#I need to talk about him or else I might start gnawing on the furniture

[gingerhastoomanyobsessions]

maxxies. roomheads. golf enthusiasts. and any other words that might be used to describe the five people on tumblr who know who this guy is. I beg of you: a) is there a max headroom discord server

b) if yes, is it active

c) if yes. are you accepting newcomers

[jollyreginaldrancher]

Yellowjackets S1 e10

I too would call Misty if I needed help hiding a body to be honest

You know how when you cook sometimes you take a nibble out of the food you're preparing? Are cannibals tempted to do that when preparing human meat? Like, did one of them start to gnaw on an ear and then stop herself before getting any further?

Misty could take over the world if she tried

I don't like that that they're blaming Misty for all of this. Misty is technically not the one who drugged them. Though she was trying to drug somebody else which is wrong, technically Mari is the one at fault for this because stealing is bad. Ngl I just don't care about Mari, if you have to eat one of them, I'd rather it not be the one who can sew you back together. But if you're gonna take shit from the doctor of the group, why would you not check if it's medicine first? Honestly would have probably been a godsend when they were stitching Van up.

Oh shit, a bear! Van, run! 😭 She didn't fare so well with the wolves.

I guess the food shortage is solved now, at least.

Oh she's THAT Allie! The one I completely forgot about 🤣

She's talking about trauma bonds but like, she wasn't there...

With the name and everything, all I could think about was Alison DiLaurentis talking about how the dollhouse thing affected her when she wasn't even there ☠️

Honestly a lot about this show reminds me of the dollhouse arc in pretty little liars. Stranded in the woods, alone, starving and parched. Dressed in formalwear and throwing a fake ball? Yellowjackets did it better though.

The showrunners would explode before they ever considered showing Emily with a single armpit hair, let alone a full bush.

But I digress...

I could watch just an hour of Misty interacting with people.

"this feels a little more you" he writes as he gives his wife -who was lost in the woods- a floral printed dress 😭 that's a little too on the nose there buddy.

My god they look stunning though.

If I don't see all the surviving members at the reunion I will cry.

It's so nice to see Misty accepted.

So shitty to see her cop the blame for the shrooms when that was 100% on Mari for appropriating shit from the group medic without permission.

The entrance to the reunion was great but that's mostly to them not being dicks to Misty for once. They're kind of all over the place with her and I just want them to pick a mood so I know how I feel about their relationship. The way they ice her out can't just be from the mushrooms after all the time that's passed since that.

Shauna reading Randy the riot act was way more exciting than it probably should have been. But then again they're all goddesses, so...

Nat: hey guys, I think Lottie might be psychic

Jackie: just cause she's correctly predicted a bunch of things doesn't mean she's psychic

Jackie doesn't seem to be aware just how close she is to getting on the menu

The gang is starting to get a lil culty, huh?

I say starting like they didn't almost ritualistic ally sacrifice Trey last episode.

I feel like for every one time I'm in Mari's side there's like ten where I can't stand her guts. She's a bigger dick than Jackie, she just blends into the group well enough to not stand out and be targetted.

Oh good, a slideshow of the soccer team. Assuming this is a memorial thing, we'll finally get to figure out who lived or died, right? I've been waiting for something like this.

This fight was a long time coming.

"you read my journal!" You were the one dumb enough to write you slept with your bff's bf in your goddamn journal. That's one you could and should have taken to the grave, honey.

Misty's still eating in the background, I'm ☠️

"get out" she says, like she owns the cabin they're squatting in.

They're both right but both assholes and the coach is so irrelevant he's practically part of the furniture so for him to act like he has any authority is kind of hillarious.

It must really sting for Jackie to be looking up at them as everyone's all "her ex and her bf getting together is what she would have wanted! 🥹" Like I wouldn't be surprised if her spirit is not haunting them considering all this shit.

Are they really playing kiss from a rose right now? ☠️

Like you know Misty fears nothing when she leaves a whole hostage in her basement to go to a reunion.

I know I'd be an idiot to trust the reporter/fixer but I'm warming up to her. I hope she doesn't do anything stupid as we all know what happened to the last person outside their little circle who overstepped.

I think it's safe to say Taissas's marriage is over...and she'll probably get supervised visitation at best with the kid.

There's no way she's really gonna let her go, right?

Really?

I'm gonna have a fucking heart attack

Is Jackie gonna freeze to death or get eaten by wolves or?

Oh shit, I forgot about his kid brother

The kid is probably dead by now...

Tell me Nat and Tyler don't get back together though. I don't want to have to sit through their stuff again.

The music in this show is pretty awesome, I'm not gonna lie.

Oh good. I knew she couldn't be that dumb.

Shauna WOULD be a cat lover. Meanwhile she's married to a golden retriever.

Imagine if Taissa actually won though? It's the kind of plot twist they'd probably throw in right about now.

Poor Jackie though.

Though some of the sentiment was lost on me cause Anastasia's 'left outside alone' was stuck in my head the whole time

They mentioned the dead guy!!! In front of her daughter!! 😮 They're really pulling the big guns out for this episode.

Why are they showing Simone go down to the laundry? Why is the music so tense? Tell me Taissa didn't kill the dog and stash his body down there 😭 this is making my stomach hurt ☠️

WHY WOULD SHE CRAWL INTO THAT? THIS IS THE KIND OF STUPID SHIT THAT GETS WHITE PEOPLE KILLED IN HORROR MOVIES! SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER!

At least Taissa won. She'll need the rise in pay to pay for her wife's therapy because WHAT THE FUCK TAISSA?

I was right about her killing the dog though so I'll try to take solace in that.

Nat better not be planning on shooting herself.

At least Shauna tried to make up with Jackie.

Okay but they're surely not going to leave the fire unattended, right?

Are they gonna try to convert her or murder her? Also is she still alive or having a dream like the little matchstick girl did before she died?

Oh she's hallucinating, isn't she?

She's dead?!

Frozen to death?

That was heartbreaking.

No, because she was dying and instead of dreaming she was home with her parents or a celebrity eating lobster, she just dreamt she was inside the cabin with her friends drinking chocolate milk. All she wanted was to be accepted in the end 😭😭😭😭😭

Also side-note; I guess they found the little guy because him and his brother was there when they found Jackie. I only noticed cause I was thinking "if Nat and Taylor survived outside while Jackie froze to death I will be pissed" but I guess they got back at some point and possibly walked past Jackie dying and did nothing, which I guess adds to Nat and Tyson's guilt and stuff, but still. It's super fucked up.

Honestly I'm starting to dislike Nat a tad. She's usually the one showing empathy but she's just as cliquey as the other girls. She can be just as mean and just as horrible. She thinks she's morally superior and magnanimous but she's just as quick to turn on others when slighted.

This is really a story of double standards. Nat calls out the gang for nearly killing Tyrell and that's fine but when Jackie does it it leads to a cage match.

Mari throwing mushrooms in the soup is fine but Misty gathering them is a problem. Like they really pick and choose who they want to blame for shit. They almost raped Tyler but it's when Jackie has consensual sex with him that's an issue?!

And don't get me started on that shitty coach. Like he gave them some hunting tips and that's it. That's his input. He's let them go along with every harebrained scheme they've concocted and has taken no care or responsibility over anything when he's the only adult.

Like there's no way he should have let her go out there alone. There's wolves and shit and they're creeping up on winter and even if it didn't snow it could still grow cold enough to freeze someone to death. Or she could have caught a cold and tell me how they were planning to treat that then.

It honestly made me so angry. Sad but angry because all of these were completely avoidable deaths.

So does Lottie become like the leader of their cult? I guess I thought it would be Misty...

Lottie, Van and Misty

Tell me that's the best heart and not Jackie's 😭

So Lottie didn't fall in that pit?

Honestly I would kind of be happy if it was Mari. She'd been a shit stirrer and she's the only character whose name I remember who hasn't been accounted for as an adult and had dark hair.

Something tells me things would have been better off if it was Lottie though.

Speaking of Lottie however, on the one hand she seems like a bit of a pushover but on the other she definitely has a lot of influence right now.

Van seems to have already subscribed to whatever cult thing is going on. Most of the other girls too out of fear and necessity. Taissa is probably the most sceptical next to Nat and Jackie and is only seemingly going along with it to appease Van. Shauna is more ambivalent and seems to only be siding with the group to get at Jackie and now she's kind of stuck with it. The guys are just accessories at this point. Nat is probably the only one who could go either way but while she kicks up a fuss she just goes along with everything. So I guess we have the cult origin story now.

Sad for Jackie. Shauna's reaction was gut wrenching too. You could tell that while they fought they still both really love each other. They're just dumb teens making bad decisions in a setting where that's more likely to cost them their lives.

As bad as things were before it feels like they're just gonna go downhill from here. Every time it felt they hit rock bottom things got worse.

The season is over. The acting was phenomenal. The whole show was amazing. I have a tonne of questions and theories. Like whoever is behind the murder is clearly one of them or connected to them enough to know about those symbols and stuff. And they're probably the ones who kidnapped Nat. Or at least that's what we're being led to believe so there's probably some twists and turns coming next season.

But I'm sure these four weren't the only ones that made it out of there and my hope is that next season we'll get to see some more of them. It's interesting we've seen characters like Lottie and Van but mostly from other perspectives, as side characters to other people's stories so far, so maybe we'll go deeper into them next season.

I really want the group to expand cause right now with there being four, it's giving pretty little liars. Though the cultish, cliquishness reminds me of rule of rose. It's very good nevertheless and I like that they don't seem to try to throw in twists and turns that don't make sense just to get one over on the audience.

Like, Taissa killing the dog was something you could have seen coming a mile away. Jackie being iced out (though maybe not literally) was set up from the beginning. The girls met up behind her back to address what to do about Allie choking in their game, and Taissa led the conversation just like she led the group most of the season. And this pattern continued all throughout the season.

I love the little breadcrumbs they threw in there for us to follow. That they set things up early on and left us breadcrumbs to follow, rather than red herrings. It's nice. A lot of mystery shows do the opposite. They give you no info so their detectives seem smart when they throw around a bunch of exposition based on information you never got. We got the information and got to react to it accordingly and come up with our own conclusions here and I love that. I hope they keep it up. I just hope next season doesn't end with a cliffhanger, what with the writers' and actors' strike.

[lavishedinjimin]

Proper Training -> knj (hybrid!au)

— synopsis: Namjoon was not expecting such a random hybrid crying at his doorstep on a rainy night. After learning more about you and your past, he was determined to help such a precious little one like you. Perhaps you just needed some proper guidance and training.

↳ pairing: Namjoon x kitten hybrid f.reader

↳ genre: fluff/angst/smut

↳ rating: 18+

↳ word count: 9.5k

↳ warnings: tw/ partner abuse (please bear with me that all of this is fanfiction and I do not tolerate anything like this in real life), degrading terms/namecalling, breeding kink, dom!Namjoon, sub!reader, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, pain kink, cunnilingus, etc.

The discreet sound of leather shoes clicking against the floor made your tail lower in desperation to find a place to hide. You whimper to herself, panicking. The living room was filled with mess, scattered pillows and the carpet spilled with milk. Although you were proud of the chaos you’ve created, you were awfully afraid of your his reaction.

You crawl underneath a side table where a lamp was placed, hugging your knees tight to your chest as you sit on your white, tucked-in tail. Your poor ears were tugged down in dismay.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Your master declares, his cold, chilling voice causing you to mewl. You croon your face in between your knees, bottom lip quivering in fear.

“You can’t hide away from your bullshit forever, Y/n!”

Elijah begins to search the house, looking behind and under every furniture as possible. He had no mercy whatsoever. His blood boils when his eyes drag across the ruined carpets and pillows, the white stuffings scattered all over the floor. Nothing else annoys him more than coming back home every goddamn day to see his apartment scattered in clutter because you couldn’t seem to be a normal fucking hybrid.

It wasn’t hard for Elijah to spot your furry tail. He rolls his eyes and comes walking towards your fearful figure with long strides of his feet. You emit a loud squeal when Elijah tightly grabs onto your frail arms, forcing you out underneath the table – making you bump your head on the glass.

“Stand up.” Elijah blurts, voice filled with malice. Your body continues to tremble, biting your trembling lip. You didn’t dare to make eye-contact with him, staring down at your stocking-covered legs.

“Are you deaf, girl? I said fucking stand.”

The timbre of voice that he used was harsh, commanding, and loud. You obeyed in an instant, afraid of what’s about to come. Elijah grabs both of your wrists in one big hand, preventing you to do anything to him. He presses his body against yours, noticing that he was breathing very heavily.

His other hand pulls against the charm of your black collar, easily ripping the pendant which engraved his initials. Elijah throws the pendant on the floor like it was nothing but a piece of trash.

Your eyes immediately start to tear up.

“Ma…Master…” you sniffle, trying to pry your hands away.

Elijah shushes you, unclasping the leather collar with one hand, and he throws that on the ground as well.

“I’m so glad that you can’t talk properly. Sadly though, your annoying unruliness makes up for that. I’m so tired of your bullshit.” He pulls you with him in front of the door where your fluffy slippers lay messily, instructing you to put them on.

Elijah grabs his car keys from his pockets and drags you outside the apartment, down the stairs, and outside to his car. He scoffs when you were trying to escape his tight hold, but he encloses you with his arm around your waist.

Tugging you close to him, he whispers in your ear, “Don’t try to escape from me, kitty. You know I can fucking bruise your sensitive skin anytime I want. Huh, you’re fucking lucky to even receive a bruise from your master.”

