes, you do,” Sanzu breathed, “Next.” Kakucho held out his hand, only to put it down in defeat.

“Alright, since Sanzu is an absolute fuckwit about this, I’ll drive. One catch, though,” Takeomi spoke up as he threw his cigarette onto the pavement, crushing it under his shoe.

“Ooooh, Takeomi enters the chat.” Sanzu mooned.

“Shut up,” He shook his head, “I get full control of the radio.”

Everyone went silent, staring at one another in horror.

“Sanzu, let someone else drive,” Kokonoi spoke up finally.

“Yeah, please, let someone else drive.” Rindou shook.

“I don’t want to deal with this for 45 minutes.” Mochi looked over at Takeomi, lighting another cigarette, who had a sinister look in his eyes.

Mikey finally strolled down into the parking garage, noticing no one was in the bus, “Who’s driving.”

“Takeomi is,” Sanzu replied, a collective sigh from the group as Takeomi chuckled to himself.

As everyone began boarding the bus, Mikey clung behind with Kakucho, only to ask a singular question, “Does this mean he has control of the radio again?”

“We’re sadly going to be listening to Russian death metal for 45 minutes….”

Mikey stared ahead before reaching into his pocket and fishing out two pairs of earplugs and handing Kakucho a couple, “Tell no one.”

The dark-haired man blinked as the other walked onto the bus, Sanzu slamming on the horn while screaming at Kakucho to “get his ass on the bus,” much to Takeomi’s annoyance as he tried to shove the pink-haired idiot away. Inwardly, he wondered about the kindness as he embarked on the self-proclaimed Bonten prison bus, holding the earplugs in his fist.

The route navigation guidance will start…

“Yeah, yeah, shut the fuck up.” Mochi chided the navigation system.

“Don’t insult her. You’d get lost getting out of a paper bag.” Rindou snorted.

Takeomi turned his head around and glared, “I hear any more arguing, and all of you will wake up in a walk-in freezer.” He said with a sweet smile, putting the bus into gear and starting to drive out of their base.

“You’ll never take me alive!” Sanzu retorted after a moment, snickering to himself as Takeomi visibly winced in anger.

“Yeah, that’s the point, dumbass,” Kokonoi replied, slapping the back of Sanzu’s head with an open palm.

“Takeomiiii Koko hit meeee-”

Takeomi gripped the steering wheel with one hand, his knuckles on that hand turning white as his other hand skillfully reached for the pack of cigarettes and a lighter that laid on the center console. He plucked a stick out with his lips, throwing the pack back down and flicking the lighter to light the cigarette. He inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in for a long while as if to contemplate his current life choices, such as why in the world he ever agreed to play babysitter to a group of overgrown idiots and be their chauffeur for the day. Finally, his eyes looked into the rear-view mirror, meeting Sanzu’s mischievous cerulean ones, “Good, you deserved it.”

“Fuck off, Takeomi.” Sanzu puffed, Takeomi only turning up the music louder in a petty act of revenge.

“Look what you made him do!” The blond man shrieked in horror, everyone else on the bus, minus Kakucho and Mikey, glaring at the pink-haired offender.

“I didn’t do anything! He turned it up himself!” Sanzu defended.

“I’m rating Takeomi 1 star on Uber,” The older of the Haitani brothers joked, “Worst music choices, worst attitude, smokes in the car-”

“You can walk if you want,” Takeomi called out, “But remember, I had to carry you home after that mission because you twisted your ankle because you decided to wear those new Gucci shoes...I think you’d be too far up shit creek to stand on your own.”

Ran blushed furiously, “You said you wouldn’t tell anyone!”

Rindou snorting and holding his sides, “Bro, that’s why you were limping that week? You said you slipped on the ice...It was your shoes?!” He wheezed.

“Oh my god, you’re absolutely hopeless, Ran….” Kokonoi facepalmed, chuckling.

“I am not. I’m reporting you to HR!” The short-haired man pouted, crossing his arms.

Sanzu snorted, “Did you mean Kakucho?” Looking over to the dark-haired man who was staring out the window, “Oh shit, he’s brooding.”

Mochi sighed, “Someone get the tissues ready.”

“Earth to Kakucho, come in to Kakucho...Return to planet earth!!” Sanzu yelled, causing Takeomi to glare at him in the rear-view mirror.

“Sanzu, that walk-in freezer has your name on it...I know a place relatively close by.” Takeomi threatened.

Turn left at the next intersection, then turn right.

“Bullshit, that’s the long way.” Takeomi hissed, throwing his cigarette out the window angrily, “Who designed this.”

“Please do not take us on another scenic route again…” Sanzu whined painfully, “It’s on the GPS for a reason. We do not need to relive the Black Dragons glory days.”

Takeomi rolled his eyes, “For your information, my glory days have nothing to do with getting us there faster.”

“Mhm...keep telling yourself that.” Sanzu replied snarkily, “Are we there yet?”

“Mikey, do you still have the duct tape in the bus?” Kokonoi perked up suddenly, clapping his hands together, “I suddenly thought of a great project for us!”

“I don’t like the sound of this project.” Sanzu objected.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll just  love  it.” The light-haired man reassured Sanzu, brushing his hand against his arm gently, the other retreating with disgust. Kokonoi snorted with laughter, “What, scared?”

“No, I don’t want to catch your reverse sister complex.”

Kokonoi stared at the other with his mouth wide open, Sanzu rolling his eyes in return, “I was at the Kanto Incident, don’t act like people don’t have ears when you and what’s his face were out there screaming about it….”

“Yeah, you were screaming about it, Koko.” Mochi agreed, Sanzu blinking that the man had agreed with him.

“Oh yeah, I remember that!” Ran exclaimed.

“Survey says Tenjiku remembers it Koko.” Sanzu shrugged.

“Go to hell, and stay there.” Kokonoi huffed, blowing his bangs off his face.

Sanzu crossed his arms, smirking smugly, “You’re just mad because I won.”

“Oh god, he’s crying.” Mochi whispered, nodding his head toward Kakucho, “Sanzu, you just fucking  had  to bring up Tenjiku, didn’t you?”

“Nice going Sanzu, that’s the 3rd time this month you did it, too.” Rindou pointed out, “I don’t think we have tissues in the fucking bus anymore.”

“Why the fuck not?!” Mochi hissed, “Oh wait….” His eyes trailing over to the elder Haitani, who was looking to the side inconspicuously.

Rindou’s eyes narrowed as he looked at his brother, “Yeah, hm, perhaps because someone decided to hop in with a fresh bullet wound….”

“Listen, it was a bad night...week...month….” He attempted in defense, each increment of time making Rindou raise his brow higher and higher, “ Year?” Finally, causing the younger brother to nod in agreement.

“Wow, Ran...it’s almost as though you’re more useless than Sanzu,” Takeomi muttered sarcastically, offended gasps resonating from both Sanzu and Ran.

“At least I know how to cook without setting the fire alarms off,” Ran spoke incredulously.

“You forgot the sprinklers too.” Rindou chimed in.

“Hey,” Sanzu spoke, turning his head to them.

“Please, let us all not forget about the time he came to a meeting to discuss the fine intricacies of how orange juice makes you taste weird after you brush your teeth,” Mochi added, shaking his head in disproval.

“I’m right here!” Sanzu yelled in a huff.

You have arrived at your destination.

“Thank fucking god,” Takeomi sighed, putting the bus in park, “Someone wake Mikey up.”

---x---

Surprisingly, the arcade was located in a relatively remote part of town compared to where Bonten typically walked their regular routes. However, this did not stop several people from staring as the rag-tag crew disembarked the converted prison bus.

“Hey, hey...who are those people…”

“They look kinda scary.….”

“Alright, so game plan time.” Sanzu began as they walked towards the doors of the arcade.

“I’ll go in, so you get the deal. However, I’ll be standing outside to smoke otherwise.” Takeomi concluded.

“What?!” Sanzu shrieked in disbelief, “No, you have to participate.”

“No, I don’t.” The scar-faced man replied coldly.

“Let it go Sanzu, Takeomi can keep watch.” Kakuchou offered, “And he needs a break too. He just drove for almost an hour.”

Takeomi nodded his head in agreement, “Couldn’t have said it better.”

Sanzu clicked his tongue in annoyance, looking over to the blond for help, “Mikey….” He pleaded in a petulant manner.

“Let him rest.” Mikey stated, “He’s been pulling overnights, too.”

Takeomi smirked towards Sanzu, who only seemed to get more aggravated as he aggressively pulled open the doors to the arcade with a loud, “Fine!”

The arcade was anything you would expect, loud, smelled a bit musty, and was vibrant beyond compare. However, there was a slight scent of cheese for some strange reason. Heading towards the counter, the eight members of Bonten cashed in for several game cards that were quickly handed to none of than Hajime Kokonoi himself.

“Wait, why me?” He asked incredulously.

“Weren’t you the one who said,  oh, I don’t wanna eat instant noodles for a month ?” Sanzu mocked, shaking his head.

“Yeah, but we’re all adults here and can manage fine….” The platinum blond trailed off, looking around in a confused manner.

“Yeah, Koko, don’t be a hypocrite.”The older Haitani agreed, hands on his hips.

“Are you seriously agreeing with him?!” Koko cried in astonishment.

“Well, I think that settles it,” Sanzu said with a smirk, “You can go play like, one game or something like that.”

“Sanzu, is the word ‘nice’ in your dictionary, or did that get removed when you started your drug usage?” Kakucho asked, blinking.

Sanzu turned and looked at the other man, “I could say something right now, but it would amount to the fourth time this month.”

“Alright, let’s just get on with this shit.” Mochi finally said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, Yeah...I’m going….” Sanzu waved his hand as he walked in the other direction, likely off to find something that piqued his interest.

Ran turned to Rindou, “I wonder if they have DDR here….” He wondered aloud, his lavender eyes glancing around the area only to light up in amusement, “I see it!”

“Oh, it’s on.” Rindou smirked, “Ready for a revenge match, bro?”

“Like I’d ever miss it for the world.” Ran laughed as they both made a bee-line for the machine.

“What are you gonna, do Kakucho?” Mochi asked, turning to the jet-black-haired man.

“I’m not sure; I haven’t been to an arcade since….” He trailed off and looked to the floor.

“Get out of your head for once.” Mochi punched the other lightly in the shoulder with a grin, “Can’t stay in there forever, huh?”

Kakucho looked towards the other man and nodded, “You’re right.”

The two began walking around, attempting to find something to do in the vast array of games and activities, stopping now and then for Mochi to try something and only failing at it miserably, only to have Kakucho show Mochi how to do it properly. Eventually, both came upon a motorcycle racing game, their eyes lighting up as they used to long ago.

“Mochi?” Kakucho asked quietly, though loud enough to hear over the several kids screaming in the background.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“We’re playing this.” He declared.

“I mean, I figured when you stopped right there and were staring at it like it was some sexy chick at the strip club.” Mochi snorted, Kakucho staring at him as though he had two heads.

“Your disrespect for women is unimaginable.” He huffed as he hopped onto the motorcycle.

Mochi let out a hearty chuckle as he climbed onto the adjacent motorcycle, “Preaching respect women while in a gang that deals with prostitution,” He slid the card into the reader twice, “That’s some funny shit.”

“Oh screw, you.” Kakucho pouted as he swerved the motorcycles to select the rider, pausing over a white-haired rider and selecting them.

Mochi stared a moment, blinking at the fact Kakucho had chosen a character that looked like Izana. He shook his head and chose a random character, not exactly caring.

3...2...1...START!

“Oh fuck me, this ain’t nothin’ like the real shit.” Mochi cursed as he attempted to steer, crashing out several times with a string of curses.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about; this is pretty easy?” Kakucho replied, already in 1st place.

“How the fuck!” Mochi swore in anger, attempting to climb back into a semi-reputable position, only to realize he was in 9th place, closing in on 10th.

Kakucho tilted his body through a turn and smiled; he was having fun with this. He truly missed being able to go to the arcade with friends, with Izana. He wondered if they could do this more often...if Bonten could. He was drawn from his thoughts as Mochi swore loudly again, making him laugh, “Mochi, do you need help?”

“How the fuck are you gonna help me from there?!” The bulky man swore, now in 12th place—dead last.

“I...don’t know,” Kakucho admitted, crossing the finish line and setting a course record for the game.

“This is some ungodly level bullshit right here,” Mochi complained, trying to back himself out of an in-game ditch.

Kakucho continued watching for several minutes until Mochi finally crossed the finish line, “Well done.” He congratulated.

“Oh fuck off, enter your damn name.” The bearded man hissed in envy.

Kakucho entered his initials into the game, listed under 2nd place. He wondered who had set the 1st place record for the machine, though it was likely impossible to figure out.

His head turned when he heard a cry of frustration nearby, one that he knew...Koko?

---x---

When the group had split up earlier, Haruchiyo Sanzu had given him one rule. That was he was only allowed to play one game. Several ideas ran through his head, virtual poker, which allowed him to recoup the money they were blowing here, the weird slot machine game that looked rather promising, and then, of course, the game where you had a coin and slid it down a slot to push more coins off a ledge… All of those were lovely ideas, Kokonoi thought, that was until he landed upon a red stool in front of a screen that read Deal or No Deal. He’d heard of this reality television series before, and he knew the premise.

The blond pursed his lips as he sat down, assessing the machine. There were 16 buttons on the front labeled 1 through 16 in the shape of what looked to be briefcases. Kokonoi assumed they were to represent the motifs from the show. He sighed, figuring that, if anything, this was going to be the game for him. He slid the game card through the reader, slumping onto the stool.

Get ready to play: Deal or No Deal.

“Fuck me…” Kokonoi sighed in annoyance, watching as the said sixteen cases appeared on the screen with various ticket amounts ranging from one to five hundred. Large letters appearing stating to ‘follow the cases,’ which essentially signified you were supposed to pick the largest amount.

“Oh lovely, some RNG?” He muttered sarcastically, “It’s not like we don’t get enough of that in those gacha games kids play these days….” The cases shuffled around the screen, stopping and showing designated numbers that corresponded to the buttoned below. He thought a moment before pressing the nine button.

Choose your case...this will be your personal case.

“Yeah, I already did that-” Kokonoi hissed in annoyance, spamming one of the buttons to no avail.

You chose case number nine.

“Oh.”

Now pick five cases.

“I feel like I’m playing some fucked up lottery.” He sighed, noticing the clock and swearing under his breath as he scrambled to choose a number, “Let’s continue with the ongoing theme of my name.” He pressed the 1 button.

One.

One of the virtual women on the screen opened the case to reveal a low ticket amount, Kokonoi nodding his head in approval. He pressed the 13 button, the game echoing his choice once again to show yet another low ticket amount.

“And I thought poker was a rush.” He mused to himself, pressing the 8 button. This time, a larger amount was revealed.

“And all good things come to an end.” The light-haired man sighed as he then pressed the 15, another low.

“Back in black,” He joked, leaning back as he assessed the board for the final number, “Alright, let’s try 6.” It was a high number.

There was a ring from a telephone, causing Kokonoi to look around in confusion, only to realize it was the game, “This is such a weird game….”

That’s the bank.

“Oh good, am I getting paid?”

Here is the offer...Deal or No Deal...

A ticket amount appeared on the screen, Kokonoi’s inky eyes narrowing, “That’s it?!” He cried in frustration, hitting the NO DEAL button quickly, “I think that one gang we took out last week had a better offer for us than that.” He huffed.

Now open four cases.

“Again?” He asked incredulously, shaking his head, “Fine.” He pressed the 2 button, revealing a large amount, “Goddammit.” He thought a moment as the clock ticked down.

Hurry up.

“Oh, this game did  not  just tell me to hurry up.” The fair-haired man stated saltily, pressing the 16 button, low. He smirked, “See, can’t rush perfection.” He pushed the 10 button, low again.

“One more until the bank comes crawling back to me….” Kokonoi thought aloud to himself, hovering over the 14 button and then pressing it gently. Another low amount. The phone began ringing again in the game, music to Kokonoi’s ears, in all honesty.

There’s the bank again.

“Who else would it be?” Kokonoi mocked as he waited for the offer to appear on the screen.

Here’s the offer...Deal or No Deal…

Kokonoi thought a moment as the in-game clock ticked down. While this was a remarkably better offer than the last, he knew that there was still a significant chance he would be able to win big, and after all, it was an arcade. And not to mention, the bragging rights over Sanzu would give him mental clarity for the next month. With that thought, he pressed the NO DEAL button.

Now pick three cases.

Kokonoi sucked in a breath, his heart pumping, and he rubbed his hands together, “This is starting to feel like poker.” He pressed the 3 key. High. Swearing under his breath as he then pushed the 12 key high again. He stared up at the ceiling, his grand plan starting to fall apart as he looked down and pressed the 7 key, hoping for some luck. Low. Kokonoi sighed to himself as the phone rang, knowing the offer would look like garbage compared to the last, and laughing hysterically when it was less than half of what it originally was, quickly pressing the NO DEAL button as if he had never seen it.

Now open two cases.

“I don’t know if it’s good or bad, that the highest amount is still there, or that the offer they just made was so bad I wanted to leave here and never return..” Kokonoi chuckled to himself, questioning his life choices up until this point, pressing the 5 key. High. He then pressed the 4 key, also high.

“Wait...doesn’t that mean…” He stared and blinked, “I have either the 1 ticket or 500…”

The phone ringing again to make another offer, Kokonoi spamming the NO DEAL button as he came to the realization.

Now, let’s open your case.

As the in-game woman opened the case, Kokonoi leaned forward, only for the case to reveal...One ticket. Hajime Kokonoi had won, one ticket. He screamed, slamming his hands onto the machine before holding his head in his hands, staring at the floor in anguish. By now, Kakucho and Mochi had made their way over to him.

“Koko, what happened?” Kakucho asked, leaning down to attempt to make eye contact.

“I took a calculated risk...and for what.” The blond sobbed, his hand nearly tearing his hair out in frustration.

“Uh...Koko, it’s just a game.” Mochi laughed, amused by the entire situation.

“Do you think we can put a hit on Howie?” Kokonoi asked after a moment, looking up at the two of them.

“Who the fuck is Howie?” Mochi asked.

“Isn’t that the Deal or No Deal guy?” Kakucho asked, and then noticing where they were standing, “The answer is no, we are not killing someone for your petty revenge.”

Kokonoi huffed and crossed his arms, “Fine.” He looked around, “Where’s Ran and Rindou?”

“Oh, they’re with their fan club.” Mochi snorted, “Go see for yourself.”

---x---

“They really do have it, bro!” Rindou said with a huge grin, pointing towards the bright and colorful Dance Dance Revolution machine in front of them.

“Why wouldn’t they? They had it when we were growing up in Roppongi?”

“Okay, but who the fuck knows about a weird arcade Sanzu chose.”

“You speak only the truth…” Ran laughed, stepping onto the pad and sliding the card through the reader, “Oh nice, we get three songs?”

“Remember before we’d have to keep a cup of quarters on the floor, and we’d always spill it?” Rindou asked, tying his hair into a bun and joining his brother on the game’s vibrant pad.

“Yeah, and you’d always blame me for it even though you were always the one who did it!” Ran pouted, flipping through the songs and pausing on one, the music filtering through speakers as he turned to Rindou with a sinister smirk, “What was that about a revenge match?”

Rindou grinned, crossing his arms triumphantly, “I’ll gladly bust your ass at Kimagure Mercy any day.”

“Do you still remember how we do it?” Ran questioned as he selected it, sliding off his suit jacket and slinging it over the back of the railing.

“How couldn’t I.” The bun-sporting man rolled his lavender eyes, “Aren’t you the older one, gRANdpa?”

Ran’s eyebrow twitched, “I’m not above sibling punishment Rindou.”

“Oh, I’m shaking.”

The was applause from the game, signifying the song was about to start. The two brothers faced forwards, the intro starting and patterns beginning to fall down the screen. The two started to move in unison, swaying back and forth to the beat. It wasn’t until the first verse hit that what Ran mentioned began.

The Haitani brothers had begun to dance while playing Dance Dance Revolution.

Rindou glanced over to his brother, “Oh my god can you stop being such a show-off for once?” He huffed through a laugh, clapping hands with his brother to the beat.

“Please, it’s on my wiki article!” Ran cried out, “Just like you’re a big brute.” He bopped his head.

“I am not!” The younger retorted, squinting at the screen.

“Don’t mess up, Rindou!” Ran teased and purposefully pushed the other a bit in one of their claps.

“Fuck off!”

A crowd began to grow, mainly teenage girls enamored by these two men playing the game in such a spectacular way. All of them were excitedly watching as the two played, starting to ask each other questions such as “Does anyone know their names?” “Who are they?” “Do they have an Instagram?”... Eventually, when Rindou’s name was mentioned, people began to cheer for him. Naturally, this caused a significant issue for Ran Haitani.

“Hi ladies, I’m Ran~” He sang, causing them to squeal, a smirk plastered on his face, and an annoyed groan from Rindou echoing in response.

“In another life, I wonder if you were destined to be a host.” He sighed, accidentally missing the tile on the floor, “Shit!” he swore loudly.

“You see what you get, Rindou; respect your elders.” Ran snorted, the other man glaring at him from the corner of his eyes.

“When this song is over, you better run…” He whispered, “It’s over in 23...22...21…”

“I’m so old, my hearing…” He joked, Rindou nearly grabbing his hand during one of the claps and breaking it.

The song wrapped up, Ran turning around and waving to the group of girls and Rindou slouching forwards, primarily due to rage, though also due to an insatiable desire to beat his brother to a pulp in Dance Dance Revolution.

“Again.”

“Oh, you want more?” Ran asked with a lazy smirk as he waved to the “fans”.

“We have 2 more songs.” Rindou huffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s a waste of money.”

“True,” Ran nodded his head, “Let’s pick an easier song then!” He reached for the buttons only to have his hand slapped away by the younger, a dull ‘ow’ leaving his lips.

“No, we’re playing this song until I beat you. It’s that simple.” Rindou explained, hands on his hips.

“Fine, fine.” The older relented, “Don’t blame me if you can’t beat me.”

By the time Kakucho, Mochi, and Kokonoi made it over to the Haitani brothers. The crowd was sizeable. The arcade staff attempted to get the crowd to disperse, as it was becoming a fire hazard to the facility.

“Hey Ran, Rindou, what happened here?” Mochi asked as he finally made it to the front.

The two stepped off the machine and walked over to the group, Rindou grinning as the elder brother shook his head, “I reminded him who the rightful heir to the DDR throne is.”

“Please, you only beat me once.” Ran sighed in exasperation and exhaustion.

“And that still means I beat you.” The long-haired man spoke smugly.

“Wait, so that crowd...was all for you two playing a rhythm game?” Kokonoi questioned, “That’s insane.”

“I hope they don’t follow us home, or Mikey is going to have our heads,” Kakucho pondering the probability, “Then again, they might see Takeomi and get a bit scared.”

“Is he still out smoking?” Kokonoi pondered, tilting his head to see if he could see him, “I can’t see him.”

“I thought I saw him come in with Sanzu earlier?” Ran spoke up, the entire group staring at him.

“That can’t be right. Takeomi would never go with Sanzu…” The blond-haired man stated, slightly bewildered by the information.

“Oh, there he is.” The younger Haitani pointed, Takeomi wearing a shit-eating grin as he walked back outside, the entire group then spotting a pissed-off Sanzu.

---x---

Sanzu was officially bored. He thought that coming to the arcade would be an excellent way to spend some time away from things, though it only seemed to create more issues. What was worse was everyone else seemed to be doing their own thing, so there was no one left to mess with or bother. After an hour of wandering around and playing several games that held his attention for a few minutes or less, he set his sights on a bigger and better prize: Akashi Takeomi.

Yes, in actuality Akashi Takeomi was dangerous. He likely could kidnap Sanzu as he slept, lock him in a freezer, and then feed him to the fish...Though where was the fun in not messing with someone like that? He smirked to himself as he walked outside to see the scar-faced man unsurprisingly smoking.

“Ew, how many have you smoked today?” Sanzu spoke, holding his nose in mock disgust.

Takeomi didn’t even look at him, “Half a pack, give or take.”

“Smoking’s bad for you, y’know.”

“Drugs are too, but you don’t see me trying to give you a 12-step lecture.” Takeomi retorted dryly, Sanzu cackling in response.

“I gotta hand it to ya. That one was funny.” The pink-haired man pointing to the other.

“What exactly do you want?”

Sanzu clasped his hands together, “Dearest Takeomi, you’ve been out here for over an hour...I think it’s about time you came inside and actually enjoyed what we came here for.”

“No.” He replied with a laugh, “Nice try though, really love the theatrics...maybe we can get you a job with the prostitutes.”

Sanzu groaned, “Can you stop being a stick in the mud for once and be fun?”

Takeomi felt something inside him snap. Honestly, he just wanted to sit outside and smoke. He wanted not to have to deal with a specific pink-haired buffoon who continued to ruin his Saturdays over and over each week. Instead, however, he turned to the other man with a sickly sweet smile, throwing his cigarette onto the ground and crushing it under his shoe, “Sure, Sanzu, I’ll play one game...let’s go.”

“Really!” Sanzu’s face lit up with excitement, “Okay, let’s go!”

As they entered the arcade, Sanzu and Takeomi walked around a moment, regret beginning to wash over the older as his head began to pound from the noise and light.

“So, what do you want to play.” The pink-haired man asked, tipping his head to meet the other’s gaze.

“I don’t know, and I haven’t been to an arcade in fuck all knows.” Takeomi hissed, rubbing his temples, “Can you make it quick?”

“Jeez, I didn’t know they made you when the dinosaurs still walked the planet.” Sanzu grumbled, “Let’s go for a shooter then.” The two of them walking towards a Western-style shooting game that had plastic guns.

