#I have four pocket knives

[dangerousgolemkitty]

I want to get live steel so bad but I have no idea what I want to buy...

make a girl smile today.

give her a sword.

[evieville]

Doing very normal things instead of trying to sleep (looking at victorian catalogues to try and reverse engineer what would be a reasonable amount to spend on christmas gifts)

[promenadewithme]

Twelve days of Christmas - Chapter 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem! reader Word Count: 1.8K words Warnings: sexual innuendo, mentions of sex, slight angst, established marriage, divorce, the holidays, idk what triggers you so tell me if I should add anything else. a.n.: sorry for taking a few days to upload this, i've been christmas shopping and got down with some kind of flu that has me feeling unwell. I promise I'll post more if you guys like this, though.

part 1 part 2 part 3

“He’s getting away, Barnes” Stark reprimanded through the com in James’ ear “Forget to eat breakfast today? Where is that abiding need to keep the streets of New York safe? That unwavering stamina? Don’t tell me you’re getting old.”

The pokes had him grinding his teeth and stomping harder down the stairs. He forced himself to calmly answer “Your mother had no complaints last night.”

A distant cackle came through the com, which he imagined could have only been Thor, before Stark quipped “Then where the hell is your head at, Barnes?”

At my daughter’s recital that started 40 minutes ago all the way across town, thanks for asking. James thought with a moody frown on his face as he started jumping down the flights of stairs.

“Why don’t you do the chasing for a change?” he sassed, catching a glimpse of the assailant’s clothes just as he turned a corner.

Having been in the military as a young adult, one would expect more respect for the boss. But James was cranky, would rather be with his family, and was not in the mood for Stark’s cockiness. Besides, he was the best private detective in the agency and Stark knew it.

James picked up his pace, mere meters away from the target, only for the emergency exit door to slam open into the criminals’ face, with none other than Tony Stark on the other side.

“I don’t do the running.” He answered, smugness written all over his face “That’s what I pay you for.”

With a roll of his eyes and a huff, James bent down to search the man’s pockets. Two guns, four knives and what sure looked a lot like chloroform, were handed over to Bruce – the forensics guy, who accepted them with a tight-lipped awkward smile.

The man on the floor, a stalker that had been chasing one of their clients for the past months, attempted to get up. ‘Attempted’ being the key word considering James handcuffed him in seconds, getting halfway to the vehicle before his boss could reach him.

“Nice work today, kid.” He praised as James closed the door to the police car that waited outside.

Stark had friends in very important places, friends who appreciated the help that his company provided. Both monetary and otherwise. The police force was one of them, despite their motto being ‘doing all the men in blue could not do’.

“Thanks, man.” He replied while nodding at Steve, the police officer they usually worked with and his childhood friend.

“You can go home now; I’ve got it from here.” Stark patted his back as Steve drove away.

“I still have to write up the report and tell our client we caught the guy.”

In all honesty, James didn’t know why he didn’t accept. He wanted to go home, to go to his wife and baby girl. He also knew that he had a job to do, a job that wouldn’t finish itself.

“I’ll do that.” He reassured, earning an eyebrow raise from James, who was sure he had never touched paperwork in his life. With a huff and an eyeroll, he admitted “Fine, I’ll get Pepper to do it.”

“Pepper already has enough on her plate having to babysit you.” James replied, walking to his car.

Tony followed close behind “How about you let me worry about Pepper and you go home to your wife. Unless you want to do it the other way around, I’d be fine with that too. Tell me, how has beautiful (y/n) been - ”

He was cut off by a low growl emitted from James’ throat. His wife was beautiful, it was a fact, one he did not mind people noticing. Except when it came to Tony, the biggest playboy known to man.

“Down boy.” Stark lifted his hands in surrender “You should really let go of all that pent up energy. You know, there’s this reiki place down the street from - ”

“I don’t need to unwind.” He lied through his teeth.

James desperately needed to let it all out, preferably in his wife. The problem was that most days he got home after you were fast asleep and left before you awoke. It was hell, it was torture. It meant jacking off in the shower to the thought of you while being careful to not make too much noise, even though it was never really enough, not the same as you. It meant having way too much sexual energy and lashing out on everyone.

“Whatever you say, Barnes.” He sighed in defeat “But I do think you should take the rest of the year off. You’ve been my top employee of the year, it’s almost Christmas, just… Have a little fun for once. Take your wife on a date, take your kid ice skating, hell go crazy and rent a cabin in the woods. As much as this James is good for business, I miss the old Bucky. Corny and in love as he might have been, he was also a pretty decent guy. Besides, the clients are starting to get scared of that scowl of yours.”

Maybe it was time for a break; to spend some time with his girls, God knows he missed them.

“I’ll think about it.” He nodded, unlocking his car.

And that he did. James thought about it on the slow drive to Olivia’s school, he thought about it when he saw that all the chairs were already stacked, he thought about it on his way home, and when he saw your disappointed face as he walked through the door.

You looked so beautiful, all dolled up and Christmassy. You also looked broken, tired. Bucky had a sneaking suspicion it was because of him.

Closing the door behind him, he measured his next words, but nothing came out. No excuses, no explanations. He knew he was running; he just didn’t know why.

“You missed her recital.” Your voice came out hoarse and he realized your eyes were puffy. The realization that he had made you cry made James’ heart sink to his stomach.

“I know.” He whispered, feet plastered to the floor, unable to move from the door. Like he was ready to bolt at any moment.

“You are never home.”

“I know.”

“You come home after midnight every single day.”

“I know.”

“She misses you, I-” you halted before admitting “I miss you.”

That was when he found it in himself to move, to kneel before you and kiss both your hands while apologizing.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Left his lips with every kiss he planted all over your hands, before resting his face on your thighs.

Tears filled your eyes again and it took all your strength not to back down, but you said it.

“James, I want a divorce.”

His heart stopped, and it sped, and it broke into a million pieces. You watched as his head slowly rose, his distressed gaze meeting yours.

“What?” he couldn’t have heard you right, could he? There was no way he could have messed up this badly.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You said, voice breaking “I can’t wake up every day knowing you won’t be here, I can’t listen to you coming home in the middle of the night and leaving before I can say goodbye, I don’t know what to do for you to love me. I’ve tried everything and I never seem to be enough for you.”

“No, doll, please.” He looked deep into your soul, holding both of your hands, afraid that if he let go, he would lose you forever, knowing there was a chance he already had “I love you. I love you so much. Please, we can work this out. Don’t leave me.”

“Leave you?” you seethed, untangling your hands from his and standing “No, James, I’m not the one who is leaving. You are the one who left. You are the one who runs away from his family, who overworks, who jerks himself off in the middle of the night instead of having sex with his own wife, who doesn’t even care to show up. If you truly loved me, if you loved us, you would be here. You would have been there today, when Liv needed you present.”

“I know I messed up but let me make it up to you. I can be present, I can come home earlier, I want to have sex with you.” He was on his knees; he did not know what he could say to make you believe him.

“James, it’s been eight months since I had an orgasm.” You said, walking into the kitchen to make yourself some tea. Anything to ease your nerves “I want a divorce.”

He followed you like a lost puppy; it would have been cute if your heart wasn’t weeping. James racked his brain, thinking of anything that could make you stay, that could help you change your mind. You were stubborn, the only person who could ever make you soft was Livvie. It was like a lightbulb went on in his brain. Liv. She was the key, the bond.

“Okay.” He said, even though it was the last thing he meant.

“What?”

It was what you wanted, right? So why did it feel like someone stepped on the already shattered pieces of your heart? Maybe, deep down, you wished he would fight for you.

“We can get a divorce.” He nodded slowly “But I want to give Olivia one last happy Christmas. Think about what it would do to her little mind if we separated during the holidays. It’s what, ten days till Christmas now?”

“Twelve as of tomorrow.” You answer, seeing his point.

“Stark gave me the rest of the year off. Let’s make the happiest memories with her, ones she will remember and not be traumatized by, let her have one last Christmas. Let us have one last Christmas.”

 You considered his words. Liv was six now, she was definitely old enough to remember this divorce and James was right, it could potentially make the holidays traumatic in some way. That was the last thing you wanted. It was only twelve days, right? What’s the worst that could happen?

“Alright.” You conceded and James let out the air he was holding in “Twelve days.”

“We pretend nothing happened, we act happy and in love, we make this the perfect Christmas. Deal?” he outstretched his hand, afraid that any other form of contact would make you push him away.

“Deal.” You took his hand, letting it linger as you looked into his somber grey eyes. Oh, how you would miss those, how you missed them already.

What to Liv would be the perfect Christmas, to you was the hardest goodbye. Would you be able to spend 12 days without changing your mind? Would James be able to spend them without letting you down again? Remember all the times he wasn’t there. A small voice uttered in your mind. It was enough for you to remove your hand from his and say goodnight. Twelve days would go by in a flash, you could do this. For Liv.

taglist: @ordelixx, @julvrs, @milanaasblog, @buckystevelove, @galactict3a , @ilovetaquitosmmmm , @tpwkcaryslizb , @unadulteratedpastazonkpeach

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divider by @bernardsbendystraws

[wethotcrazy]

LET'S PLAY A FEW

pairing: Zhou Guanyu x Streamer! Reader

word count:

i have been cooking this up in my brain for so long now, like it has been weeks that i've been meaning to writea guanyu fanfic and now here it is yippie also i wrote this because guanyu is very dear to me and i am just gutted that he wont be racing next year

The stream was alive with the low hum of background music and the click-clack of Y/N’s keyboard. Her Tuesday night streams were a familiar routine for her viewers—three hours of CSGO, now smoothly transitioning into Valorant. She’d solo queued, half-focused on the game, half-focused on her chat. It was a relaxed vibe tonight, her soft voice filling the gaps as she responded to questions.

“Y/N, who’s your favorite agent?” one viewer asked.

“Hmm, depends on the day,” Y/N mused, squinting at the game. “But I’m leaning toward Jett lately. Fast, flashy… plus, I’m a sucker for knives.” Her words were accompanied by the sharp sound of her clicking through weapons.

Her team switched to defense. She’d been holding B site alone and wasn’t too concerned. “It’s always quiet until it’s not,” she muttered, eyes narrowing as she scanned the entry points.

And then it wasn’t quiet.

The enemy team pushed hard—four, no, five enemies storming the site. Y/N’s demeanor shifted instantly. She stopped talking mid-sentence, leaning forward, her entire focus honed in. Chat knew what was happening. They’d seen this mode before.

One.

Two.

Three clean headshots in rapid succession. Her chat erupted.

“SHE’S COOKING,” someone spammed.

“Demon time activated,” wrote another.

Four down, one left. Y/N’s crosshair tracked, and with one swift flick—the fifth player dropped.

“ACE!” Chat’s excitement exploded, emotes and all-caps filling the screen.

“Nice ace,” a voice said, calm and steady. Y/N’s body went rigid as a soft kiss landed on the crown of her head. Her breath caught in her chest.

Slowly, as if she couldn’t believe it, she turned her head to see Zhou Guanyu standing there, his face calm as ever, hands in his sweatpants pockets. His eyes met hers with an easy grin, one he’d worn countless times but somehow always made her heart stutter.

“Are you solo queuing right now? Want me to hop on?” he asked like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N’s mouth opened, but it took her a moment to find the words. The situation wasn’t particularly funny, but a wave of giddy laughter poured out of her—that helpless, uncontrollable kind.

“I’m… I’m streaming right now, Bǎobǎo,” she said through breaths of laughter, wiping at her eyes.

Guanyu’s eyes flickered toward her monitor, realizing what had just happened. His gaze shifted to the camera. “Oh. Hi, chat,” he said with a casual wave like it was any other Tuesday night.

Pandemonium.

Chat’s messages scrolled too fast for Y/N to read. Everyone was freaking out. The calm, private nature of their relationship had only left the fans guessing. Speculation had been rampant, but this? This was confirmation.

“NO WAY THAT’S GUANYU.”

“WTF OKAY BOYFRIEND REVEAL.”

“Bǎobǎo?????????”

Y/N’s face was red as she tried to focus on the chat. “Alright, alright, calm down,” she said, fanning herself dramatically. She glanced up at Guanyu, still grinning like a fool. “You’re unbelievable.”

Guanyu’s only response was to tilt his head, his grin never wavering. “You’re the one who’s blushing,” he teased before walking off toward the kitchen.

Three years earlier, Guanyu had been just another viewer in Y/N’s chat—a regular with a verified checkmark that made him stand out. People recognized his name, but Y/N didn’t at first.

“Zhou Guanyu…” she read aloud, squinting at the name in her chat. “That’s… a Formula 1 driver, right? Chat, you’re messing with me.”

“No, it’s actually him!” chat exploded.

Sure enough, he’d donated with a message: “Big fan of your streams. If you’re ever down for games, I’m in.”

Y/N’s eyes went wide. “No way that’s real,” she muttered, half-laughing. But over the next few weeks, his presence became a regular occurrence. Guanyu’s name appeared in her chat, his playful comments lighting up the screen.

Then one day, he sent a Discord invite.

“Let’s play a few,” his message read.

He wasn’t what she expected. His sense of humor was sharp but subtle. He wasn’t loud, but he was confident. Their first few games were filled with banter and easy laughter. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just "streamer and viewer" and became… more.

Soon, he’d hop into her streams without warning. His voice was instantly recognizable. Their interactions sparked thousands of clips on Twitch. Fans flooded her social media with theories. “Are they together?” became the constant question. They never confirmed or denied it, and after a while, the frenzy died down.

But when Guanyu’s race schedule allowed, he’d appear on her stream. Sometimes he’d just be a voice in the background, sometimes he’d play with her on-stream, and sometimes, like today, he’d forget she was streaming entirely.

Back in the present, Y/N’s chat was still in shambles. Guanyu’s sudden appearance had sent them into a spiral, and Y/N’s notifications were pinging nonstop. She’d read a few messages aloud, fighting the urge to laugh all over again.

“‘Tell him to come back’… No, he’s probably playing with Sweet Corn right now,” she joked, glancing over her shoulder.

“Does he call you Bǎobǎo?’” she read, the grin on her face growing wider. “Yeah, yeah, he does that sometimes. It’s…” She trailed off, her cheeks burning again. “Don’t worry about it.”

A few minutes later, Guanyu wandered back in with a bowl of fruit in hand, offering her a piece of mango. She took it with a raised brow. “You’re a menace, you know that?” she said, still half-laughing.

“Mmm,” Guanyu hummed in response, popping a piece of mango into his mouth. “You love it.”

“Yeah, yeah, I do,” she said softly, her voice quieter this time, almost just for him.

Chat caught every word.

[ellastone-olsen]

MafiaBoss!Wanda Maximoff x f!security!reader.

Warnings: NSFW 18 + knife play, guns, murder, pet names, eating out, impact play, dark! Wanda, overstimulation, mommy kink

AN: oh my god, today is exactly one month since I’ve been publishing my works here, thank you everyone, I’m glad you like my works💗

Mafia boss Wanda who...must control absolutely everything. Even if she is under you, her orders guide you so that there is no doubt about who is in charge. “Such an obedient little pup, lick mommy clean.” She guides you. “Faster, insert your fingers, oh yes like that, make me cum and I’ll get you a reward.” She encourages you, holding your hair to guide your head and ride your face.

Mafia boss Wanda who...always keeps a gun near her, even if entire retinue of security is around. One day you allowed yourself the impudence to anger her, and she took a weapon from the inside pocket of her coat, fired a warning shot somewhere to the side, and then put the barrel under your chin. “Don’t make me angry, dumb pup, you know how easily I can pull the trigger and not blink an eye.” You knew that she could, but you also knew that she would never do this, not with you.

Mafia boss Wanda who...after a hard day, drags you by the collar of a snow-white shirt into her room and casually throws you on the bed. “Mommy had a terrible day so let me use you like the stupid fucktoy you are.” Of course you have no choice, but you don't mind helping a woman relieve stress. When her tongue overstimulates you and a whine escapes your mouth, her hands press you harder and a rough, “Be patient.” that's all you hear.

Mafia boss Wanda who...noticed how her other guards treat you because of your obvious closeness. And when one of these bastards decides to start a fight with you, she will simply take out that same gun and shoot him in the head. “If anyone else decides to commit lynching, he will go to hell for this piece of shit. Did everyone understand me!?” She does not tolerate people touching what belongs to her.

Mafia boss Wanda who...tells you to get on all fours and crawl to her feet so that she rests the stiletto heel on your shoulder leaving a mark of the sole on your shirt and orders you to use your mouth. Finally, you obediently kiss her legs until you reach the top of her black stockings, smelling her arousal through her matching black underwear. Looking up with your puppy dog ​​eyes, you get a nod from her and run your tongue over her clothed pussy, tasting her.

Mafia boss Wanda who...also does not neglect knives and always keeps a couple with her, for example, for murder or a little game with you. Perhaps she will leave a few scratches on your thighs while she eats you, perhaps the knife will painfully pass across your cheek and leave a deep scar as proof that she owns you. And when your tears gather in the corners of your eyes, she shows unusual tenderness and wipes them away with the pad of her thumb, whispering false words of reassurance.

[ryuzakemo128]

Omegaverse headcanons

CW: dark stuff mentioned.

In the same universe as my omegaverse parts

Pairing: Poly141 x female reader. With Nikolai included to a degree.

Omegaverse Parts: Part One + Part Two

One. You don’t get it when someone wears denim jeans into the desert. “What the fuck is this?” you asked, borderline annoyed. Your frustration showing this time, “Soap, march up there and get changed, you’ll sweat up a fucken storm. We’re going into a desert location, not fucken fashion week.” 

Two. You have a bath at eleven o’clock regardless of time zone or location. In hot weather it's a cold bath and in cold weather. It's a reasonably hot one. A creature of habit is what Price loved to call you. Even if you bit him on the hand once.

Three. You never miss a training session. Ever. If they thought they can get you to skip it? They’d be told, ‘I’m sleeping on the couch tonight’. And not, ‘You’re sleeping on the couch tonight' because what’s worse than a partner who only won’t sleep in the same bed as you. But also won’t fuck any of them during that night either.

Four. You hate when people don’t eat breakfast. It’s like not having ammo in your pocket before you go out on a mission. Sure, you might not need it, but if you do, you’re fucked. And no, a black coffee doesn’t count.

Five. You hate when people don’t clean up after themselves. You don’t live in a barracks anymore, you’ve got a penthouse in the city now, but that doesn’t mean you can throw your socks anywhere. You’ve got a basket, use it. And for fuck’s sake, don’t leave your gun on the coffee table.

Six. You have an ever-growing collection of knives, from bone knives to Damascus steel knives. They all have stories. They're all displayed neatly in a glass case in your penthouse. Price has made a habit of not asking where they came from. Fully aware of where the bone knives came from.

Seven. “No, Price, I don’t care. If Nikolai isn’t living here, you can’t fuck him here. End of story. Good night and go fuck yourself.” you reprimanded from the master bedroom ensuite. “In the grace of my good will, you may stay over his place and nothing more, nothing less.”

Price wasn’t terribly happy with that, but he knew you were right. If they wanted to mess around with someone who isn’t living there? They better do in their house, under their roof and in their domain. The only strict rule you enforced quite well. For a good reason too. Their nests were in here, and you didn’t want anyone else’s scent mingling with yours, except for those who lived there permanently. Plus, you liked your privacy.

Eight. Your back tattoo is still something Price and Ghost love staring at, “The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way: But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.”

The words etched into an archway, 'The gates of hell are open night and day; Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:’ and the words, ‘But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labour lies.’ is etched into the open gateway, gilded in gold and silver. As if thunder and lighting struck down onto the pavement leading into a ‘heaven’. 

If there even was one? You don’t know, and you don’t even want to pretend to know if there is one, too. You’ve seen enough shit to fill a library with horror books. Enough to know some questions just don’t have answers or have answers you don’t want to hear. 

Nine. You love lavender cigarettes over cigars, tobacco, chewing tobacco, normal cigarettes. Vaping was fine, but you liked the raw taste of the cigarette in your mouth, the way it burned down your throat and into your lungs. You'd sit on the balcony with the cool breeze, watching the city lights twinkle like distant stars, a cigarette dangling between your lips.

Herbal cigarettes and vapes were common for you, a way to keep the inner ‘beast’ in check without the use of sex, raw meat or a cage fight. Lavender is said to soothe the ‘savage beast’ according to your mother. But you liked to think of it as a way to keep the peace, to keep your mind from wandering to places you’d rather keep locked away.

Ten. You've got a thing for rain. It's like your inner wolf comes out, yearning for the wet fur and the smell of damp earth. You'd sit by the windowsill, letting the droplets kiss your skin, the smoke from your cigarette curling around your form. Sometimes, when the weather is just right, you'd go out onto the balcony and let it soak you.

Price eventually found you outside in the rain one afternoon on the balcony, vaping a strong lavender-scented electronic cigarette. You were wearing a black men’s shirt with a double-sided dragon graphic print on it. Draping over her, large enough to swim in by the looks of it. One of the men’s shirts she usually bought for herself. 

Eleven. You eventually showed the four of them around your walk-in closet, “Thrifted or bought impulsively.” you told them. “Take a good look.”

And Price has seen the large collection of men’s shirts, jackets, and hoodies you have. It was a walk-in closet with a collection of dark clothing far too big for you. But you loved how comfortable they felt on you. How the fabric hung off your shoulders like comforting armour.

Twelve. You wear men’s deodorant, which Soap finds to be rather amusing. “You know, darling, there’s stuff for females, too.” he teased one morning, holding up the stick deodorant he found in your drawer.

“But do they have any smelling like lavender & cinnamon or dark chocolate or leather & cookies or coconut & black pepper?” Soap looked at your Lynx body sprays which you usually put on after a shower. Which for the rest of them?

The large bottle of body wash in your shower is a mix of both types. The lynx Dark chocolate, the ‘golden temptation’, which is a molten chocolate blended with fresh citrus and smoky amber. Along with goat’s milk body wash, which is more for sensitive skin, sometimes even your scent can be overpowering to the alphas.

Thirteen. Cartoon movies like Anastasia, Care Bears, The Wild Thornberrys, Teenage Ninja Turtles, Rugrats, and SpongeBob were your guilty pleasure. You could spend hours watching them, even if you've seen them a hundred times before. You liked the simplicity of them, the way they made you feel like a kid again. You felt complete, perfect, right to watch them.

Fourteen. You cook with slow cookers a lot, Gaz saw you use four at once one afternoon when he came from his solo missions. Two for wagyu beef stew and two for salted caramel fudge. You were busy since four in the morning, and you were having a nap by seven in the morning as they slowly cooked. 

Fifteen. You have a pet wolf named 'Mona Lisa' because she smirks when she's being cheeky, and she's got a penchant for stealing socks. You found her as a pup when you were on a mission and smuggled her back home. Now she's got her own room in the penthouse, filled with plush toys and a giant dog bed that she rarely sleeps in, preferring the floor beside yours.

Price came face to face with the wolf pup, Mona Lisa, a northwestern wolf with deep piercing copper eyes, staring at him intently. He'd never seen such a creature so close, especially not in the penthouse. “I take it she's yours?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“As much as she wants to be.” you replied.

Price leaned down, looking into her eyes, “What does that mean?”