Elijah drives farther and farther away from his place, not knowing where he’s taking you. You were sobbing hysterically, your tears dripping down your cheeks just like the hard downpour of rain outside. The roads were dim and the sky was dark from the thick clouds blocking the sunset.

He was sick of your cries, he was. He couldn’t wait to get rid of you.

“W-Where…?” you finally speak, wiping your tears with the back of your hands, turning your head to face your Master.

Well… not anymore.

Your chest tightens from the thought, still not wanting to accept it.

“Where are we going?” he completes the sentence from you, “To some person’s doorstep, of course. I can’t stand to live with your ass anymore.” His harsh words made you want to curl up in a little ball. “You’re nothing but a toy to me. I wish I never fucking adopted your bratty ass in the first place. How come is a piece of trash like you so expensive anyway?”

Elijah was sick of your loud sobs, he doesn’t want to be with you anymore. He drives to an upscale district in the neighborhood, a neighborhood that can definitely afford to buy a hybrid like you. So, he spots a large house on the side of the street and he immediately parks.

‘Whatever’, he thinks to himself, opening his car door to walk over to your side. Pulling the handle, he roughly tugs you out, making you stumble on your own feet. The rain instantly drenches your hair, fur, and your clothes, the cold water making your body shiver. 

He orders you stay put in a stranger’s doorstep, his bigger body towering over yours.

“Kneel.” He commands.

You obey.

“You stay here until someone fucking finds you, okay, brat?”

“Master—” you claw onto his feet, begging with your eyes, “M-Master no…”

“Shhh, shhh,” Elijah caresses your cheek. The warmth of his palm allowed you to press against it in utter need, wanting to go back home with him. He strokes your hair once, twice, before he sharply pulls. “Shut the fuck up. You deserve this.”

Without giving you a final look, he turns away and walks back to his car. Elijah, from inside the vehicle, watches you sob with your palms on the cemented doorstep, your shoulders heaving up and down. He didn’t regret his decision at all.

‘Finally, peace…’

Namjoon hears loud bangs coming from his front door. He gets up from his bed, rubbing his eyes. He was in a deep sleep already! Who could be knocking so loudly at this hour?

Still, in his pajamas and no shirt, he strolls outside his bedroom while rubbing his eyes. He figures that it may just be the kids that were throwing rocks at the people’s doors again. Namjoon always wonders where their parents were.

He turns the doorknob, “I swear if you kids keep—”

Namjoon gasps when he sees you curled up, soaking wet from the rain.

A hybrid.

His mind immediately panics and wonders what he’s supposed to do with you. He has never seen a hybrid before, for he only heard them on the news. He’s read countless stories of people adopting certain hybrids – make them as pets, but he’s never seen a cat hybrid before.

“Hello?” his deep, sensual voice instantly instills inside your brain. Elijah always had a high-pitched tone, and this man’s tone was utterly different. You’ve never heard anything like his before.

Your big, swollen eyes from crying too much stared up at him. Namjoon notices your ears and tail twitch when he squats down to get a better look at you.

“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he gulps, “W-Why are you here?”

He wonders if you can talk. However, you did not give him any reply. Your master always taught you to be careful of random strangers, especially a man.

When he reaches a hand out for you, your instincts kicked in and you immediately lean forward, biting him, sinking your sharp teeth on his skin.  

“Oww! Fuck—” Namjoon curses, rubbing his gnawed hand. You back away from him, whimpering, scared that he might attack you as your master did. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you,” Namjoon tries to say calmly, eyebrows furrowed. “Don’t go away, don’t. I promise I won’t do anything bad to you.”

Namjoon knows one thing, though. Cat hybrids are supposed to have owners. They shouldn’t be wandering around the area like this, and if they were, adoption centers would’ve had taken them.

And for that, he detects the red marks that wrapped around your neck, making it seem like there had been a collar – previously wrapped tight.  

“Come in,” he whispers gently, standing up and making room for you to enter, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Safe.

Safe.

Safe.

That word was familiar to you. You repeated it over and over in your mind to make you remember where you’ve heard that from.

‘I’ll keep you safe.’

The same words your master told you.  

“N-No!” You furiously shake your head, “Y-You lie…”

Namjoon’s eyes widen. He sees you visibly tremble, your tail in a downright position behind you. “Oh, goodness,” he sighs, “Trust me, dear. I have no bad intentions with you. Look!” Namjoon tries to keep a gentle, caring tone in his voice, hoping that you’d trust him, “It’s raining so hard here, and you’re soaking your precious fur! I bet you’re so cold…”

You were. You were freezing your butt off. Nodding your head, you mewled pathetically.

A smile forms Namjoon’s lips, “See? If you come inside, I’ll keep you warm and get you some much comfy clothes, dear. You won’t be sleeping in cold concrete.”

His soft, gentle yet deep tone allowed you to slowly ease into his comfort.

“You can sleep in a soft, plush, comfy bed if you want!” He beams, the sleepiness in his body long gone. “Come, come inside and let me take care of you.”  

A nod of your head was all it took for him to take your little hands in his, helping you stand up from your position. He was shocked by how smaller you are than him. But then again, he was indeed a tall person.

You slowly enter the unfamiliar place, though wondering how his area was so neat.

Namjoon cringes a little when your slippers created dirty, wet prints on his wooden floor. “Stay here, dear. I’ll get some fresh clothes and a towel to dry you off, okay?”

You don’t respond, too busy observing his very tidy house.

“Hey,” he unconsciously smirks, tilting your head up with a finger beneath your chin to make you lock eyes with him. “Did you hear what I said?”

A cheeky giggle escapes your mouth, eyes creasing into little crescents while you shake your head ‘no.’

“I said,” he repeats, “I’ll be right back.”

As you watch the strangely kind man walk out into a room and out of your sight, there was no hesitation for you to climb onto the large L-shaped couch that was previously capturing your attention. There was a huge fireplace adjacent to the couch, feeling amused because you haven’t seen anything like that before. Although wet, you didn’t care. Your head feverishly tilts in all directions, eager to see such new areas.

Noticing that there were a lot of plants, your ears peaked up in interest. They are everywhere!

Namjoon comes back with a towel and clothes in his hands. However, his chest drops when he sees that you’ve made yourself comfortable on the couch.

Great.

He shakes his head, trying to hide his slight exasperation with a timid laugh. He crouches in front of you so that he can clean your damp hair and ears with the towel. You were trying to pry away from him, moving your head left and right, shaking your head – obviously in a playful mood already.

“Dear,” he chuckles, “let me clean you up. C’mon now.”

You let out a little squeak when he cleans your fluffy ears, then your face. Down to your neck and your hands. The rest of your body was covered with your long sweater, cotton shorts, and stockings. He wonders if you’ll let him take them off…

“Do you wanna get changed?” he asks you.

He didn’t expect the frantic, almost desperate nod.

“Oh. Do you want me to take your clothes off?”

“Mhm!”

Namjoon gulps the ball that formed in his throat. He’s a grown adult, he shouldn’t be nervous about this. But then again, you were still half-human and a total stranger… it was unbelievable how you trusted him enough.

He grabs the hem of your sweater and slowly tugs it upward, revealing your soft, supple-looking skin. An immediate exhale leaves from his lips when you thankfully had worn a bra underneath. You raise your arms, letting him take the damp clothing out of you. “Here you go…” Namjoon slips on the large plain black shirt that almost covered half of your body. You giggle when you felt that it was so warm and soft, and very comfortable for it was twice your size.

Namjoon strips your stockings off, followed by your shorts. He makes you wear one of his boxers, all while having a content smile on your face. Pulling the neckline of his shirt up to your nose, you smelled his scent that instantly got you hooked. Namjoon chuckles, “Yes, dear?”

There was a glint in your eyes, looking up at him with a bright smile.

“Aww, you comfy?” he asks gently, lifting a hand to rub your arm. He didn’t expect a verbal reply from you, for he already learned that you don’t talk much. Although it can be seen from your content and calm expression, you were now perfectly fine.

Namjoon eventually seized the opportunity to take you in. A cat hybrid. In his house. Playing with the pillow covers. As he sits beside you on the couch, with an arm resting on the backrest and his left leg hiked up to his right knee, he wonders if you were still claimed.  

“Hey, hey,” he gets your attention by caressing your back. You turn around with big, innocent eyes.

“Do you have a name, dear?”

Namjoon hears you mutter something underneath your breath, but he can’t seem to get a hold of it. “Say that again?”

“Y/n…” you repeat with a little tilt of your head. Your ears perked when he rubs the top of your head soothingly.

He repeats the name over and over his mind. “Y/n… good.”

His hand moves down to your chin, using his thumb to rub gentle circles on the skin. He sees that there were freckles scattered all over your face. “Kitten. You’re still a kitten, aren’t you Y/n?”

Your tail hikes up, moving closer to the nameless man carefully.  

“I’m taking that as a yes,” he breathes out, spreading his legs apart so that you can sit in between his thighs. “Do you want me to call you kitten?”  

Namjoon finds your little whines so adorable. Once you’ve sat down, you allowed your right hand to carefully rest against his bare chest, feeling him. Your striking blue eyes, soft fluffy white tail and ears deeply resembles a white Persian kitten. Namjoon assumes that that’s your breed.

“Kitten,” he whispers, feeling pity of you all of a sudden. He holds your hand that was on his chest, “Why were you left out on the rain like that?”

With those words, your head hangs low and your eyes well up again. You clench your wrists tightly, “M-Master…”

Namjoon quietly gasps when he sees a single tear dripping down your cheek. Oh god, he shouldn’t have asked this question.  

“Aw, kitten,” he tuts, wiping your tear away, “It’s okay. I understand now.”

Based on what happened, it was easy for him to connect the dots. You were abandoned by your master and was left at his doorstep. Namjoon couldn’t even imagine how you, a poor kitten, would’ve felt. Someone who you once deeply trusted and who you gave all the power to take care of you could betray you like that – it must’ve been heartbreaking.

Guessing with the marks of the collar that were engraved on your neck, it must have been recent.

Namjoon takes your face in his hands, making you look at him. His eyes were looking into you like your master once did, so full of adoration. But now you guess that you weren’t his anymore.

“Don’t cry, kitten. I’ll protect you. I’m not gonna let anyone take you. You’ll stay here for a couple of days before I figure out what to do with you, okay?”

You nod once, a pout on your lips.

To make you feel a little bit better, Namjoon rubs the back parts of your flattened ears. He hears an unexpected purr, causing him to chuckle. Shivers run throughout your body. He figures that you like these ear rubs.

“I’ll get you a big, warm blanket and you can sleep here, alright, Y/n?”

You move away from him so that he can stand up. With round eyes, the kind man gets up and walks away once again.

You yawn, sleepiness getting the best of you. You try to find the comfiest spot on the couch before settling yourself in. This wouldn’t be too bad… it’s much better than sleeping outside with the cold rain!

When Namjoon comes back, he sees that you’re already fast asleep. Once again, his heart clenches. He pities you, for who would even ditch a precious, good little kitten like you are.

He quietly covers your curled up figure with the blanket, careful not to wake you up. He rubs the back of your ear once, twice, before shutting the main light of the living room off. He flicks the lamp on the corner of the room so that it wasn’t pitch dark. Namjoon also makes sure that the door was locked – who knows what could happen.

“Poor thing…” he whispers to himself, right before he tucks himself in bed.

Right after Namjoon wakes up, just the minute he opens his tired, puffy eyes, he sees something white in his view. A tail.

You were sat meekly in his lap with your back to him, cheeks pressed down against the sheets, waiting for him to wake up. Once you feel him move, quickly – you let out an unconscious mewl, greeting him with a happy smile.

“Oh, Y/n,” Namjoon says, his morning voice causing him to sound deep and raspy. “Good morning… I didn’t expect you to be on my bed!” He laughs a little awkwardly.

You crawl further up to him, hands softly pressing against the bed. Your innocent, happy smile was now replaced with a cheeky, teasing smirk. Namjoon’s hand lifts to pet your head, his soft fingertips scratching behind your ear. Involuntarily, you nuzzle your nose into the crook of his neck, smelling his pleasant scent.

“Y/n…” he warns when he feels you get closer to him.

What’s the reason to stop? You mentally ask yourself with a chuckle.

Without thinking, you gave his honeydew neck a broad lick, hearing him gasp, and bite his neck just hard enough until there was a little mark.

“Hey!” Namjoon bursts while he pushes you away from him, making you lay back down on the bed. He took the opportunity to get on top of you, pinning you down with his hands on your wrists.

His bed hair, all messy and tangled, flows perfectly down to his forehead that almost covered his eyes. He feels somewhat irritated from the way you were smiling so mischievously, a bold gaze painted across your eyes.

“Naughty,” he whispers, lowering his head down until it rests almost against your ear, “Stop that.”

His grip on your wrist tightens, and it fueled your instincts to just bite. Tilting your head a little to the right, you jerk forward as an attempt to sink your teeth into the skin of his wrist, but Namjoon was quicker to move it away.

“Well, well,” he chuckles, climbing out of the bed but still keeping an eye on you. “Obeying isn’t easy for you, huh?”

Namjoon walks up to his closet to grab himself some clothes with you watching idly on the bed. You decide to sit up and rest your back against the headrest.

“Anyhow, I need to go to work, so you’re staying here until I get back home.” He hears a little whimper coming from you, but he ignores the sound, “Do you understand?”

You nod once, tapping your foot impatiently on the bed.