“Why am I not surprised.” The dark-haired man breathed, shaking his head.

“What? Sorry, I’m good at what I’m good at?” Sanzu mocked, shrugging his shoulders, “Anyways, it’s pretty self-explanatory...aim, pull the trigger, boom.”

Takeomi smirked. What Sanzu didn’t know was, he knew how to play this game. He knew far too well how to play this game because, during his days as a Brahma captain, Senju and himself would often sit in arcades and play. Sanzu Haruchiyo had sentenced himself to an early grave with this one, no matter how good a shot he was.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” The pink-haired man nodding his head towards the machine.

“I’m broke; you pay for it.”

“How the fuck are you broke if you- Nevermind.” Sanzu started, shaking his head and sliding his game card through the reader, “Let’s settle this.”

The older stepped up to the gallery, picking up the model gun and testing the weight in his hands before settling on a position.

Ready...Start!

Enemies started popping onto the screen, Sanzu quickly shooting the targets that were his color. He thought to himself it would be easy to best the older man until he realized he was keeping pace, and his score was already twice his based on the accuracy bonus.

“Hey, hey, hey…” Sanzu started, beginning to get ruffled by the sudden turn of events.

“What is it Sanzu, maybe you should aim a bit better, or is that too difficult?” Takeomi replied cooly as he blasted the head off of a zombie, “Oh, that was a good one.”

“Are you  shitting  me?” He cried out in response, “You actually know how to play this?” Sanzu was aiming for one of the enemy bonuses. However, he missed miserably. He swore under his breath, much to Takeomi’s delight.

“It’s been a good oh, what did you call it...era.” He mused as they made it to the boss level, “But for someone as young as you, this must be easy, right?” His voice dripping with poison.

“There’s still the boss level. I can-” He looked at the scores, feeling the color drain out of his face.

“What was that, Sanzu? My old deaf ears can’t hear you over the sound of your absolute thrashing.” He chuckled, “But don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll recover in time to hear you cry.”

“Do we just need to get you a nicotine drip? I don’t think the patch is gonna cut it with you.” Sanzu groaned, “Or, do you want one of my pills? Those might take your edge off too.”

“Take the joke, Sanzu,” He sighed, the game finishing out and Takeomi writing his initials in the records list, “Have a good time trying to beat that, though.” The older smirking, patting the other on the back as he walked towards the entrance, shit-eating grin plastered across his face as he pulled out another cigarette from his ever-dwindling pack.

Sanzu stared at the score in disbelief. He couldn’t beat that score today. He would have to come back another day to beat it, but he would beat it, no matter what. He stomped his foot in frustration, only to notice the entire Bonten group was looking, sans Mikey. He blinked and did what any person with an IQ between 85 and 115 would do...make a break for the food court before he could be harassed.

---x---

Was this the main reason Mikey agreed to this excursion? He didn’t want to admit to it. However, when the flyer said they had six different types of taiyaki in the featured food court, Mikey was sold instantly on the idea, as embarrassing as it was. He quietly walked towards the counter, scanning the menu with his pitch-black eyes only to discover there were, in fact, now eight taiyaki options. He smiled softly to himself as the person operating the counter looked on in confusion at the strange man in front of them, “Can I help you?” The food court employee asked him, tilting their head to the side slightly.

“Taiyaki, all of them,” Mikey said, sliding a large bill onto the counter.

“Do you mean all of the kinds or...all of them, all of them.” The employee clarified, thinking to themselves.

His eyes lit up, “I can have all of them?” He asked.

“As long as you pay for them, I don’t see why not...It might take a bit, though, because we warm them in an oven, so they get kinda crispy.” The employee explained, noticing the glimmer in his eyes.

“All of them, then.” Mikey clarified, adding another bill on the counter.

“Do I know you from somewhere, though?” They asked as they handed him his change, causing Mikey to pause for a brief moment.

“I haven’t ever met you before.” He replied, walking to one of the tables and sitting in the uncomfortably hard seating. It was nearly impossible to take a nap here due to how loud and bright it was, as well as how unbearable some of the smells were...Who honestly authorized it to smell like nacho cheese? Though, he also realized he was in a food court. Slouching down into the chair, he wondered what the rest of his gang had decided to put their minds to that day. He assumed Sanzu had found something involving guns and roped Takeomi into it as well, smirking because he knew that Takeomi had played before. Kokonoi had likely found something involving money, and The Haitani brothers honestly were talking up a storm about Dance Dance Revolution before they even arrived. Mochi and Kakucho were the two members of the group he wasn’t quite too sure about. He made a mental note to ask Kakucho when they boarded the bus again later that day.

“Alright, here are the first few, careful though, because they’re extremely hot.” The employee warned, setting a tray in front of the light-haired man, “I’ll keep them coming.”

Mikey reached forward and grabbed one of them, mentally noting that his hand was burning, though not exactly caring as the gratification of the taiyaki was going to be worth it in half a second. He bit in and leaned back in bliss. He was elated as he continued to eat through the pile of confections, completely losing track of time. He inwardly began to feel that the Russian death metal car ride from hell was worth it, and so was having to deal with Sanzu complaining about everything. And so was-

“Mikey, are you okay?”

He wanted to snap his neck.

Sanzu stared at the fair-haired man, who looked as though he had passed out in his chair, only for him to lean back up with a menacing stare slowly, “I’m fine.” He said coldly, taking another angry bite of the taiyaki.

“O...Oh…” The pink-haired man replied, nodding his head nervously as he backed away, “That’s a lot of taiyaki there.” He pointed towards the ever-growing pile of confections.

“I know. They’re mine.” Mikey responded as he finished the first, licking his lips and picking up another, “Where is everyone else?” He questioned as he bit into the sweet and bitter flavor of matcha.

“I saw them a couple of minutes ago; they’ll probably be here in a minute...Takeomi is smoking.” He informed the other, omitting the absolute ass-kicking he had received.

As if on cue, the group walked into the food court; however, the mood quickly changed as Kokonoi held up his phone, “We need to go, one of Ran’s fangirls posted them on their Instagram; and we need to get out of here,  now .” His eyes narrowing.

“Why are we blaming my fangirl for this? They’re just as much of Rindou’s as mi-OW” Ran once again getting elbowed in the side by his brother.

“We wouldn’t be in this mess if you didn’t name drop both me and yourself, so now you’re  really  more useless than Sanzu!” Rindou scolded him, “And you’re supposed to be older than me!”

“I’m RIGHT here!” Sanzu replied, raising his hands in exasperation.

“Cry me a river Sanzu, oh wait-” Mochi snorted, laughing at his own joke.

Kakucho grinned, “Mochi, that was surprisingly good coming from you.”

“I know, right. I surprise even myself sometimes.” The brawny man beamed.

“I hate all of you.” Sanzu huffed, crossing his arms.

“We hate you too; now let’s get going before we have to shoot our way out of a fucking arcade?” The long-haired blond replied in a haughty tone, motioning for the exit.

“Mikey, get a to-go box,” Kakucho suggested to the blond sitting at the table, eyeing the remaining taiyaki sadly.

“I’ll leave them.”

“Shotgun!” Sanzu yelled as they exited the arcade, Takeomi making eye contact with him and shaking his head.

“There isn’t even a passenger seat. What are the drugs hitting you that hard?” Kokonoi questioned him with a laugh.

“I’m assuming the cops are coming then?” Takeomi asked as he fished the keys to the bus out of his pocket, starting to walk with the group.

“ Oh yeah, Ran and Rindou are Instagram famous; Koko show him.” Mochi snorted, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Why is it always...fine.” He attempted to argue as he pulled up the post on his phone, revealing a video with nearly 500 likes and 130 comments.

“Wait, I didn’t see it yet!” Ran yelled as he ran over to Kokonoi, smushing his head in to see, “Wow, I look good… Rindou does, too, of course.”

“Shut the fuck up, you cretaceous period cretin.” Rindou hissed, flipping him off from afar only to have Ran run after him.

“Stop running in the parking lot!” Kakucho yelled, shaking his head, “I swear to god…”

“You have to admit, though, it was a good time.” Mochi stated with a smile, “We should do this again.”

“Alright, everyone, get on the fucking bus, or I’m leaving without you,” Takeomi yelled, hopping into the driver’s seat.

“And who died and made you king?!” Sanzu yelled only to smack his head on the roof while boarding the bus, causing Mikey to snort from a laugh uncharacteristically.

“Wait, did Mikey just laugh?” Kokonoi asked, genuinely amazed.

“I made Mikey laugh!” Sanzu cheered, patting himself on the back.

“Wow, if only we could hurt you more...then maybe we could restore all of his emotions…” Takeomi whispered to himself.

“What was that?” Sanzu questioned, leaning forward.

“No, nope, nothing.” Takeomi lied badly.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanzu replied with a smile, sitting back in his seat, Takeomi groaning and reaching for his pack of cigarettes only to realize there weren’t any left. He sighed heavily, leaning back into the cushion of the driver’s seat and staring up at the tattered ceiling. It was going to be a long drive home, huh.

---x---

In Toyko, the conflict with a group named “Bonten” intensifies...However, they seem to have a soft side too…

It was once again a Wednesday, except this week Sanzu Haruchiyo was on time, and there were no off-topic discussions. Instead, all that was discussed was saving Bonten from the PR nightmare the Haitani brothers had created for the gang. And, of course, the now planned hit on Howie Mandel. However, the damage was done, and the gang’s reputation seemed to go from “dangerous and deadly” to “upcoming idol group.” However, Mikey didn’t seem too troubled by it, though it wasn’t exactly possible to tell what he thought until it was too late.

Takeomi sighed as he once again lit a cigarette, staring off into the distance, “Here’s to another fucking Wednesday.”

[pasteljeon]

Blood Bound (m)

Summary: Tragedy brought you home. Love made you stay. Despite all odds, Namjoon has always been yours.

Werewolf!AU

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader

Warnings: werewolf au, fluff, mild angst, heat sex, breeding kink, namjoon has a big cock ana oop, size kink, mating, brief mention of death

Length: 7.1k

Notes: after almost a year in the making, it’s finally here!! i worked really hard on it so sdjskd please let me know what you think !! <3

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There’s a wolf staring at you.

It’s misty. Wisps of fog curl around your wrist, skin pricking as the tendrils dissolve, droplets sliding from your fingertips to soak into the underlay of moss coating the ground.

There is no path here, only one worn through years of treading and the same footsteps sinking into rich soil. Only its eyes are visible, a deep amber hue peering from the thick smog, its body veiled by the equivalent shade.

Its gaze is unyielding, intense yet soft. Unmoving.

“Momma! Mommy, he’s hurting!”

The bundle of fur cradled in your small arms lay in silence, chest barely rising and falling unsteadily as rivets of crimson liquid stained his smoky coat alarmingly fast.

You waddled your way clumsily to the house, your mother stumbling out to the backyard in a panic at your yell with a first aid kit.

“Bring him here,” she beckoned. You placed him down gently, trying your best to keep from jostling him too much, lest the wounds were irritated. Your mother set to work immediately, clearing a work station on the patio tables.

You sniffled, watching as she cleans his injuries. “Is he going to be okay?”

“It’s hard to say, sweetheart. His cuts aren’t too deep, but there is still a chance for infection. We must act quickly.”

You ran to find your father, who’d been napping on the couch. It was a Sunday, the clinic closed and void of any patients.

“Dad! Daddy, come help! There’s a doggy and he’s really hurt! Mommy says she needs the – the t-tweasers?” You fumbled with the word, tentatively testing it out. He groaned, rolling from the sofa as he rubbed his neck. “A dog?” He yawned as he dug around the medical cabinet. He ruffled your hair as he passed, smiling fondly at the anxious look on your face.

“Your mom and I are going to help him, so don’t worry that little head of yours too much, okay?” You nodded, hot on his heels as he stepped out.

You clutched your skirt nervously, restless as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The pictures failed to cheer you up as they usually did, and you closed it to take another look at the creature sleeping on the counter. Your father had carefully set him into a basket padded with cushioning and pulled a thin blanket of linen over his body. It was summer, warm enough so he wouldn’t need much more to keep comfortable.

It had been hours since they cleaned and dressed his wounds. A particularly long gash ran down his tummy, and your lips had quivered at the sight. The long rays of evening sun casted shadows, your stubborn insistence to take vigil over the puppy lasting until your mother came out again with some lemonade and sandwiches.

“Come inside, sweetie,” she said sympathetically. “He’s not going to get better just by you staring at him. The worst has passed. He’ll need a few weeks to heal fully.”

“Can he sleep with me?” You asked. She chuckled. It was against their policy to allow patients in their own rooms, but she could see how troubled you were. “Sure, baby.”

It took months before the puppy was strong enough to walk. Even then, he limped awkwardly, the abrasion on his calf closing slowly. Half a year passed swiftly, and he grew strong enough to run and jump. Your attachment to him was growing by the day. He seemed just as enamoured by you, never straying too far from your side, pulling at your leg to play with him or snoozing on your lap. He liked licking your cheek, and barked softly whenever he saw a mouse scurrying in the overgrowth.

“Ghost!” His ears perked, tail wagging as he trotted to you. You laughed as he leapt into your arms, sending the two of you sprawling onto the grass.

Just as a year slipped by, so did he.

“Ghost? Ghost!” Your sobs bubbled up, tears clouding your vision as you searched for him, knees scraped and dirty. Your mother put a hand over your shoulder, coaxing you up.

You turned around, giving the yard one last sweep as she led you back in. You wept.

He was gone.

You blink, and the memory fades. Your return your attention to the pair of golden eyes, but they’ve already disappeared.

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The cottage is cold. A delicate layer of dust has already collected over the furniture. Picture frames litter the mantle, a family portrait over the centre top. Setting your luggage aside, you shrug off your coat and rummage for cleaning materials underneath the sink. Tossing wood into the fireplace, you start with the timber figurines lining the living room. Your father’s handiwork, for your mother. For every anniversary.

It’s dark when you finish. You think you’ve cried at least thrice as you pack away your mother’s jewellery.

Scrubbing the remains of grime from your body, you settle into your childhood room for the first time in fifteen years. Staring out the window, it’s hard to find sleep. There’s much grief swirling within you, and little means of coping. But you like it here, and you’ve missed it. Your friends had offered to accompany you, to which you declined. This was something you needed to do alone.

Saying goodbye has always been the hardest part, after all.

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You dream of him. Ghost, darting through the forest. He’s bigger, now twice your size. You’re older, too. 13, maybe.

He’s as playful as you remember, stopping to sniff every undergrowth and occasionally scratch at a tree. You follow him, tugged by something inexplicable. He leads you to a meadow, a quiet space privy to nothing but your breathing and the gentle whispers of wind. The tiny glen is moonlight dappled, with fireflies flickering like stars.

He pads to the centre of the field, waiting for you patiently, tail flicking slowly. He blinks up at you, head cocked, and then lays down, resting his head on his forearms. Come here, he seems to say. So you do.

Tentatively approaching him, he only watches you with sleepy eyes as you gingerly recline on top of his back. He promptly curls around you, tail coming around to rest protectively over your stomach.

Combing through his fur, you smile as he nudges your hand. His tail thumps happily the moment your nails scratch behind his ears, nearly knocking you breathless. He whines softly as an apology, nosing your palm as he peers up at you sorrowfully.

“It’s okay,” you murmur. A content rumble erupts from his muzzle and he ducks his head under your arm so both are now wrapped firmly around his neck.

You don’t say anything after, cheek pressed against his thick pelt, skin warm as you feel his chest rise and fall rhythmically. The two of you watch the stars twinkle in companionable silence for the remainder of the night.

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The fire burns strongly as you wake, though the last time you touched it was hours ago. You feel disoriented, nostalgia aching in your heart. Yet, you’re also oddly comforted by the memory of something sweet.

Grabbing your drawstring bag, you pour some silver coins into it, enough for a quick trip to the market for groceries and some material for the dress you’ve been working on the past week.

A hoarse whimper startles you as you step out of the lodge, and you fall to your knees instantly at the sight of the bloodstained bundle of fur strewn next to your entrance, crawling to it quickly. Upon closer inspection, you realize with a sharp exhale that it’s a wolf—male, the very one that you’d glimpsed at your arrival. He’s massive, out shadowing you easily and in obvious pain by the way it’s panting, barely able to lift its head.

“Hey, hey,” you coo. “It’s going to be okay. Let me help you.” He seems eager to trust you, the way he closes his eyes and slumps, like he’s tired of having to guard its six. Hauling a pail of cool water and the med kit, it’s history remade once more as you wash his wounds and stitch them up. He watches you work, quiet even as you disinfect the deep claw marks.

“Got into a fight, didn’t you?” You say absently as you begin rolling the bandages on his torso. He huffs, warm air ruffling your tied locks as he blinks those gold-rimmed orbs forlornly at you.

“I wonder if Ghost is as big as you.” Running a hand lightly over his unmarred neck, he allows you to stroke him gently. Your palm practically sinks into his fur, thick and soft; his silvery pelt a shockingly gossamer sheen. With difficulty, he shifts, nearly toppling you over in the process, but you steady yourself on your knees as he reveals his stomach.

“No,” you breathe. Your blood runs cold, paling as you reach with shaky fingers to touch the thin scar stretching across the soft line of his tummy. “Ghost?” You say, stunned. He whines faintly, ears flattening as if expecting resentment. “You’re a wolf.”

He lowers his head, expression rather doleful as he puffs out another breath. “You’ve grown so much,” you whisper, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. He rolls over, concealing the old wound once more, and paws at the ground at your knees.

“Don’t move so much,” you warn immediately, swiping at your cheeks. You touch his jaw delicately. “I’m not mad, I promise. Just … surprised. In a good way.”

“Can you walk?” Normally you would feel a bit awkward speaking to an entirely different species incapable of similar speech, but the intelligence and wisdom glowing in those tender tawny irises suggest otherwise. He feels familiar, and warm.

He heaves himself up, limping slowly as he shoulders his way through the narrow doorway and staggers onto the centerpiece rug. “Sleep baby,” you murmur, dragging over a thin sheet over him. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, tail swishing leisurely as you move around. “I have to go to the market,” you say as you pour water into a hefty bowl you hauled from the lower cabinets.

Ghost wrinkles his nose at the basin, looking fairly offended as he scowls at the object. “You lost a lot of blood. I know it’s not ideal, but bear with me here,” you say, amused.

He stares at you stubbornly, the thumping against the muffed boards increasing in volume. It takes one glance at those pleading honey-coloured orbs of his for you to cave.

“It’s okay,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “I didn’t really want to go anyway.” If wolves could grin, you imagine that’s what it would look like. Ghost’s lips pull back, sharp canines glinting in the firelight as his tongue rolls out excitedly. “You really are just like a dog,” you giggle. “But bigger.”

He barks, just once, in defiance. You laugh again, lugging a spare coverlet next to him for a makeshift bed. You lean up to kiss the tip of his nose gently. “Rest up, baby.”

His every exhale ruffles your locks, and his tail stills as you close your eyes.

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The first rays of light peek from the horizon just as you rouse at dawn, having slept unexpectedly peacefully. Your nightmares seem to have ceased momentarily, and your mind is clearer than it has been for a long time now. You muse it likely has something to do with Ghost’s presence being a wordless comfort.

Ghost heals much quicker than you’d thought possible. When you peel away the gauze, fully prepared to clean and rebind his wounds, med kit sprawled at your side, you find the cut is no more than a fresh layer of skin.

“How …?” You stroke the tender patch cautiously, testing the depth of damage, but Ghost nuzzles your arm, seemingly unbothered. Examining the area, you realize his fur has also grown back to full. It’s disorienting, like the injury never occurred in the first place.

“Are you well enough to join me?” You ask as you rise to your feet and pull on a clean shirt. The wolf follows, shaking himself out before padding toward the door and taking a seat at the entrance, golden eyes patient as he waits silently.

With a giggle, you scratch under his chin in appreciation, his tail nearly dislodging the flooring beneath him in its intensity. He leans against you heavily when you reach the spot behind his ear, tongue loose as he pants.

“Found your weak spot, huh,” you tease. Ghost lets out a faint whine but remains lifeless against you save for the furious wagging of his tail. “So cute.”

He whimpers when you release him reluctantly. “I’ve gotta change and eat something quickly, and then we can go, okay?”

He huffs and straightens again, struggling to cast the drowsiness from his pelt, managing to look much more alert when he sits up once more.

When the sun is at its peak and you’ve showered, feeling a little more refreshed, and finished the small snack of grapes and apples you’d brought along for your journey, you sling your bag over your shoulder and the two of you set out to the market.

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This village is home.

And you’re reminded of it with every step you take into the crowded streets, the cheerful calls of merchandise and a wide assortment of edible goods from foreign lands set up in colourful arrays of stalls, the kind smiles flashed in every direction. You breathe in the familiar scents of traded spice and homemade concoctions alike.

Their gazes are strangely intimate, and you know it is because of the label you wear with the shape of your lips and structure of your cheekbones. You’d left so young, but your family had stayed. For them, this village was everything.

And they remember.

It’s not as painful as you thought it would be. The recognition and quiet sympathy don’t suffocate you like you anticipated. Instead, you feel warm. Ghost is pressed tightly by your side, and the sight of a Grey wolf should both alarm and frighten, but this is no ordinary town. Hidden in the mountains and protected by fog and legend, magic is whispered through generations of bloodlines.

“Hello, dear,” a merchant says. “Interested in some silk threads?” She’s old, deep crinkles at the edge of her eyes as she beams up at you. Still so lively, despite her age and deteriorating body. You like her.

“Hello,” you say shyly. “Would you have any spider silk on hand, by any chance?”

The trader brightens. “Of course! One moment.” Disappearing behind artistically beaded curtains, you wait patiently at the side, one hand absently scratching Ghost behind his ears as you peruse the charms and accessories on display.

“Princess. It’s so very good to see you again.” Startled, your fingers still, head raising slowly. Your companion seems to sense your uneasiness and nuzzles your palm as if to reassure you the newcomer is of no immediate threat.

“I’m sorry,” you say, puzzled. “Do I know you?”

He grins. “You don’t remember? I’m hurt. I thought we’d be friends forever. Granted, I was 6 at the time, but we had so much fun.”

Ebony-dark hair, plush lips, eyes that slit into crescent moons when he smiled. A silver chain rests at the dip of the dangerously low v of his cotton tee. Wrists adorned with more silver, as well as several rings.

“J-Jimin?” You blink, stunned. “Oh my God. It’s been so long.” He pulls you into him the instant you’re on your feet.

“I know. You look as beautiful as ever,” he says fondly when you pull back. “We’ve missed you. Why didn’t you ever write?”

You avoid the thinly veiled curiosity in his look, hands sliding down his arms to grip his elbows. Ghost presses himself closer, pushing his head onto your upper thigh as he lets out a quiet huff. “You’re so handsome now, Chimmy. You’ve grown up so well. I see you’ve been running with the pack. Beta, right? Mother told me.”

Jimin takes your hands gently. “Noona, it’s just me.”

You stare at his chest, tracing the dark ink that flaring across his ivory skin absently.

“Princess, please.” He tips your chin up, amber orbs soft and unguarded as he pleads. They can’t. They can’t.

“I can’t.” You close your eyes. “Please, Jimin. Don’t ask.”

“It’s safe here. You know that, right? We would never let anything happen to you,” he says tightly.

“I know,” you draw away, resting your hand on Ghost’s massive head lightly. “That’s not what I’m worried about, Jiminie. No one wants to talk about it because they trust you, but the treaty needs to be renegotiated before the blood moon rises.”

“Then come back,” Jimin insists, stepping closer. Your companion rumbles, though remains immobile.

You take a breath. “It’s not that easy.”

“He’s your mate.”

“Not by choice. He doesn’t really want me. I’m a means to an end, Jimin,” you exhale tiredly. “I always have been. It’s why I left. At least for a little while, I could pretend my life could be something more than just destiny.”

“___, please. You know what happens if the full moon comes and goes and you don’t bond with him. The treaty will end. The bloodline … it’s what keeps this place alive.” He’s imploring you, sympathetic but resolute.

“I don’t want this,” you say in a small voice. “He deserves to be happy, too.”

“What makes you think you wouldn’t make him?” It makes you pause for a moment, surprise flickering, and Jimin smiles wryly.

“Give this a chance, noona,” he says. “You are more suited for each other than you think. Fate is not a fool. You were chosen for a reason.”

From his pocket, he opens your palm, dropping the item and closing your fingers over it firmly. “Give him a chance. He might just be everything you never knew you needed.”

“Sorry for the delay, dear!” You jerk at the sound, slipping the object in your bag before turning on your heel. The merchant makes her way over, waving a roll of thin silk in her hand.

“It was in the back shelves. My assistant being mischievous again,” she explains, chuckling. You manage a polite smile. If she catches your sudden change of mood, she doesn’t comment, simply going about wrapping your goods cheerfully.

When you glance back, Jimin’s gone.

Ghost whines. You nod. “Thank you. How much?”

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It’s quiet.

A cool breeze ruffles your locks, the lawn freshly mowed. Morning dew sparkles from the afternoon glow, the sound of grass and the odd leaf crumpling beneath your shoes.

Ghost is silent as he pads next to you, steps light despite the sheer mass of his body. He’s keeping close to you, the extraordinary heat emanating from him a wordless comfort against the chill settling deep in your bones.

You stop.

You exhale shakily, bending to gently set the bouquet at the foot of the grave.

Ghost sweeps the area behind you with his tail, brushing away debris and droplets. You crack a tiny smile at the very humanlike gesture, rubbing his ears in gratitude before taking a seat.

He wraps himself around you, circling twice before settling, resting his chin on his forepaws.

You lean into him, and Ghost whimpers lowly, nudging you.