“I don't own her, just as much she doesn't own me.” You said, stroking her fur gently. “We're just roommates who share a very complicated relationship. She's got free rein of the place, does whatever she wants, and I don't question it.” You couldn't help the fond smile that played on your lips as Mona Lisa leaned into your touch, her tail thumping against the floorboards. “And much like other wolves of her species, she is territorial and defends her territory against intruders.”

Price chuckled, “So she's the unofficial security system, huh?”

“More like a bodyguard, but that works too.”

Price laughed, his eyes lighting up as he watched you with Mona Lisa. It was a strange dynamic, but it worked. The wolf had taken a liking to you from the moment she was brought into the penthouse. And she was as protective of you as any of the guys were, maybe more.

Sixteen. You were not an alpha, you were certainly were no quivering omega, and you are not even a fucking beta. What in the name of a metaphorical god are you? With no conclusive, definitive answers to who or what you are. You were left to wander the expanse of earth. Alone. For a time before they came into the picture. You were harsher than the winds of the desert sandstorm, colder than the snowy Ural Mountains, and more elusive than a ghost in a haunted mansion.

You had no pack, no back-up, and with absolute certainty? No way of knowing what you are that made you seem so unapproachable by everyone around you. You didn’t know what made you monstrous to those who had trained you. Whatever it was? They refused to make a lick of sense over it. And before you know it, you were left to rot in the middle of nowhere. 

You have a heat cycle which is both intense at times and “Her scent is sweet, tooth rotting levels of sweet, think candy bars and cotton candy. There’s some spice to it, like cinnamon or pumpkin spice in those pumpkin spice lattes Gaz likes to have every Halloween.”

Though there are times when you were in heat, and you barely noticed. Either it was very faint or you were too distracted to particularly pay extra attention. 

Your heat is either in intense or faint, it was always a coin flip between the two. Perhaps this is another reason why you don’t fall into any of the three categories of Alpha, Beta, or Omega. 

Price caught you looking up quizzes like ‘What wolf are you?’,  ‘Are you a true loner?’,  ‘Are you an Alpha, Beta, or Omega?’ and ‘Where are you on the omegaverse hierarchy?’ 

You were still fighting the military to get them to give you your medical results, it was an uphill battle with no mountain to fall onto. 

You threw your hands up, exasperated, “Why is it so hard for them to just hand me my own fucking medical records?” You sighed, slumping into the chair at the dining table.

Price shrugged, sitting across from you, “Maybe they think you’re a danger to yourself and others if you find out what you are. Or maybe they just lost it.”

“Their minds or the records?”  You quipped, eating a slice of apple from the fruit salad you made for breakfast. 

Price chuckled, taking a seat beside you, his gaze lingering on your flushed cheeks, “Could be both, knowing how the military loves to keep its secrets.”

“Like a whore who keep all tips for herself,” Soap grinned, sauntering into the kitchen. He had always had a knack for making everything sound like a double entendre.

“Or CEO of a billion-dollar company who refuses to pay it employees livable wages.” you quipped.

Seventeen. You were meticulous in your guns, specific about certain things like the cleanliness of your rifles, handguns and organising them by type, calibre, use, and then by the date of purchase. 

The ammunition is given the same treatment, even if there was back-up stored away somewhere. They were neatly organised too.

You had a knack for knowing where everything was without looking. It was like a sixth sense. You could be in the middle of a conversation and point to the exact spot where a gun was kept. It was unnerving at first especially your memorisation process is basically staring, touching and then memorising the layout. You had a way with the weapons that was almost sensual, a dance of precision and power.

Even the gun oils you used were separated, one for rifles, one for handguns, one for magnums and another for pistols. You had a scent to each of them, and you knew the smell of each like the back of your hand. It was almost a comforting scent, one that filled the air when you were in the penthouse armoury. It smelled like home, like the smell of your mother's kitchen when she was cooking up a storm.

Dividers Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics

[jcollinswrites]

In my mind all MCs go to the mission and become close in a like found family way. I just feel like all four of them have what each other needs and would understand each other (or at least how I play my mcs lol)

That's a sweet thought! 🥰 I think they would all get along after a while if they knew each other properly. Something like...

Thief mc: "My friend, I'll teach you how to play with knives." *proceeds to do a trick with a pocket knife.*

Noble mc watches in fascination, tries to do the same, stabs themself, screams, everyone screams, the whole place is on fire.

Captain mc watches in silence, mortified. They can feel their last drop of willpower leaving their body. Priest mc is gently patting their shoulder.

Haha thanks for the ask 😘

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 30, Epilogue - Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mild sexy stuff (Just some very light hand business. Very light.)

Word Count: 1.1k

Previously On...: You moved out of the Tower :(

A/N: This is it! The last part! You guys. I can't even. It's been a magical journey, and I'm so honored that I got to take it with all of you. I'm scheduling this post on Thursday in my office, and I'm fucking crying, because you've made this more than anything I could have ever hoped for. I love each and every one of you, so fucking much. Thank you for coming on this adventure with me. Thank you for loving Pocket. Thank you for sticking with Bucky and not throwing knives at him and his stupidity. Just, fucking THANK YOU. You are all amazing, beautiful people, and I could not have done this without you. Thirty Chapters, One Hundred Fifty Five Thousand, Four Hundred and Fourteen Words, and more to come. Bucky and Pocket's journey is not over! POOKIE LOVES YOU SO MUCH.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

Tumblr will not let me directly tag the following: @marcswife21 @erelierraceala @jupiter-107 @doublejeon @hiqhkey @unaxv @brookeleclerc

Not even twenty minutes later– it was actually almost pathetic how close your new place was to the Tower, really– you were opening up the door of your brand new penthouse apartment. It was more extravagant than any other place you’d ever laid your head, and when Tony’s realtor had first shown it to you, you’d balked at the opulence of it. But Tony reminded you that you’d been shot, after all, and had almost died once, then actually died, all in the span of a few days, and after that, on top of everything else you had already endured in your life, wasn’t it time you treated yourself to something good? Besides, it wasn’t like you couldn’t afford it. So, here you were.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called out softly to the enormous, empty space. It would still be some time before the movers finished loading up and delivering everything from the Tower, and then you were going to have a lot of furniture shopping to do. Toeing off your shoes, you padded your way across the apartment to the terrace. Opening the glass doors, you stepped outside. You walked to the edge and rested your elbows against the railing. Taking a deep breath, you admired the view of the city before you, the Tower just a block away. Looking across, you could easily make out Tony and Pepper’s apartment. Waving at breakfast, indeed.

You felt a pair of strong arms slink around your midsection, tugging you into a broad, warm chest. “Thought I heard you come in,” Bucky said, nuzzling his head into the crook of your shoulder. 

“Hey, baby,” you smiled, reaching back to caress his face with your hand. You turned in his arms so you were facing him. “I missed you.”

 Bucky laughed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. “I only left the Tower two hours ago,” he said. “But I missed you, too.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and stood on your tiptoes to kiss him, pouring every ounce of love and affection you felt for him into the motion. “I can’t believe we finally did it,” you grinned.

“Took us long enough,” he mused back, but then turned thoughtful. “Probably would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn’t–”

You brought a finger to his lips, silencing him. “Stop. We agreed not to talk about that, remember? Dr. Whitmore said we can’t move forward if we keep hashing out the past, and I just want to move forward, with you.”

“Sorry,” he murmured, but you just smiled and kissed him again.

After you’d been released from the hospital, you and Bucky had had a long, emotional discussion about the future of your relationship. The only way you’d ever stand a real chance, you’d both decided, was if you committed to couples’ counseling and complete and total honesty. Bucky knew he didn’t deserve yet another chance from you, and you probably wouldn’t have given him one if you hadn’t loved him so fucking much. But you’d actually died, and you couldn’t stand the idea of wasting any more time without him. Now, after nearly a year of doing the work, both on your relationship and yourselves, you felt your connection was stronger than ever. And besides, when it really mattered, Bucky had proven, in the most definitive way, that he would pick you over Jade Carthage.

“So…,” you said once the kiss had been broken and you began playing with the hem of his shirt.

“So, what?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow at him suggestively. His eyes widened as he caught your meaning. “What? Here? Right now?!”

You tilted your head and looked up at him with the most innocent expression you could muster, given how completely un-innocent your current thoughts were. “Yeah, right here, right now. Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough, baby?” You trailed a hand down the center of his chest and his breath hitched. “Almost a full year, spent using my fingers, pretending they were you, never feeling full enough? Never getting off as good as I got off with you? It’s been so long since I felt you inside of me, Buck. So long, it fucking hurts.”

When you had decided to give your relationship a real reset, one of the rules you had established, with the advice of Dr. Whitmore, was no sex. You needed to establish emotional intimacy and boundaries once again, without the complications a sexual relationship would bring. She had even suggested you both try to date other people, to ensure that this was the relationship you both truly wanted, but neither one of you could bring yourselves to do it. And now, here you were, almost a full year since the last time you’d been together, and you were desperate. 

Bucky groaned at your words and you knew he was this close to giving in to you.

“Come on, baby,” you purred, reaching down and slowly unbuckling his belt. “Don’t you want me? Don’t you want to be inside of me?” You slowly began nibbling at his jaw, tasting the salty sweetness of his skin and letting it flood your senses.

“Always want you, Pocket,” he growled, tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you flush against his hips. You let out a low moan when you felt the evidence of his arousal press into your stomach through his jeans. 

“Then have me, Barnes,” you whispered, carding your hands through his hair. “Have me on this balcony, have me on every fucking surface of this apartment, as many times as you want.”

Any remaining sense of resolve Bucky may have possessed snapped, and he was on you, sucking on the skin of your neck as he rutted his hips against you, and it felt so. fucking. good. to feel him like that again. His hand dipped into the waistband of your pants, where he found you wet and eager for him. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he growled into your skin as his fingers slipped through your slick folds to toy with your clit. “All this for me?”

You groaned as you felt one finger gently breach your entrance. “Only you, love,” you moaned. “Only ever you.”

You both froze when you heard the sound of the elevator ding, and Bucky quickly withdrew his hand, popping his finger into his mouth to suck away the evidence of his actions. Grunting in frustration, you looked around him to see the elevator doors open and the movers begin to unload dollies of boxes from the Tower into your new apartment.

“Fuck,” you whispered. “So much for reunion sex. I swear, I’ve got blue balls, Barnes”

Bucky grinned at you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss before redoing his belt and heading over to help the movers. “This’ll only take a little while, doll,” he winked at you. “We’ve got the rest of our lives together to make up for lost time.”

<- Previous Part / The End

[chocsra]

"Take the Gun and my Heart, okay?"

15! Chuuya x implied fem! reader

A/N: im back again 😜😜 please send more requests and ideas! i wanna try writing angst for my next fics

content: you're the port mafia's best markswoman/sniper & chuuya goes to you to learn ur ways, oneshot, fluff, pre-relationship, mafia work 😱, guns, coworkers? to lovers, rich chuuya era, could be gn! reader bc there are no descriptions but used she/her prns 😭

thank you sm @soleelia for the idea!

Sometimes, regular days of being in the mafia felt boring.

Most of your life was inhabited by the four same walls of the mafia's firing range, your body was free of bruises besides the callouses on your fingers from the amount of steel pressing against your palms; it almost felt like your hands grew with a silver pistol rested upon them as if royalty was granted with a crown.

When you were younger, a tall pale man with the name of Paul Verlaine taught you all the ways of a markswoman he could.

Your work consisted of staying in the firing range, assisting criminals in their weaponry choices, dealing guns; and the off chance you could go on missions.

But when you did, shit was amazing.

"Nice one, [Y/N]." A boyish voice rang through the single earpiece of your left ear, repositioning yourself planted on the ground of one of the Port Mafia's rooftops; your index finger positioned off the trigger, taking your face off of the scope. "The pleasure's all mine." You thank teasingly; even if your 'partner' was kilometers away from you, you could almost taste the cruel smirk on his face from the other side; plotting a decimation not even a mafioso with 30 years of experience could pull off.

Dazai Osamu, the youngest mafia executive in history.

He was the craziest fuck you've ever met, but you did partake in his affairs with murder and crime; just from afar. Word says he got himself a new partner on the battlefield; a boy a year older than you, he was the supposed King of The Sheep, but his mentality and brutal force screamed nothing more than that of a wolf.

"Careful, pipsqueak - backup has already been granted." the lanky boy with bandages covered all around the midst of his tainted body said with boredom sinking in his voice; blood dribbled down his forehead, emerging in the facial bandages covering his right eye. Men with firearms and knives surrounded the two teenage boys; more than ready to shoot the children under the guise of their boss.

The ginger next to him barely turned his head in Dazai's direction, his tongue swiped behind his bottom teeth in irritation; though owning a petite stature, the King of The Sheep was more than confident that all these men, despite their bodies, would fall to their knees under the crushing pressure of gravity. "I don't give a damn about your shitty backup, I didn't join the Port Mafia to be protected." the redhead smiled cheekily, a red aura glowing from his body as his right leg lifted in the air - about to throw a powerful repeating hook kick.

Bang.

Several collisions shot through the air, Chuuya was sure it was the force of his ass-kicking skills; Dazai would have flipped a coin to see if it was you or the midget who landed a shot.

The redhead launched in the air, he twisted his leg just so that his shin hit the man's forehead. However, upon doing so - blood spluttered out of the man's head, falling harshly to the ground. The small boy landed successfully on the ground, shoving his hands in his pockets with a proud smirk. Until Dazai gently pressed on his earpiece to enable the microphone. "Again, thank you, [Y/N]," he says with a sigh, watching as Chuuya's face contorts in confusion. Spinning around on his heels, the man died not by his kick; but by a metal bullet pierced through the middle of his skull; along with all the other men perfectly striked in the forehead with the small bullets.

"What?" the ginger mafioso asked with surprise, "Who the hell did that?" he sharply turned to the bandaged brunette with annoyance laced in his voice. "[Y/N], you haven't heard of her?" Dazai asks boredly, striding over to the fallen man who was their leader. "No? Dude, where'd that even come from?" Chuuya spins his head in several directions, trying to find the source of the bullets. "Up your ass." the lanky boy teased, bending down to ransack the man's clothing.

"Shut up! Guns are a good for nothin' weapon anyway! Like hell we need them!!"

"Huh? I thought you didn't like guns."

You stood across from Chuuya in the stained room of the firing range, it's length was more than long, with rather narrow walls. Bales of hay were stacked at the end of the room, protecting the wall from bullets and missed shots. From the small distance of the door creaking open, laid the only walking point of the room; as the rest were hidden by pillars that seperated individual's gunfire; and nobody wished to get shot.

The teenager ruffles his hair, almost loathing in the awkward silence of the room; even with noice cancelling headphones on. He was wearing casual clothing, usual black sweatpants and some sort of red biker jacket; accompanied by a swift movement of his orange hair, tangling between his fingers.

"About that- 'kinda feel left out, ya mind teaching me?"

"You don't know how to use a gun?"

A more awkward silence entered the room as you stare at him in disbelief, the ginger's face remained somewhat sheepish; but by his piercing azure eyes, he was irritated by something, pretty obvious. "Nah," Chuuya replies, gently pushing his hands in his pockets, walking up to you. "was never a fan of guns - ain't bullets shoot better with your hands?" the boy smirked cheekily, causing you to scoff and take off your headphones. "You're talkin' like I can manipulate gravity." you reply dryly with a creeping smile, finishing to sweep the lose bullets on the floor.

"Exactly, that's why I'm apart of the mafia." the redhead boasted defensively, rolling his tongue across his inner cheek. "I think you're the only mafioso who doesn't know how to shoot." you reply with almost a whisper, his sharp glare at you made you question your lifespan. "I've dealt with swords thanks to Kouyou, I've gone to daggers and knives for the look and practicality - so lemme ask ya this, [Y/N], why would I ever turn to guns?" you heaved a sigh at his smartass answers, sometimes you hated his stupid delusions that he always had to be right.

"Well you're here now, so technically you are turning to guns." you swipe a sleek pistol off a metal table, discharging the magazine to see if any bullets were left. "Tsk," Chuuya crossed his arms in annoyance, "You're putting words and my mouth." he scoffed, causing little bits of laughter to escape your lips. "Just shut up and listen."

"Chuuya- you can't shoot a gun with one hand." you scold in annoyance, gently taking the same pistol out of the boy's gloved hands. "Why the hell not? I see it all the time." he brushes off some dirt off his jacket, blue eyes gazing at the addition of bullets in the chamber. "You watch too many movies," you mutter in concentration, redjusting the safety junctures. "a pistol's recoil wouldn't allow you to shoot it properly, and you'd miss like, 90% of the time as a beginner." you grin mockingly, causing Chuuya to smirk in irritation.

"But Dazai does it all the time."

"I don't know- Dazai's fuckin' crazy."

"You have a point."

You laugh as you placed the gun in his hands, "Always treat a gun like it's loaded, even if we're mafia." you said softly, the ginger nodded, readjusting his position into some kind of sharp-shooter. "Got it," he rasps, pointing the silver tip of the pistol towards the cardboard target. Your eyes scan his whole body and stance with predictability, he was standing like he was holding in a shit. "C'mere," you proceed with a click of the tongue, cupping Chuuya's hands over the pistol.

The fabric of his gloves saved you from some embarrassment, but you couldn't help but feel the way his soft hair poked your face leaning over his right shoulder. "Your hand that's going to pull the trigger should only use 30% of force, all the other should be with the other hand, using 70% to support it." you inform in almost a whisper, applying pressure atop his right hand for a more firm grip, Chuuya's eyes glanced to yours with a slight pink tint on his cheeks before nodding. "Alright,"

"So, why'd you come to learn from me anyway?"

"'Cause I wanna learn from the best, yea?"

...

"What?"

"What? You don't like being complimented?"

Trying to readjust his grip on the firearm whilst his breath was fanning your face and neck was so damn distracting, you don't even think he knows how close or what he's doing; especially with his trademark smirk and alluring aura. Chuuya's always been a bastard, but he wasn't all bad when you had a civil conversation; actually, maybe you two had one too many civil conversations. "Okay, think I got it, ima shoot." he nods with confidence, you take a step back as the redhead takes a few moments to reposition his stance and well, learn how to shoot.

"There's two parts of a gun that allows you to shoot: 1. the front, 2. the rear, match those two up and it's like a puzzle." you inform, pointing to the junctures of the firearm before yet again taking a step back. "And don't forget double action, it holds more trigger pull than all other shots."

From all the talking you just did, there was only one thing on your mind; Chuuya. A conversation so little that felt so heavy, were you that touch starved? Nobody visited you in the range, only older men who were practicing their skills. Infact, Chuuya hates guns; he believes that it held no value over him in the mafia and a machine used by non-ability users and non-ability users only. And yet, he still learnt from you, he could've went to anyone else; he could've went to another person to watch him fail.

Too much of your previous conversations filled your head; wine, motorcycles, cigarettes, music.. maybe you did share one too many conversations, you hate the way someone so violent could you make you feel huma-

Bang.

For the first time in your life, with or without headphones; the sound of a bullet puncturing cardboard startled you, even just a little. Damn it, that ginger did a number on you. You tilt your head up to see if the bullet hit, indeed it did not. "Fuck," the redhead groans, causing you to snicker a little bit, attempting to stiffle it with your hand. "Man, shut up.." he scowls in irritation, a small smile creeping on his face. "C'mon, the chambers not finished, you can do it." you cheer the boy on, patting his back lightly, Chuuya only chuckles with a shake of the head before turning back to the target.

"You wanna know why I think you're the best?" the mafioso continues to shoot, gritting his teeth everytime the metal bullet pierced anything but cardboard. "Why?" you ask curiously, watching as he finishes the chamber, setting the firearm down at the decently shot target.

"Have dinner with me and find out."

He smirks confidently, watching as you stare at the ginger blankly. "You wanna shoot up a restaurant?" you cock a brow in confusion, taking off your headphones. "No- what?"

"What I mean is, let's go out and enjoy some good food tonight, 'kay?"

[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (ten)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, ten

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, kissing, angst, fluff, miscommunication, angst (again)

word count. 15,915

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. kim jungwoo, best friend mark lee, lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, lee donghyuck (haechan)

author's note. i deleted 5k of johnny/yn smut, because it felt gratuitous. (maybe i’ll release it as a bonus) so, there’s not smut in this, though it is suggestive. how are we feeling y’all?

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“Something happened.”

Haechan was across from you, relaxed in a way that felt like a taunt. You only looked at him, only shook your head, only focused back on your work - his work - and told him, “Nothing happened.”

There was a note in your pocket, tucked in your coat and resting against your leg, that implied otherwise. It burned and burned and singed the lining until you felt it on your skin. Three days had gone by, three days into what sometimes felt like spring, what lingered of winter. Three days of reading and rereading I miss you too and doing nothing about it. Your hand fell to your side, resting on top of Jaehyun’s note. It was simple enough to lie, to let Haechan and his novel and his not-so-new ending be a distraction. Haechan was not a simple person, “You’re really bad at lying.”

“And you’re bad at writing.”

“We both know that’s not true.” He smirked, he lowered his head and smirked, “If you’re going to insult me, make it believable.”

“Nothing happened.”

“Okay. Nothing happened.” You nodded, he nodded. The café around you was still for a moment, a quiet Wednesday mid morning. It was quiet enough to hear your pen scratching, the clink of dishes and knives and forks, the cogs in Haechan’s brain rotating with a screech before he said, “Close your eyes.”

“I’m not doing that.” You tapped the papers in front of him, “Pick your cover.”

“I’m not doing that.” He leaned closer, “Come on. Close your eyes for thirty seconds. Humor me.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to. Because you’re tense and it’s making me tense. I don’t want to be tense. So breathe, close your eyes and relax for a minute.” Haechan gave a smile, one he didn’t commit to but that you were sure was supposed to be reassuring. Then, he reminded you, “Like I said, mopey you hurts my book.”

You leaned back, shoulder blades sinking into the plush chair behind you. You could feel the shift of it, the weight of a piece of paper folded up three inches by four moving in your pocket and leaving heat behind as it did. Jaehyun, on paper, still leaving you burning. You clicked your tongue, then your pen, and relented, surrendered, closed your eyes to block out Haechan looking smug across from you.

Sighing, you said, “They’re closed.”

“Good. Relax.” More clattering, more clinking. Someone laughed, loud and boisterous, across the room. Haechan let out a breath and you, you kept your eyes closed. You let every sound go through you until it felt right to open your eyes to them, to identify and clarify them. Haechan was quick to stop you, “Not yet.”

“You said thirty seconds.”

“I lied. Keep them closed.” He grabbed something off the table; another sound, of it dragging against the marble, “How is Johnny?”

You smiled, you couldn’t help it. Eyes still shut, you just grinned, “He’s good.” You spent every moment you could with him, “He’s really good.”

You were so wrapped up in him. Haechan made a sound, followed by scratching, followed by another question, “When are you going to see him next?”

That morning, six hours ago, Johnny had kissed your lips, your forehead and pleaded, “Come see me at work.”

You’d told him, “I have a meeting.”

Johnny pouted, lips pushed out and plump from kissing you; from a morning of nothing else but kissing you. He’d spend every morning, every afternoon, every evening like that if you’d, “Just come see me when it’s done.”

“Okay.” With a nod and whisper and the rustling of your sheets, you agreed. With another kiss, a prolonged kiss, one last kiss, he left. So now, with your eyes closed in a café, you told Haechan, “Later. When I leave here.”