Oh, the fun you’ll have when he’s not here…

“Wait a second, you still don’t know my name, do you?” He partly laughs mid-sentence. “Excuse my manners! I’m Namjoon, but you can call me Joon for short—”

“Master.”

Namjoon’s forehead creases immediately, “Ma—I’m not your master, kitten,” he says breathily.

“Master!” you insist, whining in your seat.

“No, kitten. You don’t belong to anyone yet. You have no master.”

Oh. You felt something stinging in your chest – as if a spear has been pierced through your heart.

Namjoon doesn’t think much about what he said, for he believes that he’s just telling the truth. He walks out of the room and to the bathroom to get himself ready for work, about to give this whole household all to yourself.

When he arrives at the agency, Namjoon scurries to the conference room in a rush. He lowers his facemask, looking at the watch on his wrist.

9:39 A.M.

The sliding door unlocks and he was quickly greeted with the rest of the boys already seated on their designated areas around the long table, supposedly ready for an album launch consultation. He emits a sigh, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Thankfully, the CEO was late too.

Yoongi chuckles, clasping his hands together in front of him on the table, “You know, Namjoon, you’ve been tardy more times than Jungkook lately—”

“Yeah!” Jungkook abruptly buts in.  

“—did your alarm not wake you up again?”

How can he say that there’s a kitten hybrid in his house without the boys finding him delirious?

But either way, the members always deserve to have honest answers.

He takes a seat in between Hoseok and Jimin, who were patiently waiting for a response like the rest of them. “So, um, you guys know all about those… hybrids, right?”

A few of them chuckled, some of them replied with a “yes.”

“You did not just buy a hybrid, Kim Namjoon!” Seokjin half-yells and half-laughs.

“Aren’t those expensive?” Hoseok inquires, “Well… you are a multi-millionaire…”

“No, I didn’t buy anything!” he retaliates, “A stray kitten hybrid has been left on my doorstep last night and I took her in my home!”

“Huh?!” almost everyone exclaims synchronically. “A kitten hybrid?” Jimin questions, “Like… half kitten, half…” he almost can’t finish his words from how other-worldly he thinks he sounds, covering his mouth with his hand.

“Half-human, yeah.” Namjoon completes his sentence.

He can feel the rising tension inside the room. Even though the air conditioning was on, Namjoon feels himself getting hotter each second.

“If this goes out to the public…” Taehyung mumbles, “It’ll be all over the news. They’d think you’ve adopted or bought one, hyung.”

“Who’s looking out for her?” Hoseok asks, looking straight at Namjoon’s eyes.

“It’s a her?!” Jungkook whisper-shouts, eyes were blown wide.

“Hey!” Jimin slaps the younger’s arm, “You weren’t listening!”

“Yeah, yeah, God,” Namjoon frustratingly rakes his hands through his dark hair. ”She’s like… abandoned from her original owner…”

Suddenly, like a flash appearing inside his mind and taking over his train of thoughts, your pleading, desperate face when he first saw you outside his house overtook his head. He remembers how woeful, miserable, and heartbreaking you looked – all drenched from the rain with your wet hair framing your face. White fur has been soaked and ears pulled down in despair. Namjoon can almost hear your gloomy little noises, those pleading mewls going past your lips.

Oh, how pitiful you were.

“Kim Namjoon!” Hoseok breaks him out of his ruminating thoughts with a violent shake of his shoulders. He laughs uncontrollably right after, filling the room with endorphins. “She’s abandoned, okay we get that, then what?”

Namjoon giggles embarrassingly, lowering his head down while his dimples appear on his cheeks.

“Uh, I mean—I couldn’t just leave the poor thing outside. It was raining heavily at the time so I opted to just let her stay in with me.”

“What are you going to do with her?” Taehyung asks curiously, “Will you take her back to the centers?”

The truth was, Namjoon wasn’t thinking about bringing you back to the adoption center. It’s too early for him to decide if he wants to keep you or not. But one thing’s for sure, though, that he loves the bratty personality that you’re putting up with him.

“I don’t know if I want to.”  

From the car ride back home, Namjoon was on his phone researching all about these so-called hybrids. Everyone has heard of them – it’s no secret. But having to receive one was never a plan of his.

‘Kitten Hybrids.’ He types on the search engine.

‘Kitten hybrids usually grow to an average height of four-and-a-half to five feet, depending on their breeds. These hybrids are created either from an infant instilled with feline DNA the day they were born, or the result of two cat hybrids breeding.’

Namjoon was already aware of all of that. He was acquainted with the knowledge of how hybrids are created when it was less widespread than today.

‘Just like regular, ordinary animals, the younger ones are most likely to have insubordinate and rebellious tendencies, whether a male or a female. When not guided and coached properly by their first owner – kittens will most likely display abysmal behavior. The possessors of this hybrid must know their duty to ensure that your kitten knows what is right and what is wrong.’

Namjoon is dropped off at his house and finally, after hearing the lock jingle, you skipped your way to the front door with a happy, wide smile plastered on your face.

You whine while embracing his taller, muscular build in your short arms. Namjoon gasps from the unexpected action, almost hesitant to hug you back. “K-Kitten…” he exhales, “hey.” He closes the door behind him with one hand, as the other rubs the back of your ears. Purring, you press your cheek against his chest.

“Did you miss me? What did you do while I was g— oh my fucking god.” Once Namjoon looks up to scan the living room, it was all a horrible, jungle of mess. His indoor plants were shoved down to the floor, dirt all over the place with the expensive vases shattered. His pillows and the cushion of his couch were littered everywhere. Books had fallen to the ground at the opposite side of the room. It was like a magnitude five earthquake had just occurred.

He looks down at you with a serious gaze, eyes unwavering with his forehead creased in dissatisfaction. Namjoon clenches his jaw tightly when he hears a quiet, almost discreet breathy giggle coming out of you.

Brat. He thinks.

“Are you proud of the mess you’ve made?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head happily.

“That’s fortunate.” Namjoon was quick to shrug his coat off, leaving it on the coat rack whilst sliding his shoes off. He takes a deep inhale through his nose, “You know what you’re doing is wrong, Y/n.”

You tilt your head to the side in utter confusion. Why doesn’t he seem… angry?

Slowly walking backward until your ankle hits the couch, you sit down timidly. Watching Namjoon clean up your mess was a weird, yet a new sight. He wasn’t screaming at you, punishing you – he isn’t doing what Elijah did.

Namjoon quietly cleans the shattered vase and dirt with a handy broomstick, smirking to himself when he hears a whine coming from your lips.

“This vase is expensive you know, Kitten?” he chimes, smiling in your direction. “But that’s okay. We can buy a replacement. I was getting a little sick of this plant anyway.”

Your eyes widen. There was a feeling inside of you that you can’t seem to decipher. After creating the mess you’ve made, you prepared yourself for a whole spanking from him. But it didn’t come. It was so unusual for you that he isn’t here yelling his lungs out.

Namjoon collects the trash on the dustpan and throws it in the bin. It was amusing for him that you were just sitting there prettily; your hands on your thighs while your white tail keeps swaying behind you. Your face shows a clear image of confusion, which was entirely Namjoon’s plan.

You were used to all the shouts and screams, thinking that it was normal. But he was showing you a reaction you’ve never seen before. Maybe if he doesn’t give you the reaction that you anticipate, you’ll stop misbehaving, and he can teach you some good morals.

A mewl leaves your lips, trying to get his attention. Pouting, you call out for him, “J-Joon…”

“Yes, Kitten?” he chuckles, placing the broomstick at a corner. “Come here.”

Without hesitation, you get up to walk over to him. Although, your body quickly stops when he clicks his tongue firmly. “Tch, no. Crawl. Crawl to me.”

Your intuition takes over you and within a second, you were down on all fours, making your way to him. With big, wide eyes, you held eye-contact with him. Namjoon watches your hips swing side to side, tail upright. He purses his lips to a thin line, trying to stop from grinning too wide.

Once you were at his feet, Namjoon slightly leans down until his hand can reach your head. He combs your soft, beautiful hair – and of course, not missing the opportunity to rub the back of your ear. He hears you purr.  

“You don’t do this, Y/n,” he mutters as soft as possible, “It’s bad to ruin other people’s stuff. Don’t go destroy every possible thing you can destroy, okay? Are you a good kitten?”

Your nose twitches from his question – of course, you are!

“Y-Yea…” you murmur.

“Well, good little kittens don’t do this. They don’t act like this. If you wanna be good, behave for me, don’t make a mess, and maybe I’ll reward you.”

Namjoon can notice the change of your eyes from the word ‘reward’.

‘Were you even rewarded before?’ He thinks to himself. The thought of you not even receiving something good breaks his big heart.

“Do you want that? You want a reward?” Namjoon grabs your face in both of his hands. He giggles from the way you nodded so fast. “Then be a good kitten for me.”

In the next couple of days, Namjoon was surprised by your every improvement; whether how little or big the change might be. However, there was still an itching need for you to push over and break his newly-bought Snake plant. You still had to work on that.

The thing that was driving you to your goal of being ‘good’ was Namjoon’s so-called reward for you. You have no clue what it might be, but you still feel excited about it.

Your old master was now forgotten. Before, his face occasionally appears in your mind for a brief second. But as Namjoon continuously showers you with compliments, kindness, and praise that Elijah couldn’t give you to, all you can ever think about now is making Namjoon proud. That was your overall goal.

“Y/n, don’t bite!” Namjoon chuckles right after you tempted to gnaw his wrist when as he gives you food. “What are you, huh? I think you’re much naughtier than a pup!” He slowly moves his hand forward again, third try feeding you with nuggets. As you sat idly on the couch, legs on a ‘W’ position with your hands on your lap, Namjoon instructs you to keep your eyes on him.

“What will you say?” he giggles when he sees your pout. “Say please.”

Please?

You tilt your head to the side to let him know your confusion about the word that had just been added to your small vocabulary. Namjoon leans back, purely baffled. Was your master such a piece of shit for not teaching you basic things like this?

“U-Um, listen… okay?” he stammers, his mind still in bewilderment. “ ’Please’ is what you say when you want something from someone.”

Namjoon starts to get lost in your beautiful eyes.

“When you want to ask for something, when you need something; may it be food, water, comfort, or attention – just say please, and your master will surely give it to you.”

You look down, tucking your tail to sit on it. “But h-have no m-master,” you mutter.

Namjoon was quick to tilt your head back up with his unoccupied hand, wrapping his hand around your jaw. You whimper quietly. “Don’t worry, Y/n,” he smiles, trying to make you feel better, “At least you have me, right?”

You affirm him with a nod.

“Good. Now c’mon, say please and I’ll let you eat.”

“Please…” you whisper, eyes wide. He chuckles lovingly, adoring the way you said that so cutely. He feeds you the chicken nugget whilst placing the square box down beside you. He combs your hair with slender fingers, releasing all of the knots.

“Good girl, baby.”

From that single sentence, you gasp.

Why did your stomach… flutter?

“Oh… err,” Namjoon meekly laughs after realizing what he said, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah.”

After being with Namjoon after a whole week, you’ve never been more comfortable. He has brought you a whole bag of toys and even new clothes for you to try on.

“Have you been spoiled like this before, hm?” he asks cockily, watching you twirl around with your new outfit. For the past days, you’ve been wearing his clothes, it was great that you can finally have your own!

You shake your head as an answer.

“Pass me the bag, kitten,” Namjoon asks you, raising a brow to see if you’ll obey.

Without hesitation, you grab the shopping bag and gave it to him. He chuckles, “Thank you, Y/n.”

“Y-You’re welcome,” you reply shyly, using the new phrase that he once taught you.  

Watching him rummage through the bag as he sits down on the edge of the bed, you feel quite the anticipation. He mumbles something underneath his breath, although you couldn’t quite catch what it was.

“Here it is.”

Your eyes shine, tail jerking upward in excitement when you saw what the object was.

There beholds a pink collar in his hand, dotted with shiny silvery beads. Your mouth forms a wide grin, itching to put it on.

“Kneel before me, baby.”

He unclasps the collar and puts it around your neck. It was a perfect size. He makes sure that it wasn’t too tight nor too loose – just snug enough to remind you that it’s there.

“So pretty,” he whispers. Whining, he grips your chin and pulls you close to him. “You’re so fucking pretty.”

Namjoon growls darkly right after, and it shocked you. You’ve never seen him like this before, heck, you’ve never felt anything like this, too. A trail of goosebumps arises to the skin of your arms and legs just from watching his aura completely change.

“Shit, keep staring at me like that and watch me fucking…” he sighs, “Sorry, Y/n.”

You didn’t have to say anything, but Namjoon can see the way you were rubbing your thighs together. He traces your collar with his index finger, watching his jaw clench tightly. “Do you like it, Kitten?” Namjoon asks, receiving a nod from you.

Your mind doesn’t think any further as you comply with your immediate instinct. You stand up just to sit on his lap, placing your hands on his broad chest. He was surprisingly quick to wrap his strong arms around your body. “Good…” you mumble.

“Good?” he smirks, “What do you mean, Kitten? Is the collar good?”

“Yes, but… m-me.”

Namjoon tries to connect the things that you were saying. “You? What about you?”

“I’m good,” you pull yourself closer to him until your bodies touch each other. Crooning your head beneath his chin, Namjoon can feel your fluffy ears ticking his jawline. “I’m good,” you repeat.

“Yeah baby, shit,” he inhales your scent, cupping the back of your head firmly as he pulls you tighter to him, “Good girl. You’re a good girl. My good fucking kitten – aww fuck ­– what a-are you doing?” He was taken aback when you suddenly start grinding your hips on his jean-clad crotch.  