With a watery sigh, you bury your face in his fur, sobs muffled by the density and his tail curls around your stomach, a reassuring weight.

You cry until you’re empty and all that’s left is you and him.

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The skies are pink when you leave.

The sun peeks from over the horizon, dipping low. Your gait is slow, the mental exhaustion pulling on your physical form heavily.

Ghost trots beside you, echoing your steps, but pushes before you to stop at the foot of the entrance.

His head cocks to the side, golden eyes impossibly wise yet tender.

You scratch under his chin lightly, cracking a smile. “I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry about me.”

The wolf licks a long stripe up your cheek, nosing your jaw. You kiss the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you.”

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Ghost weaves himself effortlessly back into your life.

He stays with you, guards you. Sleeps at the foot of your bed, keeping you grounded on nights sleep escaped you.

He’s there when the nightmares threaten to consume you, gently pawing at you, barking quietly. Your anguish was powerful, but Ghost never baulked.

Eventually the dreams faded. Your grief, like a storm, passed. The sorrow lessened, and breathing became easier.

Princess, still whispered but less so. With the White Wolf guarding your back, they wonder why you’re trying to run. No one prods, but you know they wonder.

The days continue to slip by peacefully. Despite this, you know time is ticking. The deadline is drawing near and you’re terrified.

You know they’re going to try to find you.

He’s going to try to find you.

And you have no idea what to do.

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Your next trip to the market, the sweet farmer you’ve been building a steady friendship with is absent.

“He’s out sick,” her replacement explains. She’s youthful, likely around your age. She’s beautiful, with long cerulean hair and cold green eyes, an uncommon set of characteristics found in your village. She’s not from here.

Ghost is tense beside you, ears flattened. She leers at him subtly. Your skin prickles at her smile.

Your lips quirk and you buy one bushel of strawberries from her.

“Meat?” You ask instead, glancing down at him. Ghost blinks.

Idly, you wonder if her presence here means any threat.

It’s not your place for concern, you remind yourself. Because it isn’t.

Not yet, anyway.

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The season is turning when he comes.

You wake to a warm, hard body pressed against you.

He’s gorgeous, with silky silver hair and a chiselled jaw line. Asleep, the broad expanse of his bare chest rises and falls rhythmically, an arm resting over your stomach.

In one swift maneuver, you flip him over, pressing the blade against his neck. “Where. Is. Ghost.”

He doesn’t flinch, eyes fluttering open to reveal beautiful molten gold irises. “Namjoon,” he says. “I’m sorry I lied to you.” His voice is deep, rumbly. Like velvet.

He shifts, hands up placidly when you push the blade harder in warning. You let him pull the sheets down to reveal his naked abdomen, where a long, healed laceration sits.

You falter, knife slipping from your grasp. He catches it easily, setting it to the side. His piercing gaze never drifts.

You get off him, move to your wardrobe. Throw him some old clothes. Your father’s, likely to be a bit loose on him. You hear him fumbling with them, mattress creaking as he stands.

You remain silent as you pull a shawl over yourself.

“You’re angry.”

He’s behind you, that supernatural heat radiating off him warming you despite your inner turmoil. Worry seeps into his tone.

He reaches for your hand, but you step away quickly. “Don’t touch me,” you say. Hiding your trembling fingers buried in your elbows.

“Please don’t push me away. I’m sorry. I didn’t—I didn’t know how else to—to approach you. To see beyond the labels.” Desperation. Frustration. “Please, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” you say automatically. Your feet lead you to the kitchen. To start your morning routine. Pulling out ingredients, striking a match to start the stove.

“Princ—___. Please. I—I was wrong, I know. I just—I wanted to be here for you. This was the only way you would ever let me in.” He follows you. Like a puppy, like he’s always done. All his life.

“When I was gone—did you ever—did you ever try with anyone else?” You ask bluntly, turning around to meet his gauge his reaction.

He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Yes—yes, I tried. That’s what you wanted all along, right? But it doesn’t work. All I could think about was you. Even—even with my ruts. Nothing worked, nothing helped. I suffered, ___. It was torture being without you, all these years.”

“Not for me,” you say matter-of-factly before returning to your task. You concentrate on chopping onions to avoid the sound of his heart dropping to his stomach. You’re a fucking sadist, you tell yourself grimly. All you’ve ever done is hurt him. Even though he deserves the world.

“And … and you? Did you … did you—try?” He’s hesitant. He doesn’t really want an answer, but he wants to know. He wants to pretend the knowledge of his won’t kill him.

“Yes, and it works for me. I can’t feel the bond,” you say. “I’m not one of you, remember? All human, one hundred percent of the time.”

He thinks he’s going to kneel over with how powerful the pain crashing over him feels. It almost cripples him, but he also knows—

“You’re lying.”

You stop. “No, I’m not.” The cutting resumes.

“You’re cooking for me. Historically, females have accepted the mating bond through a demonstration of food,” he says casually.

You stare at the plates.

The table is set for two.

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The atmosphere is tense, the silence broken only by the occasional clink of silverware.

“___—”

“Namjoon, please.” You drop the fork you’re holding. “I don’t want to talk about this. There’s no discussion. I never wanted this, and I never will. End of story. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to find someone else.”

“There is no one else. I don’t think you understand. We can only choose once. That’s it. And my wolf chose you. I chose you.” He sounds like he’s choking up, voice caught in his throat. “I’m not asking for a definite answer. I just want you to try. I know you can feel the bond between us. I can hear your heart. It’s fluttering.” Like a hummingbird in your rib cage, eager to take flight, he wants to say. He is not good at wooing, has never needed to before. He has wanted, before, despite his position, personality, looks, everything. Despite all that he is, he has never wanted anything more than what he is, and yet here he sits, begging you to take all that he can be for a mere chance.

“Have you ever thought maybe, just maybe, all of this wasn’t your choice? That we’re simply meant to be because of destiny?” You say bitterly. The bigger part of you wants to say yes, yes, all I’ve ever wanted to say is yes, but what if all of this is a mistake, what if I can’t be the one you need, what if—

“I don’t care,” he says fiercely. “I want you. I know I want you. Every fibre of my being needs you. Close to me, always. You spirit, your soul. It calls to mine.”

“You don’t even know me,” you shoot back. Weaker. His eyes gleam.

“But I want to,” he insists. “I want to know everything about you. I already know your heart. It is gentle and kind and giving and that is enough for me. Please. I can be good for you, I promise.”

Your chair screeches loudly as you stand, half-finished plate in hand. Your hunger eludes you again.

He watches you warily.

You take a breath.

“The first time—why did you go?” Voice timid. Scared. –Because you’re nothing, you were never anything, can never be anything and—

“To keep you safe.” He’s firm. You risk a glance. His eyes are honest. He’s never lied to you before. Until now.

You cover your forgotten meal with a cloth.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He perks up, disbelief and excitement sparkling. He can hardly dare to believe. Finally, finally—

“Yes. But slow. I don’t know—I still don’t know if I’m ready for this,” you say, leaning against the counter as you turn.

He rushes over, nearly tripping over the leg of the table, exhilarated and ecstatic.

“Yes—yes. Of course.” He skids to a stop, hands hovering near you, remembering the lines as he begins to withdraw, looking embarrassed at his childish enthusiasm.

“Kiss me.” You dare. He flushes. “I—I do not think that’s slow, exactly—”

“Namjoon.”

He cups your cheek gingerly, palms so large they engulf your entire face, dipping his head. You say his name again, breath sweet as it ghosts across his lips.

Kisses you softly.

You grip his shirt, swallowing his moan when his lips crash over yours again, dragging his tongue over your seam.

He parts your mouth easily, devours you, one hand braced around your waist where he crowds you against the marble counter.

Then you make a noise.

Namjoon groans, reluctantly tearing himself away, the movement sluggish and impossibly difficult given the way his body refuses to unglue itself from you.

He buries his face in your neck, suckling your skin tenderly.

“Slowly,” he rasps.

Your breathing is laboured and you nod against his chest, dazed. “Yeah.”

.

.

.

“I see you took my advice.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be patrolling tonight?” You raise an eyebrow, not bothering to throw him a look as you continue patting in the soil. You know he’s sporting his signature smug grin.

“This is patrolling. It’s part of my route.” You hum, determined to engage in as little talk as possible. It’s already enough mortification to walk through the village with the tall, handsome leader by your side, with the knowing smiles and fond congratulations. You know they mean well, and this is a big deal, but—it’s a lot to take in. You’ve never enjoyed being the centre of attention. And now you’re exactly that.

“Jimin, don’t you have somewhere else to be?” Namjoon’s voice cuts in, annoyed.

The Beta pouts. “Way to ruin my fun, Joonie.”

“Jimin.” The warning tone has him sighing.

“Okay, okay. I’ll leave you lovebirds be, but remember! I get to name your first pup,” he calls as he jogs off.

“I hate him,” Namjoon says flatly, watching him leave with his arms crossed.

“No, you love him. He’s just being nosy because he cares about you,” you correct, smiling as you stretch. Dropping a kiss on his cheek, you tug him inside. “It’s time for dinner.”

Namjoon trails after you, glowing.

.

.

.

He never discusses pack business with you.

He knows this relationship you’ve been building together is still preliminary, still just a trial run. It’s going well—so well, in fact, that he’s terrified something will happen that’ll flip all of it on its head. Things usually do, because he attracts disaster. He always has.

He’s never been happier. He feels at peace with you, content and bursting at the seams with every word, every smile, every touch.

His wolf is quiet, tamed at your very presence. Basking in your attention.

He’s just—so whole.

So it’s only natural, he supposes, that he’s the one that destroys it.

.

.

.

It’s ironic that it’s raining.

You can hardly tell if it’s your tears or the rain that blurs your vision.

It doesn’t matter much, you think, as you stare at the scene of Namjoon kissing someone else.

Not just someone else—the girl from the stall. The one with blue hair and bright eyes.

Prettier. Smarter. Everything. Liar.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Your basket is dropped, somewhere, lost. Where should you go?

“___, please! I didn’t kiss her, she’s set this up so you’d reject me—so I’d have no choice but to go to her, but I won’t!” He’s loud, frantic, following you again.

A door, a door, your door. You fumble with the key.

“I don’t care. I don’t care,” you chant, teeth chattering. Cold. You’re soaked to the bone.

“I love you,” he breaks, a sob catching. His voice is strangled, throaty. “I love you. Please believe me. I don’t—I can’t do this life without you. Please. Don’t leave. Don’t leave.”

“Leave, Namjoon. I never want to see your face again. I hate you,” you say hollowly.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that. Say you don’t mean that. Please. Please,” he repeats, crying earnestly now. He looks so small, clothes clinging to him, expression fearful and miserable. Hunched into himself. Reaching out for you.

“Stay away from me,” you grit. The lock clicks. His eyes widen, panicked. “No—no, no, no, no! Don’t—don’t shut me out, don’t do this, please, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

You slide to the ground, shivers wracking your body as you listen to him sob on the other side of the door.

Time loses meaning, the water from your clothes creating a puddle as you sit there, huddled.

He doesn’t stop whispering apologies until Jimin comes to collect him an hour later, dragging him away as he fights. You can hear him shouting and struggling, but Jimin’s firm, hauling him away.

When all that’s left is the quiet patter of rain on your rooftop, their voices fading into silence, you get up and draw yourself a bath.

.

.

.

He’s so weak. You make him weak. His role as the pack leader, his senses, rationale, everything flies out the window when it comes to you. Everything he’s built the past decade, the person he’s become.

“Jimin, I fucked up,” he says wretchedly. The empty crater is growing, expanding each second he’s away from you. His wolf howls, the anguish too raw for him to bear much longer.

“You need to prep for your rut,” his Beta says instead. Jimin paces restlessly, rubbing his temples as he watches Namjoon bury his face in his hands. He’s never seen their leader so broken, it terrifies him.

“I—I need to see her,” Namjoon says suddenly, standing abruptly. Jimin rushes to the door, blocking the entrance.

“Now is not the time,” Jimin warns. “You’re entering your pre-rut. You could hurt her. She’s not ready.”

Namjoon sucks in a shuddery sigh. And then, “Jungkook.”

A beat.

“Yeah, hyung?”

“Set up the chains. And have Yoongi stand guard. Make sure I don’t get out,” Namjoon orders.

Jungkook meets Jimin’s gaze briefly. The Beta nods and he disappears from the room.

Namjoon collapses back in his seat, staring down at his hands silently.

The group looks at him worriedly. Jimin merely shakes his head, lips pursed. They’ve never seen their leader look so defeated before.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine. They’ll talk it out and she’ll understand. She’s just hurting right now,” Jimin says.

But his tone wavers, uncertainty seeping in. He doesn’t know.

.

.

.

You wake to the sounds of someone pounding at your door.

The moon is high, your camisole thin and your exhaustion wearing thin.

“Jimin, why are you—” Rubbing your eyes, you pull it open, only to be shoved into an overheating body. You let out a surprised gasp, stumbling back as you struggle to support the weight.

“Wha—Namjoon? What are you—what are you doing here? Why are you so warm?” He’s burning up, feverish. Your palm meets bare skin, sweat coating his chest. Half-naked and delirious, Namjoon slurs, “I—I have to … apologize. Can’t lose you, not like—like this, she did this, I don’t want her, I don’t care about her. I need you. I need you. Princess … Princess, come home.”

“Are you—are you sick?” You nearly topple over as he crumples on your bed, silver locks plastered to his forehead. Something tinkles, and you pale at the sight of broken chains around his wrists.

“You’re ignoring … ignoring me. Don’t, please,” he pants, sitting up with difficulty. He rakes a hand through his hair, eyes bright but hazy, golden irises a mere thin ring. It’s so hard to … to talk, to think with this heat running through his veins.

“Namjoon …”

“I know—I know what you’re thinking, but it’s not true! I didn’t kiss her back, I pushed her away, I—I—I—” he’s babbling, he’s losing it and you grab his face.

“I know,” you say simply. Namjoon closes his eyes, sagging in your hold as relief floods through him, the deliria fading momentarily.

“I know. I just … it hurt. I thought—maybe I was right. That your feelings for me aren’t real, that you’re just … settling.” He frowns, shaking his head rapidly as he takes your hands. “No, no that’s not true. I’ve always loved you, since we met, since we were kids.”

“As Ghost, I … I saw your compassion, your humanity,” he rasps. “I didn’t mean to chase you away. I didn’t even know what my feelings for you would entail back then.”

“No … I was being stupid. I was scared,” your gaze drops. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited to hear you out. I was just afraid that you’d only wanted me out of convenience.”

“___. I love you. I want to know you, if you’d let me,” he says shyly. He’s flushed, the heat bleeding back, but he can’t lose focus.

“Complete the treaty, then,” you say breathlessly. You don’t want to run anymore. For once, you want to face your fate head-on. You step back, pulling your top off in one fluid motion.

Namjoon freezes, wide-eyed. “You … you don’t know what you’re saying. What that means,” he croaks. He leans back, struggling to breathe.

Your core clenches at the sight of him, silver hair raked back, muscles taut and rippling beneath smooth caramel skin. He’s beautiful.

“Are you sure? You know what happens after, right? You’ll become my Luna, the Pack’s Princess … are you sure you want this?” He’s still holding himself back, likely by his sheer will at this point. Ruts are powerful, even more so when he’s the Alpha.

“Yes,” you say, straddling him. His hands feel so large where they come to rest at your hips, squeezing gently.

With him, you feel safe.

“I want you … I’ve been waiting for you, all this time. I want you to be my mate. To be mine.” You can feel his length, hard and throbbing, beneath his slacks. His kind has always been well-endowed, and you can feel his tip nudging at your centre.

“Take me, then,” you whisper, nosing his jaw. Namjoon groans, hold tightening before he slams you against the mattress.

“You drive me crazy,” he growls, ripping your panties off impatiently with his teeth. Shoving down his jeans, he wastes no time aligning himself. You’re already so wet, and he preps you easily, sliding two fingers in and scissoring you gingerly. Your spine locks, the pleasure flooding your system like a forgotten drug.

You gasp his name and he nips at your throat, violet flowers blooming with every touch.

“Wanna breed you, make you mine, fill you to the brim with my seed,” he moans, hips jerking as he enters you, the feeling of your walls clenching around him sends his head spinning.

“N-Namjoon,” you mewl, clawing at his back helplessly as he punctures every word with a thrust. He sets a punishing pace, already edged and desperate. Having you splayed out like this, so ethereal and so wholly his, awakens something primal, darker. His wolf demands to be unchained.

“I can’t think, can’t focus on anything but fucking you senseless and knocking you up with a litter of my pup,” his voice is guttural, so deep you know it’s not quite the man you’ve gotten to know the past few weeks.

“Hello, Luna,” he drawls. His eyes are flecked with silver, lips curled into a lazy smirk. The other side of the same coin.

“Ghost,” you murmur, smiling. You reach up to stroke his cheek, and he nuzzles your palm, turning to kiss it gently.

His touch is sweeter, loving. The frenzy is lost for the moment, the heat and the need dissipating as he licks into your mouth eagerly. He exhales, cock twitching inside of you as he fucks into you slowly.

“With this vow, we are bound. In sickness and in health, to protect and to cherish. Let the moon be our witness,” he breathes, dragging his fangs over the delicate skin of your neck.

You hold him close as he marks you, lapping at your blood as you cry out softly.

Forevermore, he wants to say, but he refrains because though it’s part of the vow, it’s still too early, too much.

For now, this is enough.

.

.

.

You lose track of time after that. They switch periodically, taking turns fucking you into oblivion before waking you with their mouth on your breast, suckling hard as their fingers tease your clit. Between the sheets, they learn to worship every crevice of your body, how to make you sing and sigh and moan so beautifully.

You take breaks only to drink water and to feed each other pieces of fruit and bread. Showers become pointless after he takes you against the wall twice before falling back onto the bed for a third and fourth.

It’s dawn when he’s finally burned through most of his rut.

“Who was that girl?” Namjoon hums, fingers sliding through your locks as you trace figures on his bare chest absently.

You’re exhausted but glowing, and he can’t stop smiling.

“From a neighbouring pack. They wanted me to choose her instead, to solidify an alliance. We already had one, they were just being greedy. She knew about you and tried to sabotage me. Don’t worry, I had Jin take care of it,” he kisses your nose. “You know I only want you, right?”

You nod, cheeks colouring.

“It’s only ever been you.”

.

.

.

“And the bell?”

Jimin grins, twirling the spatula in his hand. “It’s the one Joon gave to you the first night he met you. He didn’t just pick it up out of nowhere, you know. It’s like a family heirloom. Only his mate can wield it and only he can hear it.”

“Where’d you find it? I thought I lost it when I moved.” The bell sways silently where it dangles from the red string.

“You didn’t,” he says simply, flipping the pancake.

“Huh.”

“___! Princess, are you okay?” Namjoon comes barrelling through the door, skidding to a stop in front of you with wide, panicked eyes.

“Jimin,” you say slowly. “Just how sensitive is this bell?”

“I wouldn’t use it. Like, ever, unless you’re about to die or you want those flaming hot cheetos when you’re carrying,” Jimin answers matter-of-factly.

Namjoon’s still fussing over you and you sigh.

“I fucking hate you, Park.”

[redswanned]

Always Together pt 1; Porco x reader

Porco Galliard x reader

childhood friends to lovers, canonverse

word count: 2,510

no warnings, some minor swearing

omg this is my first aot fic ever ahhhh!! I didn’t mean for it to be this long haha but here we are. I hope you all like it! 

_________________________

A life without Porco Galliard was a life you couldn’t imagine living. Ever since the two of you were in diapers you’ve been the best of friends, which was a pleasant outcome considering both of your parents were close. Every Sunday night you and your family would have dinner with the Galliards. While you played with Porco and Marcel, both of your parents always talked about moving forward in life.

You realized early on that this meant both you and Porco’s parents shared the dream of becoming honorary Marleyens, which was common amongst Eldians. However, in order to achieve that goal, both of your parents as well as Porco’s signed you all up for the warrior program. They were too caught up in the dream of living a life where they were not oppressed, at the cost of their own children. 

          The training was brutal for mere children, and you felt like you were training harder than actual soldiers. Sometimes it was just too much. As hard as you tried, you noticed yourself falling behind the other kids in training. Hell, even Reiner was better than you by a long shot.

One day, you injured your ankle during the running exercise. Ironically, you weren’t crying from the pain of your swollen ankle. The thought of being ousted from the warrior program and disappointing your parents scared you more. Unlike Porco, you were an only child so your parents were depending on your successful completion of the program entirely to become honorary Marleyans. At this point, you didn’t even bother to reach the finish line. Instead, you wandered off to a more secluded part of the training grounds, an all too familiar tree stump inviting you to rest after a long day. Warm tears flowed down your flushed cheeks as you heard laughter amongst your fellow warrior candidates. 

“They’re probably happy that they’ll be selected for a Titan,” you thought sadly to yourself. You sighed as you realized they probably didn’t notice you were even there. As you tried to hold back sobs, you noticed the sound of running footsteps.

“Hey, Y/N, why didn’t you complete the race? Even that dumbass Reiner beat you!” Called out Porco.

Upon hearing his comment, you began to cry more which stopped him in his tracks. Sure what he said was kind of rude but he didn’t want to make you cry!

“Whoa, calm down! Why are you crying?” He yelled out of concern as he kneeled beside you.

“It’s nothing,” you replied as you wiped your tears.

Porco only stared at you frowning slightly. “Y/N, I’ve known you my whole life I know that something is up when you cry.”

Despite his concern, you didn’t feel like telling him the truth behind your tears. “When I was running I tripped and hurt my ankle,” you said as you sniffed back some tears.

Though he didn’t completely buy your reasoning, he did notice how inflamed your ankle was. He’d ask you about the true reason why you were upset later, his first priority was to get you some help. 

“Here,” said Porco as he reached his hand out to you, “let me help you get to the clinic.”

You took his hand and felt yourself blush as he wrapped it over his shoulder. “Don’t put pressure on that foot,” he warned as the two of you trudged towards the clinic. 

On the way there you saw your fellow warrior candidates conversing amongst themselves. 

“Y/N! Are you alright?” Asked Marcel as he and Pieck quickly ran up to the two of you. 

“Yeah, I just hurt my ankle back there,” you said sheepishly. 

“That doesn’t look too good Y/N, it’s already so swollen. Are you sure you’re okay?” Asked Pieck. 

“Um, yeah I’m fine!” You quickly replied through the pain. 

“If you were fine I think you would’ve crossed the finish line by then,” said Reiner, more concerned than anything.

However, Porco took this as Reiner insulting you. “You know damn well Y/N would’ve beat you on a normal day!” He spat back.

“Hey that’s enough Porco, go help Y/N to the clinic,” said Marcel trying to diffuse the situation.

Porco just frowned at the crowd and pulled you along. You knew he would always defend you, but lately, he’s been getting more mad at Reiner for even talking to you. 

“Porco it’s okay, I don’t think he meant it in a bad way,” you said as you cling to him since he started to pick up the pace after that incident.

“You never know these days Y/N. We’re all competing against each other. He probably feels lucky that you got hurt today since him beating you only boosted his score,” he said as he held the door open for you. 

You decided to let it go as you trudged towards the bed and sat down. The burning pain in your ankle wasn’t getting any better as you slipped off your shoes. Definitely sprained, broken at the worst. You sighed at your predicament, knowing that you’d never become an honorary Marleyan like your friends and their families. Porco ran off to tell commander Magath, who then told Zeke to deal with you since he had some experience patching up wounds and since he was the oldest candidate. 

“Hey Y/N, Porco told me you hurt your ankle?” Asked Zeke as he began to gather some bandages to wrap your injured ankle in. 

You simply nodded before Zeke examined your ankle. 

“Ouch!” You squeaked after he tried to move it sideways.

“Sorry, but I think it’s definitely a bad sprain at this point. It looks like you’ll have to use crutches for the next few weeks,” he said as he frowned slightly. He knew the selection of the candidates among the younger bunch was coming up soon, and this injury didn’t rule in your favor.

“Are you sure Zeke? Can’t you just wrap my foot back up and I can resume training?” You asked tearfully.

The older teen felt sorry for you as you were still determined to work hard for the selection. There was no way you could continue training like this, and your physical test grades weren’t even that high, to begin with. There was no doubt you would not be receiving a Titan. 

“That will only set you back, just focus on healing, okay? The Marleyan trainers were kind enough to give you a break from training to heal,” said Zeke as he finished wrapping your ankle and grabbing the crutches for you. 

You didn’t say anything after, the pain in your ankle was nothing compared to the disappointment and hopelessness you felt knowing you had no chance to improve your training scores. Zeke pat your head as almost a condolence and left the room. As you sat there contemplating your situation yet again, a familiar boy opened the door and took a seat next to you.

“I know you’re not okay and it’s not just about your ankle,” said Porco bluntly as he faced you. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes.

“Y/N, you could tell me. Please?” He said as his face softened. 

You might as well get it over with. “Porco, at this rate I am never going to be chosen for a Titan. You know this too. I’ve tried my hardest but I am nowhere on your level or anyone else’s! I’m pretty sure my marks are the lowest out of us. And I’m going to disappoint my parents by not inheriting a Titan! They will never become honorary Marleyans because of me,” you cried. 

Seeing you cry was difficult for Porco. He always had a soft spot for you and he immediately pulled into a hug. It was rare that he gave out hugs but you were an exception. 

“Hey, don’t cry Y/N, okay? You never know what could happen. You’re way stronger than you think and I mean that. You’re even stronger than that loser Reiner! Don’t give up just yet. You heard Zeke, you need to rest. An injury like that proves you’ve been working hard so maybe those in charge will notice that too,” said Porco as he tried to comfort you. A part of him knew that there was a chance you wouldn’t inherit a Titan, neither would Reiner since there were only five titans available to inherit. Still, you could always work your way up as a soldier and earn merit that way. It was rare though since Eldians are not allowed to order Marleyans. There had to be another way.