“Aw. Why didn’t you invite me?”

“Because I think you two would get along. Too well.” They were too much alike. There was a shift in Johnny, sometime in October. Somewhere between I think I like you and You’re a star, Johnny had morphed into a version of himself you never even considered before. Haechan was like Johnny before, Johnny as he was sometimes still. Johnny who loved to taunt and tease, “Two against one isn’t fair.”

“Oh, I have to meet him, now.” The noise in the café picked up, a crowd coming in and filling the space with new sounds. It felt ridiculous to be sitting with your eyes closed, “Do you miss him?”

“I saw him this morning.

“Doesn’t answer my question.”

You relaxed, then, into the memories of Johnny - Johnny this morning, Johnny last week, Johnny as he is now and how he was before. The same smile crept onto your face and you let it, gave into it, basked in it. It was impossible to fight, “Yeah.”

“Huh. I was wrong.”

“About what?”

Haechan scratched at something, scribbled something new and said, “You really love him.”

Your eyes opened, despite his scolding, “I…yeah, I think I do.” I think I like you echoed in your head. It didn’t feel so strange, only thinking about it. It was a step towards saying it to the one who needed to hear it. It was a step in admiring it. Thinking about it and saying it, out loud, to Haechan, “You didn’t think I did?”

“Not what I said.” He pointed at you with his pen - your pen - then tapped it against the pad of paper in his lap. You could see words scratched quickly, some resting on the line and others missing the mark. Lee Haechan, the café therapist, jotting down notes and asking you, “How is Mark?”

This was a pattern and you knew what came next, “Mark is fine. He’s finishing up school.” You knew who came next in this exact line of questioning. Johnny, Mark and the one setting fire to your skin, still. The one tucked away in your pocket. You warned, “Haechan-”

“How is Jaehyun?” Your face fell, Haechan watched it fumble and plummet, “Any word?”

Burning, burning, burning. Three days. Instinctively your hand rested on top of it, again, pressing the heat further into your skin. You hesitated, you knew that you did and you knew that Haechan did, too. Your eyes were wide open now and, after ten minutes of having them closed, you couldn’t hide what was written in them; pouring out of them. Haechan hummed again, chewed at the end of your pen and hummed.

There wasn’t any use in lying. You couldn’t think of a reason to try, “Yeah. A few days ago.”

“And?”

“He said he missed me.”

“After two weeks?”

You corrected him, “After two months.”

“Right.” It was Haechan’s turn to shift. He adjusted in his seat, pulling one leg up to cross over the other, “I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“What?”

“I think she was his first love, but I don’t think he was hers.”

“You’re too short to be talking in riddles. People will think you live under a bridge.”

“You have so much bite in you, lately. I kind of like it.” It read on his face, pure amusement when he went on, “I’m talking about the book. Sanghoon. I don’t think he was her first love.”

“Okay.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

Riddles and riddles, Haechan spoke with purpose but it hardly made sense. He wasn’t frustrated when he explained, but he was serious. Maybe stern, “Your first love. Do you think he was the first?”

“I…yes?” Reflecting on Sicheng had gotten easier with time, still you shifted in your own seat, “I loved him. A lot.”

“Right. But was he the first?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” He put his notepad down, placed it in front of your so you could read it clearly; nonsense words, lyrics to a Michael Jackson song, a sloppy drawing of a coffee mug. Nonsensical, as he ever was. He pointed to one of the covers, one of three on a sheet in front of him, “I like this one.”

📻

Your phone rang at 6:43am.

The first ring you didn’t notice, the second one sounded like a melody in your dream. The third time and the song was too familiar, too clear to be a dream, so by the fourth ring you came to. Back to reality, back to your room, blinking yourself awake through the fifth ring until the call was missed.

[1 Missed call from Jae]

The voicemail came a moment later, after you’d sat up, after your stomach dropped. After you’d picked up your phone and felt frozen in time. Your thumbs hovered over the screen, two hands wrapped around something so small - something locked in it that was so, so big. After six minutes, you let the message play.

“Hey. I…I’m - you’re probably sleeping. I just was…can we talk? If you still want space, that’s fine. But, I will, uh, I’m outside and I’ll wait a few minutes if you…if you decide. You - yeah, okay. Bye.”

Six minutes had passed. Six and another two, after you’d pressed play. Jaehyun sounded…you hadn’t heard his voice in two months and he sounded the same, familiar, like something you’d lost. He sounded like your Jaehyun. Your limbs untangled themselves from a mess of sheets, checking the time on your phone once - 6:52am - twice - 6:52am - three times - 6:53am.

Then you were standing at your window, looking down at familiarity; a black car, his black car, parked and running outside of your house. Your fingers moved on your screen again, typing out, 6:54am I’m coming down.

He was leaning against the passenger side door when you finally looked up, staring at you intently with his hands deep in his pockets. Jaehyun was holding his breath, watching every step you took and counting the seconds until you were directly in front of him. A reflection of the past, a replica of Halloween night, time looping and repeating itself.

But the chill was different, from October to March. In October, the cold meant something was ending; summer had come to an end, the sun needed more rest than usual. The breeze that bit your skin in October was a precursor, a preview, an introduction to months of wrapping yourself in something, desperate for warmth. You chose Johnny.

In March, though, the cold was fleeting; the sun started staying in the sky longer, letting its beams kiss the Earth in an attempt to revive it. In March, the cold wasn’t as harsh, it didn’t bite as hard, it was a transition into spring and the promise of warmer days. March, indecisive and unpredictable, was meant for hope. You stood on your front step, your coat pulled tightly around you until spring settled in. Jaehyun let out a breath and you watched it dance in the air, watched it disappear.

The sun was just now thinking of rising, preparing to start a new day and Jaehyun was just thinking of speaking, preparing everything he’d thought for the last two months. It would all rush out at once, if he wasn’t careful, if he didn’t move with intention. He cleared his throat, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Your own voice was strained, still tired, still dreaming. You took a step closer, “Hey.”

“Can I…” Jaehyun pointed to your steps, faltered and pointed over his own shoulder, “Or do you want to…?”

“Um, we can talk here.”

Jaehyun came to you, hesitant. Every step was agonizing until he was there, just in front of you, “I’m-”

Two months of time, two months of space, “Don’t say sorry. Please don’t say sorry.”

Jaehyun blinked, “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know.” You shook your head, you could do everything to fight them off, but you knew tears were coming. They lingered at the corners of your eyes, “Just not that. I’m so tired of it.”

“Me too.” He huffed out a quiet laugh, a rush of anxiety and uncertainty, “I-”

You hugged him. It was simple and it was instinctual, the way your arms wrapped around his neck, the way your face buried into his neck. Breathing him in, pushing away two months to stand on your porch and wait for him to hold you, too. Jaehyun did, simply and instinctually, arms around your waist as tight as they could be. It was silent for so long, never too long. It was comfortably silent and still, five days into March, waiting for the two of you to come back to life.

You stayed like that for ten minutes, letting the sun start rising around you. You stayed like that until your sniffles turned into tired laughs, laughs turned into more silence, shared silence.

The two of you were sitting on your porch when you finally asked, “How have you been?”

“Uh.” Jaehyun thought, honesty weighing on him, “Okay, I guess. Alright.”

“Yeah?” You chose to believe him, “That’s good.”

“You?”

“Good. Really…I mean, I’ve been good.” It was the truth, but you didn’t want to deny it, didn’t want to discount it, “I missed you, Jaehyun.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Mark played messenger.”

“Yeah. Poor kid.” Jaehyun knew he should ask, so he swallowed the lump in his throat before he did, “How is Johnny?”

It took you a moment to say, “He’s good, too.”

Then, Jaehyun gathered his thoughts, his intentions, and said, “I don’t really know…I didn’t think about how this would go. I almost left.”

“Hm.”

“I just wanted to know where we stand. I just wanted to see you. I know two months isn’t that long, but it-”

“It’s an eternity.” Jaehyun turned to you, eyes focused on every move you made, trying to find his way back inside your head, “Two months is too long. I know I said I wanted to take a break-”

“You had every right to.”

“But, I missed you so much.”

You wondered how many times you could say it; I miss you. Jaehyun did, too. I miss you felt like a substitute for I’m sorry. You didn’t know how to stop saying it, how to stop time from looping until you’d run I miss you into the ground. It felt like the only thing left to say, something to ease your way back after time and space and silence.

The sun had come up enough to turn the sky a lighter shade of blue, tickled with hues of orange and pink. Jaehyun’s phone sounded in his pocket, ringing until he pulled it out and checked the time, “I have to go.”

“Sure. Of course.”

He stood up, “Maybe, uh, maybe we can talk more later.”

“We can try.” You stood when he did, hands brushing off dirt at your sides, “I’ll call.”

Jaehyun nodded, “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Jae.”

“Bye.” He turned to leave, hands tucking back into his pockets as he moved down three steps. Jaehyun had made it halfway down your path, halfway to his car, when he stopped, “Can I ask something?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Anything.”

Jaehyun’s smile was shy, almost playful. He was teetering on the edge of asking or bailing, brushing everything off and leaving you to wonder. He was embarrassed in a way, nervous in another; feeling strange stopping to ask you, “Are we still best friends?”

You laughed, his heart beat faster until you said, “Of course.”

Jaehyun told you, “I’ll see you.”

And then he left.

You waited until you got inside to fall apart, allowing yourself a moment in the quiet of your house. You waited two months for something you started to end, allowing yourself to hope and wish and want for him. For something. You waited two weeks and pretended that everything was fine, as it should be. And in a blink, it was. In a blink, Jaehyun was at your door. In a blink the pieces of you that he’d taken came back, fell into their places like they’d never left.

Like he’d never taken them.

Like you’d never handed them to Jaehyun and pushed him out and out and out.

Your phone was on your bed when you’d crawled back up the stairs. It was instinct to pick it up, to call him and tell him everything you could. He answered on the second ring, “Good morning, beautiful.” Johnny’s voice was like heaven, a perfect sound to your tired mind, “You’re up early.”

“Yeah. Um, yeah.” You sat on the edge of your bed, “Jaehyun was just here.”

Johnny said, under a breath, “Oh.”

“He called and asked if we…if we could talk.”

“Did you guys talk, then?”

“Yes.”

Johnny wanted to be supportive. He was supportive. He knew how the past two months had gone, he knew the way your lips twitched when you told him things were fine, you were fine, everything was fine. Johnny knew how much you’d missed Jaehyun. And, even if he could still hear Yuta and Taeyong in the back of his mind, Johnny pushed it away. If it made you happy, he’d swallow suspicion he wasn’t keen to have and Johnny would ask, “How’d it go?”

“I think well.” You let out a long breath, falling back and sinking into your waiting sheets, “I think it went well.”

And Johnny smiled, knowing you couldn’t see him. He smiled and hoped that it read as relief, that you could hear it in his voice when he told you, “That’s so good, baby. That’s great.”

📻

Johnny kissed your cheeks, your neck, just behind your ear. His lips found unmarked skin and littered it with affection, adoration. The morning had come in slowly, so he was taking all the time he had with you, letting the sun fill his bedroom with light at whatever pace it pleased. You were beside him, beside yourself with that feeling you’d placed but hadn’t said - not to him. His apartment had turned into a habitat for all the butterflies he’d conjured, all the fluttering feelings Johnny inspired.

His fingers pulled at your shirt - at his shirt - where it rested, bunched up, at your waist. Johnny suggested, “Stay here with me. All day.”

“Hm.”

“Hm what?” He kissed down your neck, again, “Do you have plans?”

“I do.”

“Oh yeah?” Johnny pulled back, “What are they?”

Your eyes sparkled, twinkled, filled with light and fueled by mischief when you said, “Whatever we’re doing right now.”

“Oh, so you’re funny now-”

“I always have been-”

“You’re funny and you have jokes.” It was vicious the way his hands dug into your sides, how his fingers tickled at you until you were desperate to be out from underneath him. But you giggled and giggled until you erupted into laughter and Johnny drank in every sound you made, a broad grin ever-present on his face. His lips went back to kissing, his teeth went back to nipping and Johnny was lost in a mess of bliss, “What am I gonna do with you?”

“Kiss me?”

“Been doing that.”

The sun was coming up behind him, his bedroom slowly filled with light. You looked up at him, eyes still sparkling, and brought his fingertips to your lips, “Not here.”

“You want me to kiss you,” Johnny came closer to hover over you, one finger tracing the outline of your lips, “Here?”

“Please.”

And he did. It was slow, just as the morning had started off, then all at once it was so much more. His room was covered in sunlight and you were covered with him. Johnny had you hypnotized, had such a hold on you that you might fall without him. He’d rather you fall with him, Johnny would rather you stay just like this and fall into sync with his heart, his mind.

He thought to say it, again. For him, it had almost been a year and he was bursting with words still unsaid, still patiently waiting for the right time. He knew you felt it, he could just say it and the world would keep spinning; it might spin faster, more smoothly, with purpose. Johnny put everything he had into kissing you, quiet moans and even softer sighs falling into you.

He settled on confessing, “Today isn’t long enough. Need you like this always.”

“You have me.”

“What else should I do with you?”

He knew the answer. Johnny felt the heat coming off your body, heard the way you gasped when his fingers grazed your skin. His mind was reeling, his hands were roaming, doing everything he could to hear you call for him, “Want you.”

“Right here, baby?” His hand pulled at the back of your thigh, draping your leg over his hip and grinding down into you. The sound you made had Johnny gasping for air, pressing breathless kisses into your collarbone, “Louder.”

“Johnny, I-” The way he was positioned, the way the sun decided to rise, had Johnny haloed in a perfect ring of light. It was blinding, looking at him directly, but you couldn’t look away. He was drenched in the light of a new day and - even if the sun was in the room with you, even if it burned everything around you - you didn’t look away. It would be worth it, just to see the light in his hair, in his eyes, the way it burned inside him.

Johnny kissed you, lips hungry for you and thought to say it, again. It was almost every thought he had in his mind, looking at you underneath him. The sun was kind, the way it kissed your skin. Johnny envied it, knowing the rays were covering his own marks, warming you in ways he just couldn’t. The words were so close to coming out when he whispered your name, called you, “Baby, I-”

You said it, “I love you.”

And, like his lips opened into an echo chamber, Johnny said it back, “I love you.” He took a moment, let the words settle, let his heart beat race before he repeated it, again, “Oh my God. I love you.”

It felt like a shock to your system, sending you into overdrive, “I really…Johnny, I love you.”

“My Juliet. Holy shit.” Again, your name fell from his lips, “I love you.”

Your heart burst, the words kept spilling from your lips and his; like a melody, like a canon. If Johnny said it, you did too. If you kissed him and whispered it, he did the same. It was impossible to stop. Johnny grabbed your hand, put it over his heart so you could feel how it beat; just for you, only for you. Every time you kissed him it beat a little faster, when you called his name you could feel it skip.

“That night.” He stuttered, his hips rolled against yours, “The night you saw your star, I wanted - God - I wanted to take things slow.”

You nodded, “I know.”

“I wanted to say it and I couldn’t, it felt too soon.” He was panting above you, trying to explain something you understood. But, for Johnny, leaving something unsaid was like torture, so he explained and he confessed and he waited for the moment to be right be vulnerable say, “I wanted to make love to you.”

It sounded so silly, so Johnny laughed. Admitting something so simple felt ridiculous, but it was a weight off his chest, all the same. You held his heart, held his face with your other hand. Johnny wouldn’t look anywhere but into your eyes, “Will you do that now?”

“I would love to.”

📻

It was quick, the way it happened. How things fell back into place.

Jaehyun called. He told you about his day while the world was quieting down, you’d sit and listen and respond as you should. His voice was a comfort, his voice was like home. Hearing Jaehyun speak - even if it was about something you’d never understand, mergers and deals and meetings you’d never be part of - you would listen. You’d take every moment, hang on every word, press your phone to your ear until it was too hot. Then, you’d put him on speaker and listen to Jaehyun speak; like an old song, a nostalgic song, a song you’d always know.

You would text Jaehyun; send him pictures and paragraphs, links and clips and quips just to remind him that there was still a place for him with you. There was always a space for Jaehyun in your life. You’d ask him to come over, stop by the loft and Jaehyun knew you’d end the night with Johnny, that you were always thinking of him, tiptoeing around mentioning him; Jaehyun’s best friend Johnny. But, he was content to have the time he did with you. If it was fleeting, if it was borrowed. Any time he could have, at all.

“You wanna grab food?” You had called this time, phone cool against your face. Jaehyun had picked up on the third ring, “I’m meeting Johnny at nine.”

He agreed to it, “Yeah, I can make that work.”

It had taken one week for you to fall back into pace with him, fall back into the routine of starting and ending your days with Johnny, making time for Jaehyun in the middle, “Should I invite Mark?”

“You can.” He added, “That would be great.”

The three of you sat around a small table, plates of food taking up every corner. Jaehyun next to Mark next to you next to Jaehyun. It was too early for dinner, much too late for lunch, but it was quiet and it was comfortable. Jaehyun relaxed into it, dipped his toes into the routine of three again, knowing four was coming next. Knowing that avoiding the fourth would only work for so long. Who do you think is hurting her?

He’d circled back to that for two months, wearing out a hole in his bedroom floor from the laps he’d done. Jaehyun would sit and he would dwell and he would wish on every star he saw; for courage or something close enough to it. Close enough to what he needed to make his way back to you. His cowardice ate at him until his birthday, until he saw you on his doorstep and sat frozen in his office; just past the door, just down the hall.

And still he did nothing, not even when he was prompted. Nothing that was significant enough, not for two weeks.

He didn’t think he could stomach it. But what you’d said had been so simple and he could mimic that. Jaehyun could do simple; complexities could destroy him.

Mark grinned around a bite of food, puffing out his cheeks to make room for a mumble, “This is so good.”

“The noodles?”

“Yes.” He nodded, he flipped his hat backward on his head, then Mark went on, “But us being back together. It’s really good.”

Jaehyun agreed, reaching across the table to wrap noodles around his fork, “Yeah. It is.”

Then Mark asked, “Does Johnny know?”

And like the winter had come back, like ice was waiting for a moment to freeze him over, Jaehyun stopped. He looked at you, out of the corner of his eye, and waited, waited, waited for you to move. For you to say something.

You didn’t falter, smiling at Mark and taking another bite, “Yeah, he knows.” Jaehyun didn't know that, a week and a half in and maybe he should’ve assumed, “He was going to try and meet us here.”

Jaehyun picked at his plate, Jaehyun attempted simplicity and nonchalance, “When did you tell him?”

“As soon as you left.” Eyes set on Jaehyun, you swallowed another bite, coughing when it got stuck on your pride. Haechan was right, there was some bite still in you and your teeth were barred when you added, “We don’t keep stuff from each other.”

It was like a cue; you spoke, the doorbell chimes, Johnny walked in. Jaehyun saw him first, Johnny coming around the corner and into view. He watched every step, how Johnny only looked at you until you could see him - tunnel vision for you, eyes only for you. Johnny grinned and said, “Hi babe.”

So, you turned, “Hey, Romeo.”

And Jaehyun swallowed, waiting to be addressed. Johnny clapped a hand on Mark’s back, smiled down at him, then he finally acknowledged Jaehyun. He came around the table with his hand out, Jaehyun got to his feet and accepted it; when Johnny pulled him in, when Johnny held his face, when Johnny pushed Yuta and Taeyong out of his head and said, “It’s good to see you, man.”

“Yeah.” It was. In some ways. It was terrifying and it was good, “You too, John.”

It was quick, the way it happened. How you all ended up back in the loft.

Johnny and you, Mark and Jaehyun. It was Mark’s suggestion, it was by Mark’s urging. It was Mark crying about his midterms in the middle of the night, on the phone with you, on the phone with Johnny, on the phone with Jaehyun.

“Who is getting snacks?”

Mark volunteered, “I will! I dragged you all here.”

“You didn't drag us anywhere, Mark. We want to be here.”

Jaehyun asked, “Who is going with?”

“Baby?” Jaehyun still wasn’t used to hearing Johnny call you that, even your name sounded new when he said it, “I’ll buy you ramen if you go.”

“Not a good enough deal, babe.” It rattled him more, coming from you, “Haechan made me go to a spin class.”

Mark was leaning against Johnny, elbow extended beyond his own height to reach Johnny’s shoulder, “That’s your author, right?”

“Yes.”

“Is that normal?”

Johnny answered for you, “It’s not. But, from what I’ve heard, neither is he. But, I’ve been on my feet all day.”

You challenged, “You sat on FaceTime with me in your office for three hours. Try again.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” Johnny stepped away from Mark, pulling you into him and picking you up. The two of you spun, the two of you laughed and Jaehyun still tried to adjust to the two of you. Johnny put you down, put a kiss to your lips, “Fine. Come on, Mark.”

It was quick, the way Johnny noticed it. How Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you.

He tried not to notice, he tried to brush it off as paranoia; Johnny wanted to blame Yuta and Taeyong and two months of time between you and Jaehyun. It was increasingly difficult to do. Things that Johnny had written off as normal - before New Years, before Christmas, before Halloween - not settled underneath his skin, made him itch. Jaehyun with his eyes on you, only on you. Jaehyun with a dimpled smile whenever you spoke. Jaehyun holding onto every word you said, leaning closer and closer until Johnny felt like he could scream. He couldn’t tell the difference between the exaggerations of a paranoid mind and reality.

Johnny was losing his hold on reality, when it came to Jaehyun and you. It had always been territory he hadn’t touched; if Johnny started picking at layers now, he’d be digging for an eternity. But the way Jaehyun was with you the first night you’d all had dinner made Johnny weary. The way Jaehyun said goodbye when Johnny picked you up - taking you a way to spend another night with him, a night of whispered I love you’s with him - made Johnny nervous.

And the way Jaehyun looked at you, when Mark and Johnny made their way out of the loft, made him suspicious in a concrete way, in a way that urged him to turn to Mark and ask, “What do you think?”

A question halfway through a thought, so Mark was right to be confused, “What? What do I think about what?”

Mid-March was warmer, warning still, but the nights were still cold. Johnny excused his shiver with a breeze when he elaborated, “About them?”

“I’m glad they’re talking again.” Mark mulled over his thoughts, Johnny could see him come to a conclusion, “I didn’t think they would, for a while.”

“Right. Yeah.” Johnny kicked at a pebble, a piece of uprooted asphalt, “I think it would take more than that, don’t you?”

“Probably.”

Johnny was cautious because Mark was right; it was good to have all of you together, again. Johnny would be elated if it weren’t for Yuta and Taeyong and he’s in love with her. He knew it was out of place to ask, he knew that he might raise more questions. But, Johnny wanted to know, “Do you think there’s anything, I don’t know, weird between them?”

Mark ran through his catalogued thoughts, scanned through his memories with careful precision. You and Jaehyun were the same as you’d always been, the only way Mark had ever known you to be. The only thing that was different was you and Johnny; Johnny loving you loudly and you loving him back. So, Mark shook his head, denied it and joked, “Nah. He’s always been weird about her, though. I think things will be okay.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“And! Now we can plan the camping trip.”

It was quick, the way your conversation shifted. How Jaehyun stood next to you and watched Mark and Johnny take off down the street.