Your core tingles, a delightful sensation you’ve haven’t felt before. Your cheeks heat up, his neck looking so delicious. Something takes over you and you instantly lean forward, attaching your mouth on his neck. Namjoon hisses as he feels your teeth dig into his skin. The way you whimpered while you ground down on him harder fueled the fire inside of him.

“Kitten,” he growls, twitching as you lick his neck. “You want your reward, yeah? Do you think you’re good enough to deserve to see my cock?”

The way he used his voice; deep, demeaning, and teasing, caused you to let out a quiet moan. “Yes… p-please!”

“Yeah, you do?” he smirks, “Then strip. Let’s see if you can follow instructions and do as you’re told.”

Standing up, you removed every single inch of the clothing. You were waiting for him to say stop, but he waits until you were fully naked. Shyly, you finally pulled your cotton panties down, stepping out from it. You couldn’t grab the courage to gaze at him, for his eyes were like lasers that’ll melt you if you look.

“Take my cock out.”

You were needy for you’ve never felt this way before. Everything was too overwhelming. You kneel on the floor and wasted no time to unbutton and unzip his jeans while he took off his shirt. You were salivating.

He was shocked by your eagerness. He helps you tug his jeans down, before guiding you to pull his briefs down as well.

Eyes almost bulging out of your sockets, they widen as his half-hard cock finally comes to show. Namjoon laughs lightly from your reaction, closing your parted mouth with his fingers beneath your chin.  

‘Whatever!’ You think, before taking matters in your own hand.

“Fuck!” Namjoon bucks his hips when you suddenly grabbed the base of his cock, leaving a wet and sloppy lick from his balls up to his tip. His body shivers, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head. “Fucking bitch…” he mutters under his breath.

A cheeky giggle, a mischievous smile, all of those caused Namjoon to let out a disapproving sigh. He harshly cups your jaw, “Did I tell you to do that, huh?” he forces two long fingers inside your mouth, making you choke on it, “Did I?”

His slender digits hit the back of your throat, making you gag. Shaking your head profusely as an answer, he chuckles.

“That’s right, I didn’t. Have you forgotten everything that I’ve taught you already, huh?” Namjoon uses his strength to carry you from the floor to lay you down on the bed behind him. His cock throbs from the way you were clenching your legs together, desperate for some sort of friction down there.

“Spread your legs.” He commands.

Hesitantly, you hike your legs up to plant your feet on the mattress. Namjoon withholds his urge to just dive right in your pussy, for it was too fucking long since he’s tasted one. “Go on, kitten. Let me see your cute pussy.”

His words alone were enough to make you shiver. You mewl in embarrassment as you displayed your cunt all to himself, spreading your knees apart.

“Oh, fuck,” he exhales, “you’re dripping.” He starts to slowly run his big, warm hand up and down your thigh, heightening your sensitivity. “Who made you this wet, hm?”

“Joon...” you squeak as he inches his hand closer and closer to your throbbing heat. Bucking your hips up, you try to meet with his hand but it only resulted in him pulling away.

“Me? I see, kitten.” He grins before laying down on his stomach, his head in front of your pussy as he gets ready to eat you out. His lips slightly brush against your inner thighs, prodding his tongue out to lick around your core. Your legs involuntarily jerk from the weird yet erotic feeling. “What made you wet?”

“D-Don’t know,” you whisper. It was true that you didn’t know. All that you knew that you became needy for him and that’s it. There was no reason why. Namjoon clicks his tongue and stops you from bucking your hips too much. He growls and pins your hips down. “Stay. Still.”

Without wasting any more time, he doesn’t go for the ‘gentler’ route for he was quick to lick a firm, heavy line from your dripping hole and to your clit. He watches your body’s immediate reaction, trembling. He keeps his eye contact with you as he does this a second time, hearing your loud, heavy pants.

“Feel good?” Namjoon mutters, “Do you want more? Or do you want us to stop—”

“No! No!” you instantly reply with a shake of your head, “M-More please!”

Please. He was satisfied with your answer and dived back in. He firstly teases your slick by giving fast-paced licks on your wet folds, drawing patterns, and figure eights to bring you to blissful pleasure. You arch your back, whimpering from the newly discovered feeling. It was scary to feel so good, but you can’t stop.  

“This pussy tastes so fucking good, mmngg…” he wraps his mouth around your little clit, sucking harshly on it. He smirks in the process because of your constant cute noises.  He watches your face twist in satisfaction, your neck and chest dampening from the accumulation of sweat.

“You like that, hm? Like my tongue playing with your cute, sweet virgin pussy?” he groans before continuing his work on you, both sucking and flicking quick licks on your clit at the same time. Your body writhes on the bed, your hands going down to grip onto his hair. Namjoon grunts from your sudden sharp tugs, the pain making his cock twitch. Namjoon was unconsciously grinding his hips down on the bed, resulting in a few moans and delightful hums coming out of him.  

“Yeah? Wait until I fucking tear your tight pussy apart with my thick cock.”

The wet, slurping noises added to the heat and sensuality of it all. He collects the juices that dripped down your entrance on his tongue, tasting your sweet nectar. Your scent was addicting, so sweet, and it just made him want to eat you out on his bed all day and make you cum again and again.

“Ooohh m-my—aaaghh!” You suddenly felt a rapid, burning sensation when Namjoon decided to insert the tip of his middle finger inside your pussy. Your walls were tight around his digit and it only urged him to push it in deeper. “Mhmm, there you go,” he chuckles darkly, “Fucking take it, Kitten, wanna stretch your pussy walls out. You don’t wanna disappoint your master, do you?”

‘Master?!’ Your face lights up, eyes enlarging.

Namjoon sees your reaction to his words, knowing damn well what he’s doing to you.

“You heard me, Kitten.” Namjoon pumps his digit at a steady pace, trying to find your sweet spot. “I’m gonna fucking own you after I fuck this cunt.”

He alternates between sucking your clit and thrashing his wet, warm tongue along your slit, all while his finger was moving oh-so-slowly inside of you. You pulled on his hair harder as he eagerly ate your pussy out need to make you feel good. “Master… master!” you pant, starting to see stars, “I— oohh please!”

“Hold it.” He commands with a rough voice, “Hold your fucking cum, or I’m not gonna fuck you.”

You whimper loudly, thrashing your head side to side from the overwhelming sensation. Your core feels like it was about to burst any second as it tightens and tightens. “Master!” you squeal, legs shaking when he starts to rapidly flick your clit. Namjoon didn’t care that you were thrusting your hips so frantically up against him anymore, he finds it so hot that you are so reckless.

You obey and held yourself from cumming, just as he told you. You wanted to be obedient and follow his instructions. With a final, harsh lick of your soaked cunt, he denies your orgasm and allows himself to lean back and see the mess he’s created.

Face fucked out and cheeks blushing, chest heaving up and down, your cunt throbbing in a desire to cum. You look so perfect.

“Master,” you cry, “More…”

“More? Awwh, my pretty kitten wants more?” he bites down on his lip, wrapping his hand around his cock to stroke it a couple of times. “Aren’t you fucking ashamed of yourself for being such a horny slut for your master?”

You watch his actions with wide eyes, noticing some white liquid pouring out from his tip. Namjoon collects his precum and lathers it all over his shaft, hissing in pleasure.

“Master’s gonna fuck your tiny cunt with his cock now. It’s big, isn’t it?” he smirks, dimples peeking through.

You nod shyly. ‘How is it gonna fit?’

He shifts his position until he was hovering above you, legs on either side of yours. He traps your body with his arms. “Who’s my good girl?” he asks in a deep whisper, lips ghosting against yours. He aligns the tip of his cock upon your entrance, “Tell me, baby. Who’s my good, obedient little kitten?”

“I-I am, master.”

“Correct. I want you to always remember that, slut.” Namjoon abruptly shoves the tip of his cock in, stretching your pussy out and letting your walls accommodate his thick, big size. You gasp loudly, eyes rolling back as your hips quiver in pleasure.

Namjoon surpasses a moan, crooning his head in between your neck and shoulders. He starts to thrust hastily, not letting you adjust. “There, there. Take that dick. Your pussy’s fucking made for me, kitten.”

There was a slight sting of pain as Namjoon starts pounding, but you try to push it to the back of your mind and focusing on the new feeling. Your mouth gapes, the sounds escaping were fast-paced ah’s after every hard thrust.

Your hands were quick to wrap around Namjoon’s body before your fingers suddenly scratch his back. He grunts loudly from the sharp, stinging pain of your nails. “Kitten… fucking shit,” he moans, “K-Keep doing that… o-okay? You can scratch my back any… aah yea—anytime.”

Your scratches caused bright red marks on his skin, but the sting was driving him to fuck you harder. “Aww, fuck, my poor little pet,” Namjoon says through an airy moan, “Want master to stop? Hm?” he angles his hips better so that he can hit that certain sweet spot inside of you. “Is it too much for your bratty cunt to handle?”

”Wrap your legs around your master, c’mon baby, let me fuck you deeper,” Namjoon grunts once you obeyed, his big cock doing its job to make you feel good, wanting him to be your only first and last cock you’re ever going to get.

His tip rubs up against your g-spot, hitting such unexplored places. You arched your back as your legs shook violently, “Oh, oh, oh, oh—!” high-pitched moans erupt from you with every thrust. “S-So good!”

His lips tickle the side of your neck, teasingly giving wet, sloppy kisses. Your body shivers, being your neck a newly-found sensitive place. “Master…” you whimper, closing your eyes, “Please…”

“Please what, kitten? Do you want to cum, mhm? Cum around your master’s dick?” He says in a teasing way, assuming how much you liked it when he talks dirty because of your pussy constantly tightening around his dick.

Everything around you feels and sounds lewd; the two of you were moaning without care of whoever’s listening, his balls were slapping against your ass, bodies so close together. His neck looks so good right now, the skin beading with sweat, and you can’t stop your temptation to taste him.

Leaning forward, you open your mouth and clasped your sharp teeth down on his neck, whining in the process. Namjoon shudders, biting his lip from the delicious pain. He leans his head more to the side to allow you more access.

“Fucking fuck,” groaning, he grabs your neck and pushes you away from him. “Turn the fuck around, kitten. Lay on your stomach, yeah that’s it.”

You turn around and there on Namjoon’s sight was your pretty, white tail. He bites his lip and gives it a taunting tug, making you wiggle your butt. With the new position, he pounds your pussy while his hips continuously bounce against your ass.

“A-Ahh, there we go. You like it when I fuck you raw?” he growls against your ear. “Mhm, yeah I know you do. You like the feeling of my cock drilling your pussy, right? You want someone to coat this pure little pussy with cum.” Namjoon starts to feel animalistic once he wraps his strong, muscular arms around your neck, bringing you into a tight chokehold. You couldn’t hold back your squeals, feeling hot as he restricts your breathing.

His thrusts turn inhumanely fast, “So tight, fuuuuck kitten. I’m gonna fucking burst my cum into you, make you fucking pregnant with my kids, oh god—” Namjoon doesn’t care about what he says, his words falling carelessly out of his mouth, “You would want that, do you? Your body probably isn’t ready to carry my children, hm? But oh goodness fuck you would look so good,” the fantasy continues to play in his mind, fueling him to pound you harder with his rock solid cock, “You’d look so fucking hot, your little belly so round. I wanna fill your tight, warm pussy up ‘til the brim and watch it pour out. You want that?”

You feel dizzy, all too intoxicated with his cock and his dirty words. You only nod for you can’t bring yourself to talk.

“Of course you do, you’re gonna take master’s cum like a good kitten, yeah? Wanna cum with me, baby?” his voice becomes a little high-pitched, cock twitching inside of you, “Just let it all go, baby. Don’t hold back. I’ve got you, you’re safe with me, Y/n.”

You didn’t know how you did it, or why it happened, but you feel yourself coming undone on his thick cock. Your body feels like it was going limp as it keeps shaking and trembling, although his arms were there to keep you in your place. Namjoon sighs as he feels your walls clench so tightly around him, pulsating furiously as you soak his cock with your white, sticky liquid.

“There… fuck yea, that’s my good girl,” he moans, “cum all over me.”

Namjoon swivels his hips in circles, humping you like a fucking dog on a rut.

“Master…!” you wail loudly, practically screaming, “Puh…please!”

Namjoon hasn’t cummed so hard in a long time. His seed spurts deep inside of you, coating you up with his liquid. His thrusts became sloppy, hips jolting for his cock was throbbing so hard. “Shit, shit, shit, shit,” He pants while wrapping his hand around your neck, tightening his hold so that your collar can strangle you. “Take my cum, take it nice and deep, kitten. Fuck you’re such a good girl for master.”

After coming undone, Namjoon pulls out and watches his cum mixed with yours drip down your pussy. It was such an erotic sight, almost reminding him like all those pornos he’s watched. Your tail was hiked straight up into the air, burying your face into the pillow as you purr.

Namjoon flips you back over so that he can see your face. He watches your chest rise up and down in an attempt to catch your breath. You whimper quietly.

“Hm, what is it, kitten?” he strokes your cheek tenderly with the back of his hand.

“Again.”

“Again?!” Namjoon laughs breathily, eyes wide. “Want a round two?”

“Yes, master.” You nod with a frivolous grin.

“What will you say?” He dives his hand down to play with your collar, running his fingers against the studs. “What’s the word, kitten?”