His words comforted you a little. It was nice to see someone have faith in you for once. Maybe he was right, there could be another way you become an honorary Marleyan. 

Several weeks passed by and the selection for inheriting Titans was revealed. It stung when you realized you were not selected a Titan, but you had prepared yourself for this revelation for the past few weeks. Your jaw dropped when you heard Porco was not chosen either. You stood with the rest of the group as Porco lashed out at Reiner, him yelling in disbelief that someone who he believed performed worse than him was chosen instead. Marcel pried his brother away from Reiner as Porco sobbed in defeat. The whole scene was heartbreaking to watch. You knew how hard Porco worked all these years, but you were also surprised that Reiner was able to get a Titan. That factor made you think that you had some of the necessary skills to inherit a Titan since you were not that far from Reiner. 

All of the other chosen candidates left the room for the festival and left you and a sobbing Porco. It was now your turn to comfort him. “Hey Porco, I know you tried your best out there. It’s okay though, you still get to be an honorary Marleyan because of Marcel!” you said trying to cheer him up.

“It’s not about that,” he sobbed, “I can’t believe I’m this weak! I thought I was so strong but clearly, I’m not!”

“Remember what you told me the day I hurt my ankle?” you asked and he looked up, “You told me that I am stronger than I think I am and I think that also applies to you. Don’t give up hope just yet, I think you should stay in the program. You have what it takes to inherit a Titan in the future!” 

He wiped his tears and simply nodded, listening to your words. Maybe they’ll hold some truth one day, but he will keep training to get stronger. This time, you brought him into a hug which he returned. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“What are you going to do since you also weren’t chosen today?” asked Porco. 

“Be a disappointment to my parents,” you said sarcastically with a small chuckle. 

“Don’t think that way, Y/N. There’s always so much more than their opinion of you,” he said frowning.

“Oh I know, it’s just I’m prepared for the guilt I’m going to be feeling. But I’ll probably try studying to become a nurse. At least then I can be useful on the battlefield,” you replied.

Porco’s eyes lit up as you told him of your prospective plans, “I wouldn’t mind having you as my nurse one day,” he said as he blushed. 

“I hope for your sake that you aren’t my patient, because well, that would mean you got hurt,” you chuckled blushing as well. 

Unfortunately, that was one of the last conversations you had with Porco for a while. Since you didn’t have Marleyan citizenship, you were moved back to the internment zone which showed you how hard life was for your kind. Your parents didn’t help either, they seemed eternally disappointed in you since they relied on you for Marleyan citizenship. You spent your days working at a small restaurant, which was tough since the management was pretty rude. Not to mention that the pay wasn’t great either but it was more than nothing. However, the shunning you felt from your parents was unbearable. Every time you were in a room with them the overwhelming feeling of your failure haunted you. All you wanted to do was to see Porco, but he was too busy continuing training. 

Occasionally, on both of your rare days off, Porco would come to visit the internment zone where you caught up on life. You both confided in one another about being perceived as failures, which was not true at all. Without the other trainees around, you and Porco became much closer over the years. You’ve never been able to open up to anyone else and vice versa. 

          One day Porco came to you and tearfully informed you that Marcel had died early on in the mission to receive the founding Titan. It was one thing losing a friend, but you understood that Porco was suffering the most since Marcel was his one and only brother. Your arms became his safe haven as he sobbed away, missing his older brother and wondering why he had to leave this world so young. You cried with him, you had known Marcel since childhood too and he was suddenly gone. As much as Marcel’s death hurt both of you, it brought you two even closer. Recounting the good times you both had with Marcel was healing for both of you. And when Porco found out Reiner and Bertolt brought back the girl who had inadvertently killed him, Ymir, he knew that it would be his duty to consume her in order to obtain the Jaw Titan. You could not be happier for Porco in that aspect; his dream of inheriting a Titan was finally coming true. At the same time, this also meant he would have to leave you for military duties. As much as you hated that harsh reality, you were happy that his skills were put to use. The news broke out about the new war with the Mid-East Alliance, and you knew it would be a while before you saw him again. 

After his parents said their goodbyes to their only son left, you approached your best friend tearfully and embraced him. 

“I’m going to miss you Porco, please stay safe,” you cried into his chest. 

“I will don’t worry about me Y/N,” he said as he returned the embrace. 

You pulled away from him and he frowned at your tear-stained face. “Come on Y/N, you know I hate seeing you cry,” he said with a slight blush. 

“I can’t help it,” you giggled in between tears, “Promise to send each other letters?”

“Of course I will,” he said as he grabbed your hand and squeezed it comfortably. 

That was the last time you saw Porco Galliard for four years. You didn’t know it at the time you stood on the dock, but your life would change drastically in a way that would change you and Porco forever.

[cocochannel00]

Don’t Leave Me Alone

This is so long overdue and I apologize for such a long wait but here it is!! I hope you guys enjoy and as always requests are slow, but always open!

Description: over 6k words, dad!Harry, husband!Harry, Pregnant Y/n, Angst, Fluff.

Masterlist can be found here!

Sometimes when you’re pregnant all you need is a little break...

Kids: Connor (2), Rebecca (1)

You felt like a whale, and not one of those cute baby whales you see at the aquarium. No, you felt like a fat Blue Whale that was about to explode. You were six months pregnant and it had not been as glamorous as Beyonce made it seem. So far you had spent the first trimester throwing up at least twice a day and your second trimester going through insane hot flashes that left you contemplating whether going to the grocery store nude would be that bad of an idea. You were hoping your last trimester would be somewhat more bearable but seeing as the two devils inside you were currently competing to see who could break your rib first, you had a feeling it wasn't going to get better.

You weren't usually one to complain out loud or at least about your own personal problems, but this pregnancy, unlike your last two, was starting to get on your last nerve and so was Harry. You admit you were a bit more agitated than normal but Harry was definitely not helping. He had taken his own form of paternity leave a little over three weeks ago after a small scare you had with one of the twins. You thought that having him home so much would be amazing and you could use the extra help with Connor and Rebecca, especially since your baby girl was just learning how to properly walk. So far she had nearly cracked her head against the edge of the shoe rack in your mudroom which had led you to bubble wrap nearly every corner of your house. You were nearly at your wit's end and there seemed to be no end in sight.

Luckily today was Sunday so you let yourself indulge in a few extra hours of sleep while Harry watched the kids. You had kicked him out of bed last night because his body was like a furnace and in between the hot flashes you were having and the fact that you were feeling too insecure to lay naked next to him, you had sent him to the guest room. At 3 a.m. Harry thought nothing of it and since he was sleep deprived as well he probably jumped at the chance to get away from you and get some sleep without all of her moaning and groaning. You and Harry had spent the last week snapping at each other constantly over little things, but you hoped with a couple of more hours of sleep your hormones would cool down a bit even if your body couldn't.  

The sun was already shining through the window as you rolled around to check your alarm clock that read 10:30 a.m. Well, at least you had gotten to sleep in a bit before the twins started their kickboxing match. You had just finished the ever-challenging task of sitting up on your bed when you heard two piercing cries come from downstairs. You carefully pushed off the bed and leaned against the nightstand to gain your balance before heading to your closet to get dressed. The only thing you were willing to wear these days were dresses. They were elastic, lightweight, and the only thing that you wouldn't sweat through 30 seconds after putting it on. You decided that you would try and be optimistic about the day so you wore Harry's favorite blue dress with sunflowers. You should have thrown it out after your first pregnancy but it held so many memories that you couldn't get yourself to part with it. You were just walking out of the room when a crying Connor came barreling towards your legs.

"Mama" he cried as he buried his face in your dress. You could barely see him under your belly but you wrapped your arms around his back and stroked his brown curls softly.

"What happened baby?" you asked quietly as he scrunched the end of your dress in his tiny fists and wiped his eyes.

"I play with Becca... and fell... and dada mad...and I cry" he mumbled.

"Oh, baby I'm sure it was an accident. Is Becca okay?" you asked as you grabbed his hand and started carefully walking down the stairs with Connor.

"Uh-huh mama accident" he mumbled with a slight lisp.

"That's okay, baby. I'm sure daddy was just worried and that's why he got mad. Let's go make sure Becca's okay" you replied back as you made it down the last steps of the stairs.

You waddle passed the kitchen door to find Harry sitting on a kitchen stool with your daughter in his arms, an ice pack placed on your baby girl's lip as big crocodile tears fell down her face.  

"Connor I think Becca would feel so much better if you drew her one of your special pictures. Do you think you could draw her one?" you asked your baby boy as you rubbed his back.

"Yes, mama I draw. Stickers too" he mumbled as he ran into the adjacent living room.

Once your baby boy was cheerful again you made your way to your daughter and picked her up from your husband's arms.

"And what happened to you, my love? I leave you with your dada for five minutes and you get a boo-boo on your lip" you whispered to her as she tucked her face into her neck.

"Dada turned around for 2 seconds and this is what happened" Harry grumbled as he leaned against the granite countertop.

"Two seconds?" you questioned as you bounced your little girl softly. Harry groaned.

"Ok, it was like 5 minutes. Jeff called me and we were trying to figure out when would be a good time to get into the studio before you give birth and I was distracted and I heard her scream and there was blood and I yelled and Connor started to cry and..."

"Harry I told you already that you can't leave her alone. She's just figuring out how to walk and she bumps into everything. What did she even hit her lip on? Every sharp edge of the furniture is wrapped in bubble wrap." you replied harsher than you wanted too.

"I don't know (y/n). I was talking and she must have bumped her lip on the floor or maybe the bottom leg of the table? It wasn't my fault, it was an accident" He exclaimed defensively as he rubbed his eyes tiredly.

"Harry, it is your fault though. You should have been watching her while you were on the phone. You watch tv while on the phone all the time! The least you could do is watch your own children" you replied back in frustration. You weren't sure if it was your hormones or the fact that you were hungry that was causing the wave of anxiety and anger, but you had a feeling this conversation wasn't going to end well.

"I get it (y/n) I should have been watching her, but maybe if I wasn't getting kicked out of my own bed at 3 am because of your moods. I'll make you some breakfast, maybe it will make you less cranky" he grumbled as he made his way to the toaster.

"I don't want your stupid breakfast and I'm sorry if the two children you helped create make my body feel like it's burning. Maybe we should get you pregnant and see what happens" You repeat harshly as you cradle your baby and went to put her down in her highchair with some cheerios.

"Love, I want to help you... I know this pregnancy has been much harder than the others but I can't help if you kick me out of our bed. You need to tell me what you want me to do" Harry pleaded as he placed some bread in the toaster and turned to face you.

"I want these babies out. I want to not be the size of a whale. I want to sneeze without peeing myself and I want to walk more than five feet without getting heartburn. I want..." you started before the tears began to fall.

"Oh baby, no" Harry mumbled before he ran around the counter to engulf you in a hug. "I know this has been hard and I'm sorry I haven't been as helpful as I should have. I'll make more time for our family and I'll-"

"But I need you to actually do those things, H. You promised me when we got pregnant that you'd be finished with everything by the time the babies got fussy" You mumbled as you put your hands on his chest

"I know, love, and I am, I promise. Once the band and I record a couple more songs in the studio next week I'm all yours," he whispered as you shook your head violently.

"No! You won't be all mine. You'll find something else you'll need to do and then I'll have to watch the kids alone and I can barely walk and you're just going to leave"you all but yelled as you turned your back to Harry.

"(y/n)... what? What are you talking about? Of course, I'm going to be here. I've been home for weeks helping out" he replied back confused.

"Harry every day you've been home you're always locked away in your office or the studio downstairs. You bath the kids, you feed them lunch, great! That's the bare minimum. Who's the one that has to stop their tantrums or bubble wrap the house so they won't get hurt or even try and run around the garden with them while being the size of cow cause it sure as heck isn't you. And then once you're done with the album, you'll be on tour and I'll be alone again." you grumbled angrily.

"(Y/n) you are not the size of a cow and you know I'll give up my music the minute you tell me" he replied.

"I don't want you to give up your music" you stated stubbornly as Harry groaned.

"(Y/n), what is this really about then?" Harry asked tiredly.

"I need a break, Harry... I need to get away from here. The stress and the kids and the babies, I just... I need to go" you cried softly as you wrapped your arms around your bump and watched your baby girl play happily with her food, oblivious to the meltdown happening a few feet away from her.

"Baby, you're scaring me. What do you mean by go away? Do you want to head up north together? We can take the kids up to the cottage or visit my mum" he said quietly trying to hug you, but you stepped away.

"No Harry I need to get away from here... from you" you mumbled just as Connor walked into the room with his drawing.

"Mama look finish," he said with a squeal as you quickly wiped your tears and slowly crouched down to look at his drawing.

"It's beautiful, my love! Why don't we hang it on the fridge so Becca can see it every morning?" You replied back with a small smile as you used all of your strength to stand up again.

Harry saw you wobble slightly and quickly went to help you up from your crouched position. You leaned on his body as he steadied you from falling. You mumbled a quick thanks before going to the fridge with your little boy and helping him place his drawing on the fridge door with some magnets.

"Mommy's very tired baby, why don't you ask daddy and see if he'll make you mac and cheese for lunch while I take your sister up for her nap," you spoke to your son as he nodded with excitement. You carefully went and picked up your daughter from her high chair as Harry grabbed your elbow.

"(Y/n) come on, we're not done talking about all of this. You haven't eaten either. You've got me worried" Harry whispered as he looked at you expectantly.

"I'm not hungry now, thank you. It was a long night and I'm not feeling the best. Go make Connor's lunch, please" You replied as you began to make your way up the stairs.

You finally made it up the stairs with only a bit of heartburn to show for it. You carefully placed your baby girl in her crib and gave her a soft kiss on her forehead. You whispered a quick goodbye and started packing a bag. As you threw some dresses and a couple of sweaters into a duffle bag you called Anne who thankfully picked up on the first ring.

"Hello (y/n), how are you? How are the babies" she spoke cheerfully.

"Hi, Anne. I'm doing okay, the twins are definitely fighters. They're going to be a handful" you sniffled softly.

"Oh, sweetheart what's going on?" Anne asked, concern laced in her voice.

"I need to get away for awhile. Harry and the kids and the babies it's just all too much right now. I feel like I'm losing my mind and my hormones are all over the place and it's just so overwhelming and all Harry and I do is fight and I..." you said as you began to hyperventilate.

"(Y/n), I need you to breathe sweetheart, Okay? Stress isn't good for the babies and you already had that scare a couple of weeks back. Breathe love. Pregnancy can very hard and i know these twins haven't made it easy. Do you want me to yell at Harry for you?" she asked softly.

"No, no, it's okay. I just... I need to go somewhere for a couple of days. Just to get myself together before I say something or do something that I..." you started but you couldn't think straight.

"Okay love, that's okay. Everyone needs a little break every once in a while. Why don't you pack some clothes and your pregnancy pillow and come spend a couple of days here in Cheshire with me? I'll call Harry right now to tell him and he can stay and watch the kids for a bit. Why don't you call Gary and ask if he can drive you?" Anne asked.

"Yes, that sounds good" you mumbled as you began looking for your pillow.

"Ok, my love. I'll call Harry and tell him what's going on so he doesn't worry. You just message Gary, ok?"

"Yes, thank you, Anne. See you soon," you replied as Anne said her goodbyes.

After hanging up on Anne you texted Gary to ask if he could pick you up and drive you to Anne's. He agreed and told you he would be there in 15 minutes, giving you enough time to finish packing and say goodbye to your babies.

You were mid-way through packing your toiletries when you heard Harry's footsteps running up the stairs. He walked past your room and towards Connor's before making his way back to you.

"Mom just called me" he spoke softly as he approached you.

"Yes. Gary will be here soon to drive me up to her house" you replied as you placed your toothbrush in your bag and zipped it close.

"I'm glad he's driving you up... (Y/n) what's... what's going on baby. I need to know what's going through your head right now" he whispered as he wrapped his arms around your body tightly.

"My hormones have been all over the place and then I think the scare a couple of weeks ago has made me even more anxious because I don't want anything to happen to our babies and... I can't sleep well at night and I just..." you stammered as you forced yourself to take deep breaths while Harry rubbed circles into your lower back.

"Shhh, love... I know. I think staying with Mum for a couple of days will be good for you, give you some time to relax. I'll make sure the kids are okay and you just message me when you're ready to come back. I'll be just a call away if you need anything" He replied back as he continued to hug you tightly.

"You're not mad at me?" you asked as you looked him in the eye for the first time since your breakdown in the kitchen.

"Of course not, love. I know this pregnancy has been hell for you and I haven't been the best support these past couple of days so I think it will be good for you to have some time to yourself. I'll make sure the kids are ok and if I need I'll call up Gemma. Now, come on, Gary's waiting outside for you. I'll bring your bag and your pillow while you say goodbye to Connor and Becca" he stated as he placed a soft kiss to your forehead before grabbing your bags and heading down the stairs.

Carefully you slipped on your Dr.Scholls flip flops and made your way to Connor's room to say goodbye. Connor was playing with his blocks on the floor happily as you quietly called out his name as you went to take a seat on the rocking chair in his room. Connor stared up at you with a smile and ran over to hug you.

"Mama look blocks," he said excitedly as he pointed at the tower he had abandoned.

"Yes, baby it's a beautiful tower. Listen, love, mommy has to tell you something, ok? I want you to listen to mommy, ok? Can you listen to mommy?" you asked your little boy as he shook his head vigorously.

"Mommy's going to go spend a couple of days with Grandma Anne while you and Becca stay with daddy. You guys are going to have so much fun together! You're going to play lots of games together and maybe in a couple of days, you can come to visit." You spoke as the little boy frowned.

"I no go grandmas?" He asked quietly as he frowned.

"No baby, not yet. You have to stay and help daddy with Becca. Can you do that for me?" you explained to Connor as he nodded his head and hugged you tighter.

"Thank you, Connor. You're getting to be such a big boy. Thank you for watching your sister for me. Why don't you come with me so I can say bye to Becca and we can meet daddy downstairs" you mumbled as you stood up while taking your son's hand and slowly made your way to Becca's room.

Becca was peacefully sleeping in her crib when you walked in. You didn't want to wake her up and make Harry's day more difficult than it already was so you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and made your way downstairs. Harry was at the door talking with Gary, most likely giving him instructions on getting me safe to Anne's. Harry saw you from the corner of his eye and quickly came to help you down the last few steps. Once you had made it to the bottom, Harry went to grab a lunchbox from the kitchen and passed it to you.

"Packed you a couple of snacks and a sandwich for the road and some of those weird gummies you've been craving," he stated, a small smile on his face as he crouched down to pick up your two-year-old in his arms.

"Say bye-bye to mamma, Connor. We'll see her in a couple of days." Harry mumbled to the little boy that pouted as he waved his little hand goodbye.

"Bye mama" Connor whispered as you kissed his forehead. You smiled with watery eyes as you said goodbye to your little boy before looking at Harry.

"I love you (y/n)" He told you as you whispered a soft 'I love you" back. You gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before walking outside to meet Gary.

You greeted Gary and got into the back seat of the black suburban that would be driving you to Anne's. By the time you rounded the end of your street you were fast asleep.

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Harry's POV:

I was officially going to lose it. I had been close over the years, but if either one of my kids cries one more time today I was going to have a mental breakdown. It had been four days since (Y/n) had gone to my mum's house and I had been left to watch the kids by myself. If there's anything I've learned from the last couple of days it's that my wife is fucking Wonder woman. I don't know how she managed to keep it together for so long because I was falling apart at the seams already.

It's not like I hadn't taken care of the two of them by myself before. I had numerous times when (Y/n) had worked late shifts at the hospital or had taken a weekend trip with her friends but for some reason, these past couple of days have been far worse than any of the previous ones. Becca had made it her absolute mission to try and run herself into every corner she could. So far she had managed to fall at least four times, all ending with a minimum three-hour cry afterward. Connor tried to help calm down Becca but most of the time he would just get upset because she was and they both end up crying. Yesterday had been the breakpoint for me though.

I had managed to keep Becca and Connor from crying all afternoon which was quite a miracle and just as I was putting them to bed, Becca saw a picture of (Y/n) in the hallway and began to scream for (y/n). This consequently woke Connor up who also cried because he could go to sleep so the three of us ended up in (y/n) and I's bed cuddled in the sheets as both of my kids cried through the night. The only person I knew that could fix this situation besides (Y/n) was Gemma and after practically begging her and promising to not be a dick when she came she said yes to helping me out.

After giving up on trying to get the kids out of their pajamas, I grabbed them both in my arms and walked them downstairs to start on some breakfast. They seemed to have tired themselves out with all of their crying so for the time being, they sat down quietly in their respective chairs and munched on their cheerios. I had just finished up making some Oatmeal when the doorbell rang, signaling that Gemma had arrived.

"Mama" Connor mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"No baby not mama yet, but aunty Gemma came to visit. Should we go open the door?" I asked as he nodded excitedly.

I grabbed Becca out of her high chair and held Connor's hand as we made our way to the door. As soon as I opened it Connor sprinted into Gemma's arms in a fit of giggles. It was nice to hear him laugh after all the crying that had been going on these past couple of days. I gave Gemma a quick kiss on the cheek before letting her in and walking back into the kitchen.

"Looking a little rough there Har. When's the last time you shaved those whiskers on your lip" Gemma laughed as she grabbed Becca from my arms and held her.

"Shut it. I haven't slept in days. Feel like I'm losing my mind" I mumbled as I poured the oatmeal into two bowls.

"You want anything to eat? Can make some toast and scrambled eggs" I asked as Gemma shook her head.

"Mama mama" Becca mumbled as she clawed at Gemma's shirt.

"I might have boobs like mama but mine, unfortunately, can't give you what you want little one" Gemma replied back as I laughed.

"Lot's of missing mama this week from all of us. Have you gotten a chance to check in with mom yet? See how (y/n)'s doing? Didn't want to be annoying so I haven't called since the first day" I stated as I placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of Connor and gave the other to Gemma to start feeding Becca.

"Mom said she's been okay. I think the fresh air is helping but her hormones are still all over. Mom said she was feeling a bit insecure about her size the other day but was starting to get better about it." Gemma replied as she fed Becca a spoonful of oatmeal.

"Insecure? She's pregnant. I think she's glowing. Nothing more beautiful than a pregnant lady" I said with a frown think about (Y/n).

"I know but Tracey always says that being the pregnant one is different. It feels like everyone's always watching you and now that she has twins she feels even bigger. One baby is bad enough but two of them with your big head inside at once can't be at all comfortable" Gemma said.

"I know but she's big because she has two of my babies and I think she looks breathtaking."

"Did you tell her that recently?" Gemma asked.

"Well... no ... maybe I- I think so" I mumbled as Gemma glared at me.

"I know I know I should have told her more often but I got busy and then Jeff kept calling and she'd kick me out of bed and-"

"Harry everything you just said is why (Y/n) needed a break. You hadn't been paying attention to her at all or the kids because you were so caught up in work. Now that you've realized that as a parent of two and two on the way you need to step it up because your wife can't do it by herself. You can't overwhelm yourself with work especially with the scare (Y/n) had a couple of weeks back."

"I know I know, but I don't know how to help her if she pushes me away" I replied back in frustration.

"Why don't you start by calling Jeff and canceling all those recording sessions you have planned. I know your job and your music is important but you need to put your family first and the health of your wife and your babies" Gemma stated as she wiped some oatmeal off of Becca's cheek.

"I already did! Once (Y/n) left I canceled all of the sessions and interviews and meetings that I couldn't do from home. Told Jeff that after this week I was officially going on a break until after the twins are born and we're all settled." I replied as I passed Connor a napkin for his sticky hands.

"Well did you tell (Y/n) or mom any of this cause (Y/n) is so stressed you'll miss the birth of the babies cause of your work!" Gemma said sternly as she looked at me.

"Bu-but why would she think I'd miss it! Haven't missed any of the births or her appointments?" I groaned.

"I think she's just scared. You were out of town when the bleeding started and she was an absolute wreck when I took her to the hospital. Doctors said they had to give her a sedative because she nearly had a panic attack in the ER and her blood pressure skyrocketed. Mom said she was panicking on the phone when she called her" Gemma replied as she bounced Becca up and down on her lap.

"Careful, she'll vomit. God, I wish I could just see (Y/n) but I don't want to make things worse"

"I think both of you suffered enough with this time apart so why don't you call mom and tell her you and these little rascals are coming up today. Once you called me I texted mom to let her know you'd probably make an appearance today" Gemma replied as she tickled Becca's tummy.

"You're right, I should. I'm going to call mom and let her know. Can you pack Becca a bag and maybe change her diaper?" I asked as I made my way to go find my phone upstairs.

"Bag, yes. Diaper, hell no" Gemma mumbled as I laughed.

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(Y/N) POV:

Today was a good day. You had managed to make it the entire morning without crying which is more than you can say for the other three days you had spent at Anne's house. It looked like you had finally managed to get your hormones under control and were even excited to spend the day in town with Anne. You had promised her that after moping around her house since you got there that you would spend today with her in town as long as you could stop to get one of those chocolate croissants Harry always brought from the bakery.

You waddled down the stairs in the navy blue Gucci dress Harry bought you for Christmas that cinched just above your belly, making you look all the more pregnant. You didn't necessarily like it the first couple of times you tried it on but every time you wore it Harry's face would light up with a smile and that was enough for you to wear it a bit more often.

"Good morning (Y/n), how did you sleep last night? Did the ice pack behind your neck help with the hot flashes?" Anne asked as she sipped her cup of coffee at the kitchen table.