You’d done it so many times, stood in the exact spot you were with Jaehyun next to you, watching Johnny and Mark run past your house and into the night. So it would never feel out of place, it felt like home. Jaehyun brought you a drink, the ice tapping against the glass. His fingers brushed over yours when he handed it over and you both pulled back, pulled away, pulled apart.

You glanced at him, noticing all the ways he’d changed in two months; his hair was shorter, it looked darker but you wouldn’t be sure. He seemed taller, but you blamed that on optimism - looking up at Jaehyun, looking towards the way things would change. Hoping they would settle into something closer to normal, as soon as possible.

The two of you sat down once they were out of view; looking up, now. Counting and memorizing the stars. Jaehyun told you about his day and you listened. You told Jaehyun about Haechan and his book, his changed ending, how he’d seeped into your life. Haechan had crossed the line between client and friend in the last two months. You didn’t mind at all. He asked about Johnny, so you answered. He tried to be okay with it, tried to be supportive. Jaehyun saw the way you lit up talking about Johnny, even more when you were around him.

So, what Jaehyun said next made sense.

It wasn’t a question, it was a declaration, a realization that tore at him. One that he didn’t want you to confirm; Jaehyun could see it, “You love him.”

You kept your eyes on the stars for a moment longer; on your star, where it should be, where Johnny put you in the sky. Then, you looked at Jaehyun and confessed, agreed, confirmed, “I do.”

There was a pull in your chest, just next to your heart. A fallen piece of you, one Jaehyun had a hold of, had missed its mark. It hadn’t found its place, it hadn’t settled, it was restless.

“That’s good.” He had worked so hard not to lie anymore. It was good, it really was good. You loved Johnny, he was sure Johnny loved you back, “He loves you, too.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of crazy.” You asked him, “Do you know how that feels?”

Jaehyun wanted to beg for the world to end, for the conversation to taper off without him having to answer. He looked down at his hands, at the glass he’d held onto. He counted the melting ice cubes, saw the stars reflecting in his whiskey, and Jaehyun did all he could to say anything other than: God, I wish. That he wished it was you and him, that he always would. It was too much a part of him for Jaehyun to stop.

He looked up at you, finally faced you again and, like he would live vicariously through it, love vicariously, asked you, “Describe it.”

“I think-”

The door opened behind you, “Hey babe?”

You lit up, brighter than the clearest night, shooting across the room like a star, “What’s up?”

“Come help with the bags?”

It was agonizing, the way Jaehyun watched. How time moved in slow motion, when he saw you with Johnny. It was like you had dug your nails into the very fabric of time and held onto it for dear life, pulling everything to a halt. It felt intentional, like you were making sure he saw every glance, every touch, every kiss between the two of you. Every kiss. The way your lips curled into a smile whenever they met Johnny’s; at the thought of him, the sound of him, at the sight.

He was left in your wake, standing with his drink in hand and watching you in slow motion with Johnny.

Mark came in with bottles clinking in his arms, “Johnny said the camping trip is a go.”

📻

Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

“I thought you knew.” Yuta’s reasoning changes every time Johnny asked, “I thought it was obvious.”

If Johnny had been looking for it before, it might have been, “It wasn’t.”

“To you.” He could tell he was exhausting the subject, he was exhausted on his end. Johnny had locked himself in his office, filling the space with every doubt he had until it became too crowded - much like his mind. He called Yuta, then, “And to her.”

“You don’t think she knows?”

It was a relief. A sickening, nauseating relief to Johnny. It could all crash down when Yuta said, “I can’t answer that.”

It was days later, when Jungwoo stopped by the cafe and Johnny hadn’t seen you since the night before, that he touched the subject again. Johnny made light conversation, comfortable conversation. He listened to the stories Jungwoo told him and sipped on a coffee he’d made; his fourth for the day. Then Johnny leaned forward on his elbows and prompted, “Can I ask you something?”

Jungwoo only nodded.

“Do you think…Jaehyun.” He had no clue how to approach the topic. Johnny stumbled over words he hadn’t thought out, “I talked to Yuta and Taeyong and they think that Jaehyun is-”

Jungwoo let out a breath, eyes focused on the pattern swirling in his cappuccino, “I think you need to ask Jaehyun about it.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“You might have to.” Jungwoo’s shoulders shrugged, “None of us can answer for him.”

Johnny was defeated, he slumped back into his chair and let the nausea take over. Denial felt like confirmation. Jungwoo refusing to answer felt like an answer in itself and Johnny couldn’t accept it. He couldn't avoid it and he couldn’t face it, “Right.”

📻

Jaehyun found his way to your door, the night before your trip. Your duffel bag was on your bed, open and empty, with stacks of clothes around it. He watched you sift through the piles, pull things out and toss them to the side. Jaehyun intervened, “Do you want to go for a drive?”

“Yeah.” You didn’t look away from the state of your room, from the mess you’d made, “Let’s go.”

It was quiet, it was calm, until the rain started. Jaehyun wound up and down streets, weaving through neighborhoods until he’d found his way out. The music he played was low, familiar; I love this boy so much. You had your head pressed to the glass of his window, focusing on the world passing by, the raindrops slipping down. April came in with a shower, starting early on its nurturing, on growth.

Come May, there would be flowers. Come May, the world would have shifted and changed and blossomed into greens and pinks, blues and yellows, vibrant reds, purples, oranges; a rainbow coming to life after the rain.

January and February felt like a lifetime ago. The memory of the first two months felt just as cold as they had, in real time. They were covered in ice, in silence, in unwelcome change. You tried not to dwell on them, tried to sit in this moment, in Jaehyun’s car. His fingers tapped against the steering wheel, rounding a corner with ease.

You wondered how many moments like this you’d have with him, just like the mornings in his kitchen. You couldn’t help but feel like they were still slipping away. The rain could wash him away from you again and it was terrifying. Enough to make you blink back tears, enough to make you clear your throat and tell Jaehyun, “Stop the car.”

He did, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You unbuckled, opened your door and climbed out. Into the rain, instantly drenched, hoping that the first shower of April would help you to grow. You needed the nurturing back to life after a winter that was so harsh, too harsh.

Jaehyun watched from behind the wheel. He saw every drop that landed on your skin, soaked through your clothes, flattened your hair to your head. Then, Jaehyun unbuckled, leaving the car running and running to you. He didn’t say a word, you didn’t either. The two of you stood in the middle of the street, shoulder to shoulder in the rain. Silent, unmoving.

The rain fell and fell and fell. The sky was too dark for the late afternoon, covered in grey clouds. Jaehyun’s headlights were bright, like a spotlight on the two of you. He stepped back towards his car, “Stay here.”

You did, watching as he ran back to his car, listening as he turned up the music. Jaehyun came back, hands shaking as he reached out, and he offered, “Dance with me?”

“Yeah.”

He held you against him, had your head tucked under his chin. Jaehyun held you as close as he could and moved the two of you in tandem. The music was still quiet, fighting against the rain to be heard. You could only hear it cutting in and out. But, when the stereo failed, Jaehyun made up for it, humming the melody into your ear.

It was in the silence that your mind wandered; just like in his car. You thought about Haechan, scribbling onto a notepad in a cafe. I don’t think he was her first love. Jaehyun’s heart was beating loudly in your ear, thumping evenly.

You’d listened to that same heartbeat so many times before, you could understand how he was feeling just based on how many times it thumped. Jaehyun’s heartbeat was as familiar to you as your own and you’d forgotten how that felt. You’d forgotten what it was like to be silent with him.

You stayed that way, still in the middle of the street, just the two of you and the rain. After a while, you pulled back. Jaehyun watched as you took his hand in yours and lingered next to him.

“Can I tell you something?” The rain fell between you, drenched the two of you. Jaehyun nodded, hand squeezing yours tightly in his, “I’ve been think a lot about - about first loves.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I…I think I always thought it was Sicheng. It makes sense that it was him, I loved him and it felt like the first time, while it was happening.” He urged you to go on, another squeeze, another nod. You looked at where your hands met, tried to breathe in the downpour. You were brave enough, emboldened enough, maybe embarrassed but determined all the same, to look at him and say, “I don’t think it was him.”

Jaehyun came closer, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think Sicheng was my first love.”

“Then,” He didn’t want to speak. Jaehyun didn’t want to ask anymore questions. He was fine not knowing, he was fine coming to his own conclusion; Jaehyun was fine with a confession lost in the percussion of a rain storm. He was fine not knowing, but he didn’t stop himself from asking you, stomach twisted in knots, “Who do you think it was?”

The sigh you let out masked your words in a whisper, drowned out by the rain. The rush of air escaped your lungs and swept your thoughts off their feet. You couldn’t stop it, you couldn’t think to stop it, and you didn’t look away when you told him, “You. It was always you.”

Jaehyun didnt breathe for a while. March had ended and you were welcoming April, but it didn’t give way to spring yet; there was still enough bite in the air to see the heat leave his body as he gasped for air. But, he waited too long, again. Jaehyun stood silently until you shook your head and turned away. Your eyes focused on the puddle forming underneath and around your feet, watching as each raindrop fell into it.

You moved, letting your fingers pull from his one by one. Jaehyun moved, too; maybe to run, maybe to speak, maybe to tell you, “Me too.”

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Jaehyun only stood still.

You said, “I have to go. Johnny’s coming to help me pack.”

He was reminded, all at once, why he couldn’t speak, “Sure. I- yeah, sure. I’ll take you home.”

You rode silently, drenched in the front seat of his car with your hands flat on your lap. Jaehyun only asking, “Are you cold?” as you came down the hill.

📻

The campsite hadn’t been touched by spring, yet. It was cold shades of brown, pine and beige; gloomy at best. The pine trees around it reached as close to the sky as they could manage, scraped against the lowest clouds and swayed in the strongest breeze.

It hadn’t changed, since the last time you’d been. It was always in the same state. Early April was rain showers and puddles, frosted over mornings and sunny afternoons. The weather was unpredictable, just like in March, changing everything in a blink, in the smallest second.

Everything could change in a second.

“Who is sleeping where?”

Mark positioned himself between the two campers; each with a bed big enough for two, each with little else inside. Johnny poked at the beginnings of a fire, stopping only to lift his eyebrow and ask, “What do you mean?”

It was a reasonable question, to Mark, it made perfect sense, “I mean who is pairing up tonight?”

Johnny looked at you, you looked at Mark. Mark put his hands on his hips and looked at Jaehyun, waiting for someone to answer, “Well, I’m sleeping with my girlfriend.”

“Fine, but we’re rotating tomorrow.”

“Why would we rotate?”

“Because we always do.” The youngest came closer to the fire, “It’s how this works.”

Johnny put the poker into the ground, twisted it until it was stable enough for him to lean on. He looked amused, he looked curious; Johnny had the look on his face that he always did before he would tease Mark, “Do you need a night with Mom, Markie?”

“Shut up, dude.”

“If you have a bad dream, Mark, you can always come into our camper. We’ll leave room for you.”

“Johnny, Jesus.” You laughed, to ease the tension. You laughed to comfort Mark, “We can rotate around, I don’t mind.”

“Again, why would we do that?”

Jaehyun weighed in, “I don’t mind either.”

He’s in love with her. Johnny’s stomach churned, twisted, tied itself in knots. It’s obvious. He watched Jaehyun close the trunk of the car, counted the footsteps he took and the way he faltered on where to go; next to Mark or next to you. When Jaehyun chose, Johnny closed his eyes. It’s obvious. He was reading too much into it, he was spiraling into something he didn’t understand, something Johnny hated.

And Johnny wasn’t a jealous person.

He sighed, exaggerated to cover the way he shook. Johnny heaved a sigh, heaved another log on the fire and he relented, “Fine.” It was only three days, “We’ll rotate.”

Day one was unpacking. It was settling in until midday, gathering around the fire when you were done. It was Mark playing melodies on his guitar and mumbling through lyrics he only half-remembered. He stumbled over chords, fingers chilling on the first night of April. Day one ended with you and Johnny, Mark and Jaehyun.

Day one was simple, easy enough, tame enough for Johnny to wrap himself in you, in the quiet of your camper. He let his mind relax, let his body fold into and mold to the shape of yours; arms and legs in a tangled mess. Johnny pushed back your hair, using what little light he had to look in your eyes and whisper, “I love you.” Like you’d forget if he didn’t remind you. Johnny kissed you and said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Can I touch you?” He buried his face in your neck, “Please baby. Miss the sounds you make. Miss the way you taste.”

“What if they hear?”

“You’ll have to be quiet for me, baby.” Johnny pleaded, knowing his words held more weight than he’d hand you, “Make sure those sounds are just for me.”

Day one ended with hushed moans, sighs laced with his name and yours and “I love you” chanted like a mantra. Day one ended with you gasping for air, clutching at Johnny’s arms as he rocked his hips slowly into you, panting into your hair, your neck, mouth wrapped around your breast. Day one ended with Johnny’s lips on yours and his cock buried inside you, where he was meant to be.

Day one ended with Mark sleeping soundly and Jaehyun wide awake; hearing everything he shouldn’t, every sound that could break him.

When the sun came up on day two, things had started to shift. The four of you stumbling down trails, the four of you in fits of laughter, the four of you around the fire again and sharing your time. Jaehyun was stiff, Jaehyun hadn’t slept; not as soundly as Mark, not as spent as you, not as satiated as Johnny. Day two was Jaehyun looking away whenever Johnny touched you, whenever you said Johnny’s name. Day two was Jaehyun excusing himself to rest, trying to erase the sound of you coming undone for Johnny from his memory.

Day two ended with you and Mark, Johnny and Jaehyun.

He was still stiff, still tense, sitting on the edge of the bed you’d shared with Johnny. Jaehyun couldn’t stomach it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He was caught in a loop, again, torturing himself with memories that didn’t belong to him, with something he was never meant to hear.

Johnny lingered outside with you for as long as he could; until your head became too heavy to hold up on your own, until your eyes fell closed in extended blinks. He looked at the camper, he passed you off to Mark, and Johnny heard Jungwoo, “You should talk to him about it.”

Day two and Johnny stepped into the shared space, “Hey man.”

Jaehyun tried to smile, “Hey.”

“Can-” He thought back to January, how he didn’t give him the option. But, he was persistent then, he was determined then. He wanted to ease whatever you were going through, so Johnny pushed and pushed and pushed. Now, he gave Jaehyun the option. He gave him an out that Johnny wanted to take himself, to avoid a conversation he didn’t want to have, “Can we talk?”

Jaehyun didn’t hesitate long enough for Johnny to notice, “Yeah, of course.”

“I’m glad we’re all together again.”

“Me too, John.”

Johnny nodded, then he dove head first, “I really love her. I think you should know that, hear it from me. I don’t want…I just think it’s important.”

“Sure. Yeah.” Jawhyun was sweating, “I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I?”

He didn’t want to skirt around it, “Do you love her?”

With more hesitation, noticeable hesitation, Jaehyun answered, “Of course I do.”

“Do you understand what I’m asking?” He wanted clarity, he was terrified of it. Jaehyun and Johnny were confined, there was no avoiding it, “Do you…do you love her like I do?”

He couldn’t answer. Truthfully he knew the answer was no. Johnny loved you in a way Jaehyun wasn’t meant to know. Johnny loved you with a ferocity Jaehyun didn't have. The way Johnny loved you was unique to him, so Jaehyun could never love you the same. The answer was no.

Jaehyun loved you in the way he loved coming home; you were warmth, you were familiarity. Jaehyun loved you like he’d lose himself if he ever lost you, again. He loved you in quiet moments, in silent conversations, in glanced and in secrets. Jaehyun would only ever love you in secret, in the lies he told to hide it.

He shook his head, flattening his hands on his knees and wiping off the sweat. Jaehyun prepared himself for another lie, another place to love you quietly, “No, Johnny. I don’t.”

It would’ve been enough to ease his mind. It would’ve been enough to pull Johnny from the edge of jealousy. The two of them settled in, Johnny turned out the light and found his place, his side of the bed.

Jaehyun tried. He could smell you on the sheets, breathing you in slowly and knowing that you’d…you and Johnny. His mind shut off. His lies unraveled. It would’ve been enough to end day two with peace. But, Jaehyun let out his held breath, his inhale of only you and he mumbled, “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.”

Day three and Johnny was back on the edge. Jaehyun’s words joined Jungwoo’s, wrapped around Yuta’s until he couldn’t even look at his friend; his best friend. The way Jaehyun looked at you, how he lingered near you. Every time Jaehyun came near you, nudged you’d said your name Johnny burned, morphed into something he wasn’t. He wasn’t a jealous person, he wasn’t a jealous person. Johnny was never a jealous person.

Day three was you and Johnny hiking alone, stealing kisses and mumbling “I missed you” like one night away was the end of it all. Johnny spiraled at the thought. He stole you away for day three, he hid you behind trees and kissed you like he did on Halloween, “I love you, my Juliet.”

“I love you, Romeo.” He begged you to call his name, to hear it slip from your lips, “Johnny. Johnny.”

He used your voice to quiet three others, on in particular; Even if I did. Even if. It wouldn’t matter.

I did.

Jaehyun waited with Mark, spent the day with Mark; spent the day lost in his own thoughts. He could still smell you on his skin, on the shirt he’d slept in. It was all he could focus on, when Johnny pulled you away. Mark had said something sensible, something like, “Gotta give the lovebirds time.”

And Jaehyun agreed, like he was supposed to. He found his comfort in lies, again, “Yeah. They deserve it.”

It wasn’t regret that he felt, he knew he made a misstep when Johnny wouldn’t speak to him, wouldn’t look at him. Jaehyun knew it was the wrong thing to say “Even if I did, it wouldn’t ever matter.” It was the only bit of truth he let slip out. Jaehyun didnt regret it, but he was worried.

Everything could change in a second and everything could crumble.

Day three was a final fire on a clear night, the four of you in a perfect stance around the fire. You shivered, arms wrapped around yourself and mumbled, “It’s cold.”

“Here.” Jaehyun pulled at the zipper of his sweatshirt, “I’m getting warm.”

He could feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Jaehyun took the path around the fire that went around Mark, just to get to you. He held open his sweatshirt and let you slip into it, let you pull it closer. Another misstep. Jaehyun took a step back, hand on yours when he tugged at the sleeve. Something stirred in him, seeing how it fell on you, something Jaehyun had stopped trying to control. It was always you.

“Thanks, Jae.”

He wasn’t bold enough to look at Johnny, couldn’t bring himself to look back at you when he said, “No problem.”

Silent conversations, glances, lingering and lingering and the way Jaehyun lingered around you. Johnny wasn’t jealous, he was teetering on an edge he’d never been close to; his laugh got tangled in bitterness, caught in his throat when he said, “This is so fucked.”

It was childish and he could admit that. It was fueled by something he’d never felt and Johnny was terrified of that. Unwavering trust in you clashed so violently with his crumbling trust in Jaehyun and there was no way for Johnny to stop it. The space he took up, the space between you and Jaehyun, wasn’t enough to ease his mind.

Jaehyun spoke, because Jaehyun had heard him and Jaehyun was teetering, too. Trying to keep things from crumbling, trying to hold it together. He thought of January and February, about losing you. He was remembering you in the rain, remembering you pressed against him. He was living in memories, challenging something - someone - he shouldn’t, “What was that?”

Johnny almost jumped, almost threw himself over the edge on principle alone. He want jealous, he was upset, “I said it’s fucked.”

Mark perked up, “What's going on?”

You stood still next to him, hands in the pockets of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt. Johnny was shaking, you could see his hands trembling at his sides, but you didn’t move. Jaehyun looked at Johnny, the two of them locked on to each other. He tried not to tremble when he said, “It’s nothing Mark.”

“Right. It’s nothing.” Johnny’s lip curled, “Fucking liar.”

“Whoa. Hey, Johnny. What the fuck was that?”

Mark tried to laugh, “What just happened?”

“Tell them.”

“Tell us what?” Mark wouldn't let up, you could feel the Earth shaking underneath your feet and Mark was encouraging it, more and more. He didn’t know, Johnny had to remind himself. He’s always been weird about her, but Mark didn’t know, “Did you guys fight last night?

“We can rotate again.” You suggested, “I’ll go with Jaehyun tonight.”

Jaehyun could scream. He stayed silent.

“You’re absolutely not doing that.”

You looked at Johnny, “Why not?”

“Let him tell you.”

Crumbling, crumbling, crumbling. Something was shifting, the plates of the Earth, the foundation the four of you built. You could feel it happening, could see it in front of you. Jaehyun shook his head and Mark got more involved, “Can someone please just say what’s happening. Why can’t she room with Jaehyun? That’s the next rotati-”

Johnny was seething, “Because he’s in love with you!”

The four of you stood like pillars around the fire; Johnny next to Jaehyun, next to Mark, next to you, next to Johnny. Johnny was choking back so much, fighting against himself and the things he wanted to - needed to - say. His hands shook at his sides, only calming when he balled them into fists. And Mark did his best, Mark did too much, Mark didn’t need to be involved at all. He raised his hands, palms angled down and said, “Okay, let’s calm down. That’s not true, right?”

At the same time, you whispered, “What?”

“Say it.” Johnny spoke through gritted teeth, never looking away from Jaehyun. For a moment, the sound of the fire crackling was the only thing you could hear. Jaehyun made no moves; not to speak, not even to blink. You all just stood there until Johnny scoffed and said, “Tell them you’re in love with my girlfriend.”

Jaehyun tried, “Johnny, I-“

“Fucking say it, Jaehyun.” Johnny growled, his words cut with an edge you had never heard from him, “Stop fucking lying to me.”

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

He tried again, Jaehyun’s eyes threatening to look towards you. He knew it was going to make this worse, but Christ, he just wanted to look at you. Jaehyun wanted to see you, how you were. He wanted to look at you when he said it, whatever came next, “Okay, Johnny.”

Johnny shook his head, “Say it.”

Mark stepped towards Johnny, Mark did too much again. He put himself between you and the fire, then you and Johnny. He didn’t need to be involved, “Johnny, come on. He’s not-“

“He is and he needs to fucking admit it!”

“Johnny, man, please-“

“Fuck off, Mark.” The youngest recoiled, hands dropped. Johnny wanted to scream, “Jaehyun you have five seconds.”

Jaehyun was unreadable, again. Shut off, shutting down. Your focus bounced between the three of them, frozen completely and burning up - from the fire, from the way Johnny shook, from the way Jaehyun swallowed and the way Mark stumbled back. This couldn’t be happening. This shouldn’t be happening. You tried to say something, voice caught and coarse against your throat, “This-I don’t…Johnny.”

He ignored you, he was right to do so. Stumbling over words you couldn’t gather, pulling them off the ground and stringing them together into nonsense. Johnny counted, “One.”

“What do you what me to say, John?” Jaehyun’s voice wavered. He knew the answer. He couldn’t do anything about it.

Johnny kept counting, “Two.”

It was Jaehyun’s turn again, two of five chances Johnny was giving him to just say it. To just fucking be honest with him, with you, with himself. Jaehyun only said, “Stop. We can…let’s talk about it.”

“We’re talking about it. Right now, Jae.” Johnny’s voice raised, it echoed, it consumed everything around the four of you. You thought the trees might bend to it, given the chance; the Earth might quake, shake, crack open from the force of it. Johnny kept shaking, kept counting, “Three.”