You plead with your eyes, lips forming a pout as you’ve never felt so needy in your entire life. The whole ride felt so good and you wanted to do it again and again and again with him, allowing the two of you to strengthen your bond together. You’re trusting him your entire life, you’re submitting to him. And you’ve never felt safer than before.

“Please.”

His lips connect with yours for a quick, light kiss, “Good.”

Ironically, the next day, Elijah had come knocking at Namjoon’s door with a set of papers in his hand. Namjoon had a protective stance with his arms crossed, eyeing the dude up and down.

‘So this is the guy who exploited my kitten…’

Although Elijah had absolutely no clue that he was talking to the Kim Namjoon of BTS. He was stuttering as he talks, hands shaking.

“I-I’m here to give… oh, uh… the— you know… p-papers… sir.” Elijah gulps, trying his best to keep eye contact with the much taller, bigger man in front of him. “Since, uh, y-you… well I guess since you o-own Y/n now… right?”

Namjoon wanted to punch his face so badly.

Before he replies, Namjoon hears the soft pitter-patter of your feet coming near, until they stop. He turns around to see you frozen in your spot behind him, anger, sadness, and disappointment were written across your face as you saw Elijah. Your blood boils and you quickly stride towards him, wanting to hurt him as he hurt you. You’ve never realized until now how much of an asshole he was towards you in comparison to Namjoon’s kindhearted self. Namjoon has shown you what it actually means to take care of you without all of the abuse that you thought was normal.

“Hey, hey, Kitten,” Namjoon was quick to hold you back before you can even lay a finger on Elijah. He turns you around and holds your face in his hands, “Be good and stay in our room, okay? I’ll be there in a minute,” he sees that your eyes were starting to well up with tears. He clicks his tongue, “Kitten… you don’t have to be afraid, okay? Remember what I always tell you?”

‘I’m gonna keep you safe.’ The sentence reappears in your mind.

With a final nod, you take the chance to give Elijah a scornful look before scurrying back to your room.

Elijah was watching the whole scene unfold with a surprisingly shocked look on his face. “How is she… Y/n’s so—”

“Stop. I don’t want to hear her fucking name coming out of your mouth,” Namjoon spits, grabbing the adoption papers from his hand.

“Well, how the fuck is she so good to you now?! She’s never like that when she’s with me!” Elijah argues.

“Are you dumb? The reason’s so simple. You didn’t train her properly and all you gave her was abuse. Why have a fucking hybrid in the first place…” he trails off while shaking his head in incredulity. “Now step out of my compound for I might just punch you in the face.”

Elijah immediately felt the chills in the back of his neck from the celebrity’s harsh words. “S-Sorry sir,” he raises his hands in an attempt to defend himself, “It will never happen again.”

“If only you’d apologize to Y/n like that.” Without any more final words, he slams the door shut on Elijah’s dumbfounded face.

The two of you couldn’t be any happier. Namjoon had signed the papers and can officially say that he claims you – in every context as possible. He sees you sitting idly on the couch, your eyes focused on the TV as you watched a Dwayne Johnson action movie. Chuckling at how cute you looked, he can’t seem to focus on the breakfast meal he was cooking.

It was until he feels his phone ring, signaling that there was a caller. He reads the I.D.

‘Kim Taehyung.’

He answers the call, “Hello, good morning, Taehyung!”

“Namjoon,” he starts with a strict, domineering tone, catching Namjoon off-guard, “Check the news. Check the news right now, hyung.”

“Woah, woah, woah!” he panics, leaving the kitchen as he speed-walks to you. You watch him in curiosity as he tries to find the remote. “What’s wrong? Is it about us?!”

“Just take a look!” Taehyung half whispers, and half screams.

Namjoon flips through the channels, ignoring your whine that you abruptly disturbed your movie.

His chest instantly tightens from the news headline.

‘RM from BTS spotted with a cat hybrid, along with an unknown man in front of his doorstep!’

Namjoon’s palms sweat, Taehyung’s voice being muffled out from the thoughts that were slowly eating him alive. Namjoon curses under his breath, feeling a sharp sting in his chest. “Oh god…” he shakes his head, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

The news showed an awfully clear picture of him holding Y/n’s face from yesterday, her tail and ears easily caught in the frame. “Did RM just bought a hybrid?” the female news reported says, “The person who took this photo claims that the man in front of RM looked extremely terrified. What could’ve been their conversation?”

As Namjoon was visibly panicking, not knowing what to do – you on the other hand was thrilled to see such a familiar face on the television screen.

“Master!” you squeal, pointing your index finger at the TV, “You!” Taking a closer look, you squint your eyes. After a couple of seconds later, you gasped. It finally dawned upon you.

“And… me?!”

~

Sorry if there were any errors. I’ve already read this numerous of times and every time, I somehow find a new typo. Gosh. 

Thank you for reading! Your support is genuinely appreciated. Ily guys, take care <3 

[jenomark]

JANUARY

➔Pairing: Doyoung x Reader (Female) | Jaehyun x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: -.- ➔Genre: Plot (ft. smut, romance, angst, fluff etc.) ➔Warnings: Angst ➔Word count: 4,716

➔Summary: You are dating handsome and lovable Jaehyun. You stay at his apartment all of the time, along with his roommate Doyoung. Doyoung has feelings for you, which he doesn’t quite understand. What begins as an innocent crush changes the lives of all three people over the course of seven months.

AUGUST SEPTEMBER OCTOBER NOVEMBER DECEMBER

Jaehyun sat cross-legged in the middle of the floor, leaning back on his arms, his hair a tousled mess, and his eyes red from not sleeping well. Moving never agreed with him. He hated change and how hard it was to settle into newness. He aspired to keep things as they were, which was why he hardly shopped for new shirts or baseball caps. The older and more used things were, the happier they made him feel. He didn’t want to exist in a world where he had to pick out new things to decorate a new apartment with, to pretend like he cared about separate cutting boards, one for meat and the other for vegetables.

Maybe he was just tired of giving a shit altogether.

He sat for a while on the wood floor that was scuffed after having to move his furniture alone. He kicked a lone sheet of bubble wrap with his foot, trying his best just to pop a bubble with his big toe. He blew hot air out of his mouth and looked around, willing his brain not to stir up old memories.

His phone rang and he ignored the call, something he didn’t often do. Jaehyun was a social butterfly. He liked talking to people, and liked the attention at the other end of the call, the way someone could feel excited just by talking to him. He knew the people he loved would be worried about him, and he resented any of those feelings they might have.

“I’m a grown up, for fucks sake.” he had told his mother before he left to pack up his apartment on his own.

His mother didn’t raise an argument, just let her only son go. So, Jaehyun was left alone to pack up his whole life, or what was left of it. By the time he got to the apartment he used to share, more than half of the things were gone. He hadn’t realized how little material possessions he owned, or how easy it was to pack up what he did have.

Jaehyun got to his feet. He knew he had to make a move and look for a new apartment for one person. It really was time to grow up and be the man he always wanted to be. He took one last look around the apartment before he locked it up forever, crossing that threshold and only thinking about you once.

December

“-I cheated on you.” he said. “I cheated on you the night I went to the bar without you.”

He meant it to sting. He wanted to see how the realization would set in, how the relief would slowly be replaced by repulsiveness. Your pretty little face scrunched up with it until you opened your mouth to berate him. More than anything, he wanted you to blame him for ruining the relationship, to use him as an excuse for your own infidelity.

Instead, there was only relief. It made Jaehyun feel disappointed.

“Do I know her?” you asked.

“No.” Jaehyun said. “She was a stranger. That doesn’t matter. It was just one time”

He was lying through his teeth. Not the best liar, Jaehyun was surprised you bought it. You looked understanding, which made him want to hurt you, really hurt you. The fight left him as soon as you admitted defeat. It was easy to love you but harder to unlove you.

“I have something to confess.” you said, sounding as pathetic as you looked.

He didn’t always know that you were cheating with Doyoung. There was a time, in the beginning, he used to laugh behind Doyoung’s back at his little crush on you. It was like a game for Jaehyun to watch his roommate squirm any time you walked into the room. It gave Jaehyun a mental pat on the back to know that he could get someone like you, someone everyone else wanted, someone Jaehyun’s roommate could not get. Looking back on it, it was wrong of him to think like this. Like everyone else, he was still learning how to be a better human being. He thought it would just take time.

Jaehyun had many crushes throughout his life, so he could hardly blame Doyoung for what should have been an innocent crush. You were pretty special. In a lot of ways, Jaehyun wished he hadn’t taken you for granted so much, because there were aspects to the relationship that were so good for him. He felt stupid to lose them. Also, you were beautiful and the sex was some of the best he’d ever had.

He supposed that he became really suspicious the feelings weren’t unrequited around Halloween. Something felt off at the party, and it had nothing to do with his drinking. You glowed whenever you were around Doyoung, much brighter than he himself ever could make you. That was the profound moment, the one where he tried so hard to convince himself that it wasn’t true. He began to blame himself for thinking negatively. The guilt ate away at him, gnawing at him whenever he was alone with his thoughts.

“Should I be scared of this confession?” Jaehyun asked.

There was so much bitterness dripping from his voice, but he was trying his best to remain neutral. Seeing the way your face deflated made him feel sympathetic towards you, something he was learning that adults could do.

You nodded, the tears falling quietly.

“Say it.” Jaehyun said.

You looked at him. He would always remember the way you looked at him, and how he wished things had turned out differently. In your eyes, he could see how certain you were of the future, how sure you were with your own choices.

“I cheated on you, too.” you said.

Jaehyun didn’t react like you wanted him to, which threw everything off. Your expression was accusatory, and he could see that you were wondering if either of you ever loved each other to begin with.

“Do I know him?” he asked.

“You don’t seem surprised.”

Jaehyun shrugged. “What does that say about you?” He squeezed his fists down by his side to calm down. He tried a different approach and added, “We shouldn’t do this outside.”

He started walking towards the car, hoping you would follow, but you didn’t. He walked back to you, reaching out his hand to touch your arm.

“You knew.” you said, the realization dawning on you slowly. “You knew I cheated on you this whole time?”

Jaehyun let his hand fall down by his side. When he spoke, his voice was thick. “Yes, I knew.”

“Did you cheat on me because I cheated on you?”

“Let’s talk about it in the car, please.”

He started walking, but again, you didn’t follow. Frustrated, Jaehyun turned back around. He looked at the windows to make sure no one was watching the show. He didn’t need his mother or his little cousins knowing what a wreck his life could sometimes be. By then, all the steam had left him. He was no longer angry or bitter, just numb.

“Yes, I knew you cheated on me,” he said. “I didn’t cheat on you because you cheated on me. What level of petty do you think I am?”

“How long have you known?” you asked.

“Does it matter?”

You looked terrified and so small. Jaehyun had to resist the urge to scoop you up and hold you in the cold air. He was still an asshole, but he was becoming a sensitive asshole. He thinks that’s the moment where the true change began.

Slowly, you started walking towards him. You both made it back to the car, a place that was starting to feel too heavy for Jaehyun, too boxed in. Closing the car door blocked out all of the air and sound. It was just the two of you, one person silently crying and the other trying his best not to break down with you.

“Why him?” was all Jaehyun said.

It was a question that had been bugging him for a long time. Sure, Doyoung was more emotionally available. He was outwardly intelligent. His charms were many, and he wasn’t bad looking. He kept most of his promises and could have been a good friend in a past life. People never had the wrong idea about Doyoung when they first met him, either, not like they did with Jaehyun. Their opinion of Jaehyun wavered, but Doyoung always brought forth the same reaction. He was the man a mother could like. He was the one you fell in love with, the one who felt right from the start.

Jaehyun could feel the mood in the car turn even more sour. You didn’t know he also knew it was with Doyoung. Maybe you were going to convince him that it was someone unimportant, some random in a bar, just like his story.

“Am I that awful?” Jaehyun asked. “I know I haven’t been here for you a whole lot. Our relationship hasn’t been the best.”

You cried a little harder. “No, you’re not awful.”

“So, why? Why do this to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Good to know.” Jaehyun said, starting the car.

He drove away in silence, the only sound coming from the hum of the car. He dropped you off in front of his and Doyoung’s apartment. It was getting harder to remain feeling numb. As he sat in the car in front of his apartment, Jaehyun could feel every emotion flooding through his veins. He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

“I’m not coming inside,” he said. “I’ll find somewhere else to stay until both of you are out of my apartment. Take as long as you need.”

You got out of the car and came around to the side where Jaehyun’s window was open. He opened it to the cool night air in order to breathe in the freshness. It just ended up making him feel ice cold, inside and outside.

Jaehyun leaned out of it and said, “By the way, I never really cheated on you. I just said that to make you admit it. Thanks for saying it.”

The numbness returned and followed him around for roughly a month. You and Doyoung moved out within three days, not bothering to stew in feelings of guilt, like he wanted you to. Jaehyun didn't know what to do with himself, after that.

He would walk in and out of Doyoung’s empty room in the apartment, thinking up memories of you two fucking where Doyoung used to keep his bed. It was tortuous and stupid, and it helped no one in the long run, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying to draw emotions out of the pit of his belly.

Not seeing you had made it harder for him to move on. He thought about going to see you at your job, to casually stop by where he knew your group of work friends would be, but there were people in his life who always talked him out of it. He just wanted to feel something, anything at all.

His own work friends suggested he hook up with random strangers, but he never actually had it in him to go out and do it. Building any kind of relationship with someone wasn’t a great idea, even if it made him feel like he was getting some kind of sexual revenge on you. Walking around his half-empty apartment wasn’t the best choice either, but it helped him pass the time.