"It was a miracle worker, first time in months that I haven't woken up in a puddle of my own sweat" you replied back as you gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and sat down next to her.

"I'm glad. I know you're not a tea drinker but can I get you some decaf or maybe some hot chocolate? I think I have some from the last time you guys were over" Anne replied as she got up to get her a mug.

"Hot chocolate sounds wonderful. I can make it though don't worry" you said as Anne waved you away and began taking out the chocolate mix.  

"So how are you feeling today? Better with the hormones and such?" Anne asked cautiously as she stirred the hot chocolate and placed it in front of you.

"I've gotten them under control for the most time, I usually only feel like crying when I to miss Harry and my other babies. Wish they could have come up for a bit but it's been nice to spend some time with you and away from the chaos."

"It's been very nice having you here and I can't wait to meet two more of my grandbabies. Speaking of Harry, he called me this morning?" Anne mumbled into her coffee.

"Is he ok? Are my babies ok? Is someone hurt?" You questioned with a jump.

"Everyone's fine don't worry. Just wanted to see how you were doing." Anne replied. You relaxed back into your seat knowing that everyone was ok at home.

"Thank god. I was worried about leaving them with Harry. He's a great dad, but they can be a handful especially if they tag team you with the crying. It's enough to pull your hair out" you mumble as Anne laughs.

"I can only imagine. Gemma was pretty calm as a child, but Harry was my little attention seeker, couldn't put him down without the tears starting"

"Becca's the same way. If you leave her alone more than a quick bathroom break she'll start screaming her head off. I miss them..." you stated as you grabbed a biscuit and shoved it in your mouth.

"Well a little birdy might have mentioned that someone special could be coming up later today" Anne mumbled trying to hide her grin behind her mug.

"What? What do you mean? Is Harry coming up here?!" You asked excitedly as you nearly drop your coffee mug on the floor.

Anne nodded as you crushed her into bear hug and placed a kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you thank you" you whispered as you held her tight.

"It was all Gemma, dear. And besides, I think you both could really use it. From what I hear my grandkids aren't making it the easiest time. They should be here within the next half hour so why don't you go get dressed and I'll get the kids room all set up for them?" Anne replied as she carefully helped you stand and walked you up the stairs.

Once upstairs, you could help but let out a small squeal at the idea of finally seeing Harry and your kids again. It had only been a couple of days and even though you always love spending some girl time alone with Anne, it was time to see all of your babies (Harry included). You decided to take a quick shower before throwing on a coral pink wrap dress that cut off just above the knee. Just as you were putting on your sneakers (probably the most comfortable shoes you own tbh) Anne knocked on the door to tell you that Harry's car had just pulled into the drive way. You smiled and quickly finished tying your shoes before carefully, but quickly, made your way down the stairs and to the front door.

The sight in front of you was almost too much for you to handle. Connor stood at the side of the car staring at the birds playing the bird feeder. His foot pajamas were covered in what you could only assume was banana stains and the shoe laces on his Gucci sneakers were untied. Your husband stood with his back to you as he wrestled with the fussy one year old in the car street. His pajama pants were riding low on his hips and the white cotton t shirt he sometimes wears to bed had a large stain on his right shoulder, most likely from burping Becca. Just as you were about to approach your little family when suddenly you son came running towards you.

"Mama mama... I here" Connor called out as he hurled himself towards you.

"I see that baby! How are you? Were you good for dada?" You asked him as you carefully lifted him up in your arms and nodded his head.

"I good mama. I good" he stated enthusiastically as you placed a kiss to his cheek.

"How is my favorite grandbaby boy doing? Come with me so your mommy can go help daddy with Becca" Anne stated as Connor all but launched himself at his grandma with a squeal.

You gave Anne a smile before walking over to Harry. You tapped on his shoulder and watched as his shoulders relaxed and he carefully turned around to see you. The weeks could be seen right on his face. His hair was shooting out every which way, a curl follow over his eyes every now and then. There was also a slight hint of stubble across his chin which you knew only appeared after he had gone a couple of days without shaving. The stain on the shoulder of his pajama shirt wasn't the only one on his shirt as you saw a couple splatters of green which you could only assume was peas. He was mess all over, but he was your mess. He gave you the soft smile that you fell in love with all those years ago and you practically tumbled into his arms.

"Hello my love" he mumbled into your hair as he brushed a strand of it behind your ear while rubbing his other hand up and down your back.

"Hi H" you whispered as tears began to prick your eyes.

"I missed you so much, the kids and I were a mess without you but I hope you got to relax a bit" Harry whispered into your ear.

"It was nice, but I missed you all a lot. I hope they weren't to much trouble" you mumbled into his neck.

"Let's just say it's a miracle we didn't get a noise complaint from all of the crying but we survived... barely." Harry replied as you laughed.

The two of you stood there for a bit before you began to hear your daughter's soft whines coming from the open car door. You carefully detached yourself from Harry and made your way to your daughter who sat in her car seat, eyes wide looking at the two of you.

"Hello baby. How is my precious girl doing? Did you make daddy's life difficult?" you mumbled in a baby voice as you picked her up from her car seat and cradled her into your neck.

She let out a soft whine before snuggling into your chest and closing her eyes again.

"All she needed was her mama" Harry replied as he wrapped his arms around you from behind and placed a kiss to your temple.

"All I needed was you" you whispered back as you placed a soft kiss to his lips.

"I love you (Y/n)"

"I love you too, H"

[the--sad--hatter]

Punch-Drunk - Chapter One (Loki x Reader)

Pairing - Loki x Reader, But there’s some flirting with other characters

Warnings - Loki, Violence, Magically Altered-Behaviour, Injuries, Blood, Swearing, smut, second-hand embarrassment, some angst, a metric fuckton of chaos.

Summary/Excerpt -

“She took a combined blast of Wanda AND Loki’s magic, straight to the head. It’s left her a little… well, let’s be polite and say ‘discombobulated’.” Sam explained, the fidgety way he was bouncing from foot to foot betraying how uncharacteristically nervous he was.

“Jesus. She took a blast from both of them, and she’s still standing?” Tony hissed, wincing in sympathy.

“Standing is a generous term.” Clint scoffed, striding into the room in time to catch Tony’s question.

“How is she?” Steve asked.

“Bruce is checking her over, but I don’t need his diagnosis to tell you that her brains been scrambled six ways to Sunday.” Clint sighed.

Series Masterlist

Chapter One - Discombobulate

It seemed like no matter how many Hyrdra cells, AIM bases, rouge Inhumans, or corrupt politicians they took down, every day there was a fresh crop of threats to be dealt with. Like it was a never-ending cycle. Thankfully, The Avengers were always ready to tackle the problem, and there were enough of them that they could spilt up into teams when it was necessary. So while Steve, Tony, Bruce, Natasha, Thor, and Vision had been dismantling the corrupt government of a small European country, Sam, Bucky, Clint, Wanda, Loki, and you had been tearing down an AIM base in Northern Canada.

 The first team had returned first, and spent the next day and night waiting for the rest of The Avengers to come home. As soon as he got word that the Quinjet was nearby, Steve was in the Hanger, pacing around like a worried mother waiting for her kids to come back from their first day at school.

 From the second the team disembarked the Quinjet, it was painfully obvious that the mission hadn’t gone to plan. Bucky was the first to come down the ramp, walking so quickly he was all but running, brushing past Steve without meeting his eyes.

 “Buck?”

“M’fine, debrief later.” Bucky muttered, high-tailing it into the compound.

 His instinct was to follow Bucky, but he knew better. His friend wasn’t injured, that much was obvious. Whatever it was, it wasn’t something pertinent, and he needed to see the rest of the team was alright before he went and chased down his oldest friend.

 Sam and Wanda were the next one’s down the ramp, his arm slung across her shoulders as he murmured something to her with a serious expression on his face. The young woman nodded slowly, letting out a deep breath and offering Steve a small smile as she hurried past him.

 “What happened?” Steve asked as Sam came to stand next to him.

 “It’s a long story.” Sam said wearily.

 Loki followed next, uncharacteristically quiet, taking his time as he sauntered over. The pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place as the last figure disembarked the Quinjet, Clint stepped onto the ramp, carefully balancing you in his arms.

 “She dozed off. I’m taking her to Bruce.” Clint whispered, cautious not to disturb you.

 Steve swallowed thickly, peering down at your sleeping face. There were no obvious signs of injury, no blood, but that didn’t calm him down. He quickly stepped ahead of Clint to open the hanger doors, Sam and Loki following, Sam diligently, Loki begrudgingly.

 “Sam?” Steve prompted as Clint peeled off from the group, carrying you towards Banner’s lab.

 Sam nodded and stepped into the nearest empty room, a briefing room, where he lowered himself into a chair, face betraying the heavy exhaustion settling in. Loki promptly found a corner and melted into the shadows, close enough to be a part of the team, far enough away to keep his distance. Just like the god had been doing since the day Thor had brought him to the compound and he and Banner had made a case for Loki to begin making amends.

 “What the hell happened, I just saw Clint going into Banner’s lab with Scooby!” Tony demanded, bursting into the room.

 Even when he was worried about you, he just couldn’t drop the canine nicknames. Between your honed tracking skills, loyal disposition, and constant palatable excitement, you were (at least according to Tony) a puppy dog.

 “Mission was a success, we took down the base and disabled that branch of AIM, but there were some complications.” Sam explained.

 “What kind of complications?” Steve asked calmly, cutting across Tony’s worried squawking.

 “Wanda and Loki were working together, using magic to keep the main cluster of guards occupied while the rest of us picked them off, but…” He paused, gathering to his feet and pacing.

 “But?” Tony pressed.

 “She took a combined blast of Wanda AND Loki’s magic, straight to the head. It’s left her a little… well, let’s be polite and say ‘discombobulated’.” Sam explained, the fidgety way he was bouncing from foot to foot betraying how uncharacteristically nervous he was.

 “Jesus. She took a blast from both of them, and she’s still standing?” Tony hissed, wincing in sympathy.

 “Standing is a generous term.” Clint scoffed, striding into the room in time to catch Tony’s question.

 “How is she?” Steve asked.

 “Bruce is checking her over, but I don’t need his diagnosis to tell you that her brains been scrambled six ways to Sunday.” Clint sighed. “Banner’s got her calmed down now, but she wouldn’t let him look her over at first. Thankfully, he figured out a way to get her to comply.”

 “Do we want to know?” The Captain asked nervously.

 Despite the evident worry in his eyes, Clint sniggered. “Depends, do you know how to play Simon Says?”

 “Damn, wish we’d thought of that in the Quinjet.” Sam cursed.

 “What?” Steve frowned.

 “She wouldn’t calm down in the quinjet, had to bribe her with a candy bar. Which she ate, and then cried cause the wrapper was lonely.” Sam explained sagely, shaking his head fondly.

 “The she forgot how her zipper worked, and when Wanda showed her she thought it was the pinnacle of human invention. Ran around showing everybody, accidentally flashed Barnes.” Clint said with great difficulty, nearly bursting with the effort of containing his laughter.

 “You’ve yet to explain how this happened.” Tony reminded, rounding on Loki. “You! Did you do this on purpose?”

 The lanky god looked up at them as if surprised to realise they were still in the room, as if he hadn’t been listening intently to every word said.

 “Be sensible. If I were going to inflict this on one of you tedious mortals, I wouldn’t have chosen her.” Loki drawled, rolling his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t get stuck.

 “It wasn’t his fault Stark. She was pushed into the path of the blasts by a Security Guard.” Sam defended.

 Loki looked taken aback for a brief second before he schooled his featured back into a look of cold disinterest.

 “Well how bad is it? Loki? What’s it doing to her?” Steve asked levelly.

 “I do not know. A blast from one of us can incapacitate someone, but combined? There’s no telling what effects it may have, or how long they will last.” Loki admitted.

 “Bruce’ll be able to tell us more.” Tony hissed, hurrying from the room, the rest of the group following.

 “So Bucky?” Steve murmured, tilting his head so he could whisper to Sam.

 “He’s fine, he just saw more than he bargained for on the Quinjet.” Sam assured, lips twitching.

 Tony burst into the lab without preamble, approaching Bruce who didn’t even bother looking up from the bright hologram he was studying.

 “Where is she?” Steve asked, looking around for you.

 “Next door, I’m scanning her brain.” Bruce explained curtly, nodding to the hologram.

 “Wait, is that her actual brain?” Clint asked, stuck halfway between intrigued and wigged out.

 “Not her actual, actual brain Clint, it’s a 3D scan of her brain. If you look here…” Bruce said, using his pen to point out a particular spot on the hologram, “That’s the limbic system of the brain, it’s where most of our, in this case her, behaviour is decided. Only in this case, it’s not functioning as it should be. There’s some, uh, unusual activity.”

 “Of the magical variety?” Steve guessed.

 “In a way. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I can’t be certain without more tests, but from the information I do have, I hypothesize that Wanda’s powers of mental manipulation are lingering and fluctuating in her brain due to the interference from Loki’s magic. Let’s say on a normal day, Wanda’s abilities are like a dust, settling over the mind. Adding Loki’s abilities into the mix appears to have turned those dust particles into darts. Wanda’s power made a deeper impact, and left some injuries. Except of course, this is metaphysical and not tangible. Her brain is injured, but not physically.”

 “Is she in pain?” Steve asked sharply.

 “No, the damage is contained to the Limbic System, so the side-effects are mostly emotional. She’s a little scared and somewhat confused, but easily distracted from it all. Too easily distracted actually, critical thinking skills are impaired, emotional responses are heightened, short-term memory comes and goes in bursts. It’s almost as if she’s…” He trailed off, frowning at the hologram as it flickered, and the sputtered out of existence.

 “Oh no.”

 “What is it?” Loki demanded, pressing forwards, shouldering Sam and Clint out of the way.

 “Simon said stay still! You’re supposed to stay still!” Bruce called, rushing from the room without answering Loki.

You were upright at least, much to Steve’s relief. Upright and furious. You whirled round as they entered, your eyes zeroing in on Steve with determined purpose.

 “’Teve! Stark pushed me!” You wailed, voice wavering with emotion, eye’s filled with the pain of betrayal.

 “Uh… Friday?” Tony scoffed, watching you with curiosity and wariness in equal measure.

 “I believe she is referring to the incident a few moments ago, where she walked into one of your Iron Suits and rebounded off of it. She’s been arguing with it since, seemingly convinced you were inside it.” Friday elaborated.

 Clint immediately made a swift exit from the room, his face an alarming shade of red. You ignored everyone else in the room and made a beeline for Steve, eyes lit up with determination.

 “Get him!” You demanded, screeching to a halt just before your face made a violent connection with Steve’s body.

 Steve’s eyes followed the direction you were pointing, to a perplexed Tony.

 “Sweetheart, no.” Steve sighed softly, trying to reach out and put a hand on your shoulder, huffing in frustration when you wriggled out of reach.

 “Why are you asking Cap to do it, you’re a superhero, get him yourself.” Sam suggested, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

 You went cross-eyed, trying to make sense of Sam’s words while Steve and Tony levelled him with twin glares of exasperation.

 “Oh yeah! I am, I have GUNS!” You screeched giddily.

 As your hands dived under your shirt, everyone else moved in perfect unison. First there was the widening of the eyes as they realised what you’d said, and then they all dove forward, arm’s outstretched towards you. Somehow, somehow, your discombobulated self managed to evade the grasp of four highly capable superhero’s, and the gun you’d wrangled out of it’s holster came into view.

 “I’ll take that.” Loki sighed, plucking it out of your hand and sending it who knows where in a flash of green light.

 Steve rocked back on his heels, relief coursing through his veins.

 “She was going to shoot me!” Tony gasped, sounding more offended than worried.

 You ignored them all in favour of staring at Loki in absolute awe, eyes lit up from within with a sense of wonder.

 “Magic!” You breathed out, bespelled by the god of mischief.

 “Tony, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Like I said, she has no critical thinking skills. Her emotions are heightened and unpredictable, and she’s reacting instinctively to what she feels.” Bruce reminded, defending you from the appalled pout on Tony’s face by standing between you both.

 “Bruce! Brucie! Did you see that? He did magic!” You screeched, still not taking your eyes off of Loki.

 The blank look on Loki’s face slowly melted into something definitively warmer, and he damn near almost preened at your palatable excitement.

 “It was a simple enough trick, I simply sent it elsewhere.” He shrugged casually, watching you carefully as you grinned up at him.

 “Can you do it again?” You demanded, grabbing the nearest object and handing it to him.

 “Wait!” Tony yelped as Loki took the object from you, but it was gone in a flash. “That was a prototype.” He finished, shoulders slumping. “Bruce, how long will she be like this?”

 “I don’t know yet, or if we can reverse it.” Bruce admitted, peering down at a tablet he’d plucked off of his desk, frowning at it. “But I got enough information from the brief scan to tell one thing.”

 “What is it?” Sam asked, watching you as you skipped through the lab, Loki trailing after you with a rare, genuine smile on his face.

 There were multiple flashes of green as you tossed things at your new best friend, clapping joyfully as he made them disappear. Bruce looked up from the tablet, a grim look on his face.

 “It’s getting worse. She’s getting, for lack of a better term, drunker.”

A/N - This is more of a prologue than a first chapter. The rest of the series will be mostly set from Loki’s POV. 

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[official-weasley]

Headcanon time! (Part 3)

So @am-i-space and I have been talking about dragons (as one normally does on a Sunday afternoon) and of course, our imagination went wild! Now, we know that our dragon lover works in Romania and we have learned about a few species (even seen a few of them in movies without Charlie but okay let's not discuss that here) of dragons but like, let's face it there are more!

The second I have learned about other schools and that they have dragons guarding the vaults in Gringotts I had a HC that the Romanian Dragon Sanctuary isn't the only one!

I can see one being in Canada, somewhere high up in the mountains and the same goes for South America. Of course, one would also be somewhere in the Himalayas. And let's face it the breeds we have all grown to love aren't the only ones!

Of course, Charles Weasley agrees with us 110% and after working in the Sanctuary for 10-15 years he takes a bit of a breather (not from dragons, of course) and travels the world in the hopes to see as many of them as he can. He borrows dad's camera (the one Bill got for him in my other HC where they go and see alpacas) and he starts his adventure.

So, let's start with the sea! I agree with @am-i-space like what do we know about oceans, really? Bloody nothing, that's what! So they proposed that there are water dragons and I am 100% on board with that. Just imagine them swimming around, ever so gracefully, blowing bubbles when they breathe! And they would have the most beautiful scales which would reflect in the sun ranging from dark green to purple and blue and even though they are BIG they are friendly and swim with the dolphins and communicate with whales.

Nobody will convince me that when Charlie goes to observe this beautiful behavior and hears the water dragons sing their mating song for the first time he doesn't cry his eyes out because he can swear that he has never heard such a beautiful sound before and would never get tired of it and is honestly thinking about moving in the middle of the ocean so he could wake up to those sounds every morning.

The next stop on his journey would be to find out if the rumors about ice dragons are true. Charlie, as smart as he is, knew that the most probable location to see if they are real would be the Himalayas. So he wrote to the Himalayan Sanctuary to stay there for a couple of weeks to explore in peace. The dragonologists he talked to there all said that they have given up hope to see one and that despite the rumors that they are hiding one in their reserve they had to disappoint him because they don't have it.

So Charlie put on the hat, the scarf, and the gloves (he knitted himself thank you very much!) and headed out, determined that he will find the ice dragon!

After about a week of hiking and his muscles aching, he began to lose hope to see one. He knew that he would need more time and that he would be ridiculously lucky to see one in such a short amount of time but he also knew that he has to take care of himself and put his health first so he headed back.

A day in, he heard something that sounded like a cry for help. It was in dangerous territory and he probably shouldn't go there but it really sounded like a baby dragon and there won't be a day in his life where Charlie Weasley wouldn't help a dragon in need.

He gasped when he came to the spot the cries were coming from. He saw something white and silver move in a huge pile of snow which looked like an aftermath of an avalanche. He hurried to see what was making the sounds and if the creature was okay at once.

The second he started to remove the snow around the creature he knew he has found one - an ice dragon! The baby dragon was frightened and looked at Charlie with appreciative eyes when he picked him up and started to look around to where this little guy could come from.

He remembered that baby dragons are really good at finding their way back to their mothers so once he brought the cub to safety he put him down and observed his behavior.

When his little ice friend stopped being disoriented he started crying again and howling toward the nearby mountain.

"Of course!" Charlie pressed his hand on his forehead and shook his head. Of course, the reason he couldn't find an ice dragon before, was because they live on the highest loneliest peeks.

Charlie was looking up at the one in front of him, thinking how in the bloody hell is he supposed to get up there with all his gear, tired muscles, and a baby dragon to top it all off!

Then he remembered that while it might not be humanly possible, a bit of magic could do the trick! He gently tied the little guy to his bag and took out his wand. He walked to the bottom of the mountain and then he cast the levitation charm on himself.

Every time he saw a platform that looked stable enough to stand on he stopped to take a few breaths and see how his friend was doing. The higher they got the more cheerful the little one got and Charlie knew they were getting closer.

Charlie put his wand away when they landed in front of what looked like a cave. Charlie gently untied the dragon and put him on the ground. The dragon let out the cutest little roar that made Charlie's heart melt and the ground beneath them started to shake.

Charlie gulped and didn't find his idea to return the dragon back home smart anymore when a gigantic version of his white-silver friend appeared in front of him. The dragon mother looked mad but cautious. The cub ran to her - trying his hardest to fly - and started making purring noises. The ice dragon momma sniffed her baby and then sniffed Charlie which was the coldest breath he has ever felt on his skin.

After she was done, he ushered her cub inside, and with a wiggle of his tail at Charlie, his ice friend disappeared inside the cave. Once his mother made sure he was safe, she turned back to Charlie and roared right in his face.

Charlie, who was used to dragons do that every day back in Romania, didn't even blink. His calm composure impressed the ice dragon and she carefully turned around and lowered herself to the ground.

Charlie knew what she was doing but still couldn't believe it! The dragon is going to let him fly on her! He was only so lucky 2 times with the dragons in the Sanctuary and they knew him for years and this one was just patiently waiting for him to get ready as if he was here every day.

The second Charlie stroked the cold silver scales on her back, the dragon started fluttering her wings, and before Charlie had a chance to gasp they were in the air - making a full circle around the dragon's home and then slowly losing altitude until they were at the bottom of the mountain.

Charlie thanked the dragon and apologized for not having anything for her to eat while the ice mother replied with breathing icy cold air straight into Charlie's face. He was observing her flying back up to her cub and he knew that he could take a picture of her but since nobody knew they were here and were probably pretty rare he decided to just keep the memory of the experience close to his heart and returned to the Sanctuary.

The last stop of his - so far absolute epic adventure - was the Sanctuary in South America which was hidden deep in the Andes mountain range. There he met a few very exotic species of dragons who reminded him a lot of the Welsh Greens he took after in Romania except that these were of all sorts of colors from red to violet.

After the tour of the reserve, 2 of the Dragonologists took him to what looked like a highly protected and secluded habitat and told him that they only share this information with other dragonologists.

Charlie was excited to see what they are hiding but he wasn't prepared for what he saw once they got there. It was a storm dragon - sky blue with a white mane.

"But I thought they were extinct." Was all Charlie managed to say before approaching the beautiful creature to fully take in what was resting in front of him.

The two dragonologists told him that he is the last of its kind and that he must be protected at all costs until his very last breath which hopefully the day that happens is still very very far away.

Charlie's 2 new friends allowed him to spend a few hours with the mighty beast and as he was sitting there, studying it, Charlie couldn't believe that all his dreams were coming true.

The next day when he was having dinner in a nearby restaurant he heard some of the locals there whisper about a creature called el chupacabra. He has heard of the creature before - mostly when he read Muggle folklore. However, these people weren't describing a dog-like creature. No! It sounded like they were talking about dragons except that they described the creature as fairly small and surely no breed of a dragon is that small?

Because this information didn't allow Charles Weasley the dragon lover (not obsessor, only lover) to sleep at night he decided to venture into the Amazonian rainforest and see the creature for himself.

He was only walking for 5 hours this time around when he heard unusual squeaking noises. They led him to a meadow that appeared to be empty at first. Because he was parched, he sat down at the edge of it, took off his backpack, drank some water, and unwrapped a sandwich he prepared in the morning.

The second the smell of his delicious meal spread he saw a few heads poke out of the tall grass. Charlie couldn't believe his eyes! They were dragons and the locals were right - they were so small! More and more dragons started to approach him and at this point, Charlie started to think he was in heaven because this was too good to be true.

They appeared to be friendly and awfully playful. He was also in awe by their size as some were as small as crup puppies while the biggest was about to his waist in height.

Charlie had no choice but to share his sandwich for which he was rewarded with licks and wiggling tails. These dragons didn't breathe fire as Charlie expected but big puffs of air that soothed him in this Amazonian heat. They came in all sorts of colors from different hues of green and brown and some were even yellow and orange.

They were absolutely beautiful and even though they had the structure of most dragons there was something about them that Charlie couldn't wrap his mind about. He narrowed his eyes and observed one for solid 5 minutes before he figured it out.

They had a fluffball of hair on the top of their heads making them the only breed Charlie has ever laid his eyes on to have fur and it made them extra adorable!

He spent the rest of his afternoon chasing and playing with the fluffs (as he called them) and because he was having so much fun he forgot about the time, making him almost spend the night in the jungle.

As he was returning he couldn't stop the smile that was spreading from one of his ears to the other as he deemed his adventure more than successful and he couldn't wait to take another breather like this because he is sure that there are even more breeds out there to see and admire!

[frostedfaves]

Sharp Edges

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: “They say home is where your heart is, but what if my heart is six feet underground with you?”