Mark took another step back. He looked over his shoulder at you, something like sympathy on his face. He might have seen it coming, he might have known all along. Mark wondered, for a moment, how you didn’t know. Still, he tried his best, he did too much, “Hey.”

You only said, “Mark.”

Jaehyun begged, “Johnny, stop - stop fucking counting!”

For the first time, Johnny moved. For his first move, he stepped towards Jaehyun. He cleared half the space between them and shouted, trees faltering around him, “You’re in love with her. Say it! Four.”

“Johnny.” It was somewhere between pleading, definitely threatened, but strong. Jaehyun didn’t want to be doing this. He just wanted to look at you. Johnny kept his attention, another step before he was as close to Jaehyun as he could be - the two of them shouting over each other and filling the space between chances four and five. Jaehyun tried to urge Johnny back, “Back up, John.”

“Don’t fucking touch me-“

“Back the fuck up-“

“All you have to do is admit it-“

“Johnny, fucking stop for a second and-“

“She’s right there, tell her you sack of-“

“Jesus fucking Christ-“

“Say it!” Johnny shoved at Jaehyun’s shoulders, his last count, his last chance coming out, “Five.”

“Fine! I am, okay?” Jaehyun’s voice was booming and shaking and strained, like he was desperately holding back his words and pouring them out, all at once. You watched his fists ball up and release, watched him square himself towards Johnny.

Your boyfriend, Johnny.

His best friend, Johnny.

“I love her.” The crack in Jaehyun’s voice wasn’t missed. He threw his hands up, stepping back, “I’m in love with her, is that what you want to hear, Johnny?”

Johnny scoffed. It was exactly what he wanted to hear and it was shattering everything in him. Ruin the dynamic he said. Jaehyun, his best friend. Jaehyun, your best friend. Jaehyun, a fucking liar. Johnny saw red and then white, an absolutely illuminating rage filled him, but he didn’t move to hit Jaehyun. His body ached for it, wanting to feel how Jaehyun’s skin would break if he just swung at him. But, Johnny didn’t. He didn’t move, didn’t scream as he had been, he let everything fall silent. Let it all settle.

Johnny let Jaehyun’s words linger for all of you for too long. He let it all go on for too long.

Mark blinked and breathed out, “Jae, man, what the fuck?”

Jaehyun finally looked at you. The way your breathing was frantic, how Johnny’s hat sat on your head, but Jaehyun’s sweatshirt covered you and kept you safe from the cold; protected you from it. He watched your eyes searching for an answer in the flames of the bonfire, the shoe imprints in the dirt where you’d all been standing, in the trees around you but never up; never to the stars. He wanted to go to you, wanted to move. But, Jaehyun could feel the ground starting to swallow him, holding him completely still. He could feel everything stop the moment you looked up. If he hadn’t been looking already, he wouldn’t have heard the way you said his name. A whisper lost in the wind, “Jaehyun.”

Johnny interrupted, looking down and jaw clenched, “How long?”

“John. Let’s just stop for a minute, okay.” You wanted to beg Mark to stop, “Everyone chill out.”

“Years, Johnny.” Jaehyun answered, kept his eyes on you and told Johnny with a quiet confidence, “Years.”

When Johnny looked up, he immediately wished he hadn’t. The way Jaehyun looked at you over the fire, the way you kept your eyes on him with your hands shaking at your sides. He laughed, he couldn’t stop it, “Can’t even say it to my face.”

Jaehyun couldn’t stop himself, he dropped his head and bit back, “And why the fuck would I need to?”

“Because she’s my girlfriend, Jaehyun.”

“Stop.” The word clawed its way out of you, fighting against your mind and your heart to come out, “Stop.”

Johnny looked at you first, Jaehyun wasn’t sure if he could, Mark turned and stepped closer to you, “Hey. It’s okay, alright?”

You said, only to Mark, only for him to hear, “It’s not.”

He looked over his shoulder, back at Johnny and Jaehyun and everything falling out and apart between them. The way they both looked at you, the concern and a silent apology from both of them. He looked around the campsite, expecting to see the proof, the aftermath of the explosion. There was nothing, just silence and a stillness he hated. You all hated it. Mark reached out for you, taking either arm in his hands and pulling you to his chest. He didn’t care if Johnny swung at him, he suspected he wouldn’t. Mark just wanted to stop at least one world from crumbling.

So, he chose yours, “Rotate.”

Johnny spoke first, “Mark, what the hell?”

“Rotate.” It was his only solution, “I’m taking her with me. You two figure out your shit.”

He knew it wasn’t shit. But, Mark was going to put an end to it, if no one else was making a move to do so. He put you in front of him, guiding you to one camper and ignoring anything behind him. Johnny said his name at least three times, yours at least four. You thought you heard Jaehyun say, “I’m going.”

But Mark was in your ear, “Don’t. Don’t look at either one of them. Go on, go inside.”

You did, he followed and closed the door behind you. Mark kept his back against it for a moment and waited for you to move first. He waited until everything caught up to you, waited for it all to slip through the cracks and push into the camper; the safest place he could take you. When it did, Mark watched your shoulders fall, watched you implode in on yourself before he moved closer and pulled you back, again. The aftermath evidence he was looking for fighting not to crumble to the ground in his arms. Mark held you and soothed you and still did too much.

“I’m sorry, Mark.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He reminded you, you wished it worked, “You didn’t do anything. They’ll work it out. You just stay in here with me, okay?”

You thought about asking him how he was so calm, how Mark - the youngest, the brightest boy you’d ever know - was so collected in this moment. You wanted to apologize for something you were barely involved in, apologize for the way he’d been dragged into it. Instead, you let out a shaking breath, one mixed with a quiet sob, and you let Mark carry weight that wasn’t his; weight he shouldn’t have to bear.

Mark got you to calm, then he got you to sleep. He stayed with you, next to you, humming something he’d written and drifting away, himself. And, for a while, it worked. For a while you slept and you drifted, as well.

Something pulled you back down, plummeting to the Earth and reality and waking. Mark was still next to you, covered in blankets and the moonlight, sleeping sound. Something like envy, maybe gentler, settled in your chest. Envy that Mark’s mind would let him sleep, that he had that opportunity. There was no anger to it, just the wish to be in that position. You sat up, blankets pooling at your waist and fingers wrapped up in the sleeves of his sweatshirt. Part of you itching to peel it off of you, the other part wanting to drown in it. Either way, your head was aching, your heart, too.

You couldn’t pinpoint a single thing you felt; guilt and anger and confusion and fear and something you’d never know. Something indescribable, something new and all-consuming within you. You wanted to move, you wanted to run until your legs burned, at the very least stretch them out and breathe in fresh air. Suddenly, everything felt too cramped and tight.

You wanted to be wrapped up in him, to have him calm you down, but to have him pull you back down to earth. You wanted to feel his lips on yours, on any part of you. You wanted him to trace patterns against your skin.

You wanted to scream.

As slowly as you could, you pulled yourself out of the bed and the camper, latching the door behind you and slipping into your shoes. April was cold, not as cold as November, but now it felt just as different. The chill that went from the top of your head to your toes shook you enough to close your eyes and collect yourself. You angled your head upward before you opened them, again, wanting to take in the stars; borrow every bit of light they could offer.

They twinkled against the clear, midnight sky. They blinked down as you blinked up, breathing, breathing, trying to breathe. Shaking your head, you looked somewhere neutral; the void between the two campers, the gathering of trees still upright and reaching towards your stars, at embers of a forgotten fire, across the empty campsite.

You saw him then, in the same moonlight that Mark was in but shining, like it was the sun. Jaehyun stared back, from behind his steering wheel, unmoving. So much of you wanted to move to him, let your feet pull you over to him, to tell him….tell him. Anything. Everything.

Years, he had said. Years.

But, you didn’t move. Neither did he. Two opposites across from each other, only breathing, taking each other in and not making a single fucking move. Slowly, you released the breath held hostage in your lungs and wrapped your arms around yourself. Jaehyun’s lips moved, maybe your name slipped out, you’d never know. You crossed the void between campers and pulled your eyes to look away from him, not willing to see any change when you slipped inside and said his name, “Johnny?”

He shot up, your name clear and filling the room. It took half a second for him to claw his way out of the bed and wrap himself around you; just as you wanted. Johnny held you as tightly as he could, mumbling apologies, kissing them into your skin. He was frantic and worried and, for the first time since you’d known him, Johnny’s certainty was wavering. You held him just as tight, just as close, lips pressed into a line to keep yourself from crying.

His cheek was pressed against the top of your head when he said your name once more and his final, “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t.” It was so soft, the way your hands held him and the way you spoke. Johnny held you tighter, scared it meant you were slipping away; terrified of you slipping away from him. You pulled back only to look up at him, “Just talk to me. Tell me what happened.”

Johnny sighed, he wanted to kiss you - he didn’t know if he still could and he wished everything had been different. He wanted to go back and stop himself from exploding, “I don’t know. I…I really don’t know where to start.”

You nodded, eyes on him. He blinked out tears, ones you were quick to wipe away for him, up on your toes to kiss the trail they left behind. Johnny sighed, shaking as he was before but for a completely different reason. He couldn’t describe it, he didn’t want himself to even feel whatever it was. It was unstoppable until you’d come through that door. You pulled him towards the bed, pushing him to sit down and climbing in next to him.

Johnny didn’t let go of you the whole time; in anyway he could touch you, he did. The two of you leaned back together, facing each other and staying silent for a moment before you asked, “How did you know?”

He swallowed, “Taeyong and Yuta. Then Jungwoo.”

“Hm.”

“Yuta said…he said it was obvious. I hated that.” Johnny tried to laugh, the sound was so bitter, “Jungwoo said to ask Jaehyun.”

“When?”

“February, then again last week.” He paused, “I tried to talk to Jaehyun about it. I tried to be subtle and maybe I shouldn’t have, but Yuta was right.”

You scooted closer, hand to Johnny’s cheek, “What do you mean?”

Johnny lifted his hand to cover yours, “It was obvious. And the more I saw it…I just got more and more angry. Everything he did, every time he was near you, I just…God, I’m not a jealous person.”

“I know.”

“But, he was hiding it. It felt like he was playing me, like it was a trick or a joke. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just tell me.” He was right. It made the guilt you felt worse, stronger. He closed his eyes. “Why wouldn’t he have said anything?”

You asked, as carefully as you could, “Would it have changed anything, Johnny?”

He didn’t want to answer, but Johnny would be a hypocrite to lie at this moment, “Yeah. Probably, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“Hey. Not now, okay? Before, maybe. I could’ve gotten over a crush.” He pulled your hand to his lips, pressed his words into them and hoped they’d stay there. Hoped that every time you pressed your fingers to your skin you’d remember his lips there, the things he’d promised against your fingertips, “I love you. I fell in love with you and now…”

“Now, what?”

Johnny had to think for a moment. He had to gather everything he’d felt in the last week, the last six months, everything he’d seen and heard and knew; put it all together into something that made sense. He looked at you for as long as he could, for as long as his heart would let him before it shattered too. Because, “I see how he looks at you.”

“Johnny.”

“And I see how you look at him.”

You froze, blood running cold. You’d never know what he expected you to say to that, how he expected you to react. Johnny could always predict what came next, but today ripped away everything he’d known. He was uncertain.

He let out a breath, “The two of you…”

“There is no two of us, Johnny.” You promised him, you meant it. Your heart was aching in your chest, “There is me and you. Jaehyun-“

“Don’t say his name. Not right now.” Johnny cut you off, he shook his head and rustled the sheets beneath the two of you, “I can’t hear it, right now.”

“We are completely separate. Whatever he feels-“

“What about what you feel?”

“I love you.” It came out desperate, you were desperate. Your fingers wrapped around his tighter and you’d pulled yourself as close to him as you could. Johnny just watched and breathed, you did the same, “I love you, Johnny. That’s what I feel.”

And he told you, “I love you, too.”

Like it was all either of you needed to hear, you fell silent. Like it was everything that needed to be said, neither of you spoke after. You held each other and synchronized your breathing, sharing kisses and breaths and sighs until you fell asleep, pressed together. Even still, even with so little space between the two of you, there was still enough space for the word neither of you could, would, ever wanted to say;

But….

📻

Johnny had stripped you of Jaehyun’s sweatshirt; replaced it with his own, the one he’d been wearing that smelled like him, like smoke, like you. You woke up wrapped in him, twice over, and breathing him in. The sleeve of his t-shirt had rolled up, your fingers found their way to trace the leaves permanently inked on his arm. Johnny was still asleep, but he shifted and shivered and pulled you closer.

You could pretend, like this, that everything was fine. You could close your eyes and breathe him in, breathe against him, just breathe. Anything that had happened the night before couldn't reach you, like this.

You just had to stay.

Johnny’s eyes finally opened, he smiled…he tried to smile, “Hi.”

And you kissed him, without hesitation, having just woken up. You thought back to November, you thought about the times you’d shied away from it. Johnny didn’t think much of anything, lazily kissing you back; slowly, carefully, comfortably. He tried not to think about how many times he’d have you like this, from now on. Johnny wanted to be optimistic, but…

“Hi.” You told him, breathless, “I love you.”

He rolled onto his back, pulling you onto his chest and securing you there, “I know. I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t.” Your breath caught in your throat, choked you and choked back tears you didn’t want to let out. Not yet. Johnny said “I love you” and it sounded like “goodbye.” So, you told him, “Don’t apologize to me. You don’t have a reason to.”

Packing was silent; hopeless and tense. Every sound echoed in the epicenter of Johnny’s explosion, Jaehyun’s as well. You were all standing at ground zero of something unpredictable.

Jaehyun wouldn’t look at you; he is in love with you. He kept his eyes down, he kept his mouth shut, he stayed as far away from you and from Johnny as the campsite would allow. Johnny did the same, avoiding his best friend. It was a dance, a performance, a nightmare that you were wrapped up in.

Mark only did his best.

The car ride was silent; the radio was too low to make out, Jaehyun’s engine rumbling just as low. Mark sat in the passenger seat with his eyes forward, his hands neatly on his lap. He’d look at Jaehyun, he’d look at you, Mark would look at Johnny and then he’d focus forward, again. No one said a word, no one thought to. You didn’t know if any of you would think to speak to each other, again, and it took everything you had to keep the sobs clawing at your chest from breaking through. It took a small smile from Mark, it took looking anywhere but at Jaehyun, it took Johnny holding your hand and resting his head on your lap.

He stayed there for the entire trip; reveling in the way your fingers tugged at his hair, the even breaths you forced yourself to take, the twists and turns of the road. Johnny fell asleep like that, cradled in your lap, face upwards so even if his eyes were open he could only see you. He didn’t know if he could look at Jaehyun, he certainly didn’t want to look at him. Johnny knew. Once Yuta said it, once Jungwoo avoided it, he knew. Hearing Jaehyun confirm it, hearing his best friend outright say he was in love with his girlfriend, Johnny was having a hard time swallowing it.

But you held him. You held Johnny and if he closed his eyes, it was the only thing that felt real; that was real. You and Johnny in the backseat of a car, together.

The hand you had tangled in Johnny’s hair was hot, damp with sweat. You were frantic and if you were hiding it well enough for Johnny not to sense it, for Johnny to fall asleep, you didn’t know how. Every breath you took shook your whole body, every breath was strained. You looked out the window, to Mark, down at Johnny and the peace he found; deserved peace after a restless night. In the mirror, you could feel Jaehyun’s eyes. It made breathing impossible when you caught him, when he caught you. It took the little air you could gasp and rushed it from your lungs.

Jaehyun couldn’t look away from you, in the rear view mirror; for a while, for too long. He was lost in the way your fingers twirled Johnny’s hair, in the way you’d smile down at him. Jaehyun’s hands were wrapped around the steering wheel with such force he thought it might crumble. He could remember Halloween - a similar position, Jungwoo in the front seat and you and Johnny in the back. And Jaehyun couldn’t do anything about it then, just as he couldn’t now.

He was hopeless, tense. And he couldn’t look away.

It was only when Mark yelled, when he grabbed at the wheel and said, “Dude, look out.”

Jaehyun swerved, he adjusted, he looked back at you. You were wide-eyed behind him, hands around Johnny to keep him with you. Keeping Johnny safe, keeping Johnny secure. He looked away from you, then, and focused back on the road; back on something he could control, mumbling a quiet, “I’m sorry.”

To Mark; for the car. To you; for everything else.

To Johnny.

📻

Mark was pissed.

There wasn’t a better word for it or any way around it. He was pissed and he was trying his best not to be. It wasn’t working. He was in the loft with Jaehyun, going back and forth between watching the storm clouds roll in and Jaehyun spiral out of control. They’d dropped you and Johnny off an hour ago and from the moment Jaehyun parked his car in his own driveway, he’d been like this. Mark had the opportunity to leave, but he was in a bitter protest, a war within himself and with the only other person in the room because, “You had the opportunity to tell her.”

“I know, Mark.”

“No, like way before this. Way, way before this.” Mark had his hands clasped, ringing them as a means of comfort - it wasn’t working, “You said years. You had years.”

Jaehyun stopped pacing, only for a moment, “I know, Mark.”

Maybe pissed wasn’t the word he needed. Mark was heated, “Then why now? They’ve been together for almost a year, Jaehyun.”

“I fucking know, Mark.” It came through gritted teeth, forced and booming, “I don’t know what the fuck…I don’t have an answer for you.”

Not heated, Mark was furious, “Don’t yell at me, I’m trying to help you.”

He didn’t mean it, but Jaehyun pushed in a fury, “I don’t need your help.”

Not pissed, not heated, not furious. Mark was livid, “Fine. Figure it out. I’m going to check on her.

That seemed to stop Jaehyun entirely. Mark gathered his things and Jaehyun stopped, looking out the window towards your house. It was almost as if Mark had put the idea into his head, set it into motion and rolling down the street. The storm had started outside, it had leaked through the windows and down into the loft. Now it was inside of Jaehyun and urging him to say, “I need to go talk to her.”

“No you don’t.” Mark didn’t spare him a look, “You need to sort your shit out. Johnny is probably still there.”

They both knew that wasn’t true. Mark knew, Johnny had texted him and asked Mark to make sure you were okay - whenever he had the chance. Jaehyun knew because he watched Johnny leave, watched him sling his bag over his shoulder and make his way towards the bus stop. Your boyfriend, Johnny. His best friend, Johnny. Still, Jaehyun turned on his heel and stomped towards the door. He didn’t say a word, barely heard Mark say, “Fuck.” over the downpour.

He did hear Mark’s footsteps trying to match his stride. Jaehyun could hear Mark screaming his name as they ran down the stretch of road to your house.

He could feel Mark reaching out for him, grabbing hold of his soaked-through shirt in an attempt to hold him back. Nothing would’ve stopped Jaehyun; not the rain, not Mark, not his best friend, Johnny. Jaehyun shouted your name first on the street-side of the gate, then once more with every step he took closer to you.

You had to come outside. You had to talk to him. He had to see you.

Mark stood still, like there was a barrier between your property and the sidewalk he couldn’t quite cross. He watched everything unfold before him, still cataloging, still livid, but now worried. Jaehyun was begging you to come out, Mark was silently pleading for you to stay in.

Your door creaked open, silencing Jaehyun’s words and silencing Mark’s thoughts. There you were, face stained with tears, in the same clothes they’d left you in an hour ago. Your arms were crossed over your chest and each breath you took shook your whole body. You didn’t say anything, not one of you did. The three of you stood in complete silence and let the rain overtake you, let it lead the conversation with rhythmic pitter-patters.

Jaehyun spoke first, “Please.”

“Please what, Jae?” His name from your lips could kill him on a good day - this was, decidedly, not a good day. Not even close, “What do you want?”

“I-please just talk to me.” You looked over his shoulder to Mark, drenched in the street waiting for whichever one of you needed him first, “I just want to talk to you. I need to talk to you.”

You echoed what Mark had said to him, it stung more coming from you, “You had years, Jaehyun. That’s what you said. Years.”

“So did you.” He bit.

You and Mark took a step forward at the same time. The rain had yet to touch you, but it taunted the tips of your toes - bare feet freezing in the early fall air, “What did you say?”

“Look at me and tell me you didn’t - that you don’t feel the same way.” Jaehyun squared his shoulder, his tone wavering but demanding all the same, “You’ve had years, too.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Johnny knows it, too. Everyone does. Johnny, Mark, Jungwoo, Taeyong - everyone. Fuck, even that Haechan guy picked up on it. We’ve both had years.”

He stepped closer, you didn’t pull back, Mark came closer, “Stop it.”

“Tell me you don’t feel the same.”

Another step from Mark to combat stillness between you and Jaehyun - years of stillness. Years. It was like the youngest was waiting for a cue, some sort of signal that you needed him, before he intervened.

“I love Johnny.”

Another sting, but not a denial. Jaehyun felt bile swirling up and threatening to spill over. Still, he stood firm, ignoring the chill and ignoring the rain. He was solely focused on you.

“Tell me you don’t love me, too.”

A clap of thunder shook the ground beneath you as you opened your mouth to speak. You startled where you stood, arms tightening around yourself. Jaehyun took another step.

He was on the bottom step, you stood at the top. You remembered Johnny in a similar position nearly a year ago and gnawed at your lip to keep from crying any more. Jaehyun pressed, close enough that you could hear him whisper, “Just say it and I’ll go. This can be done. We can be done.”

He wished his voice didn’t shake with his last words, staring you down and hoping you didn’t notice. Jaehyun was sure being done with you would break him - worse, it would destroy him. His hands were in fists, shaking at his sides from a combination of adrenaline, fear and cold. He was begging.

You looked at Mark again, closer than before but still too far to hear hushed words between you and Jaehyun. You shook your head, “I can’t, Jae. You have to go.”

The two phrases contradicted each other. You couldn’t tell him you didn’t love him, but you needed him to go. Needed to be done. Needed to destroy yourself and the part of you - the biggest part of you - that still held onto him. Shaking your head again, you took your turn to beg, “Please, Jaehyun. Just go. I…I…”

Jaehyun’s voice lowered, shaking but certain, “You lied to me.”

“No. I didn’t. Jaehyun, please.”

“When I kissed you, you lied. You said you didn’t feel it and I know you did. I know you did and I should’ve done something about it, then. I didn’t and I’m sorry.” He was shattering, shards of Jaehyun were chipping away and falling to the ground in front of you, “It shouldn’t be like this. I fucked up. Don’t lie to me again.”

“Jaehyun.”

“Please. Don’t lie to me again.”

Mark was there in a second, pulling at Jaehyun’s shoulder again and urging him backwards, “Come on. You gotta give her space.”

He started pulling Jaehyun backwards, you stood and watched. Every sob that had stored itself in your chest, compressed and pushing to get out, shook you like the thunder shook the ground. Your arms clutched at themselves, pulling at whatever you could to keep yourself grounded. Jaehyun kept you grounded - it was always Jaehyun. Then it was Johnny. Now it was just you, alone on your front stop watching your best friend being dragged from you.

You were floating away and nothing was there to tether you. Jaehyun was shouting over the rain, “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I know I messed up, I did. I should’ve… I can’t…please, I’m so sorry. Don’t.” He pushed at Mark’s hands, “Get the fuck off of me. Fuck!”

A symphony of sounds you wish you could erase from your memory; Jaehyun shouting to you, the scraping and slapping and scuffling from Mark pulling him away, your own sobs and the rain. It was a nightmare and you weren’t waking up.