He didn’t get to tell you, but it was Doyoung that eluded him to the affair. When Jaehyun had asked him to take care of you, he had never seen someone so confident in his ability to do so. There was love in that man's eyes, a love that can only be felt when the person you love loves you right back. A little after that, when Jaehyun really looked at you and saw you, he confirmed that something serious was going on.

In a way, Jaehyun hoped it was just sex. He could take it if you and Doyoung were sneaking off just to fuck each other when he was at work. Adding love into the mix hurt him a little more, made him aware of the things he lacked.

So, back and forth he went like that across the apartment. He did things he wasn’t proud of. He blamed himself and didn’t blame anyone else but you. He cursed your name in the darkness. He took his aggression out on Doyoung, even going so far as to ring up his work and tell them Doyoung was thinking about quitting. It really was petty, which maybe he definitely was being, but it wasn’t anything he couldn't correct himself for. He was trying. He really was.

Jaehyun took the last box from the top of the stairs, carrying it down in his arms like a delicate baby. On the side of the fridge, the only thing he wasn’t taking with him, was a calendar marking the end days in January. He thought of the next tenants moving in, and how they’d throw it out without hesitation. Maybe they’d have a more solid year ahead of them than he felt he did.

He couldn’t believe how fast time was moving, and he willed it to just slow down long enough for him to catch his breath. Soon enough, it would be February, and he’d have been single for nearly two months. The thought of spending his birthday alone made him sick to his stomach.

He walked down the stairs, looking into the box to see an old picture frame belonging to you on top. It was one your dad had taken of you as a child at the zoo. You were in shorts, your knobby knees sticking out, and your missing-toothed smile making him want to smile back. Jaehyun kept it in his room because it reminded him from time to time of you, of how one person can come into his life and change it all.

Jaehyun didn’t just want to throw it out, so he kept it with him until he moved. He didn’t know what to do with it now, but he figured he should probably return it. You’d want that photograph more than he did, but just barely.

After feeling like he wanted the whole world against you, Jaehyun started to refocus his attention on self-care and self-love. Slowly, he began to unpack his own responses to things, how he could choose to act better in every situation, and how the only person holding him back from a better life was him.

He began to feel better, too. It wasn’t going to cure him, but it was worth a start. He couldn’t stop the pessimism from reaching inside of his shirt and clawing at his bare skin, but he could change some things that didn’t serve him.

When he reached the outside, his heart a little raw from seeing your childhood photo, his mother was waiting for him in her car. Sometimes a momma's boy just needed his momma. He placed the box in the backseat and slid into the passenger seat.

“Are you ready?” she asked, patting his knee.

“I am.”

Bars felt comfortable because they were noisy. He would go to one after work, order a drink and sip on it until he felt tired and went home. He wasn’t there to get drunk or to meet new people. Sometimes, he caught up with his work friends. Other times, he sat there alone, chit-chatting to the bartender on duty. He laughed when things were funny. He let his foot tap away against the floor when the music was good.

“Is this seat taken?”

A pretty girl was standing hesitantly in front of the chair next to him. Jaehyun smiled and shook his head no. She sat down beside him, bringing her purse on her lap and looking at him with curiosity.

“I see you here a lot.” she said.

“Ahh,” Jaehyun said. “I think that’s my cue to stop coming every day. I swear, I’m not an alcoholic.”

Her eyes widened, afraid that she had offended him. “I didn’t mean-”

“-I’m kidding.” Jaehyun said. "It's a joke."

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Jaehyun pushed his empty glass away from him and swiveled his chair to face her more. She looked self-conscious with the way she tucked her hair behind her ear. Jaehyun felt too awkward, so he turned his chair back around.

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked.

“No.” She said, “I came to talk to you because you looked lonely.”

To that, Jaehyun didn’t know what to say. Instead, he ordered another drink and let her talk his ear off. She talked about everything and nothing the whole night. Jaehyun partly listened and partly let his mind wander. She was nice and interesting enough, but he wasn’t ready to start talking to other women in a way that suggested sex or relationships.

He could have used a friend. He would have liked to have found a friend in her, but she made it clear that she wasn’t interested in him in that way when her hand found her way to his thigh. She moved it upward with each word she spoke, her fingertips dangerously close to fondling him.

“This was fun.” Jaehyun said, feeling the buzz of alcohol running through his system. “Unfortunately, I have work early tomorrow and need a full night's rest. See you sometime?”

The girl looked taken aback at the sudden change of events. Jaehyun got up from his chair, said goodnight to her and sauntered out of the door. He hadn’t even realized they didn’t exchange names.

Jaehyun decided to walk home. The night was cold in the way winter was, but manageable. His jacket kept him warm enough, and if his bones chilled, he hardly noticed. He watched people as he walked, watched them happily walking along the sidewalks and dipping into whatever door they fancied. Slowly, he began to smile and feel more at ease, but maybe it was the alcohol making him feel that way. Or maybe it was a sudden feeling that maybe everything could be alright, only if he allowed it.

He woke up and he was drooling. Jaehyun lifted his head from the pillow, looking to his left and right. There was a knocking sound that felt like it was coming from inside of his head. He hadn’t been that tipsy last night, so he knew a hangover was not the cause. He lifted himself up from the bed in his mothers spare bedroom and threw his legs over the side of his bed.

The knocking continued, more feverishly than before. Jaehyun ignored it and picked up his phone to see if he had any missed calls. There were none.

“I’m coming!” Jaehyun yelled when the final knocks were more forceful. He muttered to himself,” Fucking fuck.”

He walked across the room before realizing he was shirtless. He grabbed a dirty t-shirt from the floor and brought it over his head, letting the hem of it meet his sweatpants. In case it was one of his mothers snooty friends, he looked in the mirror and cleaned up his messy hair. He didn’t need anyone judging him for sleeping past noon on a weekend.

“Coming.” Jaehyun called again.

He walked out of the spare bedroom that was just to the left of the living room and ducked down to see if he could recognize the person standing on the porch. Or rather, people. He saw just a flip of hair before he ran behind the door and held his hand to his chest to get his heart to stop beating.

Doyoung’s voice was low and quiet, but Jaehyun could hear everything he said. “We’ll come back later. He's not home.”

Jaehyun didn’t have to hear your voice to know that you were there, too , that the hair he saw belonged to you. It was dyed a darker color, but it was unmistakably you. Yet, hearing the sound of your voice made his toes curl underneath him. He didn’t think seeing you so soon after the breakup would help him.

“He’s home.” you said, your voice somewhat impatient.

It was smart of you to come when his mother was at work. He thought you might have purposely done it this way, to avoid any more awkwardness. After all, Jaehyun’s mother was sure to ride for her son, to take a look at both of them standing on the porch and curse them out. At that imagery, Jaehyun smiled to himself.

“I don’t know.” Doyoung said, his voice nervous. "Should we be bothering him like this? It's too soon."

Jaehyun backed away from the door. He wondered if he had time to run back into the bedroom and get himself more presentable. He wanted you to see what you had been missing out on. He was a handsome guy, definitely one worth giving a second look to. He suddenly wished he had taken that girl at the bar home and fucked her, so that he could talk to you and Doyoung and have her walk out of the bedroom naked, unaware of what was going on. He'd love to see the look on your face then.

No, Jaehyun thought to himself. I should appear wounded. I am wounded.

The unkempt hair and slightly red-rimmed eye look was working in his favor. Before giving it another thought, Jaehyun whipped open the front door to his mothers house and faced them both down. He kept his face stoic, his voice even. “Can I help you?”

It was Doyoung who spoke first, his voice not as sharp as usual. “You have something of hers. She was wondering if she could have it back.”

“Can she speak for herself?” Jaehyun asked.

The whole time Doyoung was speaking, Jaehyun kept his eyes on you. It was a mistake to do so. There was nothing more heartbreaking than to see how well you were surviving. Your skin was glowing and flawless. Your new hair made you look mature in a way that was sure to make everyone notice you. You were dressed in nice clothes that matched Doyoung’s vibe. Jaehyun couldn't stop the jealousy from taking root in his soul.

“She can.” you said, speaking for yourself. “You have my picture and I’d like it back. Do you, by any chance, have it here?”

Jaehyun wasn’t really listening. He was looking into your eyes, daring himself to get lost in them. Maybe it was the fact that you were unattainable now, but it made him want you all over again. It was hard to let you go.

“Are you two dating now?” Jaehyun asked.

All three were silent, even Jaehyun. As soon as he spoke the words, he began to wish they’d stuff themselves back inside of his mouth. Jaehyun tried to recover and said, “That’s none of my business. Of course, I have your photo. I’ll get it.”

In their faces, Jaehyun shut the front door. He felt like he was going to have a heart attack. He clawed at his own neck and willed himself to breathe. He walked through his mom's house and went down to the basement where he was temporarily storing his belongings. Apartment hunting was going decently well, but he found out he could hardly afford more than a pot to piss in by himself. Having his mother support him had been a blessing, but it wasn’t easy.

After rifling through some boxes, he found the photo in question. The first few days he spent with his mother, he kept it on his bedside table. When he realized it was causing him too much pain, he brought it down to the basement with the rest of his things. He never thought you would come back to get it, or to remember it, or to show your face at his mother's house.

When Jaehyun opened the front door back up, you were gone. Doyoung stood, his eyes struggling to make eye contact. Jaehyun opened the screen door wide and handed the photograph in its frame to Doyoung.

“If you’re here to apologize, don’t bother.” Jaehyun said. “I’m over it.”

It was a lie, one too obvious for either to believe. Doyoung’s grace allowed him to let it go, to open his mouth and shut it right away. Jaehyun sat down on one of the porch chairs and motioned for Doyoung to do the same. Jaehyun shot a look in the direction of where you waited in a car, his face not betraying what he was feeling inside.

“I’ve been thinking about what I should say to you,” Jaehyun said. “But I’ve come up with nothing. All of that anger, and it still feels like I’m a fool with no way to defend myself.”

“You’re not a fool.” Doyoung said.

“You make me a fool by saying that.” Jaehyun said. “I’m a fool who was cheated on and too stupid to realize it, even with my suspicions. By my best friend, of all people.”

“Was I your best friend?” Doyoung asked. He sounded surprised, a little annoyed.

Jaehyun didn’t have an answer for that. Before, he would have answered it quickly. Of course you were my best friend. You were my roommate, my punching bag, and my buddy when all else failed. He had let Jaehyun’s lady live there because he was a nice guy, not because he was secretly in love with her. At that thought, Jaehyun chuckled darkly.

“Maybe not.” Jaehyun said. “It seems I never really had either relationship in the first place.”

“You didn’t want me to apologize.”

“No,” Jaehyun said. “It doesn’t do any good. I could apologize for not being the best boyfriend, but it didn’t matter. I could apologize for being a shitty roommate, maybe a friend, but you would still have made your choices.”

Doyoung played with the ring on his finger. He looked down at the frame in his hands, at the sweet girl looking back at him. “I owe you transparency.”

Jaehyun waited a long time for Doyoung to speak again. He was patient and channeling maturity. All he wanted to do, really, was go back inside and go back to sleep. Still, he waited and looked at Doyoung. When Doyoung didn’t speak fast enough, Jaehyun had to speak his mind. If he didn't, it would bother him too much.

“You’re dating her, yes?”

“Yes.” Doyoung said.

“In love?”

“Yes.”

“For a long time?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel bad about it?”

“About loving her? No.” Doyoung said. “About hurting you? Yes. I did consider us some type of friends.”

“Not the type that doesn’t steal his boy's girlfriend, huh?”

The dig might have hurt Doyoung but Jaehyun couldn’t tell. Doyoung stood up, deciding that he’d had enough of the conversation. Jaehyun followed, rising to his feet in a way that desperately made him want to appear calm and cool.

“I’ll make this quick, since I have to go.” Doyoung said. “I don’t want to lose you in my life, Jaehyun.”

“Fuck you.” Jaehyun said, the words slipping out.

Doyoung’s lips parted. “I deserve that.”

“And her? Does she want to lose me?”

“I can’t speak for her, but no, she doesn’t.”

“Fuck right off.” Jaehyun opened his screen door. “A timeline where my girlfriend cheats on me with my roommate and they come back because they don’t want to lose me? Unbelievable.”

“Believe it.” Doyoung said.” Because it’s true. She won’t admit it, but there is something codependent about you two. About me, as well. Sometimes I feel like life isn’t the same without you in it. Actually, I know it’s not.”

Jaehyun shook his head as Doyoung turned to go. “I didn’t expect this. I wasn't prepared.”

Doyoung threw his hands in the air. “Me neither. I’ve learned not to expect anything anymore. Life is fucked. I'm trying my best to unfuck myself.”

Doyoung walked down the steps and back towards the car. Jaehyun watched him go, pausing way too long before going inside of the house and closing the door behind him.

[last-operator-standing]

Toll of the Bell

Chapter 2 - Tempestuous

> Ao3

> Chapter 1 (tumblr)

> Chapter 3 (tumblr)

Summary: What now? He could roll over and accept the fate thrust upon him and die as Adler intended. Starting a new life away from it all couldn't be that bad either. Or…

Or he could finish the mission.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None apply this chapter

Words: 3.4k (5.4k total)

A/N: This took me a little longer than I wanted but I have the next few chapters thought out now, so hopefully I'll be able to get them done and shared soon!

It's bright and early when Lazar shuffles in and startles Bell awake. He offers a sheepish smile and holds up the tray in his hand as peace offering. "Thought you might be hungry." 