Warnings: heavy angst, grieving, major death, depression, brief mention of implied vomiting, funeral at the end

A/N: sorry if you came here for a good time, but this is not it! based on these Sad Sunday and Fluff Monday blurbs! I’d recommend reading them first since they’re referenced in this, but not entirely necessary. anyway, excited to hear your thoughts! also I meant to post a request today and save this for next week but I started writing this during work and couldn’t stop. so I’ll work on getting requests out next week since I’ve got Sad Sunday tomorrow!

marvel requests?

-

Wanda Maximoff misses you.

When the news broke that you’d died from your injuries before she could get to you, her body collapsed on the spot. Her mind instantly recalled the memory of the last time she’d seen you truly happy.

For a week straight, your hands were covered in clay. Due to your lack of a childhood, you’d never gotten to experience normal things like attempting pottery in an art class. When you finally discovered it, the team never heard the end of it. You’d annoyed Tony into buying a kiln after coming home with enough clay to build a small village and got to work.

You worked a while on making tiles and carving winter trees and flowers into them, eventually moving onto dishes. You’d perfected plates and bowls but couldn’t figure out mugs, which only made you work harder to the point where Wanda had to drag you to the kitchen and bed each day.

On that seventh day you’d run into Wanda’s room, tackling her into a pile of laundry she was sorting because you were just that excited. You’d finally made a mug worth putting into the kiln, and a celebratory kiss was in order. She’d helped you pick out colors to paint it with, sporting a proud smile and eyes full of adoration.

She pressed repeat on your ecstatic screams echoing in her thoughts, hoping to drown out the cries of pain she’d heard over the phone. You’d been taken by an enemy from her very last mission, someone who had no knowledge that when Wanda disappeared months prior, she left you behind. They could only assume that you would be the easiest way to find her, not aware that you were just as in the dark on her whereabouts.

She’d listened with tears streaming down her cheeks as your captor made you beg, packing her belongings frantically while each whimper of her name turned her stomach a bit more. The regret of leaving her Lovely behind was immense, and she wanted nothing more in the moment than burning her enemy alive and bringing you into her arms forever.

There was a mixture of emotions in everyone when Wanda finally reached the compound, much slower upon receiving knowledge that your body rested there. Broken spirits lay behind defeated and tearful eyes, but looking into Steve’s nearly sent her crumbling to the floor again. 

They were cold and dark, as they earned the right to be. The eyes of a man who comforted his best friend for weeks, day and night, when the love of her life deserted her in her sleep. He was no stranger to your heavy sobs in the shower, overheard when he put sweaters in the dryer and left them in the bathroom because you shivered constantly. Your lifeless eyes at the dinner table when he forced you to leave your room. Sitting with you in the medical wing after breaking your wrists on the punching bag.

As far as Steve Rogers was concerned, Wanda deserved every bit of pain she felt.

This thought mixed in with the flashes of his memories of your suffering is what sent her to the floor, gasping for air with a wet face. Through Natasha and Tony’s legs as they approached her she caught him walking away, and it only made it harder to breathe. 

Your funeral came days later, and Wanda spent the entirety of the time in your room. The scent of your favorite lotion on her hands pulled her into a nightmare filled sleep, and she found comfort in it knowing that her reality upon waking up was far more painful. After taking a shower and checking with FRIDAY on Steve’s location in the building, she found herself staring at an empty space in one of the kitchen cupboards.

“Wanda, what’s going on?”

She turned at the sound of Pepper’s voice, heart clenching painfully at the sight of her formal dress. “Where’s her mug?”

“She smashed it.”

“What?” She wanted to ask why, but stopped herself in fear of the answer.

“She used it for the first time a month after you left. When she went to wash it, she saw where you’d painted on the bottom ‘Lovely’s Mug, Do Not Use’ and threw it against the  nearest wall.”

Wanda pushed past Pepper and sprinted to the closest bathroom, not even caring if anyone walked past and heard the violent act of everything she’d held back spilling out. Gentle hands came a few minutes later, one rubbing her back and the other wrapping any loose hairs around her poorly formed bun. When she’d finished, the toilet was flushed for her and a half empty bottle of water was shoved into her shaky grip.

“Rinse.”

She blinked in surprise at the stern tone, turning her teary gaze to meet eyes much softer than days prior. She stood on shaky legs after following his instruction and using the water, her confusion only growing as he helped her lean against the sink for support.

“I thought you hated me,” she voiced her concern into the quiet room, and Steve sighed.

“I want to, trust me.” He took the bottle from her and used his free hand to scratch at his beard nervously. “I loved--love her like family and when you left, it felt like she left too. Just when I thought I was getting her back, she was taken from me for good. As much as I want to hate you, I can’t. Especially knowing that until her last breath, she loved you.”

He stepped forward again, pulling Wanda into a warm embrace as tears rolled down both of their cheeks. The air grew still, heavy with emotion and silence punctuated with their sniffles.

“I hate that I ruined something she was so proud of making. Everything I touched of hers, I destroyed. Her mug, her heart. I wish I’d never left, and sometimes I wish I never met her. She would’ve done much better without me.”

Her next sniffle was cut short when Steve pulled away just enough to make eye contact.

“You may have made a small part of her life hard, but you spent much more time making her happy. Because of you, she stopped being so afraid of nighttime storms, instead associating it with time to spend close to you. She tried new things and worked harder on missions to help create a safe future for the two of you to exist in. And if anything, she’s inspired me to do the same, for you and all of us.”

Wanda remained silent as she mulled over his words, continuing to do so as she got dressed for the worst event of her life, only tied with Pietro’s funeral. She sat in the front row between Steve and Natasha, a numbness taking over as she listened to everyone speak so highly of you. Her arms held tightly to Tony in comfort as he cried in the middle of his speech, allowing Pepper to take over as she took his place in front of everyone.

“This is--for the second time--the worst thing I’ve ever had to do, but I’m not here to talk about me. I want to talk about my best girl, the one I only ever referred to as Lovely, from the moment I met her. In fact, I’d like to talk directly to her, if you don’t mind.”

She turned her gaze directly above the crowd toward the sky, smiling a bit when a bird crossed her line of vision.

“Lovely, I’m so sorry I left you behind. I thought I was protecting you from the monster I believed myself to be, but instead I just made everything worse. I should have stayed. We never got to finish that show we were binge-watching, and I don’t think that I ever will. Not without you.”

She paused for a moment to breathe, also taking the time to clear space on her cheeks for the next round of tears.

“I should have stayed to be around for the next thing you got into after pottery. You deserve to be that excited about something again. I loved the way you’d say my whole name with that shiny look in your eye that just made me love you so much more, and I remember you telling me that if you weren’t so afraid of annoying me, you’d call me by my full name all the time.”

Her eyes blinked as tears clouded her vision once more, allowing them to fall as she turned to your picture beside your covered body.

“I want to say thank you for being an amazing friend and even better girlfriend, Lovely. I didn’t deserve to have you, but I’m glad I was gifted with being a part of your life anyway. I hope that wherever you are, you’re as happy as you made me, and I want you to know something that will forever be true.”

She cleared her throat as her emotions began to choke her there, hands coming to wrap around the pendant of a necklace you gave her as her final words came out in a whisper.

“Wanda Maximoff misses you.”

-

Tags: @littlegasps @imnotasuperhero @creepingwolfberry @marie-03

[deathonyourtongue]

Sanguine Nocturnus | 1

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : I know I said I’d wait. But y’all have been clamoring...

Death has a way of manipulating time. Moments meant to go slowly end in a blink, while junctures that ought to speed past, linger like dew on the vine...

Carla Montanari stared at her mother’s corpse, waiting for her to move. Waiting for the only family she’d ever had to open her eyes and say it was all a joke. Her mother had always had a cutting sense of humor; no topic was off-limits, and as she aged, death was a favored punchline. Now, it seemed, her mother had pulled off the ultimate prank, though Carla failed to see the humor in it.

The mortician had done an excellent job all things considered, but Carla could still pick out the differences between the body that lay at the altar of Saint Vincent’s and the one she had grown up with. A jaw that had been given too much lift, makeup that was a shade or two darker than what her mother normally wore, wrinkles that had disappeared when her face had been sewn back together. She’d been told she was lucky to get an open-casket service at all, given how much trauma her mother had suffered, as if it were some sort of consolation prize.

Looking behind her, Carla did a headcount of those in attendance, smiling softly when she saw that her mother’s bingo group were all in attendance, each woman donning their Sunday best in order to pay their respects. What her mother lacked in family, she’d more than made up for in friends who were all cut from the same cloth. Good, salt-of-the-earth people. Carla had always envied how easily her mother made friends, how she could chat up anyone, no matter how different their background and find something in common. It was a skill she hadn’t passed down, leaving her daughter to carve out a small handful of friends who were more acquaintances than anything else. 

Crossing herself, Carla took a deep breath, looked down at her mother once more, and finally leaned down to kiss the cold, clammy skin of her forehead, doing her best to ignore the faint waft of formaldehyde that filled the casket. A solitary white rose tucked beneath her mother’s hands was Carla’s final act before turning away. 

Time blinked, and she found herself seated across from her mother’s lawyer, a slab of mahogany separating them, the coffee she’d been offered growing cold as the AC hit it from overhead.

“I suppose we can do away with formality, since it’s just you,” the older man said, his smile tight and distant. Carla nodded, feeling as though the man wanted to be done so he could attend to other, more important, matters. 

“Your mother left all her possessions and accounts to you, no surprise there. She gifted her friends each an item from her apparently extensive purse collection, so we’ll facilitate that for you. The accounts are all in order, and what isn’t used to pay off her final bills, will be transferred to your account by the end of the month. Lastly, there’s the matter of the inheritance. This may be news to you, but your grandmother set up an inheritance in your name when you were born. Initially, it was meant to pay for college, but when you got your full ride, your mother decided to keep it going until her passing. Her hope was to give you a nice nest egg for retirement, or your first house...something to that effect.” 

Carla looked down at the document, counting and recounting the total in disbelief. Her mother had always been terrible at keeping secrets, having given away things to her friends that had mortified Carla when she was younger. 

Guess you were better at it than I thought.

Inhaling deeply, Carla sat back in her chair, hoping the meeting was over. The quicker she could get out into the fresh air, the better off she’d be. 

“There’s one more thing,” her mother’s lawyer said, keeping Carla rooted to her seat even as the muscles in her legs twitched in readiness to stand up. “Your mother wanted to ensure you were aware of the fact that you have legal claim to Italian citizenship, if you should ever choose to take it. They call it Jure Sanguinis; Right of Blood. The process can be expedited, given that you’re only second generation American. Sign here and we can get it in motion for you.” 

Carla signed blindly, eyes unblinking as she tried to process the information. Her mother had always been a planner, but had never once mentioned so much as a will to Carla. Now, seeing everything packaged up so neatly, her mind spun wildly.

“Think you know a person…” She muttered mostly to herself, the lawyer giving her another one of his performative smiles, his eyes going to his watch for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes. 

Leaving the office with a folder and the untouched coffee, Carla couldn’t help but feel time begin to crawl, reinforcing the feelings of numbness and solitude that would haunt her for weeks to come.

Working steps from Wall Street had its perks. Tips were usually far more generous than in other parts of town, fights were rare, and drunk girls crying over their shitty boyfriends were nonexistent. None of that made it any easier, however. Frat boys turned into day traders, socialites grew even more entitled as their brunches turned into botox appointments, and there was never a shortage of patronizing stares for those that had to actually work for a living. For Carla, navigating the catcalls, one-liners, and straight-up sexual misconduct was easy enough; it was the entitlement that never failed to get under her skin. 

“Um, hello? Waitress? This is wrong. I asked for a Negroni.” Looking up, Carla swept her long black hair over her shoulder as she processed the words that were spoken. Having decided to keep living life as though things hadn’t irrevocably changed, Carla was doing her best to ignore the stress that had been slowly creeping higher and higher each day. Busy nights at the bar were proving the worst, with Carla coming through the door at the end of her shift ready to rant about the night to her mother, only to find the place pin-drop silent and utterly empty. 

Looking down at the drink, Carla gazed back up at the woman with the blond, news anchor hair and cocked her head to the side in confusion. 

“That is a Negroni.” 

“Uh,” the woman snorted in disbelief, “no it’s not. Remake it, and do it right this time.” 

“This is a Negroni. One part gin, sweet vermouth, and Campari each, with a peel of lemon.” The woman laughed condescendingly and Carla could feel her patience start to disappear. 

“No, a Negroni, if you knew anything about bartending--which you clearly don’t--is made with Rye and dry vermouth.”

“Lady, I make at least ten of these a night. I work six nights a week. You’re the first, and only, person to ever tell me it’s wrong. You’re thinking of an Old Pal, and I’d be more than happy to make that for you, but this? This is a Negroni, which is what you asked for.”

“Fine, we’ll see about that.” The woman huffed, her manicured hand slicing through the air in a dismissive motion. 

“That’ll be $10.99.”

“Absolutely NOT! I’m not paying for your mistake. Make it again, make it right, and make it now!” The woman crowed, her hair imobile as she shook her head, looking for all the world like Carla had slapped her.

“It’s a different drink. You paid for a Negroni, you got a Negroni. You want an Old Pal, you pay for an Old Pal.” Carla replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for the woman to make up her mind. 

The alcohol burned Carla’s eyes and she stumbled back in shock, moving towards the large sink she knew was behind her on pure instinct. Washing her face to get as much of the cocktail off as she could, she knew she’d reached her breaking point. 

Any other time and she’d have brushed it off, had security kick the woman out and gone about her night. Now? She’d had enough. Moving slowly to the back, Carla took off her apron, hung it up next to her coworkers’ and slipped out the back door. 

Nearly sprinting the whole way home, it was only as she stepped through the door of her apartment that the tears came unbidden. Sliding down the wall, Carla cried for the first time since her mother’s passing. 

The next morning, after calling in her notice, Carla allowed herself a day to simply be. To scream, to cry, to let out all the emotions that had befallen her since answering the phone that fateful night and hearing that her mother had died in such a vicious and preventable way. She let rage fill every vein as she thought about how the person who hit her hadn’t even bothered to stay at the scene. She lamented every missed moment, every fight, every what-if. Finally, she curled up in her mother’s robe, and cried herself to sleep.

Knowing she couldn’t handle another day at a bar like the one on Wall Street, catering to bratty adults who’d never been told no a day in their lives, Carla began leaning more and more towards escaping it all. Her now-empty apartment, her routine assortment of familiar faces (none of whom had even bothered to call and offer condolences), and more than anything, the city itself; all of it seemed worthless and foreign without her mother’s smiling face. As she sat and scrolled through picture after picture on her phone, the promise of a new life in Italy seemed more feasible, and more and more necessary.

On day three, after a day spent mostly in bed, dreaming about the possibilities of what life could bring now that she was committed to leaving, Carla put in a call to the lawyer, vaguely remembering the document she’d signed. There was nothing but relief when she was told they were simply waiting for a few more documents to finalize it all. 

With the foundation for her new life in place, Carla began to flesh out the bones, focusing her research on where to live, and who was hiring. Though the inheritance was enough to live comfortably for several years, Carla didn’t want to squander it. Moreover, she still wanted to work and feel useful in some way; early retirement could wait.

While she was spoilt for choice when it came to renting, a job was harder to come by. Carla started her search with the lofty goal of finding something where she could put her history degree to good use; a research assistant, a curator, hell, a tour guide. When it became clear that her lack of experience was a hurdle she wouldn’t be able to cross so easily, Carla reluctantly turned to what she knew. 

Weeks went by like thick molasses as she looked at bar after bar, finding that they either weren’t hiring, or looked like the kind of place people went into and never came out of. Her options were narrow to start with, since Carla had her heart set on Rome, the need to entrench herself in one of the world’s oldest cities, one she couldn’t possibly ignore. With each day that passed, she felt her dream beginning to slip away. Carla was nothing if not tenacious, one of the few traits she’d shared with her mother, and despite feeling discouraged at her prospects, she kept looking.

Finally, as the clock nearly ran out on her deadline to provide proof of employment, Carla found the perfect spot. Though the bar catered to a higher-end clientele, gone were the stockbrokers and lawyers, and in their place, a younger, cooler set. Attracted to the dark, almost feral, atmosphere the bar promised in its advertising, Carla applied, crossing her fingers in the hopes that they’d call. 

She was still browsing the site when her phone rang and the owner greeted her in a thick, Italian accent. Breezing through the interview questions, Carla’s eyes roved over the pictures of all the beautiful people that frequented the night spot, pulled in by how effortlessly cool each of them looked. With the promise to call her by the end of the week to confirm the position, the owner ended the call, and it was all Carla could do not to jump for joy. 

Flopping back on the bed, she couldn’t help but let herself feel true happiness, happiness which she’d unconsciously been denying herself while she mourned her mother’s death. Though she’d been dealt a life-changing blow, Carla felt as though, slowly but surely, time was going back to its usual pace, and her life was taking a turn for the better. 

With a smile from ear to ear, she sat back up and emailed the lawyer, confirming she’d gotten a job, an apartment, and a plane ticket to Rome. As the message zipped away and the window closed, Carla found her eyes drawn back to the website, and her new place of employment. 

Romulus

[writingsoftheghost]

Caught Up In A(n Illogical) Bet

(Caught up in a bet, but with intruloceit this time)

Deintruality Version Here

Based on this prompt by @kawaiikat54

“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea, Logan! You’re so smart!”

Logan feels his face heat up, “Oh, uhm, thank you, Remus.”

Remus cackles, “Do you mind helping me with some other things? You’re the smartest person here so I wanna get your input.”

Logan’s blush darkens, “Y-Yes, of course. What do you need?”

*****

“Logan, could I borrow your expertise for a moment?” Janus asks when Logan emerges the common room.

“Of course, what can I do for you?”

“Do you think that perhaps my outfit may be a detriment to my goal of gaining acceptance?” Janus examines his capulet critically.

“Hm, I am not the best with emotional connotations, perhaps Patton would be better for—”

“No no,” Janus reaches out and grabs the logical side’s hand before he can turn away, Logan blushes at the unexpected contact, “You have a better understanding of psychology, Patton would merely tell me what I want to hear. You on the other hand tell me what I need to hear. I want your advice.”

“O-Oh, I see. Well, I am flattered that you think of me in such high regards,” Logan’s face is burning, why can’t he just take a compliment? “I think, perhaps, that your outfit has a ‘villainish’ flair due to Thomas’s obsession with cartoons and the way their villains look, but it also looks quite professional, and that has me quite fond of it. I think that maybe, in time, your look will come off as more charming than evil.”

Janus smiles at Logan, “That’s what I’ve been hoping. Thank you, Logan, you’re the best.”

Logan’s face fills with heat again, “Happy to help.” He rushes back to his room, hoping his blush wasn’t as noticeable as it felt.

*****

Janus and Remus discuss Logan’s reaction to positive comments that evening.

“He gets so flustered, hearing that calm of his falter is just perfect!” Remus laughs.

“I know, it’s quite endearing, to see him turn so red all because I thanked him.”

“Oh, that’s nothing, I told him he was smart and I thought he’s burst into flames!” Remus squeals.

“I touched his hand and I swear he needed a minute just to speak again,” Janus counters Remus’s bragging comment.

“Hm, you think you’re better than me, Jan?”

“All I’m saying is that I have a...certain charm with Logan that you simply can’t match.”

Remus scoffs, “Oh yeah? Bet you can’t back that up!”

Janus smirks, “Care to test me?”

Remus relays his idea to Janus, a bet, to see who can make Logan blush more in a week. If Remus loses, he has to take a bath. (“Why do you always bet that?!” “Because you never do it.”) if Janus wins, he makes Remus’s favorite dessert.

The bet began Sunday, it started off simple enough.

“Hey, Logie, how’s the prettiest nerd in the world doing?” Remus coos as he pokes his head around the doorway of Logan’s room.

“I—erm—hello, Remus,” Logan mumbles, his face down, trying and failing to hide the heat in his cheeks. “Can I help you?”

“I was just wondering if you could tell me some interesting ways someone could die in space?”

“Oh!” Logan’s eyes light up

“Well, there’s the obvious ones, lack of oxygen, freezing to death, and the pressure imbalance causing you to...”

Logan continues his list, Remus listens to all of them, asking questions on some. Seeing Logan’s eyes light up when he talks about space is an entirely different experience to Remus.

Later, Logan has a similar experience with Janus.

“Oh, Logan, darling?” The nickname causes an immediate flush of heat to Logan’s face. He turns around in the hallway.

“Yes, Janus?” He squeaks out, fighting to keep some of his composure.

“I was just wondering if you’d like to watch a documentary with me, it’s about psychology, and you’re the only one intelligent enough to appreciate it.”

Logan’s face, which had begun to cool down, quickly heated up again at that. “That-That’s, quite, nice of you to say.”

“I don’t mean it,” Janus says in that obviously lying way he has.

Logan smiles, “I would like to watch the documentary with you.”

*****

The slow start lasts only for the first day. Things quickly start to escalate, Janus starts complimenting Logan’s technique on everything. His posture, the way he folds laundry, just about everything he does. Remus asks for more facts, complimenting Logan on all he knows, and for being patient enough to answer his question. They also compliment Logan on his appearance, the way his hair falls, the light hitting his eyes just so, Janus calls him gorgeous, Remus calls him sexy. Each compliment gets Logan’s face redder than before.

By Wednesday they’ve started using physical touch to get Logan to blush. (Remus was given ground rules almost immediately, “Don’t make him blush like that Remus it doesn’t count”) Janus kisses Logan’s hand in greeting, (Logan squeaks the first time it happens) Remus holds Logan’s hand while he talks, they each play with his hair or stroke his calves while they watch tv. Logan doesn’t know what caused this sudden change to happen, but he found that he didn’t want it to stop.

No one had ever paid this much attention to him! Logan didn’t even know he’d been craving this until he’d had it! They asked for his opinion! And when he gave it they listened! It was all Logan wanted, and the added praise was so much better than Logan ever would’ve thought! The touching was a shock, Logan hadn’t realized how nice it could feel to have someone’s hand in his, or to have someone play with his hair, to have gentle arms wrap around him before going up to bed. To feel someone’s lips press against his forehead when he began to doze off whilst reading on the couch.

Logan tried to think of a reason for the sudden affection, but he was too distracted by how great it felt to receive it to do much investigating. By Friday he’d stopped being shocked when Remus told him he looked incredibly fuckable, or Janus calling him dashing.

Every time he sat down a hand would reach for him, or arms would be opened in invitation, and Logan would blush red and melt into the touch every single time. He’d grown to not only expect the displays, but to enjoy them. But I matter how common it became, Logan couldn’t help but blush each time.

The following Sunday, however, everything was different. When he came downstairs Janus merely said good morning, no comment on the way he’d done his hair. He’d opted for a different hair product, he’d taken to caring a bit more about looking nice since Remus and Janus had started complimenting him. Logan brushes it off, expecting Janus to call him beautiful every time they saw each other was illogical.

But...Remus didn’t say anything to him either, just waved to him on his way out of the kitchen. Logan brushed it off. It wasn’t like he could expect all of that attention to be constant, that was unfair to Janus and Remus. But as the day went on, neither one of them said anything to Logan. He even went so far as to initiate the affection. Sitting next to Remus on the couch while he read, hoping for Remus to wrap his arms around him, or even just hold his hand.

Remus did neither of those things, later Logan tried the same thing with Janus, he got a smile, but nothing else.

Logan began to worry that he’d done something wrong, but they didn’t act like they were angry with him. They spoke to him in the same tone, they didn’t avoid him when he entered the room.

Logan continued to wait, when he went to bed without so much as a hug from either side...he began to really fear he’d made a mistake.

The next day was the same, Logan tried everything, being extra helpful, sitting closer than he normally would on the couch, he’d even done his hair differently and worn a different tie in hopes of garnering some comments on his appearance.

None of that helped, Logan felt sick, he spent the next two days struggling to recall what he could’ve done to ruin it. He’d just discovered how wonderful affection could be, and now it was gone!

By Thursday night Logan has worked himself into a state of such distress that he found he was crying over the schedule he’d been working on. It was late, everyone else had gone to bed, but Logan couldn’t sleep. So he’d decided to be productive, he’d gone down to the kitchen to work at the table, but had ended up dwelling on the situation with Janus and Remus.

Remus entered the kitchen right as a sob rocked Logan’s body. Remus immediately rushed to his side.

“What’s wrong, Logie?” Remus asks worriedly.

Logan’s ashamed at how difficult it is to speak, he can barely get air in, let alone words out. He shouldn’t be crying, it was stupid for him to be crying over this.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby. Come on, it’s alright.” Remus reaches out and rubs Logan’s back, starting to get really concerned. Logan never cried, and he’s rarely seen anyone cry this hard.

“I ap-apologize-ze,” Logan chokes out.

Remus shakes his head, “For what, Logie? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I-I shouldn’t be falling apart like this, especially over something so...so trivial,” he sighs.

Remus rubs his hand up and down Logan’s back again, leaving his hand resting there, “If it’s upset you this much I doubt it’s small, what happened, baby?”

Logan has just enough shame left to blush at the pet name and the softness with which Remus says it. “It really isn’t a big deal, Remus. I’m sorry to have bothered you with my illogical emotions.” He starts to leave.

“Uh-uh, come here,” Remus reaches for the logical side and pulls him back to the chair he was in, “Tell me what has your tie in a twist.”

“It’s ju-just th-at,” Logan takes a breath, hoping to stop the shake in his voice, Remus’s hand moves on his back again and Logan melts under the touch like he always has.

“Take your time, baby. It’s okay.”

Logan nods and takes another breath, “Did I do something to upset you?”

Remus blanches, “What?”

Logan looks away from the duke, “You and Janus seem to be, uhm, upset with me?”