It took twenty minutes for relative silence to find you - twenty minutes of solitude, of raindrops and sobs that lost their timbre to the thunder. You were freezing, maybe that’s why you couldn’t move - your feet were frozen to the cement beneath them. The world was frozen in time. Until you could hear footsteps, until you could see Mark at your gate, still drenched with his backpack over his shoulder.

You crumbled, then. Mark wasn’t there to catch you when you landed back on Earth, but he scooped you up and brought you back in. Your voice was hoarse when you told him, not for the first time in the last twenty-four hours, “I’m so sorry.”

“I gotta get you inside.” His voice was soft, gentle as took you into your home and shut the door behind you, “You’re okay. It’s okay.”

“Mark, I-“

“It’s fine.” Mark stopped you, “Johnny would’ve killed me if I let that go on any more. Just tell me what you need.”

A knife straight to your heart, you let out a breath from the pressure, “Don’t say their names. Either one of them, for now.”

Mark dropped his bag and pulled off his wet shoes, then his socks, “Done. What else?”

“Can you…” A swirl of guilt and something completely indescribable filled you, starting at your thawing toes and working its way to the top of your head. A voice reminding you that Mark shouldn’t be involved. It ate away at you, “Change into dry clothes Mark.”

“Yeah, I was going to.” He squatted down to sift through his bag, looking for something both clean and dry to put on, “Do you want me to make tea or something? Or like, I don’t know, you could take a warm bath? That might…I think that might help.”

You watched Mark’s eyes dart around, cataloging or searching, something. Mark Lee was just as lost as you were, grasping at anything he could after watching the world implode. It hit you then, even if Mark wasn’t at the center of the implosion, he was still at the site. The flames burned at his skin, the fumes filled his lungs; harsh words were still thrown at Mark like knives.

The most innocent party of the four of you still was part of this, whether he should have been or not.

You stepped towards him, pulling him up and making a point not to let go. Mark just watched you, still trying to list the things he thought might help, “Breathe, Mark.”

“I’m breathing” He nodded his head, rapidly, you think it might have hit him, then. The aftershock, the implosion, “I’m breathing.”

You repeated, holding his hands and holding his gaze, “Mark, breathe with me.”

“I’m…what the fuck?” He shook his head, this time, looking down and letting droplets fall from his hair, “What the fuck is happening?”

“I’m so sorry, Mark,”

“No, you didn’t do it. You don’t need to be sorry.”

You nodded, urged him to go change and made your way into your kitchen. You made the tea he suggested, you ran water so he could take a warm bath. The two of you settled in the living room, kindred and confused spirits, sipping on tea and wrapped up somewhere safe, together. You kept it that way, you kept Mark comfortable and safe until he fell asleep on your couch.

Because there was no way he could know, there was no way you could ever tell him that you weren’t innocent in this, as he was.

Because, even if you loved Johnny - and God, do you love Johnny - Jaehyun was right.

You couldn’t look him in the eye and say he was wrong; you absolutely loved him, too.

previous. masterlist. the end.

[stanathanxoox]

Are We?

Subconsciously baby proofing spaces like the home and car. Anything harmful or threatening to a baby must go. - Buck x reader

When Buck returned from work after a 24 hour shift at the station he was exhausted, they’d had a lot of call outs. When he got into the apartment and found that there was an extra lock on the door, he didn’t really think anything of it. But when he went into the kitchen to get a drink of water and found that there was a lock on the fridge and one of the cabinets and he began to get suspicious. He had a hunch having baby proofed Maddie and Chimney’s place when they moved in together when Maddie was pregnant but surely his girlfriend would’ve said something by now wouldn’t she? He checks the draws to ensure his hunch was on the right track and he nods upon seeing that the sharp knives have all been placed in their own protective draw.

“Y/N?” he calls out, knowing that she would be in the middle of her morning routine

“Yeah babe?” she calls back and he says

“Can you come here please?”. He waits for her to make her way into the kitchen and she looks up from her phone

“What is it Buck?” she asks and he points to the fridge, the cabinets and the drawers

“Do you want to explain all of this babe? Is there something you want to tell me?” he asks and she looks at you and says

“Oh I had Jee-Yun over last night and wanted to make sure that she was safe” she says and you shake your head knowing that’s not the full truth

“Y/N? Jee’s almost four years old, she’s out of needing those locks on the cupboards and the fridge. What’s really going on?” you ask and you hear your girlfriend sigh before she pulls out the pregnancy test from her back pocket and hands it to you

“We’re having a baby?” you ask when you see the positive sign

“We are” she says and you beam as you place it down on the counter and rush to pick up your girlfriend and spin her around and then kiss her

“I am so happy Y/N, so happy this is happening for us” you say and she smiles placing a kiss on your cheek

“I’m happy its happening for us too Buck” she says as she moves your hands from where their resting on her waist to her tummy.

Tag List: @tiva-jenry-caskett-rizzles-densi​, @jimmybpride​, @dressed-up-just-like-z1ggy​, @nikkiwierden​, @samchelforever007​, @kirkspockbones​, @xoncisxncislaxncisnolaox​, @lasalle-pride-sebastian-love​, @haliannej​, @brooklyn-99-amyxjake​​, @mizzezm​, @genius2050​, @twilight-twihard​, @cullencoven2019​, @wxlfgirlx​, @luciferxchloeislove​, @drethanramsey-ismybabe​, @sawyer-oakley-is-mighty-fine​, @loverofoneshots​, @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen​​

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter three: bathe me clean

masterlist for other chapters (prev) (next) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 5.9k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, violence, knives, guns, dead bodies, murder, stab wounds, self inflicted injuries, ellie’s dad humour, 18+ MDNI

author’s note: this took me a lot longer to write than i was expecting so hope people are still interested in this series lol, i’m kinda proud of it and thank you for being patient <3 as always lmk what you think!

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

A few days had passed and you and Ellie had decided it was a good idea to investigate the town. You were in the kitchen, checking through your backpack to make sure you had what you needed. You had to make sure you packed enough so you had resources out there, especially considering the town was several miles away, but not too much that it meant your bag was too heavy to move swiftly with.

“You got the map?” Ellie asked, zipping up her own bag and slinging it on her back. You noticed she had traded her blue shirt for a brown, long sleeve shirt that must have been Jack’s. It was slightly oversized on her but not too much.

“Yeah.”

You put your bag on, attaching the machete on the side and putting the pistol in your back pocket. You had already locked and secured the front door so you followed Ellie out the back and towards the barn. She grabbed the brown leather bridle from a hook and took it over to Harley, stroking her peach-fuzz soft nose before hooking it over her ears and buckling it up.

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked, watching as Ellie scrunched her face in concentration.

“I read about it.”

She then grabbed the saddle and the forest green blanket underneath and slung it over Harley’s back. She studied it for a moment, adjusting its position until it seemed to slot better with the curve of the horse’s back. Harley stood patiently, kicking one of her hooves on the floor and snorted a soft breath. Ellie reached under her stomach for the band that dangled down, bringing it up to her side.

“Okay okay, let’s remember how to do this,” she mumbled to herself, fingers fiddling with the buckles. She stuck her fingers in between the band and Harley’s stomach to check the tightness and yanked around at the stirrups before giving Harley a pat on the neck, seeming satisfied with it all.

“That should be fine,” she said, turning to you. You blinked a couple of times, not realising how hard you had been staring at her hands working. You nodded, standing back as she led Harley out of the barn.

Ellie put one foot in the stirrup and held onto the saddle as she swung her other leg up and over. She adjusted her hips in the seat, bunching the reins in one hand before taking her foot out the stirrup and holding out her other hand to you.

“You ever ridden a horse before?” you asked.

“Nope, you?”

You grabbed her hand, putting your foot in the free stirrup to support you as she helped pull you up. You had to hop a little on the foot that was on the ground cursing a “fuck,” as Harley took a step forward as your leg flew over.

“Never,” you said as your ass hit Harley’s back.

She chuckled. “Well, this’ll be fun.”

She replaced your feet in the stirrups and indicated for the horse to start walking. The sudden jolt made you keenly aware that this was definitely the closest you and Ellie had ever been. Instinctively, she put her free hand on your knee for a second steadying you before moving it back to rest on her thigh.

“You okay back there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Your chest was pressed against her backpack, brushing up and down slightly with the movements of the horse. Harley walked through the field until you reached the road, the clack of her feet louder now that they were on the concrete. You held the map in both hands so it didn’t blow away, looking to see if you were heading in the right direction.

“According to this, we walk down this road for about a mile then we go right when we hit the junction,” you observed before folding it and shoving it back in your pocket, hands resting on your thighs.

“Seems easy enough, ‘least it’s not raining.”

“You’ve jinxed it now,” you teased.

“Oh shit,” she laughed.

It felt wrong to laugh too but you did. It felt selfish laughing when so many bad things had happened lately. It felt insensitive to laugh when your mom wasn’t around to hear it. Up until now, you thought you might never laugh or even smile again. You knew that it would take you a long time to heal after her death for who could put a restraint on grief. Yet you didn’t want to feel like actual poison was running through your veins anymore.

After losing your dad, it had been anger that had controlled you. You had fallen into a frenzy where everything you did was erratic and irascible. It was as if your body didn’t belong to you anymore. Your fingertips would claw at anything that made you feel as though you had found some retribution for what had happened to him. You thought at the time that it was the worst pain you had ever felt, but you’ve come to quickly realise that sadness is worse than anger. Anger can blindley carry you through whereas sadness makes your limbs too heavy to even move.

After losing your mom, you were overwhelmed with sadness. Everything hurt permanently and instead of time moving rapidly as a distraction, it had slowed to an impossible pace, as if it had pins holding your eyes open to watch the events play out over and over again. Her speaking to you, hugging you, leaving you.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts.

“I said what does the map say after we turn right?”

“Oh right, um,” you flustered as you tried to pull the map out of your pocket, fingers suddenly feeling slippery as you tried to unfold it. “Um, oh fuck, fuck.”

Your hand flew out as the piece of paper floated to the ground, whisking along with the breeze. Harley staggered back and forth on her feet as your weight shifted, naturally trying to follow the direction of the fallen map.

“Woah, careful,” Ellie’s hand suddenly gripped your leg firmly and your hand darted out to grab her arm to stop you from sliding off.

“Sorry, but shit, the map,” you said pointing.

“I know, here,” she held her hand out for you to take, “get off for a second.”

You complied and she did the same, rushing to stamp on the measly bit of paper so it didn’t go any further. She picked it up and shook off some of the dirt, wiping it before holding it up to you.

“See? Good as new.” She chuckled at her own sarcasm.

Your stomach lurched with anxiety. You had barely left the house and you’d nearly lost the very thing that could help you navigate this place.

“Hey, don’t stress. We’ve got it,” Ellie said, noticing the way you were wringing your hands and nibbling your lip.

You met her eyes and nodded. “Sorry, I’m fine.”

She handed you back the map and you folded it up, safely tucking it in your pocket. She mounted Harley, once again holding her hand out to help you on.

“I had a look, after we go right we need to go left at a gas station,” Ellie informed you, asking Harley to walk again.

“Okay.”

“If you need to hold on, don’t be shy. I’d rather you not actually fall off.”

You nervously placed your hands just below her waist, lightly fisting the fabric of her shirt so as to not touch her body too much. She had just said to not be shy but that didn’t mean you weren’t. You spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, taking in the sights of greenery around you. How it shined under the strips of sunlight that poked through the huge clouds.

“Have a look in my bag a second, there should be a book in there.”

“Did you not see me nearly fall on my face? I don’t think I’m good enough to read and ride a horse,” you jested.

“Not that kind of book,” Ellie laughed, “just look.”

Keeping one hand gripping her shirt, you unzipped her bag and dug around for something book shaped. When you felt it you pulled it out.

“No Pun Intended: Volume Two,” you read outloud, “what the hell is this?”

“Open it and read something,” Ellie pushed, grinning to herself.

You flicked through the pages.

“I stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.”

Ellie laughed. “Funny, right?”

“Sure,” you smiled, unconvinced.

“C’mon, read some more.”

You turned the page.

“I never trust stairs because they’re always up to something,” you snickered, flicking through more pages.

“These are so dumb,” you commented before finding another. “I had a crazy dream last night. I was swimming in an ocean of orange soda. Turns out it was just a Fanta sea.”

“I don’t get it,” Ellie said, frowning in confusion.

“Me neither.”

“I’ve got one,” she started excitedly, already laughing at her own joke. “Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon? I heard the food was good but it had no atmosphere.”

You put the book over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh escaping your lips. “These jokes are so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughing.”

“No, I’m not,” a smile evident in your voice.

“Yes you are, I can hear you,” she chuckled, turning her head around for a second trying to look at you.

“Okay, fine. I laughed. But you’re the one who’s memorised some of them!”

“Who knows when you’ll need an emergency pun!”

You squeezed Ellie’s side where your hand was and it made her jump. “You’re so weird.”

About an hour later, you arrived at what you heavily presumed to be the town. The gas station you had passed on the way you thought you would check out on the way back if supplies in the town weren’t great. On approach, you could see terraced buildings lining the streets. It looked like a typical small town. Shops with broken windows. Cars parked in skewed positions with flat tyres. Street signs half covered in vines that grew thick across brick walls. A general eerily quiet atmosphere. Very normal. Ellie pulled Harley to a stop and you both got off.

“Where should we look first?”

“Um, maybe make our way down these,” Ellie gestured to a row of shops on your left. You climbed over the open window pane, carefully avoiding any of the broken glass on the floor. You seemed to be in a pharmacy with its clinically white walls and flooring. The shelves were mostly empty, some completely knocked over with various items littering the ground. You naturally both went to different sides, scanning for anything useful. There wasn’t a great deal where you were looking, just some paracetamol that expired the same year as the outbreak, some expired baby formula, definitely won’t be needing that, and some dust covered sunglasses. They had massive frames with electric blue lenses. Beside them on the wall you saw a ripped poster of a guy who was also wearing sunglasses and a colourful open shirt, carrying a large board on a beach. You smirked to yourself and wiped the lenses clean before putting them on and looking up at where Ellie was.

“Think I might save these for my next beach visit. You know, try ‘n’ catch some waves,” you joked, putting on your best surfer dude voice for the last sentence.

“Hot,” Ellie laughed, stepping closer to you and slapping a huge, wide brimmed straw hat on her head. It had a reduced sticker on it which made sense considering the world went to shit about a month after summer. “I’ll join you.”

Getting into character, you sauntered over to her and rested an arm on the shelf beside her, popping your hip and resting your hand on it. You pitched your voice lower. “What brings you to the beach, pretty lady?”

Ellie pitched her voice higher, pretending to twirl her hair around her finger. “Oh, you know, just wanna work on my tan.”

“Well lemme know if you want any,” you pretended to flex your muscles, “any surfing lessons.”

“Oh I will,” she fake giggled before you both burst out laughing.

“That hat looks ridiculous,” you said, slapping the front of the rim.

“These don’t look any better.” She tapped on the lens of the sunglasses.

“No really? I thought I looked cool.” You took them off, pretending to be disappointed.

Ellie chuckled and frisbee-threw the hat across the store. You continued your searches for supplies, again coming up against nothing. You crouched under a knocked over shelf, more broken glass crunching under your feet.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Ellie’s voice. She was grinning smugly at something small in her hands.

“What is it?”

She held up and wiggled a tiny plastic bag containing thin rolls of paper.

“Weed?”

“The one and only. Saving that for later,” she smiled, shoving it in her pocket.

You smiled at how excited she seemed. You had smoked once when you were fifteen with Amy but you both had no idea what you were doing so you’re not even sure if you did it right. You just remember it making you feel a bit wobbly and your throat had felt scratchy and burnt.

“I’m not having any luck here, wanna try next door?” you suggested and she nodded.

After searching through the row of shops you decide to find the supermarket, using the map for directions. It was a large, standalone building with rusted cars parked sporadically in the carpark. A few with windows broken and dented hoods, some completely destroyed from crashing into each other. It made you stop and think for a second about how terrifying and confusing it must have been when the outbreak hit. One minute you’re hearing the sounds of shopping carts across gravel whilst you load your shopping into the car and then you hear screams and screeching tires trying to escape.

“This seems to be it,” Ellie pondered. She suddenly mumbled a “shit” and you followed her eyes down to a skeleton beneath ripped clothing on the ground by the door. You grimaced thinking about how long that had been there and how many people had walked past the decomposing person over the years. Perhaps not many as this seemed to be the epitome of a ghost town.

Not being shocked by the sight, Ellie began trying to shove the broken automatic doors apart further. You watched as the wind blew a piece of her hair across her face, catching it in the corner of her mouth. You wanted to reach out and fix it for her, frowning to yourself as you weren’t sure why you had the urge to do that. Instead, you helped her pry the doors apart, each slipping through once there was enough room. You glanced around the expanse of aisle, noticing the signs that hung above them. The chipped cream floor was littered with anything from knocked over produce, broken shopping baskets, ripped pieces of board, broken glass, smears of blood and other unknown substances. The deeper you looked the darker it got, the light from outside only travelling so far, especially seeing as on one side some of the windows had large pieces of cardboard taped to them. Maybe that person out the front had been camping out here once upon a time.

“I’ll start left, you start right and we’ll meet in the middle?” you suggested. Ellie merely nodded before heading to the far right aisle. There were fifteen of them in total so hopefully you would find something.

You had made your way down to aisle four and had lucked out in finding some scissors and matches. Shaking a box upside down to see if anything came out of it you suddenly heard a rattle which sounded like the door. You inched your way towards the back, careful to not to bump into anything and give your location away. You prayed the sound was just Ellie, but you weren’t about to call out her name to find out.

“In here,” a gruff voice sounded. Fuck.

Footsteps clambered in, rubber soles screeching on the floor. You couldn’t detect how many there might be but you were definitely outnumbered. You made a mental note of where your weapons were and clutched your machete. You racked your brain for what to do, fear boiling up inside you. You could hear the movements from these newcomers spread out, shadows slipping underneath the shelving units. You slipped around to the end, peering round to see if the next aisle was clear. It wasn’t.

A woman was walking towards you, a gun in her outstretched hands. You moved quickly back into aisle four before she could see you but you knew you weren’t safe to stay there. You trod carefully down to the other end, towards the front of the supermarket but there was someone guarding the door. Knowing that you would have to face one of them no matter what direction you went in, you decided you had a better chance against the woman who could be turning in your direction any second now. You paid close attention to any noises you heard although the building was eerily silent as you made your way back up to the other, darker end of the aisle. Your body faltered as you heard a squelch in the distance followed by a low, agonising grunt.

Having reached the end, you braved peering around the corner again only to see the woman with her back to you, slowly walking away. You swapped your machete out for your switchblade and took your opportunity to wrap a tight arm around her neck and puncture it. She choked out a splutter of bubbling blood, dropping her gun as you brought her body down slowly to the ground. You snatched the gun from the floor and moved forwards in hopes of finding Ellie.

The next aisle was clear so you kept moving before a hand suddenly slapped itself over your mouth and an arm held a firm grip around you, yanking you back into them and onto the floor behind a freezer unit. Your eyes widened and your body went rigid until you glanced down and saw the brown shirt sleeve. Bringing your knees closer to your chest so that they weren’t sticking out the side of the freezer you slowly turned your head. Your eyes met Ellie’s as she removed her hand from you and brought a finger to her lips to be quiet. You noticed some blood smeared on her hand. Your worried eyes darted between hers as she tightened her lips in a line.

“They got Milo.” you heard a sinister voice.

“Sadie too,” a shakier voice said.

“C’mon, let’s find those little shits,” the first voice commanded.

Your back pressed harder into Ellie and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You both knew you couldn’t just wait there, they would find you eventually, but you had no idea how many of them were left.

“We’ll take out the guard at the door and run,” Ellie whispered so quietly she had to practically press her lips against your ear in order for you to hear.

She snaked her arm away from you and gave you a gentle push, indicating for you to shift away so she could sneak a look over the freezer. You were now both crouched as she peered over before snapping her head back down. She pointed left and you nodded slowly before beginning to move forwards, still in your crouched position. You held your breath as you emerged from behind the freezer, exposing yourself to the possible dangers. Swiftly, you ducked into one of the aisles, Ellie following suit.

You moved down the aisle with careful speed, wanting to just get out of there. A dark shadow flashed before your eyes before a tall man with a scar starting from his cheek and finishing on his neck appeared. You halted and immediately rushed back up the aisle to create more distance, now behind Ellie as you both ran. A sharp, dense pain hit your thigh as you yelped and stumbled to the ground. You looked down at your leg and saw a knife that the man had thrown at you lodged in your flesh. Beneath the rip it made in your jeans, blood spilled down your leg.

Your eyes darted up to the sound of heavy boots stomping towards you. Ellie reached for your hand as you tried to scramble your way up but a rough hand gripped and yanked at your ankle, pulling you onto your back and away from her outstretched hand. You tried to kick as the man climbed on top of you, a cry coming from your lips as he ripped the knife out. With your legs stuck under his weight, you tried to blindly grab for your machete. You could hear Ellie’s grunts in the distance and assumed she had also been grabbed. Your frantic fingers managed to get a hold on the weapon and pull it out from its location on the side of your backpack but before you could swing, the man gripped your wrist. With everything you had, you tried to fight against his strength but it was no use. With his other hand he slammed his knife down and you screamed as the metal punctured your arm. He then pulled your machete out of your weakened grasp and tossed it so it skidded along the floor far away from you. You looked into his hardened eyes, your own glossing over. Your fingers scratched at him as you tried to push him off but your actions were cut short when he pulled the knife out of your arm and brought it up above your chest, thick fingers adjusting to get a stronger hold on the handle. Your crimson blood dripped from the blade and clung in splotches to the fabric of your top. Whether or not Ellie was okay flashed through your mind before your ears started ringing and your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden splash of something on your face.

A gunshot echoed through the store and when you opened your eyes you realised the only thing holding the man up anymore was your grip on him. You gasped at the glassy look he had in his eyes as you shoved his corpse off of you, the knife he had clattering to the ground. You sat up and tentatively brought your hand up to your face and swiped your cheek before looking at the blood that coated your fingertips. Turning your head you saw Ellie with an enraged look on her face and a shotgun pointed in your direction. At her feet lay another dead body, blood spilled and smeared around it. She lowered her gun and her expression softened ever so slightly as she walked towards you, crouching at your side.

“Here,” she mumbled as she ripped a piece from the hem of her shirt to make a tourniquet for your leg. You winced as she tightened the knot and her eyes glanced quickly to your face before noticing the stab wound on your arm. She ripped off another strip of material and did the same thing before holding your arm to help you stand up. You scrunched your face in pain at the weight being put on your leg but gritted your teeth to bear it.

“Was that all of them?” you asked.

“Think so, I haven’t seen anyone else.”

You hobbled towards the door of the supermarket, Ellie keeping a firm grip on your arm to support you. She hadn’t let on that she had any injuries but you could tell she had suffered beatings of her own by the way she slouched and strained her face. When you reached the door she let go of you to pry the doors open again. As soon as her hands gripped them a scrawny body came out of nowhere and wrapped a metal pole tight around Ellie’s neck. You screamed her name as her hands flew to grab the stranger's arm, trying to pull it away from her as they stumbled back. The man looked young and scared yet he desperately held his firm grip on the pole.