 Bell stares down at the tray Lazar sets across his lap. There's a small bowl of noodles in broth and a pack of unopened saltines along with a bottle of water. "You've been out for a while. Figured you should start with something light." A soft jingle fills the silence and draws Bell's attention. There's a gentle pressure at his left wrist and he tries to peer curiously at what Lazar's doing. 

 "Can't eat without hands, eh?" He playfully waves Bell's now free hand about. Bell can't resist the small smile that makes its way across his face. It falls quickly when he waits expectantly for his other arm to be released only for Lazar to awkwardly avoid his eyes. 

 "Eat up." The atmosphere turns tense and awkward. "We can, uh… Talk when you're done." It sounds more like a question than a statement. Lazar makes a quick retreat, leaving Bell alone with his bland breakfast. 

 Bell sits in silence. The meal remains untouched and he stares unblinking into the cooling bowl. His previous anxieties start to resurface, leaving him nervous and uncertain once more. One question in particular forces itself to the front of his mind.

 What now?

Lazar wouldn't save him just to turn around and execute him, right? He must want something. More intel? Perhaps he and Park were starting a separate investigation into Perseus. 

 "I just.. I feel like I owe you, Bell."

 Bell heaves a heavy sigh. All this thinking was giving him a headache. He finally relents and reaches his free hand for the saltines, bringing them to his still restrained hand to pull the package open. The plastic is stubborn at first and refuses to part. No amount of tugging or prying can pull the traitorous material apart. Bell is seconds away from gnawing the damn thing off when it finally gives, showering him in crumbs and scattering perfectly good crackers to the floor.

 The dramatic groan and loud Russian cursing is well justified, Bell decides. He angrily stuffs a saltine into his mouth and crunches it with a vengeance. The door is abruptly thrown wide, nearly causing him to choke in surprise.

 "Bell, are you-" 

 Lazar pauses to take in the sight of the wide-eyed Bell and his mess of saltines. 

 "I can explain."

 Lazar visibly relaxes and grins. "We thought someone was trying to kill you with all that yelling." From behind his shoulder, Park peers in, calculating eyes scanning the room. They both step inside. Lazar takes a seat on the edge of the bed and snatches a cracker from the open pack. Park remains at the door, leaning against the frame. Bell doesn't miss the way she discreetly holsters her gun. 

 "So, Bell." It's Park who speaks this time, catching his attention. "What do you remember?" Something about her tone feels familiar. Almost.. unsettling.

 "So close to Perseus."

 "I, uh.. Well.." 

 The room is dark. The overhead lamp is the only thing to illuminate the space. Lazar stands nearby. He faces Bell, but his expression is twisted in something akin to discomfort. "The CIA reinvented you, Bell." Adler stands directly beside the gurney he's strapped to, demanding all of Bell's attention. "If you believed you were someone else, we could lead you to a place where you'd give it all up."

 "Fuck this," he hears his voice waver with fear. It's the wrong thing to say. "I don't think so." Adler practically launches himself forward and roughly grabs the front of Bell's vest. "One way or another, Bell, we're gonna get it out of you." 

 "I mean, I remember up to Solovetsky."

 The bitter wind feels good against his face. It brings a sense of serenity to Bell's turbulent thoughts despite the tense atmosphere with Adler. 

 "It was never personal."

 Bell chews on his lip as the memories resurface. "And when Adler.. shot me. But nothing new with Perseus." Park's eyes narrow a fraction, further unsettling him. There's something else on his mind that's been bothering him since the first moment he saw Park. 

 "Ah, well, give it time," Park offers without much conviction. She opens her mouth to speak again but Bell cuts her off.

 "I'm sorry," he blurts. The apology seems to catch Park by surprise. "I should have been faster. If only I had been faster, I could have saved you, too…" Park suddenly looks uncomfortable.

 "It's alright, Bell. It.. It wasn't your fault."

 "How are you..?" 

 "Alive?" Park's expansion finally softens. "After the skyhook pulled you two off, I knew I only had seconds left before I was dead. I managed to stumble back inside and take cover in an empty room. Luckily, Perseus didn't seem interested in checking if the building was clear."

 Bell gets the feeling there's more to her story but he opts not to pry. A silence falls over the three. Lazar keeps picking at the abandoned pack of crackers while Park keeps a steady watchful gaze on Bell. Before Solovetsky, he would have matched her with his own unyielding stare. Back then he had no reason to doubt or fear her. But now he's not so sure. 

 "So kid, what will you do now?" Bell looks away from Park and over to Lazar. He's sitting casually beside Bell like he's unbothered by the tension but his easy smile doesn't quite reach his sharp eyes. It isn't lost on Bell that his words up to now have all been for show. 

 They don't trust me.

 He shifts uncomfortably, careful not to make a bigger mess of crackers and soup, and clears his throat before he speaks up. "Perseus is still out there," he starts slowly. Park's expression flashes and Bell tries not to flinch. Lazar simply watches and listens closely. "Someone needs to stop him. I want to stop him. He still has the codes to Greenlight, right? All he needs is a new location to activate."

 "Why?" Lazar is casual about his question but his eyes tell a different story. He wants to believe what Bell is saying.

 "Because it isn't right." It seems so obvious to Bell that he's almost surprised by the question. "This is bigger than me. Millions of lives are at risk. I don't know who I was before, but.. I know who I am now ." Bell does his best to sell it, and to his relief they seem to buy it. 

 The truth is, the Russian doesn't know what else to do. He can't remember his life before MK-Ultra. Right now, the mission is all he has; stop Perseus. Without that, he has… nothing. 

 "I just want to stop Perseus before he causes a nuclear war."

   And maybe punch those damn shades off Adler's face , but he leaves that part to himself. 

 Lazar hums thoughtfully and Park starts to relax. They don't seem quite at ease yet, but it's a start. 

 Over the next few days, Bell heals and collects himself. After their talk, Park eventually gave in to Lazar's pressuring and agreed to allow Bell some freedom. Stretching his legs feels nice and the fresh air certainly helps him collect his thoughts. This safehouse was undoubtedly cleaner than the last, with actual rooms and furniture rather than a dingy warehouse. 

 "What about Adler?" 

 Lazar and Bell are sitting peacefully at the kitchen table, Lazar with a bagel and an open file, Bell with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Lazar looks up at the question. "You sound like you're ready to fight him." The Russian huffs with indignance at his amused tone. "He shot me," he complains loudly. "Just one good punch, Lazar. Please ?" 

 "You'll have to get in line," Park grunts as she joins them in the kitchen, gravitating towards the coffee machine. "I think we'd all like to give that bastard a good punch." 

 Lazar grins. "I think you should avoid throwing punches for now, Bell, least he shoots you a second time." Bell pouts. Lazar flicks bagel crumbs at him. "Jokes aside, if you're serious about taking down Perseus, it's probably best if the rest of the team doesn't know you're still alive. For now, anyway. It'll only cause more problems and distractions, not to mention Adler probably wouldn't hesitate to kill you for real."

 Bell sighs dramatically. "Alright, alright, fine . But I'm definitely getting a swing in once Perseus is six feet under." He throws his head back and downs the rest of his coffee. "So where do we start?"

 Park leans against the counter with her mug of coffee. "Well, if you can remember anything about Perseus or his associates.."

 That tone is back again but Bell forces himself to not bristle at it. "I'm sorry. Nothing new has come to kind yet." Park gives a slow nod. "You were our most successful subject. Any old memories will be buried behind weeks of.. reprogramming. Now that the drugs are filtering out of your system, it should only be a matter of time."

 "Is there any way to speed it up?" Park squints suspiciously so Bell is quick to add, "Maybe if I can remember something, we'll know where to head next."

 An idea pops into Lazar's head. "Bell, do you recognize any of them?" He pulls something from the folder in front of him and slides it across so Bell can see. Park steps closer to watch curiously. "They're POIs we think are working for Perseus." 

 It's a group of photos. Bell sets aside his mug to spread them out and study them closely. The first three are men, but he doesn't recognize them. The next two are women and he feels discouraged when their images fail to spark any memories, too. There's one last one. He slides it close and is about to push it away when something scratches at the back of his mind. 

 The pub was lively tonight. Loud and rowdy with cheering, swearing, and the clanking of glass on glass. Bell too embraced the vibes; His spirit was high and he was most certainly past tipsy. He was sitting at the bar with his comrades, a still-full shot glass in hand. 

 "Aww, c'mon, give us the details!" The man to his left nudged him roughly. He grinned  wickedly and despite the sunglasses covering his face, Bell still caught him wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

 "Did he kiss you? Did you kiss him ?" Bell felt his face flush and he shoved back. No way in hell he was going to answer that. "I don't kiss and tell, Vang." 

 "Bell?"

 "Aww, you did !" Bell huffed and threw back his glass as an excuse not to answer. He did his best to ignore how hot his face was. "No, wait. He definitely kissed you, didn't he?" Bell choked on the shot. The man grinned wider. 

 "Leave the poor kid alone." Another familiar voice called out, not bothering to hide their amusement. "Now get over here so I can beat your ass. Loser pays the tab." Bell turned to look at his savior. Their figure is too blurry to make out, but he's so sure he knows them. 

 "Oooh bro, you're going down !"

 "Bell?" Lazar tries again, shaking his shoulder and startling him from the memory. "You alright there? You look like you've seen a ghost."

 "I.." The Russian glances between Park and Lazar before he stares back down at the picture. The person's face is completely covered, but the glasses make him unmistakable. Naga.

 "Kapano Vang," Bell offers quietly and taps the photograph. "They call him Naga." Lazar watches him a moment longer before pulling the picture back over. "You know him?" 

 The memory implied Bell more than just knew him. A feeling in his gut tells him so too. They were.. friends, perhaps. "Yeah.. We are- We were friends. I think." 

 Park remains silent as she observes. Lazar offers a slow nod. A gentle push and the picture lands back in front of Bell. "Do you remember anything else about him?" 

 Bell stares. The shades are so painfully familiar. He can't quite shake the sense he's seen them a lot. This shit is stressful. I need a cigarette. Something in his mind clicks. 

 "New shipment's ready." The nicotine filled Bell's lungs with a pleasant burn. He turned and offered the cigarette to Naga with a hum of acknowledgement. "Got a little extra if you're interested. On the house." The Laotian accepted the cigarette, taking a grateful drag while his free hand slipped into a vest pocket and produced a small package. He held it up to between his fingers and offered it to Bell with a small flourish. "Rest of it's headed out to some of my buyers, so don't get hooked."

 Bell hesitated. "I'm not so sure.." Naga pressed it into his hands anyway. "Hey, hey, it's quality stuff. How do you think my lines stay in business? Your boyfriend will certainly thank me." 

 " Not my boyfriend , man." Naga cackles. "Sure, bro, sure."

 A shaky sigh escapes Bell. The memories are blurry and incomplete, but there's enough there to put some pieces of the puzzle together. "He's.. a smuggler."

 "For Perseus?" 

 Bell gives a small shrug. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so." Right now, Bell can't be sure about anything.

  "I'll make some calls and check with MI6." Park sets her empty mug in the sink. "We have a name now. That's a good start." 

 Not wasting any time, Bell muses as he watches Park leave. That's fine with him. The less time to dwell on his past transgressions, the less time he'll have to deal with the impending existential crisis. 

 "Meanwhile, I'll check in on the team." Gathering the papers and photos back into the folder, Lazar stands. "What about me?" Lazar barely even pauses to acknowledge Bell. "Stay put. Read a book. Do a puzzle. Embrace day drinking. Do whatever you want, just stay put ."

 "But I-"

 " No , Bell. Water's too hot right now. Just lay low, let it cool. You'll get your turn but not yet. Just enjoy being dead while it lasts." Lazar's wink is met by Bell's deadpan face.

 By noon, the Russian's already run out of things to do. He's showered, washed the dishes, and cleaned the space lent to him. Now he sits at the table once more, impatient tapping the surface and bouncing his leg. He briefly considers snooping but the last thing he wants to do is give Park a reason to confine him to a bed again. 

 Time creeps by. Boredom is barely kept at bay by the pen and paper Bell found discarded on the end table beside the couch. The doodles are nothing to write to home about, but it provides temporary amusement. When he gets tired of that, he abandons them at the kitchen table and opts for a nap. 

 It feels like he's barely just closed his eyes before he's woken by an insistent shaking. 

 "Bell. Get up. Bell ." 

 Bell groans. It's dark now so he has to squint to make out the figure kneeling next to him. "Lazar? What, man, I was sleeping ." 

 "We need to go. Now. C'mon." A hand wraps under Bell's arm and pulls, forcing the Russian to his feet. Lazar's voice was calm, but the firm grip on his arm made Bell nervous. "What's going on?" He has no choice but to allow himself to be guided towards the back door. 

 "Here, wear this." Something is shoved into his hands and he fumbles to grab it. Looking down, it's a thin black coat. Inside rests a matching beanie hat and vibrant blue scarf. "What's going on," he tries again. "You're kinda freaking me out."

 "Look, just put the shit on and I'll explain on the way. There's no time right now."

 Lazar snatches the hat and scarf from the pile and Bell flips the coat around to slide his arms in. He grunts when the hat is forced over his blonde curls and the scarf is wrapped high around his neck and face. Once the coat is zipped and all curls tucked messily under the hat, Lazar practically shoves Bell out the back door and follows close behind.

 The air is bitter and cold but Bell hardly notices past the adrenaline. A brisk pace is set. Squealing tires catch his attention but an arm around his shoulders stops him from turning to look. 