Remus tugs Logan gently to his lap, Logan is still shaking a little and Remus is starting to worry that the force of holding back tears could make te nerd explode. He pushes the morbid image to the side and asks his next question carefully, “Why do you think that, Lo?”

Logan’s face flushes again, he’s beginning to feel foolish. He had been reading too much into it, and now Remus has seen him cry like a child.

“Lo? Come on, talk to me, you’re scaring me a little.”

Logan clears his throat, he tries to swallow his embarrassment, “Apologies, I—”

“Don’t apologize to me, Lo.”

“Er—anyway, I simply assumed that I’d done something to upset you and Janus, as you’ve stopped, uh...treating me in the manner you’d only recently adopted anyway. It’s illogical, my apolo—”

“Logan...” Logan stops talking, Remus looks like he’s in pain, “Is this because we stopped flirting with you?”

Logan’s face flushes a bright red, “I suppose so, forgive me, I merely—”

“Logan, I love to hear you talk but I’m really gonna need you to be quiet for a minute!” Remus cuts in. Logan shrinks, he must’ve really upset Remus now.

Remus feels Logan tense up in his lap, “No no no, hey hey, I’m not mad. Logie, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just that I—we—um...here let’s go get Janus and we’ll talk this out, okay? I’m so sorry, baby. This isn’t your fault, this is ours. I promise you didn’t do anything wrong.” He pulls Logan fully to his chest, holding him securely.

Logan fails to hold back another sob and just lie that he’s crying into Remus’s shoulder. “Oh, baby,” Remus whispers, “it’s alright, it’s gonna be alright.”

“Plea-please don’t let go, I can’t-I can’t,” Remus shushes him.

“I won’t let you go, baby. It’s alright, just breathe, sweetheart.” Remus rubs his back, Logan shakes in his arms, Remus picks him up, “Lets go get, Jan, m’kay?”

Logan nods into his shoulder.

They stop outside of Janus’s bedroom door, before Remus can knock though, Logan stops him. “It’s late,” he whispers to Remus, “We shouldn’t disturb him.”

“He’s still up, and we need to clear some things up. He needs to know what happened,” Remus reaches to knock again.

A pajama clad Janus appears in the doorway. “What do you want, Rem—”

He stops when he sees Logan.

“What’s wrong? Is he alright?”

Logan hides his face further in Remus’s shoulder. “I may have overreacted to—”

“No, Lo, no. I’m gonna explain because you won’t do it without blaming yourself for this.”

Logan lifts his head and looks indignantly at Remus, “But I—”

“Shh,” Remus turns to Janus, “We did something bad, Jan.”

Janus steps into his room, allowing Remus to enter. Remus sits down on the bed, he presses a kiss to Logan’s forehead before he explains what happened.

“Oh, oh, Logan, dearest. This is my fault, I should’ve realized this was a bad idea.”

Logan shakes his head, “It was all for a bet?”

Janus’s heart clenches, “Oh, darling, no. We really care about you, we shouldn’t have shown you just because of a bet. And we definitely shouldn’t have stopped. I’m so sorry.”

Logan nods sadly, “It’s alright, I’m just...glad you’re not mad at me.”

“Baby...” Remus brushes the nerd’s hair from his face, “Would it be alright if we went back to showing you affection?”

Logan’s eyes light up, “You would do that?”

Remus feels a twinge in his chest, “Yeah, baby. If we’d only known you wanted this, we would’ve been doing this long before our stupid bet.”

Janus reaches over and tugs Logan away from Remus and into his own arms, “I’m so sorry, darling. Would you like to stay with me tonight?”

Logan nods tiredly, “That would be...wonderful.”

Remus grins, “Can I stay too? I wanna show our Logie as much love as possible now that I know he likes it.”

Janus hums in agreement, quickly moving Logan to the center of the bed, where he and Remus quickly surround him in a hug, Logan yawns in between them. “Goodnight.”

They each press a kiss to his forehead, “Goodnight, Logan.”

—————

Taglist: @idont-freaking-know @aceawkwardunicorn @kawaiikat54 @emo--nightmaree @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @me-a-mess-morelikelythanyouthink @katlikethesword

[peakywitch]

Alibi - Sean Wallace

“ Hiya creative human being! I was wondering if you could make an imagine with Sean Wallace using 19,28,54 in which he comes back home after been hiding and find out his girlfriend was pregnant and they have a 2-moth-old baby girl???? Random, I know. Love your writing, bye 💕 “

19.  “It’s a long story.” “You made me believe you were dead. For eleven months. I have time.” 

28.   “What…is this?”

54.   “I had no choice.”

words: 3097

TW: strong vocabulary, blood, death and yeah

Jesus i have been writing this shit for months MONTHS now, hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST

A year ago

"Marian?" Y/N's voice sounded behind the door of the Wallace residence, alarmed “Marian, your car is outside! Open up, please! "

The knocks of her hand against the door sounded incessant. It was eleven o'clock on a cold and rainy Sunday night. No one was to be seen on the street. Her white sneakers were soaked in water and mud, staining them in strange colors. She had stepped on several puddles while running the blocks that separated her from her mother-in-law.

Through the window, Y/N could see that the light came on in the hallway, letting her know that someone was in the house. Impatient and nervous, she clenched her fingers tightly. When the lock began to click, Y/N bit her lip, and nervously combed her hair.

"Y/N?"

Marian was wearing black satin pajamas that brought out the white of her skin and was barefoot but wearing stockings. How could she?

"You were Sleeping?" Y/N asked, unable to understand the situation.

"Of course, Y/N. Tomorrow I have to work early."

The woman spoke tiredly and calmly, she was not upset.

"So Sean is here." She affirmed, breathing for a second and closing her eyes. She realized that she was holding her breath, or at least taking short breaths.

"Sean is not here." The woman denied.

The girl's eyes widened in fear. Marian knew in an instant that everything was wrong.

It was five in the morning; the moon was still hidden behind rain-laden clouds. Three hundred and fifteen calls had gone out of Y/N's phone to Sean's phone. Marian, with her phone, had sent hundreds of messages and the whole family was alerted. No matter the schedule, there were people on every block in London looking for Sean Wallace.

Each call that was diverted to the mailbox was one more tear than Y/N cried. Finn had been killed a year ago, but this had nothing to do with the anniversary of his father's death. He would have warned Billy, so his brother can explain to us all. This was not typical of him.

Nine months ago

Marian set the food on the black marble table and began to store groceries in each drawer. She started the conversation by suggesting to her daughter-in-law that she go to a doctor, to which she laughed.

"I don't want to go without Sean, I won't do this alone."

The woman rolled her eyes, she was stubborn.

"You will not be alone, Y/N." she whispered, as she put down the milk cartons and hugged the young woman. “I am with you, I will help you with whatever you need. Always."

"I can't do this without Sean, Mar." The girl cried, in the woman's arms "I just can't, I ..."

Marian's heart ached just to see the girl Sean loved so devastated, sad, and desolate. There were no words to comfort her or enough hugs to heal her. Her heart ached, she felt lost.

"I will go with you. I will hold your hand and celebrate with you if it is a boy like you want. I will help you put together the room, the crib ... I will teach you everything I learned with three children." She smiled through tears, as she stroked the girl's hair with teary eyes.

Y/N's arms encircled Marian's body, as she

smiled and affirmed that everything would be fine over and over again.

Three months ago

Y/N was in the hospital bed, her white and pink coat was tied and the sweat on her forehead was dry. Marian was sitting in the chair to the right of the bed. She was reading a magazine while thinking that Y/N was resting.

Although she had her water broken, the doctors found it appropriate for her to rest a couple of hours to regain energy before starting the final stage.

"If Sean doesn't show up today..." Y/N whispered, diverting Marian from her magazine. She raised her eyes and approached the young woman so that she did not have to exert a lot of force "If he doesn't appear these days, then..." she took a deep breath, swallowed with effort, and continued "then he is no longer here with us."

"Y/N, Sean... he..."

“No, he promised. He would never leave me alone in this. No ant moves a damn leaf without the idiot knowing. If he doesn't show up in a week, then he's dead, Marian."

The anger in the girl's voice hit her like a bucket of ice water.

Her son.

Her Sean.

Dead.

Marian's eyes filled with tears, just thinking about it broke her heart. The pain made her ignore the apology the girl whispered. Everything was spinning.

So what if Y/N was right?

What if Sean was dead?

Even with the weight of the woman's words, Marian remained there in the hospital. She moved impatiently in time with the clock on the wall. After three hours of parading down the long, white corridor a few thousand times, the doctor mentioned Y/N's name.

"Yes, I am her family." She responded with a slightly nervous smile to the doctor's question. Marian walked shyly through the door, and there she saw Y/N with a small baby in her arms and a smile as big as the sun on her face. Her eyes were full of tears, and her fingers gently caressed the baby's small nose.

Y/N looked up and saw Marian nervous and anxious at the door, watching from afar.

"And?" she smiled "Wouldn't you like to meet your granddaughter, Marian?"

Marian was able to regain consciousness when she saw the blue eyes of a baby staring at her. Those blue eyes, so typical of Sean. Her eyes were very prominent. She had pink cheeks, a nose as small as a button, and soft, plump lips.

"Say hello to your grandma, Olive."

"Olive Wallace," Marian smiled, "Welcome to the family, beautiful."

Present

Marian, Y/N, and Olive had been the best trio London could have ever met. The baby was a fan of photos, or so it seemed since in each photo she looked excellent. Wherever Y/N and Olive were, Marian was by their side. They took care of each other and helped Y/N rest on days that work took a little longer and Olive wouldn't stop crying. Marian had been faithful to her, teaching her tricks, unthinkable ways of doing things, and offering her a shoulder to cry on when she felt like she couldn't take it anymore.

That afternoon had been like any other. After lunch they both bundled up, Y/N bundled Olive up and went for a walk so they could enjoy the cold with a coffee and a good chat.

When they returned, laughing they opened the door. Olive was sleeping peacefully in her pram and Marian was remembering aloud one of the most disastrous days of her life.

"I swear to God, I love my kids but I would never go back to that damn picnic."

Marian took Olive upstairs so she could put the baby to bed in her adorable pink crib. And while Y/N took off her cover, she walked to the kitchen to start making Olive’s dinner.

Although she was happy and infinitely grateful to Sean's mother for having always been by his side, Y/N kept wondering how this last year would have been with her husband by her side. Would he have taken more photos than Marian? Would he speak to Olive, trying to calm her down all those early mornings before her birth in which she wouldn't let her sleep? And suddenly, among so many questions, her eyes burst into tears when she imagined what it would have been like to paint Olive's room with him, see him full of paint, excited, tired, perhaps frustrated by something with the brush or the color. She couldn't help it, the pain overwhelmed her every time Sean's face appeared in her memory. She couldn't even look at his photos, how would she tell Olive who he is, or was, Sean?

She wiped her tears with the sleeves of her woolen sweater, lightly scraping her skin and looking out the kitchen window that overlooked the backyard. Sean loved that garden. He liked to sit on the grass on the days he had off in the spring and read. Or he would watch Y/N take care of her plants for hours, from sunrise to sunset. Then he would fill her face with kisses, pulling grass out of her hair and putting a flower in her ponytail.

“Sean, I ask you for the love of Olive, don’t be dead. I know you checked the cameras every night, so you will listen to me. Please…” she whispered through tears “please don't be dead, come home, I won't be able to without you. I don't want any of this without you. "

As she got ready to prepare Olive's bottle, she heard the rain begin to fall heavily. The sky seemed to fall, as did Y/N's hopes.

As she waited for the microwave timer to ring, her cell phone rang.

Elliot, she read.

"Hello, Elli." Y/N smiled, tired, and trying to sound normal.

"Are you at home?" he asked, agitated. A shrill horn sounded, a few screams, and more honks.

"What happened?"

"Are you at home, or are you not? I need help!" he yelled, then cursed another driver. She pulled the phone away from her ear, briefly stunned.

"Yes, how far away are you?"

The adrenaline rush of the Wallace family business was something that always left a sweet taste in her mouth. She hated violence, but she was almost addicted to the adrenaline it brought.

"I'm parking outside."

The cell phone fell from Y/N's hand, allowing her to call out to Marian with a yell and run to the door at the same time. She flung it open, watching as Elliot and Bill lowered a man with his face covered in blood.

"Oh shit." Y/N was disgusted, containing the retching.

Elliot and Billy knew Sean and Y/N's house by heart, so they took the dying man to the bathroom.

Or so she thought.

The amount of blood she saw made her dizzy, her eyes closed and her back pinned itself to the wall. After taking a deep breath, she felt Marian close the door.

She corroborated the girl's state with a simple question and a caress on her hair. The poor girl could only smile.

"I think that man is going to die, you know?" laughed sadly Y/N “We can only send money to his wife and children. As we do with everyone. "

Marian's lips were tight, she was disgusted, but Y/N was right. That was something she admired about her, she was always right and it was easy for her to tell the painful truth.

She followed her into the kitchen and watched her sit at the table, staring at the wall. Marian was pouring her a glass of water so she could calm down. They remained silent, and it was not until she had completely drunk the glass that she spoke.

“Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't met Sean. I think I would still be at my mother's house, without a partner, and with a cat."

“There is no way to know that, Y/N. Because you met him and now that…” the woman stopped short, she wouldn't say it “and now that you are here, we are a family. With Billy, Elliot, Olive… we are a family, okay? And we will be there for you, always."

When she was about to answer, Elliot walked into the kitchen. His shirt was bathed in red, all wrinkled. The bleeding cut on his eyebrow alarmed the two women, and the interrogation soon began.

What happened, why, how, where.

Elliot answered everything. An undercover agent broke his alibi, a gang from a strange-named country, near downtown.

"Where is he?" Y/N asked.

"In Sean's office." Elliot replied.

"What is he doing in Sean's office!?" yelled Y / N, and ran off.

"Y/N!"

Elliot chased her through the house, calling out her name. But Y/N all she heard were complaints from herself, Sean's office? Really?

"You have to ask for my permission, Elliot!" she yelled, reaching the door.

"No, Y/N, we ..."

“You nothing, Elliot. This is my house and Sean’s; you can't put anybody in his office! "

Y/N was furious, the screaming had awakened Olive.

“What even is all of these?!” she screamed, the blood always drove her crazy “Listen to me well…” the woman pointed out to the man covered in blood “when I come back in two minutes, I want my husband's office empty and that man in the bathtub in the downstairs room. I don't want blood on the rugs, because you'll clean it up yourself. You heard me?"

Elliot nodded poker-faced, as he watched the woman walk away from him.

Y/N entered her screaming daughter's room with a tired smile. And having closed the door behind her, she took her in her arms and began to sing a soft song to her so that she could fall asleep.

"Olive... princess, sleep with the little angels, mommy loves you..." she whispered at the end of the song, as she left the sleeping baby back in her crib.

"So, I'm a nobody?" a voice whispered from the door.

Y/N spun as fast as light.

There was Sean.

Bathed in blood, with his hair short and no beard. His face was swollen from several punches and had a new scar on his lip. But still, he had that mischievous smile on him. His eyes were tired, but they still held the same sparkle as Olive's.

"You're dead." Y/N assured.

"No, Y/N, I ..."

"Marian!" Y/N cried out.

The rapid footsteps climbing the stairs were heard throughout the house, Sean did not move his eyes from his wife.

"Sean..." Marian whispered in shock. She looked him up and down, saw the blood, the blows, and the cuts. Then, between tears and a sob, she hugged him. They both hugged tightly, and all Y/N wanted to do was throw up.

The blood, the smell, her husband… everything. Everything made her dizzy.

“Where were you?” she murmured, a shiver bathed her body.

“I am sorry…” he started, but she interrupted him abruptly.

“I don’t fucking care if you are sorry or not! Tell me where the fuck you were, because I just went through the hardest year of my life alone, Sean!” she shouted from the top of her lungs.

“It’s a long story, baby, and I am all beaten up.” He smiled tiredly.

He has the nerve to smile?

“You made me believe you were dead. For eleven months. I have time.” She said, now calmly but cold. “Plus, I had to drive a car while on labor, because you decided to disappear. So, start speaking or I swear to God, Sean Wallace, this time it will be you the one suffering a loss.”

 “Y/N…” he whispered, trying to get close to her. He tried to take her hand in his, but she got further away from him.

His smile disappeared and got exchanged with a sad look on his face.

Right there, in Olive’s room, he told both women everything. A deal he did a year ago, enemies, guns, drugs, and city from the third world he had to hide in and every name from the people he had to hide from. They spent two hours listening to Sean’s misfortunes, but Y / N wanted to be able to recriminate everything that made her go through alone and to be able to get rid of the anger that was eating her inside. 

"Well, the blood on me is a sign of the end of this problem." He had a nervous look, you could see it even though his face was covered in blood. So much seemed fictitious.

Y/N sighed, getting up after her husband finished telling the story.

"Ok." She whispered, walking out the door of her daughter's room with her in her arms.

Sean wanted to follow her, but Marian recommended him to leave her alone for a while, there was too much information she had to process.

Hours passed, Marian, Elliot, and Billy had left the house hours ago and Y/N still did not speak to Sean. For hours she had been sitting on a blanket in the garden. With a book in her hand and a tea by her side, which was quite possibly already cold.

When the sun was no longer visible on the horizon, that was when Sean became concerned. The chill of the London night was ugly, even worse for a baby. Then it was decided, he took two jackets that were in the room and went outside with a doubting pass.

"Hey…" he whispered, sitting next to her and covering her shoulders with his cardigan. She did not answer.

“Where you watching over us?” she asked, on the verge of tears.

“Couldn’t keep my eyes off of the security cameras.” He laughed shily.

“How many times did you see me…asking for a sign?” she began after a few seconds of silence. “How many fucking times did you see me cry at night, Sean?” she started to shed tears. “While you were God knows where, doing Devil knows what…” he interrupted her.

“Y/N, I told you, I had no choice…”

“No!” she spat “Shut up, Sean! Just… shut the hell up. I dreamed of this reunion every single night and prayed every fucking morning. So just let me tell you I fucking felt. Because I was alone, as alone and desperate as you felt when your dad was killed. So please, just understand I won’t be jumping into your arms right away. Even though I missed you, fuck… I missed you like crazy…” he smiled sadly “I am so, so angry Sean. And I want to make you go away again, but the truth is… I can’t be away from you any longer.”

Sean rested his right arm over his wife’s shoulder, and his hand got her head closer to him, allowing him to kiss her skin for the first time in months. After she got the kiss, she broke down in tears, not being able to compose herself.

“I am sorry, I will never leave you again.” He promised while holding her steady against him.

“I know I left, and I hurt you. But you were never alone, you were being watched over, night and day, you and well, that little munchkin.” He said, timidly.

“You want to hold her for the first time, Sean?”

His face lit up.

[charlie-boio]

Learning to Love Again - Part 1

Pairing: Mitch Rapp x Reader

Word Count: 6089

A/N: Hey hey!! So this is the start of my new series for @writingsbychlo​ Mitch Month. She also helped me develop this idea which I am very grateful for! This will be a mutual healing fic for both Mitch and the reader, so please enjoy while I take you on a journey. I love this idea so much so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do!

WARNINGS: gun violence, talks of past abuse, domestic violence, emotional abuse, mentions of panic attacks.

  “Stay away from me!” you back away slowly, your arms extended shakily out in front of you. Unfortunately, you were running out of space and your back hit a wall.

“You really thought you could leave me? ME? Who else will have you, you worthless bitch!” Jake slammed his hand against the wall next to your head. You flinched, jerking your head away. He was uncomfortably close, his breath hot against you, his glare piercing right through you.

“Please…go away…” you whimpered, tears falling freely now. You felt yourself shrink into yourself more and more, internally begging whatever God was out there to let you escape this situation.

Apparently, He wasn’t listening.

Jake moved even closer; his chest pressed hard against yours. “You’re staying right here, with me. I’m not going anywhere,”

Feeling as though you had nothing left to lose, you jerked your head forward, ramming it up into his nose. Jake yelled out, stumbling back clutching his nose, blood dripping through his fingers. Your eyes went wide for a split second before you bolted, running down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door. You weren’t sure what to do or where you were going to go, but right now the adrenaline coursing through your veins wasn’t concerned about a plan. All you were concerned about was getting away.

A loud clap came roaring through the air, followed by an extreme pain tearing through your side. A loud shriek echoed, and for a split second you turned to see if anyone was hurt before realizing the screams and cries were your own. The starry sky above you began to blur away, voices shouting around you that began to blur together with your vision. Eventually a face came into your view, but by that point you were too far gone.

Now you were in darkness.

Falling…falling…falling…

*

*

You jerked awake, sitting up in your bed. Your hand remained clamped onto your side while you gasped for air. You tried your best to remember what your Dr. Hanson had said to you, but her words died in your head, feeling frustratingly out of reach.

After a few painstakingly long minutes, your gasps turned into deeper breaths. Your eyes glanced around the room, taking in your new surrounds. You went through a mantra in your head ‘This isn’t Jake’s house in Los Angles. This is your apartment that he cannot get into. He’s currently in jail, and he cannot hurt you.’ You repeated that to yourself a few more times until it truly stuck in your head.

Tentatively, you touched the scar on your left side, feeling the raised mark against your skin. You said your last mantra out loud, “It was only a dream…”

Knowing sleep wouldn’t come back to you, you got up and stretched. Picking at your fingers, you glanced at the clock. 4:58. You smiled a little to yourself. Dr. Hanson would be proud of you for sleeping in an hour longer than last week, though she’ll be disappointed you couldn’t get a night without nightmares. That thought killed your mood slightly as you got up and made your way to the kitchen.

Your apartment was small, with only one bedroom since you didn’t know anyone who would come to see you. The living room and kitchen were connected, and you had a lovely little porch outside of the living room on the third floor of your apartment building. There wasn’t much to your apartment since Jake made sure you didn’t have many possessions anymore, but you were proud of it, nonetheless.

You settled on the couch, flicking through different channels on your bulky TV until you found a show that was mind numbing enough for you to watch. The thought of eating crossed your mind for a split second before you shook it from your mind. You weren’t hungry, you never were in the mornings anymore.

Besides, after your session today you go to the coffee shop down the street, and that would be a lot of your calories for the day.

Instead, you sat there watching the screen, but your eyes and ears weren’t really focusing on it. You just needed the noise to distract you from hearing Jake’s voice ringing in your head. Or maybe by now it was your own voice. Quite honestly, you couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

You blinked and apparently now the sun was up. You blinked rapidly a few more times and rubbed your eyes together. A surge of panic raced through you as you checked the time before immediately sighing and seeing that it was only 8:28 now. You still had about another hour before you had to leave. Since you had the time, you decided to shower before heading over to Dr. Hanson’s office. You walked into the bathroom and clicked the lock on the door. Even though you lived by yourself you always locked the door. You didn’t think you could relax without it. Turning on the water, you stepped out of your clothes and made sure it was a slightly too hot temperature before stepping in.

Showering was another way for you to shut out your past trauma and memories, and perhaps it wasn’t healthy, but right now you didn’t know how else you could deal with Jake’s pounding in your head, and there wasn’t anyone you were close to anymore who could tell you that this was wrong, other than Dr. Hanson. All you wanted was a moment of peace, so you’d spend way too long just standing in the water, letting it wash over your skin before rushing through washing your hair and body and hopping out.

Unfortunately, the shower took a little longer than you thought it would, and by the time you got out, changing into a plain white t-shirt with leggings and tennis shoes, it was already 9:42. You should’ve left 12 minutes ago.

Your eyes widened at the clock while your heart began to race. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You thought to yourself miserably and you ran out the door. You didn’t want to seem like a freak, so you instead walked a little faster than normal as you made your way to Dr. Hanson’s office. Thankfully, you still arrived by 8:56, four minutes early. You still felt the familiar pool of guilt in your stomach as you sat down and waited for Dr. Hanson to call you back.

You bounced your knee while looking down and picking at your fingers, opening the barely healed scabs that were around them. You glanced up at the secretary Trevor, who didn’t meet your eye as he was typing away at his laptop, looking over all the therapists’ schedules for the day.

You looked over to your right to see someone else sitting, his leg crossed over with his foot resting against his knee. His dark hair was a little on the longer side, but the look suited him well, along with the dark wash jeans and black t-shirt that clung to him well. A few moles scattered across his face; some you couldn’t see quite as well beneath the stubble he had. You couldn’t help but feel like he was out of place; he looked completely at ease, slouching in his chair while he read one of the community magazines they offered. He looked like everyone else, someone who didn’t have nearly as many fucked up problems as you did.

You had seen him here a few times, showing up every other Sunday, and while he spoke warmly to everyone he’s interacted with (Trevor), but he looks like he just keeps to himself. Still, he looked so calm to you. It’d be nice to have that in your life.

His golden eyes flicked up to yours, making eye contact with you. You jumped and immediately casted your eyes down to your fingers, resuming your picking. It’s impolite to stare, Jake’s voice echoed in your head. And he was right. Your head began to pound. Rude, rude, rude, RUDE!

“Y/n?”

Your head snapped up at Trevor’s voice, meeting his gaze. He smiled politely at you. “Dr. Hanson’s waiting for you. You can go right in.”

You nodded and mumbled a thanks under your breath and you gathered yourself up and wait past Trevor’s desk. You could feel the other man’s eyes on you, but you refused to acknowledge him.

You sat in Dr. Hanson’s office, adjusting yourself left and right, continuing to bounce your leg. Her office was rather small, nothing super extravagate. It was painted a pale blue, with her desk turned to face the large window. On the sides were bookshelves, which were filled with different classical reads you recognized. In the far corner was a cat tower, where Herbert was sleeping lazily, and in the center laid a rug with two couches on it, one of which you were sitting in. You crossed your legs politely, and you kept your head low, keeping your gaze down at your hands, which picking at the skin around your fingernails.