Ignoring your injuries, you grabbed your switchblade and threw yourself at him. The impact made him loosen his grip letting Ellie free. She was bent over, coughing and holding her neck as you tackled the boy to the ground. The fear you had felt about nearly losing your own life as well as Ellie’s transitioned into red anger as the faces of everyone you had lost flickered through your mind like embers. You fell completely inside your own head to the point where it felt like your ears were stuffed with cotton wool, blocking out the cries and screams of the man as you stabbed his chest over and over again with your knife. The sticky blood splattered your hands and stomach as you remained on top of him, repeatedly releasing your rage with every slash. He started to choke on bright blood as his eyes lost light. A pinching grip on both your arms was the only thing that snatched you from the trance, your vision and hearing becoming clear again. Ellie’s shouts became louder and clearer.

“That’s enough, that’s enough! Stop!”

She pulled you off of the man, your switchblade slipping out of your red hands. You sat sideways with your legs bent and looked up at her sat on her knees in front of you, her hands still holding your arms. She looked into your eyes with concern and took in your bewildered expression.

“I-” you choked on your words. The adrenaline was still running through your body.

“It’s okay, let’s go home.”

Ellie grabbed your switchblade off the floor and wiped it on her jeans before shoving it in her pocket along with hers before helping you to your feet once again. You both wobbled your way out and thankfully over to Harley who hadn’t been harmed. She neighed and kicked her front foot upon seeing you as if she was grateful you were still there. You steadied yourself by placing a hand on Harley’s neck whilst Ellie lifted herself up. She held her hand out for you and you braced yourself as you heaved your aching body up and onto the horses back. You had no embarrassment this time about holding onto Ellie’s waist as she gently kicked her feet for Harley to go.

The ride home felt like an eternity. The adrenaline had soon worn off, allowing the searing pain to sink in. Ellie had occasionally checked in on you with a quick “you still with me back there?” to which you’d mumble out a yes. All you wanted was to lie down. When you reached the house you climbed off of Harley and made your way to the back door whilst Ellie secured her in the stable. As soon as you got through the door you slumped into one of the dining chairs. You groaned as you shoved your backpack off, revelling in the removal of its heavy weight. Ellie came in and dropped her bag down also before rotating one of her sore shoulders and sighing.

“Wait there,” she instructed.

“I don’t plan on moving any time soon,” you joked as she dug through the kitchen cupboards.

She pulled out a first aid kit and some alcohol before marching back over to you and setting them on the table. She pulled a chair for herself to sit in and placed it in front of you. Your knees bumped as she opened up the first aid kit. She then paused, realising that in order for her to access your wounds you would have to take your clothes off.

“Um,” she started. It then clicked for you too.

“Oh right, um, yeah, you know, I can do it if you–fuck,” you groaned as you started to stand up. Her hand darted out to stop you but she quickly brought it back.

“It’s fine,” she laughed nervously, “if you don’t mind, I don’t.”

You nodded in appreciation, pausing before fumbling with the makeshift tourniquet on your thigh. You tried to swallow a groan as the pressure on your leg was released. You hesitantly undid the button and zipper on your jeans before resting your weight on your other leg so you could push the rigid denim down, exposing the nasty, deep gash on the side of your leg. You pulled your top down over your underwear and looked at Ellie who was looking intently at the wound. She didn’t seem phased, only concentrated on helping you. She poured a bit of sterile rain water onto a cloth and dabbed to clean any grime out of it, pausing to look at you when you flinched.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s fine, you’re not the one who stabbed me.”

She chuckled at your dumb joke and continued dabbing the wound. You became very aware of how her fingers softly touched your bare skin. It felt like that shouldn’t be something to think about right now but you couldn’t help but watch how she was delicately looking after you.

“Okay, this definitely will hurt,” she said, grabbing the alcohol and twisting the cap off.

You shifted in your seat, readying yourself. You had suffered stab wounds before but that didn’t mean you had gotten used to it. You let out a string of curses as the splash of alcohol burned. It dripped to the floor in tinted red droplets as she pressed the cloth to the cut again, applying pressure whilst she grabbed the roll of bandages with her free hand.

“Hold this, keep the pressure on,” she gestured with her head to her hand on your leg and you swapped with her.

She started to wrap the bandage around your thigh, your hand slipping away as the wound was covered and she used her switchblade to cut through it and tie the bandage off. You thanked her before she gestured to your arm.

“I’ll go and get you some clean clothes then do your arm.”

She ran up the stairs and returned with a top and some loose pyjama trousers and handed them to you. You thanked her and winced as you pulled the trousers on before peeling your sweaty, blood soaked top off, leaving you in a vest. Ellie resumed her role as nurse and treated your arm the same way she had done your leg. She gave you a soft look as she helped you pull the fresh top on.

“Can I help you now? What about changing this–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off and sat back as you tried to reach for her bandaged right arm.

You sat back too, mumbling an awkward sorry whilst her eyes darted nervously side to side.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s fine.”

A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell. You couldn’t help but stare at the bandage and wonder why she didn’t want your help. Especially seeing as she was completely fine helping you. You didn’t know what to assume but you could only suspect that something horrific had happened to her to make her suddenly shift from sweet to closed off in an instant.

“You should get some rest,” she whispered, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded and made an attempt to stand, groaning as you did so. A hot flash of burning pain pounded in your leg as you put your weight on it. Ellie quickly snapped a hand out to support you.

“Maybe you should just stay on the couch.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Your lips tightened as she helped you shuffle to the living room where you not-so-gracefully flopped onto the couch. You thanked her again and both mumbled goodnights before she disappeared upstairs, leaving you alone with your pain and curious thoughts about her.

ELLIE’S POV

Ellie’s fingers tapped nervously on her wrist where her hands rested on her stomach. It was in the early hours of the morning and she was staring up at the ceiling, her body feeling restless and flighty. She couldn’t keep this up any longer, not now that she wasn’t travelling alone. She was scared to death about how you would react and how you’d see her if you knew. She had to do something to hide it, something much more convincing than a raggedy bandage. The mattress springs screeched as she got up from the bed. She made her way to the bathroom and rummaged as quietly as she could through the cupboards.

“Fuck, nothing.”

She carefully descended the stairs, nose scrunching at the loud creak from the top step. She had to find something fast so that you wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She crept into the kitchen and started looking through all of the cupboards. Her wavering eyes suddenly landed on a white bottle. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out for it and stood up, staring at the glaring warning labels. Her eyes quickly scanned the small print to see if it was strong enough to do the job and when she deemed it was, she turned her head to peer out the kitchen door and into the living room. You were still fast asleep. Grabbing the bandages and a bottle of the sterile water that was still left out on the table, she went back upstairs and set the things down on the bathroom floor by the bathtub and shut the door. She took a big breath and stared at the items before her. Shaking her head to rid it of the doubtful thoughts she quickly knelt on the ground and yanked up her sleeve, peeling off the bandage. The scarred indents of the bite mark revealed themselves and she brushed a hand over it.

“Ok ok ok,” she chanted quietly to herself in an attempt to psych herself up.

She grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off, grimacing at the chemicals unnerving scent. She clenched her right fist and held out her arm over the bath. Her teeth gritted as she held the bottle ready to pour, occasionally tipping it back each time it got close to releasing the liquid.

“Fuck, come on.”

She clenched her jaw and tried to swallow a grunt as she poured the substance over the bite. Her skin stung but it took a few minutes before she could see it turning red with irritation. Her fist tensed as she let the chemical stab away at her skin, ensuring that it would blister enough to cover the bite mark. She tried to focus on keeping a steady breath to avoid thinking about the pain and when she had had enough, she quickly rinsed her arm thoroughly with the water before bandaging it up. She slumped to the ground and hung her sorry head low between her bent knees, looking down at her arms before her. She didn’t even realise she was crying until she felt a tear drop on her hand. She sat there and quietly sobbed until her head started to hurt. She figured she should put the bottle back in the kitchen where she found it to avoid any suspicion from you before she climbed into bed. Her eyes felt sore and heavy, a contrasting drowsy feeling to the lightening pain that was prickling her arm. But eventually, she was able to sleep.

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[blood-red-ocean]

It's been a while since I did an unhinged headcanon so here's what I imagine would be in each RL character's bag/backpack/pockets ✨

Miranda

- Poison. Either concealed in one of those old timey capsule rings or in a little bottle à la Emperor's New Groove.

- Paperwork. More specifically, expulsion paperwork already filled out except for the name section which she would fill out any time she was displeased.

- Some crow feathers. Whether it's from Cornelius getting nosey or Miranda being sentimental, nobody knows.

- Pictures of Eva and of MC.

- I feel like she'd also be the type to have a fountain pen in her handbag too.

Alcina

- One of those poseable wood doohickeys. You know the ones.

- Her signature perfume. And maybe a rose. And a tube of lipstick.

- A brochure of local wine tastings, and also a bunch of brochures from her theatres.

- She would probably have a Polaroid nude of MC stretched out on a chaise lounge tbh.

- Something to represent each of her daughters. A little trinket, perhaps.

Donna

- A book on herbology which is tattered and yellowed, the spine barely keeping the pages together.

- Her notebook with her order ledger and her own sketches and scribbles.

- A travel mug of herbal tea that she brewed herself.

- A little bag of dried flower petals and herbs.

- Her gardening gloves.

- I also believe that Angie would've gotten her a very small plushie of a plant that she takes everywhere with her.

Angie

- At LEAST twenty seven of those little travel sized alcohol bottles. Every time she takes a step, there's a clinking sound.

- Painkillers.

- A small, much less tattered copy of the herbology book that Donna has, but every page has a dried flower within it.

- In a secret pocket, there is a very small folded up picture of her mother.

Bela

- She doesn't carry a bag with her, it's not practical.

- Though if she did, she would probably just fill it full of office supplies.

- Maybe little things that made her remember her heart was beneath layers upon layers of numbness. The skull of a mouse, a four leaf clover, a small plushie.

Cassandra

- Its ✨the backpack✨ that she takes to dates' houses/dorms.

- Also like a billion of those little coffee machine capsules.

- An old takeaway cup.

- A stack of pieces of paper with phone numbers on them, just in case.

- A wrench, just in case.

Daniela

- TECH DECKS. SO MANY TECH DECKS.

- And like fifteen sticky hand things that she can use to hold MC's hand from a distance.

- Also a rag for when she gets sweaty.

- A skating magazine and a book on constellations.

- Also a book about theatre and some brochures for when she tries to connect with Alcina.

Mia

- Knives.

- So many knives.

- Empty her backpack out? Knives.

- Turn her upside down and shake her by the ankles? Knives.

- Look under her tongue and tell her to say 'ah'? Probably a tiny knife in there too.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Garden of Secrets [26] - Bellflower

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback and support my loves, it made my whole week, you’re amazing!❤ I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! ❤

Thanks so much to @theskytraveler​ for helping me with the chapter!

Summary: It can be tricky to deal with insecurities.

Warnings: Regency era society and social rules, some gender specific language and terms, mentions of violence, slow burn.

Word Count: 4400

Series Masterlist

This was such a beautiful morning.

You woke up quite early, still feeling giddy after last night. It seemed to be one of those days where you just knew it would go well even from the beginning of it, which was quite surprising because it was becoming more and more of a usual mood for you, contrary to how you used to wake up before.

“You seem rather happy,” Paula commented as she finished your hair.  “Have you had nice dreams?”

“Something like that,” you said as you put on your earrings. “How about you? How was your night?”

“Uneventful I’m afraid,” she said but before you could reply, the knock on the door made both of you turn your heads.

“Yes?” you called out and the door opened, your heart skipping a beat as soon as you saw who it was.

“Good morning,” Benedict greeted you from the doorway and you felt a smile warm your face.

“Good morning to you too,” you said, standing up from your chair in front of the vanity, “Come in please. Paula you may leave us, thank you.”

Paula left the room and Benedict stepped inside, the four-leaf clover peeking from the front pocket of his waistcoat catching your attention immediately. Your smile widened when you noticed that he was holding something behind his back and you tilted your head.

“What’s that?”

“For my beautiful wife,” he said with a grin and held out a bouquet of flowers, making you let out a gasp.

“Oh my God!” you said and took the flowers from him, nibbling on your lip. “Thank you!”

“Likewise,” he said, motioning at the clover and you looked down at the bouquet that was not tied together by any kind of ribbon yet carefully cut and placed together, then up at him.

“Are these from our garden?”

“Mm hm, and Mr. Binsted has been a great help.”

You hummed, taking a look at the stems. “Thankfully,” you said with a teasing smirk. “I doubt you know where to cut the stems.”

“Yeah see, I was planning on just ripping them—”

“Don’t you dare!” you exclaimed, holding the flowers to your chest as if protecting them and Benedict chuckled.

“Then I remembered you have a knife so…”

“Two knives.”

“Ah yes, I stand corrected.”

You buried your nose into the flowers to take a deep breath, then raised your head.

“So I take it you’ve been to your studio already?”

“Mm hm, first thing in the morning. Painted a little.”

“Oh that’s wonderful!”

He shrugged his shoulders and heaved a sigh.

“I don’t know if it will turn out wonderful but…” he trailed off and you thought for a moment.

“You know, if you need help painting roses, I could help you,” you said with an air of exaggerated arrogance, making him let out a laugh.

“Oh really?”

“Mm hm. To share my rare gift and everything.”

“Much appreciated,” he said, that playful glimmer shining in his blue eyes and you nodded in a solemn manner.

“Talent only grows when it’s shared,” you said, walking past him to step out of the room into the hallway, still holding the flowers to your chest as he followed you out of the room. “Everyone knows that.”

“Well—” he started but was cut off when a very familiar and excited voice rang through the hallway.

“Y/N?” Teddy called out. “Can I see my gift now?”

You and Benedict exchanged confused glances before your aunt’s voice reached you as well.

“Teddy!”

“What on…?” you muttered as the butler entered your sight.

“Ma’am, your aunt and your brother—” he started but Teddy wheezed past him, running to you at full speed to crash into you.

“Thank you,” you told the butler with a laugh before handing him the flowers and asked him to put them in the water, then crouched down to wrap your arms around Teddy.

“Good morning,” you said, pulling back to see him better. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Where’s my gift?”

You hummed, tilting your head. “What gift?”

“You said—Benedict!” Teddy exclaimed, looking up at him as if asking for his help and Benedict chuckled.

“Don’t mind her Teddy, you definitely have a gift in the house as we speak.”

“Can I see it now?”

“Good morning to you both,” your aunt said and Benedict bowed.

“Good morning Lady Thorne.”

“My apologies for the intrusion and the very early hour.”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head fervently. “Please. You are always welcome here, so is Teddy.”

“I have this urgent meeting with Lady Wesley for the ball she’s planning to throw and all the Social Picnic Club is invited.”

“Social Picnic Club?” Benedict asked and you raised your brows.

“Think of it like a mini parliament among the ladies,” you said helpfully. “Actually, I take it back. I’m sure the actual parliament has fewer requirements to become a part of it.”

“It’s not so bad,” your aunt defended herself. “It’s a great honor, and when the time comes—”

“I will absolutely not be a part of it auntie, we’ve had this conversation before.”

“Anyway,” your aunt said while Benedict tried to repress his chuckle. “Teddy insisted that we visited you two on our way there.”

“For my gift!”

“And here I thought you missed me.”

“I did miss you!” Teddy said and you ruffled his hair, then turned to your aunt.

“Can he stay here while you have your meeting?”

Teddy gasped and looked up at your aunt. “Can I please, auntie?”

“Oh of course,” she said and turned to you and Benedict. “Are you two sure?”

“Absolutely!”

“We’d love to,” Benedict said. “And Teddy’s gift is going to take some time, so it’s even better.”

Teddy giggled and your aunt smiled at you.

“Very well then,” she said. “Teddy my dearest, we’re going to be on our best behavior hm?”

Teddy nodded fervently. “Yes.”

“I will be back in two hours tops.”

“Take your time,” you said and she kissed you, then bid you and Benedict goodbye and walked away from you. Teddy looked up at you, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Can I see my gift now please?”

“Did you eat yet?”

“I did, eggs and toast and jam,” he said impatiently, and turned to Benedict. “Can I see my gift?”

Benedict winked at you, then hoisted Teddy up to place him over his shoulders, making him let out an excited laugh that echoed through the hallway as you took a step towards him immediately.

“Benedict—”

“Yes?”

“Be careful,” you said and looked at Teddy. “Uh, Teddy maybe you should—”

“No!” Teddy cut you off. “It’s fun!”

“It’s just that,” you told Benedict, “You’re very tall so if you drop him he could get hurt—”

“I won’t drop him, don’t worry.”

“Y/N it’s fun!” Teddy insisted, his eyes shining with excitement and you heaved a sigh, then held up your hands.

“Alright then.”

“Ready to go?” Benedict asked and Teddy giggled.

“Yes!” he said and Benedict started walking to the studio with Teddy still giggling, and you shook your head slightly, then followed them with a smile on your face.

                                              *

You asked the maids to bring a vase, some soil and the little bag of geranium seeds that Benedict had gifted you earlier. Since you did not hold any artistic talent or anything of the sort, you figured you could spend time with them by doing what you had wanted for a long time.

Digging your fingers into some soil and planting flowers.

Teddy looked like he was having the time of his life. Benedict was teaching him how to make the clay before they would model it around the simple figures made out of wires. He was listening to everything Benedict was saying, his whole attention on him, his tongue sticking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he tried to mimic what Benedict was doing.

You knew you were supposed to focus on your own work but it was a bit difficult when Benedict was sitting not far from you on the floor with his sleeves rolled up, letting you steal glances at his strong arms.

“And then we’re going to mix it, alright? Put some water in,” he instructed him and Teddy poured a little water into the mixture, looking up at him as if hoping for his approval and Benedict smiled, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “Very nice, see? You’re going to be the next Donatello at this rate.”

Teddy nodded with a proud grin and you tilted your head.

“Do you know who Donatello is, Teddy?” you asked as you put some soil into the vase, sitting on the floor with your legs tucked underneath you. Teddy thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“No,” he said, turning to look at Benedict. “Who is he?”

“He was this incredibly talented sculptor,” Benedict said as he checked out the clay Teddy was mixing, “He was born in Italy, and he worked really really hard to be a sculptor, and now his works are everywhere, just like yours will be one day.”

Teddy giggled, the happy sound making you smile.

“Can I see his works?” Teddy asked and Benedict nodded.

“How about your sister and I take you to Italy one day so that you can see his sculptures?”

He gasped and nodded fervently. “Yes please!” he said. “When did he—when did he make his sculptures?”

“Oh so so many years ago,” Benedict said. “Like five hundred years ago.”

Teddy’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“Mm hm.”

“And we can see them now?”

Benedict nodded with a grin, obviously happy with Teddy’s curiosity and excitement.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Because that’s what art does. It lasts for centuries and centuries, so that people can see it forever.”

“If I become a sculptor,” Teddy said. “Will people see my works as well? Five—five hundred years in the future?”

“They will,” Benedict said. “And they will admire all your works.”

Teddy turned to you, excitement shining in his eyes.

“Y/N, did you hear?”

“Mm hm,” you said with a grin. “That’s wonderful isn’t it?”

“It is!”

“Alright future artist,” Benedict said. “Are you ready for the next stage?”

“Yes!”

“We will put this clay around these wires, hm? So that we can have the shape we will follow and then work on it.”

Teddy nodded and got to it immediately, and you carefully put the seeds into the soil, pressing with your fingers.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join?” Benedict asked and you looked up from the vase, then grinned at him.

“Oh I think I’ll let the artists cover the art front,” you said. “I’m fine over here.”

“So wait,” Teddy said as he worked on putting the clay over the wire model. “Will people see your paintings five hundred years from now as well?”

“They will,” you said before Benedict could even answer and he gave you a smile before turning to Teddy.

“Your sister says so.”

“Will they see that painting?” Teddy asked, pointing at the half-finished landscape on one of the canvases and Benedict shook his head, then pointed at the covered painting at the corner.

“That one.”

“What’s on it?”

Benedict grinned and nodded in your direction, making Teddy gasp.

“Y/N?”

“Mm hm. Her portrait, or at least it will be once it’s finished.”

“I’m very excited for that one,” you commented and Teddy shifted his weight.

“It’s for future people?”

Benedict nodded and turned his gaze to you to smile at you softly.

“So that people will get to see what true beauty looks like even after five hundred years.”

You could swear your cheeks were on fire but you narrowed your eyes at him playfully, then made a face at him, making him laugh.

“That’s exactly how your portrait will look,” he told you and you gasped.

“No it will not!” you protested and poured some water on the soil. After making sure it was damp enough, you pulled your hands back, very much aware of the smile on your face.

“Too bad those flowers won’t last five hundred years,” Teddy commented and you shrugged your shoulders.

“No they won’t,” you said. “But they’ll be beautiful either way.”

                                                *

Towards the afternoon your aunt came to get Teddy, and you spent the most of the day reading but when the night fell, you and Benedict decided to go to a party.  It had been a while since you last did that, and you always had such fun in them so you were rather excited.

It was only when you were in the carriage that you had asked where the party was and to hear the answer “Lady Margery’s” was less than ideal, but it wasn’t as if you could tell Benedict to turn the carriage around and go back home so you had tried not to let it affect your mood or your expression.

Lady Margery’s house was very impressive. It was surrounded by a huge garden full of different flowers on the outside, and the inside was full of artworks adorning the walls of many hallways leading to various rooms with different types of entertainment.

“Do you think Felix will be here?” you asked Benedict and he shook his head.

“I think I heard him say he had plans with—” he paused for a second, then turned to you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“So Andrew and Josie,” he said, making you look up at him.

“Yes?”

“Andrew and Josie are married right?”

You tried to control the grin threatening to curl your lips. “Yeah they eloped. Got married in Gretna Green, Bess was there as well.”

“Right,” he said. “And uh…Josie and Bess seem very close.”

You had to bite at your lips, feigning innocence. “Yes they’re best friends.”

“They are—” Benedict swallowed thickly. “They seem to be very close best friends.”

You tilted your head, blinking up at him in a completely naïve manner. “Yes. Your point being?”

“Nothing at all,” Benedict said. “I was just wondering if they were—best friends.”

“They are,” you said. “They’re such best friends that most of the time they share a bed.”

Benedict raised his brows. “Oh?”

“Uh huh.”

“And when—when that happens, where is Andrew exactly?”

“Probably finding his own best friend to share a bed with,” you said, now letting a grin split your face. “It seems like his best friend might be Felix nowadays.”

Benedict gasped, looking at you in complete shock. “You did this on purpose!”

“The look on your face—how naïve do you take me for, honestly?” you asked with a laugh. “Do you think I wouldn’t be able to notice my sister being with her lover?”

Benedict shook his head, pointing at you. “Diabolical.”

“I seem to like seeing you beat around the bush, that was rather adorable,” you said, still giggling and he shot you a playful look.

“So you knew all along?”

“Of course I did,” you said. “I was there when they planned it—Benedict, if you so much as utter a word of this—”

“You know me better than that,” he said and you smiled at him.

“I do,” you admitted. “But anyway, yes. It’s an arrangement where everyone is happy, and you can’t say that for many marriages in the ton.”

Benedict thought for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders. “I suppose?”