“Y/n? Did you hear me?”

Your head snapped up; eyes wide. Fuck. You were definitely not paying attention.

“Um…I-I’m sorry, Dr. Hanson” you mumbled, casting your eyes back down and sinking further into your chair.

“It’s alright, I simply made the observation that you hadn’t been working on what we discussed this past week.”

Double fuck. She’d asked you to work on not picking at the skin around your fingers, and you had agreed that it was something you needed and would work on. In all honestly, you had completely forgotten about it; you were really wrapped up in doing your own thing and just trying to survive.

You contemplated lying, but that didn’t work out too well last week. Not that Dr. Hanson got angry with you; she never seemed to ever get mad with you. Disappointed, maybe, but never mad, and now that you thought about it, she never even seemed disappointed either.

You forced yourself to make eye contact, something else she had asked you to work on that you never did. “No, I haven’t. I’m really sorry.” You said, voice raised to be slightly above the mumble you usually went with nowadays.

Dr. Hanson took notice and smiled at you encouragingly. “That’s okay. Would you feel comfortable trying again next week? Or should we adjust a our strategy?”

You shook your head. “No, I want to try again. I really just forgot about it, Dr. Hanson, but I want to try and focus on it this week. If that doesn’t work, then we can try something else. I want to try and get better.”

“I know it’s hard for you to see, but you already are doing better than before. It’s small, yes, and it may not feel like something worth feeling proud over, but I can assure you it absolutely is. How’s your routine been doing, for example,” Dr. Hanson asked while scribbling something down in her notebook.

“Really well,” you answered. And it was. Until you heard Dr. Hanson say so, you just now realize that your routine had been something you greatly improved on. Until you thought about your nightmares, suddenly a pit fell through to your stomach. “Um…I’m not too sure you’ll like my routine…” you lowered your voice as you spoke.

“Would you mind telling me anyways?”

You shook your head. “No, I don’t mind. Um…so I still have nightmares every night. It’s never the same incident, unless it’s…that night. Um, so I’ll usually wake up around 3:30 to 4:30. Somewhere in there. Um, then I’ll make a cup of coffee…but Decaf. I only have regular coffee on Sundays, so I’ll just watch TV until around 7:00, then I’ll shower and get ready for work which starts at 9:00, and then 4:00 I’ll go home and take a walk for about an hour or so. Then I’ll dinner and then I’ll…try to sleep,” you finished with a nod.

Dr. Hanson was nodding along, a smile on her face as she happily took notes while you spook. When she finished, she looked up at you. “What do you usually do on weekends?”

“Um…well nothing. Just watch TV, maybe read something. On Sundays I come see you and then go to this little coffee shop down the street, but other than that I don’t do anything,” you said, and honestly even reading was a small lie. You used to read a lot, almost five books a week. But after this past year, you honestly couldn’t remember the last time you read a book.

Dr. Hanson gave you a questioning look but decided against saying anything. “Can I ask a nudge question?” she asked.

Nudge and push questions. Nudges were topics that for you were uncomfortable to talk about but wouldn’t be panic attack inducing. It was mostly the “after-effects” of your and Jake’s relationship. Pushes were scarier and were questions specifically about what he did during your relationships. When you had first started out with therapy, you struggled to open up and it was awkward, and a little tense. However, once you developed this nudge and push system, it made your sessions go much smoother, especially if you weren’t ready to talk about certain things.

You took a deep breath and nodded, “I’m ready,” you answered.

“Can you tell me what your nightmares were about this week? If any of them are pushes, you don’t have to talk about them,”

Herbert had woken and was moving up on the couch and into your lap, so you were petting him as you thought it over. “Can I keep them brief?” you asked, a slight waver in your voice.

“Of course, whatever you feel comfortable with,” Dr. Hanson smiled at you encouragingly.

“Okay, well, most of them were from…that night. That’s usually when I would wake up, too. One of them was the day he locked me in the closet, only he never lets me out and I slowly shrivel away, and the last one was when we first met. Everyone was giving him weird looks, but I didn’t know what was wrong. Then he tore off his face and turned into a demon, and everyone was laughing at me…” Herbert cuddled into you closer, his big green eyes looking at you expectedly. It took you a second to realize you’d stopped petting him.

“Do you believe that dreams have any significance to your daily life?”

Nope, you thought. “I haven’t given it much thought.”

“Well, some might say in your latest dream, the one where Jake is a demon, that you blame yourself for not seeing it the signs sooner, and that everyone around you was able to see through it immediately. Would that have some semblance to real life at all?”

Whoops. You sighed. “…but it is true. I didn’t see it.”

“Y/n, a lot of people didn’t see it. Jake had a job, normal friends, and you both had neighbors that you regularly interacted. All of them didn’t see what was happening either. Do you blame them as well?”

“No, but-“

“Then it’s not your fault either. I know it’ll take some time for you to fully see this, but you were manipulated and groomed. This happens to people all over the world, and it’s no one’s fault but the person who did this to you, and you’ve been building your life back.”

Tears were lining your eyes now. “But-but I don’t feel like I’m accomplishing anything. I don’t feel better, and somehow even though he’s gone, I don’t feel free from him,” you blinked, and the tears fell.

“It’ll take time. Lots of time. Two years is a long relationship to undo, and it’ll be very hard I won’t lie, but you’re a strong girl. A survivor. You can get through this, I know it.” Dr. Hanson was able to say it with such confidence that you almost believed it.

Glancing at the clock, you realized 50 minutes had passed. Somehow, it still shocked you how much time flew by during these sessions.

“One last thing before we call it a day, sound good?”

“Okay,” you wiped your tears from your face.

Dr. Hanson handed you a tissue before continuing, “How about your job? You’ve been doing that for about two months now, and I haven’t heard you talk about it much.”

“Oh, it’s going good. I mostly just answer phones and organize people’s schedules. It’s a simple job, but I’ve been liking it a lot.”

“Have you made any friends?” Slowly, you shook your head. You barely spoke to anyone outside of the mandatory meetings to go over their upcoming week.

“Okay, are you up for another task to work on? You don’t have to accomplish it this week if you don’t want to, but maybe something to keep in mind, okay?” you nodded for her to continue. She smiled and said, “Make a friend. Maybe someone to join you at your coffee shop? Or someone to grab lunch with on Saturdays. You’ve been living here for almost three months, so make some roots; someone to talk to other than me. Give it some thought for me, okay?”

Herbert jumped off you, signaling the end of your session. You sat there for a moment. Another person scared you. Right now, you had your safe little bubble with you and Dr. Hanson. Anyone else was untrustworthy. What if they were like Jake?

Still, you knew it was unrealistic to shut everyone out, and if you were being honest, it’s been lonely. “…okay. I-I’ll try,” you said slowly.

Dr. Hanson smiled brightly at you while finishing up her notes. When she was done, she’d bid you a good day, and you left her office.

Walking down the street, you started thinking it over a bit more. You hadn’t even thought about starting over your life or making new friends. Thinking it over, you realized that’s probably why Dr. Hanson was pushing you to get a job in the first place. 

Therapists are sneaky…

That wasn’t true. They just point out obvious information and guide you through. It’s not her fault that your oblivious to it.

Turning the corner, you walked into The Roasted Bean. Sunday’s were popular, and today wasn’t an exception. You were about seven people back with everyone else buzzing around the shop, but you didn’t mind; it’s not like you were doing anything anyways. Besides, there were always tables available somehow.

Ben always worked Sundays, so he had gotten to know you briefly, or at least he knew your name. “Hey y/n, what would you like?” he asked warmly.

“Small iced caramel latte with whipped cream and a caramel drizzle please,” It was your usual order, but sometimes you liked to shake it up. Ben nodded at you before quickly going over to make your drink while you stepped aside. You started picking at your fingers, then quickly closed your fists, instead opting to fiddle with your wallet strap instead.

“Y/n?” Ben called, pushing your drink across the counter. You gave him a small smile, grabbing the drink from him. You turned to go to your usually spot to sit down and enjoy your coffee, but found a couple sitting there already. You fumbled for a moment and realized there weren’t any empty seats left.

You took in deep breaths, thinking over your options. You didn’t want to go back to your apartment, you would just lay in front of the TV again, and the park was a far walk from here, so by the time you would get there your coffee would be finished. You scanned the bakery again, hoping to find an empty seat when something caught your eye.

The man from the lobby was sitting at the far corner table, sipping on his coffee while reading a book. You weren’t sure how he found the peace to do that in a coffee shop. Like before, he looked relaxed and calm, something you were still drawn to. Taking another look over, you saw no one else sitting by themselves.

Dr. Hanson’s words echoed through your head. Make a friend.

Your legs were moving before you registered it, walking over to the man. Before you could think of a way to grab his attention, his eyes were already focused on you. They weren’t cold; they had a cautious undertone beneath the warm amber hues.

Still, he smiled at you softly, closing his book.

“Hi,” you said, wincing slightly as the stiffness in your tone.

“Hey, can I help you?” he responded evenly, keeping a pleasant smile on his face, but you could see him stiffen with you, though you had a feeling it was for different reasons.

“Um…” Fuck, this was a lot harder than you thought. “So-well-okay, I usually come to this coffee shop every Sunday and sit over there,” you jerked your thumb in the general direction of your usual spot. “And I usually sit by myself, but there isn’t open seats…and I guess I could you know go outside…or um go home, but I’m still pretty new here, so I was hoping I could sit with you for today?” You shuffled back and forth on your feet, flashing the man a quick smile.

He stared at you for a moment, still analyzing you. “Why me?”

You blushed. You didn’t really have a good answer for that. “Oh, well…I’ve seen you around before, and you seem to be pretty calm and…friendly…or at least able to tolerate someone while they drank coffee and talked about the weather,”

The man still didn’t say anything, his gaze hardened slightly. You were starting to think this was all a big mistake, but before you could open your mouth and apologize, he spoke. “Okay,” he said slowly, still not trusting you. “you can sit here.” He gave you another small smile.

It took you a moment to register what he said before you smiled back, settling down in the seat across from him.

For a few minutes, the two of you sat there uncomfortably, sipping your coffee. Maybe this was a bad idea. He probably changed his mind about you and now thinks you’re too odd to have as friend. I should just leave… As you went to make up an excuse, he spoke up. “What’s your name? I should probably know you a little better if we’re gonna sit together so it’s not like I’m talking to a brick wall.”

You giggled at his comment, “My name’s y/n y/l/n. What’s yours?”

“Mitch. Mitch Rapp.” You nodded, repeating the name to yourself under your breath. “How long ago did you move here?”

“Oh, I’ve only been here for a few months now,” you said.

“Ah, so that’s why I only just now saw you at O’Neil offices,” Mitch said smoothly.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “O’Neil?”

“O’Neil offices yeah, for therapy?”

Your eyes widened; your stomach dropped as you flicked your eyes down.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” Mitch said softly as he gave you a worried look.

“No, no its fine it’s just…I always thought you weren’t supposed to talk about it…” you said, lowering your voice as you talked.

“Oh no, not at all,” Mitch visible relaxed. “I mean, it’s about whatever you feel comfortable with, so if you’d like I’d never bring it up again, but you don’t have to think about it like it’s a bad thing that you’re going or something that you have to keep a secret. It’s for you, and for whatever reasons you’re going.”

“How long have you been going?”

“A little over a year now,” he said. “I, uh, probably should’ve started awhile ago, but better late than never.” Mitch took another long drink of his coffee.

“So…it gets easier?” you asked, voice small.

“Eventually. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of patience. I’m not even where I want to be, but you know, it’s about setting goals for yourself, and you’re always adding and changing them, no matter how big or small they are. My biggest goal right now is to one day look back and see just how far I’ve come, you know?”

You smiled at him. “That…that sounds like a great goal to have,” you said. “I might steal it from you,”

Mitch laughed, and it confused you for a moment before you realized he laughed at the joke you made. It’s been so long since you had any friends you had forgotten what it felt like. You decided to be brave for a moment, “Um, what kind of coffee is that? I’ve always been a big coffee fan and love trying new ones,” You both smiled at each other.

You two stayed in that coffee shop for a while, talking about little things. To some, it may have seemed like a meaningless conversation, but for the both of you, it meant everything. For you, it was another step in taking back your life and placing roots in a place that maybe one day you could call home. And though you didn’t know it, Mitch was opening up to you slowly in a way he hadn’t done with anyone else in a long time. It felt like a positive step, for both of you.

Mitch’s sense of humor was darker than you expected, but so was yours, especially after everything that happened. You laughed and smile more in the short time with Mitch than you have in the past two years of your life. Maybe longer. It felt easy and comfortable, like perhaps you two have known each other your whole lives.

After a particularly long set of giggles, you finally managed to ask, “So, what do you do for a living?”

“Oh, I’m a CIA consultant,” Mitch answered, twirling the now empty coffee cup in his hands.

Your eyebrows shot up, “Holy shit! That’s really impressive,” and you truly thought that. Normally, someone with a violent job like that terrified you, but for some reason, you weren’t scared of Mitch.

“Yeah. A while back I used to work in a Special Forces part of the CIA, and I’m sorry but I can’t tell much more about it, but we would travel a lot and would be involved in the more serious cases. I can’t go into too much detail for obvious reasons, but it kept me distracted. I…had gotten into it for the wrong reasons, so after a few years of doing it I just felt…really empty. And I hated that. I guess you could say my passion for going out into the field had died down. It didn’t satisfy me anymore, and I wasn’t getting…what I wanted out of it. So, I moved to the desk job version of it. Now, I’d only go in the field if it was extremely serious, but they haven’t used me yet. After I moved to that desk job, I started going to therapy. Now here I am,” He gestured to the café you were in. He shifted in his seat, “I, uh, haven’t, told many people that…”

You blushed, before settling on another bold move. You reached out your hand, “Um…can I?” Mitch nodded, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed it and squeezed it gently. “I’m…I’m glad you felt comfortable enough to tell me. And I get that, you know…the empty feeling…”

If you were really honest, this was the first time you had felt something in a long time. Even if it was just the start of your friendship.

Mitch squeezed your hand back, and you two left it like that on the table. The back of your said that this wasn’t something friends do, but you weren’t really listening to it. Instead, you two sat that, not saying another but not needing to. You could tell that Mitch was holding something back, but you couldn’t blame him. It’s not like you were being an open book yourself.

“What about you?” Mitch asked.

“Well, right now, I’m a secretary at the office down the street. I hope one day I could save enough money to go back to school, so I can finish my degree and become an elementary teacher,” your brain caught up to you, and you realized that you hadn’t told anyone about that dream, not even Dr. Hanson. Your heart quickened just a little bit. Why do I trust him so much? He’s a bigshot CIA member, he probably thinks that’s stupid…

However, Mitch smiled genuinely at you. “I can see that for you,” he said simply.

“R-really?”

“Yeah. I can read people pretty well, and I can just tell by looking at you that it’s something you’re passionate about, and you’d be really good at it,”

Happy tears sprung in your eyes, but you quickly blinked them away. Dr. Hanson always said she thought you were strong and brave, but somehow you wouldn’t believe her simply because she was your doctor. She was supposed to hype you up and say those things. But hearing that from someone you felt you had made a genuine connection with? It was something you hadn’t heard in a while, and it made you feel that maybe your dreams weren’t worthless after all.

“Thank you for saying that, Mitch. It…means a lot,”

“Meant every word, and I’m an extremely honest person. I promise I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” Mitch took a glance at his watch. “Do you live far from here? I would love to keep talking but I have a phone meeting at three that I can’t miss.”

You raised an eyebrow, fishing out your phone, “Three? But it’s only-“ you cut yourself off. It was 2:33. “We’ve been here for three hours?” you exclaimed.

Mitch chuckled, “Yep. Time flies, right? I can walk you to your apartment building, if you don’t mind. Do you live far?”

“Oh, just around the corner,”

You two left the coffee shop, still making some small talk to each other until you arrived outside the apartment building. Mitch turned to you, another soft smile on his face.

“I had a good time. We should do this again.”

“Absolutely! I had a wonderful time,” you said. And it was true, you did.

“Can I have your number then? I’d love to meet up for coffee next Sunday again,” Mitch was pulling out his phone.

“Oh, of course yeah!” you said happily, pulling out your phone. Your mood faltered slightly when you looked at the four pitiful contacts you had in your phone: Dr. Hanson’s number for emergencies, your boss’s number, your landlord’s number, and the only number Jake could never get you to delete.

Mom

You stared at your mother’s contact screen of the two of you together, big grins on your faces while the two of you had been vacationing in Rome. Your mom was always your biggest supporter, and you would never forgive yourself for the things you said to her that night.

Quickly, you pressed the ‘Create A New Contact’ button, looking up at Mitch. If he saw the contact list, he didn’t say anything, which you were grateful for. The two of you exchanged numbers.

“Okay, I’ll text you alright?” Mitch said, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“I’d like that,” you said with a smile.

Mitch stepped towards you and wrapped his arms around you in a hug. You froze for a second, unsure of what to do before melting into it, wrapping your arms around his neck. This feels nice, you thought, and you could’ve stayed like that for the rest of day.

Instead, Mitch pulled back, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead that caused your heart to flutter in a good way.

“See you around,” Mitch said, stepping away and giving you a wave.

“Bye!” you waved back at him as he turned around and walked in the opposite direction. You stood there for a moment, watching him leave before you entered your building.

Walking through your apartment door, you realized a few things: 1. You were still smiling from the hug Mitch gave you. 2. On the walk home, you two had held hands then too, and 3. In the entire time you were talking to Mitch, you hadn’t picked your fingers once.

You sighed happily as you set down your things and headed for the couch. For the first time in a few years, you had had a good day.

[mrsbarnes99]

The meaning of age and time

Pairing: Modern!CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are in a happy relationship but the comments of others about your agepap get to him and he starts wondering if you two are really suited for each other.

Warnings: Angst, big agegap (Reader is 23 and Bucky is 40)

Word Count: 1853 words

A/N: Here's a little one shot I came up with. I hope you like it. This is my first try at writing something and English is not my first language so please be kind.

You and Bucky had been together for almost a year and you‘ve never been happier in your life. He was the kind of boyfriend every girl hoped for: loving, charming, caring, funny and a bit dorky. But although you two were very in love and had been living together for a few months, there was one aspect that seemed to cause more and more problems. At first you never thought much about your agegap because you didn‘t deem it a problem in any way. But there had been situations in which you felt like Bucky was having some issues with the fact that you are significantly younger than him.

You first noticed it a couple of weeks ago when you two went out for some coffee in the afternoon.

Eversince the new cupcake shop down the street from your apartment had opened you wanted to try it out. So one Sunday you convinced Bucky - by convincing you mean giving your boyfriend a serious case of puppy dog eyes - to go there after taking a walk together. Bucky had always loved these little dates the two of you would go on practically all the time as Sam would say. This time though you noticed that Bucky was uncomfortable and kept glancing at everyone around you. Almost as if he was checking if they were looking at you two.

"Buck, if you don‘t want to stay we can take some cupcakes back home."

You were very surprised about the relief on Buckys face after telling him this but you figured that he was just exhausted and wanted to relax at home after a grueling week at work. Especially because everything seemed fine again once you had left the shop.

The second time that Bucky was all of a sudden in a bad mood was when Sam kept teasing Bucky with his "old age". Normally Bucky would just roll his eyes and start making jokes about Sam as well. Sometimes they would get so competitive that it almost seemed like a match. But this time Bucky just blew up.

"Y/N, grandpa here is really turning you into a homebody. When was the last time you went to a club with us?"

"I canceled one t-" "What is your problem Birdbrain!? Can‘t you just mind your own damn business for once?" You were shocked at how angry Bucky was and that he‘d just interrupt you like that.

"Cool it, Buckaroo or you might have a heart attack." Sam kept mocking. While glaring at him Bucky got up from his chair and then just stomped out of the café and back to his office. You and Sam just looked at each other confused. Neither of you understood why this would bring such a reaction out of him. After giving Bucky some time to calm down you went looking for him but he didn‘t go back to his office as you had presumed. So you went to his assistant and asked her where Bucky went to. "He left to see Mr. Rogers in his office to go over some contracts, Ms. Y/L/N."

You weren‘t sure if you should go up to Steve‘s office or not but decided to just knock and see if they were almost done. As you were standing infront of Steve‘s door you heard Bucky‘s voice "You don‘t understand Steve! I just don‘t know how to ignore it!" What was Bucky talking about? Ignore what? You were curious and kept on listening to their conversation.

"It was never a problem before. What changed?" "You just don‘t get it, Steve! Do you know how weird it is to feel how everyone around is watching you thinking what does he want with her? Can‘t he find someone his age? That poor girl he‘s probably just using her to feel young again. Why are they together they have nothing in common?" You felt a tear slide down your cheek. Why didn‘t Bucky tell you about his feelings concerning the agegap the two of you have? You decided it was better to go back to Bucky‘s office and wait there until he comes back to talk about everything. You didn‘t have to wait long. Bucky was back half an hour later and seemed to be in a better mood but once he saw your sad face he got concerned. "What happened, doll? Have you been crying?" "No. Actually, yes a bit." "Why?" Bucky sat down beside you and pulled you towards himself hugging you. "Ms. Romanoff told me you were with Steve so I went to his office and I overheard you guys talking. When were you going to tell me that my age bothered you so much?" You could see that Bucky was struggling thinking about how best to answer your question.

"Look, doll. I have always known that our relationship would raise some brows but that never bothered me until I heard some women talk about us." "When was that?" "That day at the cupcake shop." "So that‘s why you wanted to leave. But why does it bother you when someone you don‘t even know thinks it‘s ok to judge us?" "I didn‘t want it to bother me this much but I couldn‘t help but keep thinking about it. They did have some points..." "Such as?" You asked annoyed. "For example the fact that you‘re at an age where you like to go out an party on the weekends instead of chilling at home. Or that I‘m at an age where you settle down and start a family whereas that’s still in the far future for you. We‘re just in two very different places." "So do you feel this way too or have you just started thinking about this after hearing someone make these stupid remarks about us?" Bucky looked you deeply in the eyes, sighed and then kissed you on your forehead. "I‘m sorry, doll. I guess I just got too in my head with all this. I don‘t think that we‘re a bad match or not suited for each other just based on our age. I love you and I‘m very happy that you're my girl." "I love you too Buck. But promise me that you‘ll talk to me if something like this happens again ok?" "I promise, doll. What do you say to a movie and some Pizza tonight? So we can leave this all behind and spent some time together." You smiled at Bucky and gave him a kiss before grabbing your back and making your way back to the little clothing store you had started with Y/F/N a couple of years ago.

Now looking back at these two small incidents you wonder if you missed the signs which led to the big fallout you and Bucky had yesterday. When you came back to the apartment after work you were exhausted. Today just hadn‘t been your day. It started with an unfriendly customer and ended with a fashion magazine describing your stores latest clothes as boring and nothing new or exciting. You couldn‘t wait to just snuggle up to your boyfriend and forget about everything. But upon unlocking the door to your shared apartment it was like you entered an alternate dimension. There was a suitcase next to the door and you heard your boyfriend rummaging in the bedroom.

"Do you have to leave for a business meeting?" You asked confused, wondering if you forgot about something he mentioned. Bucky looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. "Buck, what is going on? Did I forget about something?" You were starting to feel very agitated and uncomfortable like you already knew something bad was about to happen. "Look, Y/N, I think we‘ve been living in our own little world all this time but we just can‘t ignore the real world forever." "What do you mean?" You were shocked and heartbroken. Was Bucky really breaking up with you? And since when did he call you by your name? Normally he would refer to you by cute nicknames, mostly he would call you doll so much that his friends at first thought that that was your name. "It‘s just... you‘re too young for me. You're practically still a kid wanting to live their dream by trying to create a fashion brand with an itty bitty store. Whereas I‘m a cofounder of a well established firm who wants to start a family. We‘re in two different places in life and it‘s just not working. I mean your only 23 and I‘m in my forties. I need someone my age who I can marry and start a life with and you still have a lot to experience before you‘re able to settle down. You‘ll just resent me later on if I force you to grow up faster than you‘re supposed to." You were feeling numb. Too shocked to do or say anything. You only realized that you were crying once you saw the teardrops hitting your jacket that was folded over your arm.

"You can stay in the apartment as long as you need to find another place to stay. I‘m flying out to a conference and once I get back I‘ll move into my old condo." "So that‘s it. You suddenly decided to end it all over some comments other people you don‘t even know made? Don‘t I mean anything to you? I thought you loved me. How can you just throw it all away?" Bucky looked you in the eyes but you couldn‘t recognize the man you‘d fallen for anymore. His eyes were cold and detached like you were some nasty insect he wanted to get rid of. "Don‘t make this any harder on yourself. The faster you come to the realization that we never would have worked anyway the better. If you would be so nice as to let me leave now, I have a flight to catch that I can‘t miss because of your childish behavior. In the next couple of days someone is coming by to get the rest of my clothes. Oh and before I forget, here take this back it must have been expensive and you need the money more than I do." With that he gave you back the Rolex you had gifted him to his 40th birthday. You‘ve never felt so insulted „Really!? Is breaking my heart not enough for you? Do you have to insult me as well!? You can keep it. What should I do with it? I can‘t return it...remember it‘s engraved you egoistic, conceited asshole!" With that you shoved the watch back in his hand and ran off to the guestroom and looked it. A few minutes later you heard Bucky leaving the apartment and you.

Sitting on the floor you cried your eyes out. You‘ve never felt heartbreak like this before. Bucky had been everything you ever wanted but he just tossed you away like yesterday‘s trash. And the worst is that despite everything he just did and said to you, you‘re still not able to hate him. He still has your heart, sadly he doesn‘t want it no more.