“Well well, isn’t this Adonis and Venus?” a teasing voice reached you and you turned to see Henry grinning at you. “Welcome.”

“Oh hello Henry,” you said. “Is Lucy here?”

“She’s…occupied at the moment,” Henry said before grinning at Benedict. “I may have a surprise for you.”

Benedict tilted his head. “What surprise?”

“One of my friends is coming to London,” Henry said. “Sometime this month, but considering how impulsive he is, it could be within the week as well. And it is someone I think you would love to meet.”

“Who?”

“Lord Easton.”

Benedict’s eyes widened and you looked between them. “Who’s Lord Easton?”

“He’s one of my absolute heroes in art,” Benedict said, still gawking at Henry. “Are you serious?”

“Mm hm. I did tell him I had a very promising artist he should meet.”

“Henry!” Benedict hissed. “You can’t tell him that, I don’t even…I’m not even applying for the Academy this year, and my paintings are not even close to be ready, let alone to be seen by—”

“They’re good, Ben,” Henry said and you squeezed at his arm in an assuring manner.

“You’ll be fine.”

“No no, Easton is a genius,” Benedict said and Henry shot you a grin.

“I don’t know if I should be offended about the fact that I’m not his hero in art.”

“One can have multiple heroes,” you teased him but before Henry could joke back, you heard a silky voice.

“Welcome to the party.”

You looked over your shoulder, then turned around to see Lady Margery better and Benedict and Henry bowed their heads. There was no wonder why she had so many admirers as Lucy had informed you earlier, she really was breathtaking. Her nonchalant smile fit the gleam in her eyes perfectly as she stole a look at them, then turned to you.

“We meet at last,” she said. “Mrs. Bridgerton, I’ve heard so much about you.”

You smiled back. “Likewise.”

“I hope you won’t mind that I’m stealing her Benedict for drinks,” she grinned at him and you arched a brow at the first name basis. “We’ll be back, excuse us gentlemen.”

She linked her arm through yours and gently led you away from them so that you could pass through the hallway, and you looked around at the paintings hanging on the walls.

“You have a lovely home,” you said and she turned to see what you were looking at, then waved a hand in the air.

“Thank you,” she said. “It took me a while to get rid of all my late husband’s belongings and it included a lot of portraits of him and his family, but now there are finally paintings I enjoy looking at.”

You blinked a couple of times, then followed her into the room where there was a long counter with two footmen making drinks. It was such an unfamiliar sight that for a moment you just stared at them, then remembered to turn to her.

“My condolences for your late husband.”

She scoffed a laugh and motioned at a footman who quickly grabbed two glasses of drinks to bring you.

“No need for any condolences,” she said. “I’ve always dreamed of being a widow.”

Dear God, she really was what you had hoped to be before getting married to Benedict.

She clinked her glass with yours and took a sip, urging you to do the same. You could feel the drink burn your throat, but you cleared your throat and smiled up at her.

“Well then congratulations on getting what you dreamed of.”

“Why thank you,” she said. “I find the idea of marriage quite absurd if you ask me, especially within the ton. It’s the worst prison to be.”

“Not for everyone,” the words left your lips before you had any chance to stop them and she tilted her head.

“Oh obviously,” she said. “Benedict and you are the exception, Henry says so. Did you like the geraniums?”

Your eyes shot up to hers and you paused for a moment. It was almost like looking in the mirror, Margery was so good at keeping her cards up to her chest that you could not tell whether she was being friendly or not.

If it were a couple of months ago, she would have been your absolute hero in life, but now…

“Ben says you told him where to get those seeds,” you said and she nodded her head.

“Well I’m glad they worked,” she said. “Though I don’t believe in love, it’s quite pleasant to see the couples that do.”

“And what do you believe in?” you asked and she shrugged her shoulders.

“I’m a bit of a…hedonist I suppose,” she said. “What we call love is merely a name to cover what we truly desire. I don’t believe love lasts, so we should get all the pleasure we can get from this short life.”

Well it was no wonder why she and Benedict got along well. Though Benedict believed in love, his whole life had been nothing but a hedonistic existence up until very recently.

“And when I said that to Henry, he said I sounded like Lord Easton,” she said with a laugh and your brows furrowed. “Can you believe that? All this time, I’ve been unknowingly leading my life according to the ideals of my most favorite artist.”  

Oh.

Alright then.

The insecurity crashed over you so fast that for a moment you couldn’t even understand why your mood had changed. Lady Margery was everything you had wanted to be before getting married and you had a feeling that she was also what Benedict had wanted -and perhaps still did- in a partner. She was gorgeous, carefree, mysterious and well educated, she knew all about art and apparently they even had the same favorite artist.

And to make things even worse, she wasn’t even trying.

“Sir Granville says Lord Easton will be in London in a month or so,” you managed to say and she nodded.

“Oh yes I’ve heard. I’m rather excited to meet him—” she started but was cut off when someone called out her name, making her look at the person.

“The duty of a hostess even during a party,” she muttered and turned to you. “Will you excuse me please?”

“Of course,” you said and watched her walk away before letting out a breath, that heavy feeling still at the bottom of your stomach. You downed your drink, then put the empty glass on the nearest tray and made your way out of the room.

Everyone seemed to have fun, laughter and chatter echoing even in the hallway as you passed through it, then stepped outside. The chill weather was like a balm to your burning face, and you took a deep breath, then made your way down the stone road to approach the nearest bench to sit down.

It wasn’t even her fault. By all means, Margery sounded like someone you would be such good friends with, if you could extinguish this fire of envy in your heart and you knew it was nonsense, and yet…

You groaned and leaned down to bury your face into your forearms, taking deep breaths. You had no idea how long you stayed like that, but soon enough your ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps coming closer to stop in front of you.

You pulled out your knife and flicked it with one hand without even lifting your head.

“Walk away.”

“I thought you changed your mind about being a widow,” Benedict replied and your head shot up, and you tucked the knife back into its place before putting it back into your cleavage.

“Hello.”

“Hello there, potential murderer,” he teased you. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded your head, then stood up from the bench. “Sure. What are you doing here?”

“I saw you out of the window.”

“Ah,” you said. “Yeah I’m alright. I just felt like getting some fresh air, so…”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded again and took a step to walk past him but he caught your hand before you could walk away, your name leaving his lips again. You stopped dead in your tracks, sparks of excitement rushing through your veins before you bit down on your lip, then laced your fingers through his, your heart doing a happy flip. You could swear the simple gesture made his breath hitch and you stepped closer to him to rest your forehead against his hard chest, standing there completely still like a statue. His pleasant scent filled your nostrils, making you take a deep breath as discreetly as you could.  

“Hey,” Benedict said, his deep murmur vibrating in his chest. “What is it?”

You shrugged your shoulders without pulling back.

“Can we stay like this for a moment please?”

Benedict’s voice was soft; “We can stay like this for as long as you want.”

You nodded against his chest, and he dragged his fingertips up your spine to cradle the back of your head, probably messing up your carefully coiffed updo but you couldn’t care less. You closed your eyes as he nuzzled to the top of your head, burying his nose into your hair.

“What is it?” he murmured, his thumb caressing the soft skin of your hand and you swallowed thickly.

“Inside my head is not peaceful I guess,” you said. “It happens sometimes.”

“Do you want to go back home?”

“No,” you muttered. “I just…it helps. You being here.”

“I’ll always be here,” he said, his words like the sweetest promise and you felt a smile pull at your lips.

“Ben?”

“Hm?”

“Can you say that nonsense thing that I don’t believe in?”

He paused for only a moment before a chuckle climbed up his throat, coaxing a smile from you as well. His fingertips stroked over the back of your neck, sending a fire down your spine, raising goosebumps on your skin.

“I love you,” he murmured into your hair and heaved a sigh. “God, you have no idea how much I love you.”

You could almost feel your heart melting inside your chest and your smile widened, his words washing away that small insecure voice in your head. You squeezed at his hand, nudging at his chest with your nose before pulling back to look up at him. For a moment, you both stared at each other, your eyes locked in his, desire spreading through your veins like wildfire before you took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together.

“Let’s go back inside,” you managed to say and he tilted his head to shoot you that lopsided grin, his eyes gleaming even under the moonlight as if he was amused.

“You are the most confusing woman I’ve ever met, did you know that?”

You gave him a mischievous smile, then tugged at his hand and started walking with him following you.

“I have no idea what you speak of,” you said, your heart still pacing in your chest, excitement making you nearly giddy. “I’m quite simple if you ask me.”

Chapter 27

[bzurk]

 zombie!au 141 x reader

dark content ahead! you've been warned.

It’d been hard at first. Women weren't treated well when people turned on each other, both healthy and infected. You were lucky when the virus started;

You were a dog trainer, surrounded by canines trained in personal protection. It was easy to scare people off. On your travels, your pack grew, a congregation of man’s best friends who were left behind. You had a whole arsenal, eventually; hunting, tracking, attacking.

This winter, though, was particularly difficult. Game was scarce, the ground frozen solid, the older dogs weakened by sore joints and aching limbs. You had run out of supplies weeks ago, trading your trained mutts for scraps and tools. Your only companions were your two remaining dogs, your only hope the compound in the distance, surrounded by wires and gates. The facility's noise, perhaps, was scaring off any nearby game. Maybe, it was already infected. Your doubts were alleviated when you saw little shadows moving about the tarmac.

You walked up to what you hoped was the front gate, arms raised and guns holstered, dogs plastered at each side.

“I come peacefully!” You bellowed, staring straight through the chain links towards the silhouetted figures. They grow closer, slowly, weapons raised and glinting blindingly under the sunlight. “I mean no harm. I would like to know if you have any food to spare. I can trade you for it.” You swung out an arm to gesture to your dogs.

The men wore fatigues and vests, packed with gear and weaponry. Well-equipped. They must have food, fresh game, stocks of MREs, dried rations.

“What you offerin’?” A man’s rough voice called back.

“Can take one of the dogs, if you’ve got enough of worth. I don’t part with them easily. Both trained, they are. Good at keeping out infected.”

It wasn’t long before Price’s three subordinates were staring at him with wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Can we keep ‘em, Cap, please please please?”

Price had to admit you were a sight. Tousled, blood-stained, covered in tattered winter clothes that could barely keep out the cold. A hunting rifle strapped to your back, knives peaking from your pockets. A capable girl. Not many women out this far. He hadn’t come across one in months, not since venturing to trade with nearby settlements. Three or four months, at the least.

“Would you like to come in, love? Looks like you could do with a night of rest.”

They were nice, these four men, if not overly charming and kind. But they were nice enough to let you, and your dogs, in, even providing a tour of the premises – insisting guns were left at the door, of course. You were correct in assuming they were well-stocked. They confirmed they’d been residing in the base since outbreak day, though people came and went. They fed you, and even your two dogs. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the human company.

The base was a stark contrast to the wasteland outside. Boxes of food and warm blankets, running water, and electricity powered by a generator. The men showed you their hydroponic garden, where they grew fresh vegetables, and a storeroom stocked with preserved foods and medical supplies. It was a veritable haven.

They introduced themselves: Captain John Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. They shared stories of their missions before the outbreak, their camaraderie evident in their banter and shared glances.

You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you had found a place where you and your dogs could be safe, at least for a few nights. These men were skilled and seemed trustworthy enough, and their compound was secure. It was enough to put your tired mind at ease.

Perhaps too at ease. It didn’t take long for your body to slump in your chair, almost sliding out of it, if not for the hands that held you steady. Your eyes were fuzzy, your hearing diminished to a faint ringing. You could feel a wet snout nosing your limp hand, firm and warm palms divesting you of your coats and the weapons hidden in your pockets, strong arms wrapping around your waist, your tummy digging into a warm shoulder as you were thrown around like a sack of flour.

“Nice little pack of mutts we’ve found, aye, lads? Don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you. Train you up well.”

if this gets enough interest ill turn it into a fic

[theoutsiderslove]

Before the Rumble

Darry Curtis x Fem! Reader

Tags: Brief mentions of violence. 

Word Count: 2.5k

“Every one of us will be back here before you know it.”

Ponyboy and Sodapop had been talking about it for weeks.

It seemed like every other conversation focused on it. They talked about it at the dinner table, Soda yelled about it from the shower, and Pony would even take breaks from his homework to stop and chatter on.

When Steve and Two-Bit were around, and then all four of them got to going on about it? Then it was really a rousing conversation. 

While Darry was looking forward to it the same as they were, he was beginning to get a little annoyed with the constant talk of it. Sure, it wasn’t an everyday occurrence, and it was something they all got excited for.

Darry, however, preferred to wait until a day or two before to begin hyping up for it. There was no sense in being all tense for it when it was still two weeks out.

You, on the other hand, didn’t mind all the bubbly chatter. It made you happy to see them so excited for something. 

After all, it wasn’t every day that they had a rumble to look forward to.

Over the last several months, things had been extra heated between the Greasers and the Socs. More and more unprovoked fights, crossing over into territories, and just overall grievance between the two groups had become obvious – and it was time to cool things down a bit.

Rumbles were a decent way for the Socs and Greasers to blow off steam on one another. It was their chance to get in as many swings and kicks as they could without “breaking the rules.” 

It would settle things down at least…for now. 

Needless to say, the boys were stoked, and now that the night had arrived and the rumble was only a few hours out – they were off the walls.

“Hey! I saw that, Two-Bit,” You barked. “No knives.” 

His cheeks flushed pink at being caught shoving his blade into his pocket, but the grin on his face was as Two-Bit as ever.

“I wasn’t gonna use it!” He claimed, but you knew him all too well.

“You know what happens when a knife comes out at a skin fight,” You pointed at him with a knowing finger. “I don’t want to have to sew anyone back together tonight.”

Two-Bit cackled at that, his usual wisecracker of a personality shining brighter than ever. Nonetheless, he obliged to your scolding, removing his switchblade from his pocket and leaving it on the table in front of the couch.

It didn’t dampen his spirits whatsoever. If anything, everyone’s normal behaviors were doubled tonight.

The Curtis home was bustling with activity. The gang was on fire with energy tonight, all of them going through their separate routines to get prepped and ready for the rumble. Dallas was nowhere to be seen, but he usually showed up right when it was time to get going. 

They were spread out throughout the house, each of them piping up within the conversation.

“Y’all think the fuzz will show up?” Steve asked from the dining table, where he was playing some card game with Sodapop.

“Nah. I don’t think this is gonna be that kind of rumble,” Soda answered. “A couple of minutes at most.”

Your head popped out from the kitchen at the sound of that. While the women usually didn’t participate in rumbles, you were going to be on clean up duty when they returned to the house later that night. It was important to be sure that there was plenty of first aid, clean rags, and aspirin to fix everybody up…not to mention some kind of bedding so everybody had a place to crash, and towels so everyone could shower.

“Sodapop, do not get too comfortable with that,” You advised. “I also would prefer not to have to bail any of you out of jail.”

“Awh, come on, [Y/N]. You’re just bein’ paranoid.” Ponyboy said from the sofa, where he and Johnny were sitting quietly.

Pony and Johnny didn’t usually say much before a rumble. They were the smallest of the group, and these rumbles were physically much rougher on them than the rest of the gang. Still, they liked to pull their weight like everybody else, and bringing glory to the Greasers meant more than anything.

“Especially you,” You pointed again, but at Pony this time. “It’s one thing bailing Dally out. You’re a different story.”

You couldn’t help but be protective. When you and Darry started dating, you signed on with this gang. Each and every one of them meant something special to you. In some way or another, each of them had helped you out and been there for you in some way. They trusted you the same way you trusted them. It was the least you could do to pay it forward – keep them safe and clean them up afterwards when they weren’t.

Steve turned around in his chair to look at you, a goofy smirk plastered on his face.

“Why? You think Darry’s gonna yell at you if he does?” Steve laughed. “No chance that’ll ever happen.”

You couldn’t help but share a smile. The guys always teased Darry about how he was so serious and rough all the time. But the second you were around or if he was merely even thinking about you, that big man demeanor melted away. 

“What will never happen?” Darry asked as he entered the living room, only hearing the second half of the conversation.

Not wanting to argue with the big man in the house, Steve waved him off.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Steve dismissed, returning to his card game with Soda. “Got any twos?”

Darry scoffed, rolling his eyes at his kid brother’s best pal. The man’s blue-green eyes met yours, a certain shimmer shining over them when he looked at you. He had a small, yet dashing grin on his face – an expression he showed when he was happily, but quietly thinking about you.

A moment was shared between your silent looks. He knew you were nervous, as you usually were before they all went off to go beat up a bunch of rich kids from the other side of town. He was sure that you had already given Pony and Soda the pep talk about getting away if the cops showed up. He was positive that you had already told Two-Bit to empty his pockets of any weapons.

He knew your thought process, and your caring nature for him and his family (both biological and not) made him feel like the most loved guy in the world.

“Hey,” Two-Bit called to Darry, suddenly re-inserting himself to the topic at hand…or the one that was attempted to be left behind. “Speaking of things that’ll never happen, when are you going to buy that poor girl a ring?”

Your smile was wiped clean off your face, and a scowl appeared in its place.

“Keith.” You said boldly and sternly before anyone else could get a word in.

Two-Bit sank into his chair at the usage of his real, government name – a telltale sign that (per usual) he had taken it too far.

That “girl” he was referring to was you, and it was something that he hassled Darry about all the time. 

Everyone knew that you and Darry wanted to get married and would get married…eventually. According to Ponyboy, Darry had wanted to ask you to marry him within the first six months that you were together. 

But you knew the situation that Darry was in. Their parents were gone, and things hadn’t been so smooth for them in the last few years. It had only been about a year since they had died when you met Darry and now, three years later, on the surface it seemed that your relationship was going nowhere. 

But you knew that things weren’t so black and white. Darry on numerous occasions had began to save up some money to buy you a ring and put it aside for a wedding, but it seemed that every time Darry was getting some decent cash saved, one of the boys would get hurt or something urgent around the house would need fixing, and Darry would have no option but to use the money elsewhere.

One time you even suggested to Darry to forget the ring and just have a small courthouse wedding. It was cheap and quick. It wasn’t like you needed a wedding ring or any kind of “real” wedding ceremony. Spending the rest of your life with Darry is what mattered the most, but Darry knew that (even if you wouldn’t admit it) you wanted a real wedding with at least some of the bells and whistles.

Darry was insecure about it. He knew that you were long overdue for a proper proposal. He wondered sometimes why you had stuck around the way you had without any promise of marriage. In many ways, Darry wondered why you were still with him at all – because he knew you deserved so much more than what he could give you.

You didn’t have to pitch in around their house like you did. You didn’t have to treat Sodapop and Ponyboy as if they were your own. You didn’t have to put up with the foul-mouthed, chainsmoking pack of people that you were around on a daily basis. And you surely didn’t have to be the caretaker of the aftermath of a good old-fashioned Greaser brawl.

But you loved Darry, so you did all of that anyway.

In Two-Bit’s defense, pretty much everyone had asked that question at some point…in their own personal style. Whether it was Johnny quietly whispering to Ponyboy or Dallas asking Darry when he was going to “get on with it,” everyone had wondered about it.

It was clear too that everyone was curious for an answer, considering that the entire house had now gone silent. Every pair of eyes in the room was on Darry, which made you feel worse than it did him.

While you were well aware that they had all thought about it, you didn’t like it when they said it out loud.

Darry had enough pressure on himself as it was, you didn’t want more weight to press down at your expense. Darry had gotten used to the guys poking him about this, and he usually knew what to do to change the subject.

“What about you, wise guy? Where’s your girl?” Darry mocked. “Where’s Kathy, huh?”

Believe it or not, Ponyboy was usually the first to jump in to defend Darry…even though he wanted the two of you to get married more than anybody.

“Did Kathy finally get sick of your jokes, Two-Bit?” Pony joked, and the volume in the house began to pick up again.

“Maybe she moved on to a Greaser that can actually make it to noon without getting piss drunk!” Sodapop howled, and now everyone was dogging on Two-Bit instead.

“I’ll have you all know that me and Kathy are doing just fine.” Two-Bit proclaimed, but that only seemed to make everyone mess with him more.

There was a distraction for now, and you jumped on the opportunity to have Darry to yourself for a minute.

“Hey, Darry?” You called calmly, darting your eyes to silently let him know that you wanted to talk privately.

Darry caught your look, and nonchalantly carried himself into the kitchen to avoid disrupting the bickering between Two-Bit and everyone else.

You didn’t try to hide the anxious look on your face once it was just you and Darry. His face morphed into a worried look, but he already knew what your nerves were for.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asked, just in case.

“Listen…I know you’re always careful but…just be careful.” You asked, smoothing out a wrinkle on his t-shirt.

“Always,” He confirmed. “I don’t think this will be a big rumble.”

You heard what he said and understood, but that didn’t stop you from continuing.

“And keep an eye on Ponyboy and Johnny if you can. I know they’re independent and can handle themselves, but they’re just so much smaller and I don’t want-”

“Hey, hey. I’ve got this,” He smiled in amusement, but appreciated your concern as always. “Every one of us will be back here before you know it.”

There was no sense in fussing over them at this point. They were going to do what they always did…fight for their glory and return victorious.

“Okay,” You swiped a stray hair from his forehead, placing it back with the rest of his greased hair. “Try to avoid the one that bites.”

Darry laughed gently, his memory flashing in remembrance of the Soc from last time that bit Darry so hard that he swore his teeth almost popped through the underside of his hand. 

“I’ll try.” He nodded.

You didn’t have much else to say. Darry’s reassurance had comforted you, and you felt a little better about everything.

But Darry still had one thing in the air to clear.

“And…” He sighed, glancing over his shoulder quickly to make sure that there were no wandering, listening ears. “About the ring – I’m gonna ask you to marry me one day, I swear. I just- things are even tighter than usual right now and-”

“Shh, shh. Stop,” You held a gentle finger to his lips. “I don’t need a ring, and you don’t need to explain yourself.”

“But you deserve to know.” His gaze went even softer, his voice even finding a pillowy tone.

There was a beat. A brief silence. And a kiss.

“I already know.” 

Darry had never felt more loved. He didn’t know what kind of stars had aligned and what he had done to deserve such a wholesome, pure love. Whatever it was, he was thankful for it every single day. 

Darry stayed with you in the kitchen, sharing soft touches and sweet kisses, occasionally eavesdropping in on the ruckus going on in the living room. For a moment, Darry didn’t even want to go to the rumble. He wanted to stay right here with you, forever if he could’ve.

That was until-

“Dally’s here!” Johnny announced, peeking out the window to see Dallas cruising up the steps. 

Dallas’ arrival meant that it was showtime, and that the highlight of the night was about to begin. Dally’s appearance didn’t last long. Just long enough to rally his crew and get to where the rumble was being held. Everybody went scrambling out the front door (but not before Darry stole one more kiss from you), hooting and hollering all the way down the street until they were out of earshot from inside the house.

You knew that they would return much quieter and calmer, the post-adrenaline effect would have long been kicked in by then. But their spirits would be lifted, and there would be some improved tension between the Socs and the Greasers. 

It wouldn’t be long before things would get intense again. It was only a matter of time before you would be doing this all over again. That was just how it worked. It wasn’t an easy life. Some days felt harder than others, and some days were unbearable. But even if you had the choice, you wouldn’t change a single thing. As long as you had Darry, you would be fine.

Because you loved him no matter what – rumbles and all.