 "Park tipped off MI6." 

 The statement is unexpected. 

 "She called to warn me. Apparently, she

told them she was harboring a loose CIA asset with potentially valuable information that needed to be relocated immediately for proper interrogation. How they got an extraction team on a Soviet island, I'll never know." Lazar heaves a groan as they turn the corner and dip out of sight. "She's going to kill me once she figures out we ran."

 First Adler, now Park. I'm getting tired of proving myself. Bell sighs lightly. For all he knows, Lazar is just leading him to a CIA trap. Who gets the broken toy first, MI6 or the CIA? They walk in silence for some time, occasionally cutting through small alleyways and doubling back around others. 

 "Why are you helping me?" Bell finally speaks up. "Look, if you're just going to take me back to Adler, do me a favor and kill me now." I refuse to be shot by him a second time. 

 "Don't be so dramatic." Lazar gives him a rough pat on the back. "There's another safehouse not much further ahead. I got it sorted out on the way here. Told them I had a potential lead I needed to follow up on and that's all they needed to hear."

 "As for why? Well, I personally think when it comes to catching Perseus, there's nobody more qualified than you. I trust you, Bell."

 A quiet clank-clank-clank fills the silence. Bell's eyes were wide in shock. He wasn't sure he heard right. There were other, more experienced agents who would certainly make a better second-in-command than him. "But sir, surely there's somebody else who-"

 "Nonsense!" Perseus stood from his desk and marched to Bell's side. He swept his coat back and planted firm hands onto Bell's shoulders. "There's nobody more qualified than you. I trust you, comrade." Bell swelled with pride and childlike enthusiasm. "Of course, sir. I won't let you down."

 The memory hits Bell like a slap to the face but he remains nonchalant despite the rising dread. He almost misses Lazar that stopped and narrowly avoids colliding into the back of him. "Right, here we are." 

 Bell finds it odd that the safehouse is nestled in the middle of a public street but he's too tired and too cold to question it. Keys jingle as Lazar frees them from his pocket and unlocks the door. They hurry inside and lock it behind them. "Home away from home." 

 It's smaller than the MI6 house. It's just as neat and organized, though, so Bell can't complain. 

 "Kitchen's here. Bathroom is the first door on the left. Your room will be the second on the left, and I'll be across from you." Lazar gestures as he speaks. "Help yourself to anything you find. I, for one, need some sleep. We can talk about everything in the morning." He disappears down the hall. 

 "What about Naga?" The Russian calls. 'Did you find anything out about him?"

 " Tomorrow, Bell." A door snaps closed. 

 Bell clicks his tongue in annoyance but relents. The coat, scarf, and hat are left discarded on the back of the couch on his way toward his designated room.

Damn it all. As he lays tangled in the sheets and nursing his aching wound, Bell struggles to recall anything else about Naga or Perseus, but he comes up blank. Memories seem to be coming and going at their own discretion and it's infuriating . Now his mind is buzzing too much to sleep. Between Adler and Park and his renewed quest to stop Perseus, he doesn't know what to think. He can only hope Lazar has something to share in the morning to shed some light on it all. 

[buckyandbowties]

His Secret Lover (Bucky x Reader)

Summary: You’ve liked Bucky for a while, but unknown to you - he has a secret girlfriend he’s been dating for the past three years.

Warnings: Angst, kinda unrequited feelings/love

Prompt: “I have to get something off my chest.” “I hope it’s your shirt, please let it be your shirt.”

Word count: 1506

Authors Notes: Something a little angsty.

It was no secret to you or your teammates that you were head over heels in love with Bucky Barnes. His sweet demeanor always meant he was approachable and friendly and you considered him to be one of your closest friends. Hell, even Bucky himself knew of your obvious crush but for some reason, he always turned your advances down gently.

The two of you shared secrets with one another - as far as you were concerned, there was no stone left unturned in your lives. You were as close as you could possibly be, so it kind of did confuse you as to why he wasn’t returning your feelings. He didn’t have to, you knew that, but his lingering touches or hugs he pulled you into and lasted longer than necessary made you think he did like you at least a little bit.

“I’m sure he likes Y/N.” you heard Wanda say in the kitchen. You shook your head, silently agreeing with her as you eavesdropped on their conversation from around the corner. “He’s always looking at her with those puppy eyes.” She added. Nervously, you brought your thumb nail up to your lip, eager to see what else they would say when they didn’t know you were around. “Something seems off with him though, he’s always gone on weekends and some evenings he doesn’t get back until 4AM.” 

That was a good point - it was also something you realized. During your sleepless nights, you would often patrol the long hallway on his floor and some nights sneak in when you needed comfort after a nightmare to find his bed cold and empty. It was definitely weird since he would appear the next morning and act like he had been here the entire night. 

What was he hiding?

“Maybe he has a girlfriend.” Sam joked, which caused your breath to hitch in your throat at the thought. You really liked Bucky a whole lot and the thought of him with someone else wasn’t sitting too well with you. “Hmmm, possibly!” Clint’s agreement gnawed at your chest, like something inside of you was desperate to break free. “I mean, the guy hasn’t had sex in centuries and I know he’s interested in this stuff.” Sam added and as much as you hated to admit it, this whole topic was bothering you. 

They were wrong, you were sure of it. They had to be wrong, Bucky is single and there is no way he would keep this from you, right? You shook your head and quietly retreated from the room and headed straight to the elevator. You punched the button, acting as if it would call down the elevator any quicker, which it didn’t and at this point, it might have been a better option to take the stairs. Once it finally did decide to do as it was told, you stepped inside and again, punched the number to Bucky’s floor a couple of times. 

The elevator dinged, announcing the arrival to the floor and the doors slid open. You marched down to Bucky’s room with a final plan in motion, determination on your face to prove your teammates wrong. When you neared his door, it was slightly ajar and he was inside.

“Yeah, I can’t wait either…” he chuckled to someone, it sounded as if he was talking on the phone, probably to Steve? Maybe that was it, he couldn’t wait for the next mission. With that reason accepted in your mind, you knocked on his door. “Uhh I gotta go, I’ll call you later okay? Yeah me too, love you too, bye!” 

Excuse me, ‘love you too’? 

“Come in!” He called, putting his cellphone on his nightstand. He was folding up his clean laundry when you stepped in his tidy room, which you’ve only just realized has a lot more furniture in it now. 

“Bucky, hi.” you spoke meekly but still determined to prove your teammates wrong about their theories. 

“Hey doll, you okay?” He flashed you his million dollar smile and you swore you could have melted right into a puddle in the middle of his room.

“Yes, I’m great! I was wondering if you maybe wanted to grab some dinner tonight? I have no plans so…” you chuckled but looked at him hopefully. You watched his eyebrows furrow and his fingers scratching the back of his neck - something he did if he was nervous or thinking. 

This definitely wasn’t a good sign.

“Uh, tonight I can’t. I actually have some plans.” he smiled regrettably. 

“Oh? With Steve?” 

“Uh yeah, with Steve, look...” your heart dropped into your stomach because you knew Steve was actually on a mission, he left yesterday morning and wasn’t due back until next week. “Y/N?” Bucky snapped his fingers in your face to gain your attention. 

“What?” Bucky stepped back by your sudden outburst, truthfully you were just tired of the secrets. He was clearly hiding something, or someone, and then lying to your face like your feelings didn’t even matter. Even if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings or crush, he was still your friend and friends don’t lie. 

“I said-”

“Did I do something wrong Buck? You know, if you didn’t want to spend time with me just say so, you don’t need to lie to me.” you scoffed, cutting him off mid sentence. 

“Y/N, I’m not lying.” 

“Yes you are. You and I both know Steve is away on a mission until next week… unless you’re hiding a clone in your closet. I want to know what’s going on! If you don’t want to be friends anymore, fine, just tell me!” Regret and a lot of other emotions flashed across his features as he took in each word you said. 

“You’re right, I’m so sorry doll. Look, I have to get something off my chest.” Bucky started to pace the room as he prepared himself for the bombshell he was about to drop on you. He of course knew from the beginning about your crush on him and he thought it was cute, that you were cute but his heart belonged to someone else and even if he was single, he wouldn’t want to risk fucking it up with you.

“Oh god, please Bucky. I hope it’s your shirt, please let it be your shirt.” He cracked a small smile but it quickly dropped. 

“I uhm..I’m actually with someone and I have been for the past few years.” Bucky watched your face contour from confusion to hurt and he wondered if he made the right decision in telling you this. 

“What? I don’t understand this. Why didn’t you tell me instead of making me look like an idiot each time I asked you out? Or did you just enjoy rejecting me?” 

“I definitely did not enjoy rejecting you doll it’s just, this job, the team, it was too dangerous and I was scared of losing my one fucking friend that I can rely on the most that it never occurred to me to tell you.” 

“This… you’re lying Bucky. You’re single! You have to be!” Fat tears rolled down your cheeks as hurt consumed you, hurt because your best friend couldn’t trust you enough to confide in you. “You’re lying because if you had told me at the beginning I would have understood and it’s too long… there is no way you could have kept her hidden for all these years.” 

“I’m not lying Y/N and I’m not single. She’s actually on the team.” 

Oh dear god… you prayed someone, anyone, would just come and punch your heart out of your chest. 

“Who is it.” Your question came out more as a demand than a question itself. Bucky took a step towards you, and you took one step back creating as much distance as possible. You were right, if Bucky had told you in the beginning you might have understood but now he’s sure to lose one of his closest friends. 

“It doesn’t matter Y/N.” He said, “Just please don’t treat me any differently, I still want and need you as a friend, don’t let this change that please.”

“Is it Wanda?” You asked, ignoring his pleas. He shook his head no and dropped his gaze to his carpet and you prodded more. “Natasha?” His eyes immediately flicked to yours and you had your answer. 

These two, under the same roof. And Natasha was on the mission with Steve. They hid their relationship really well and it even fooled you. Your breath hitched, a hard lump forming in your throat that was difficult to swallow back down. You had to get out of here, away from bucky, away from this compound. 

“Y/N pleas-”

“Thanks for your friendship.” You said quickly before getting the hell out of there. The moment you stepped out of his room, the air became less restricted. But the second you closed the door behind you, tears and emotions overtook your senses and you felt angry and ashamed.

[writingmorsels]

Prompt: Missing

You suddenly disappeared on the journey between your workplace and your home.

Alex, your current fiancé, is informed about this and wants to be involved with the search. Sullins gets him off the case almost immediately when foul play is presumed, considering Mahone one of the first suspects because of his (lately rocky) relationship with you.

Eaten by the thought of you dead, Mahone launches himself in a private investigation to try and find you.

Based off the song “Where’s My Love” by SYML

It had been Lang, that saint woman, who told Alex the news: you were gone and no-one knew where.

After leaving the administration building next to Alex’s office, you didn’t come home. People noticed only because you didn’t show up at work the next day and the interviewed doorkeeper of your apartment building confirmed never seeing you that night.

It had been also Lang, who kept him in the loop. The first days of your disappearance Alex had been shaking with adrenaline, sifting every video, every photo, every interrogation transcript Felicia gave him after Sullins took him off the case.

“I know that look,” Felicia spoke softly as her hands went to grab his ones. “You were out of State, it’s not your fault.”

Was it not?

The both of you didn’t stop fighting about anything, in the last days before her disappearing. Sullins thought it was obvious proof of Mahone’s culpability and Alex couldn’t but agree with his superior, just on a different note.

It was his fault.

He pushed you, pushed against your love and your presence because it was too good, too warm. You were too good for him and he broke you.

How many times he snapped at you? How many times has he let his work take priority over you?

Did he see the signals and didn’t care?

Or was he so blind he didn’t even notice?

Did you just… run away from him? Or were you in danger?

“How many hours, now?” Alex asked, his voice a whispery, ragged strand of what originally was.

Lang sighed, seeing his friend with his head hung forward and shoulders slouched down. He didn’t even try to hide the lack of sleep and food, at that point. “Alex…” “how many hours...days…?” his voice didn’t stop breaking from time to time, hardly keeping emotions where they had to stay.

Felicia remained silent, thinking about the last time she saw you, waving as you came out of your small little office. “Five days, more or less.” she confessed. “We searched along the road she usually takes, but nothing came up.”

Alex didn’t move, but his brain churned. “Have you checked-” “Looked at the CCTVs, in the park near her home, around the neighborhood...we even asked for security footage from civilians. I went out there myself and found nothing,” Lang exhaled, shifting on her side of the sofa, uncomfortable.

“Search dogs?”

“It had been raining since she disappeared. They can’t find a lead.”

“Interviewed coworkers? Someone that fancied her? Hated her? Or me?”

“He asked everybody, twice. Nothing came up beside office gossip. Listen, Alex, I know you know your stuff, but we know too. God’s know how much I want to find her, but you need to listen to me.”

Mahone went silent again, for a few seconds.

“Have you… looked where I told you to-” “...Alex,” Felicia's voice grew stern. “We looked. Every. Where… You need to start thinking that...maybe... she might be-” “DON’T-...Don’t say it. Please Felicia...just...let me...” and with that Lang couldn’t speak more.

Her chest tightened as she saw Alex curl up, hands gripping his own hair and tremble in what little tears he still had left.

With a small, weak “I’ll see myself out” she walked out of Alex’s living room, leaving the man to be with his sorrows with just a soft pat on his shoulder.

They didn’t search enough, Alex thought as he jumped up from the sofa, starting to pace around. He looked at your face peppering the place with various photos, smiling memories he still could feel, trapped underneath the surface of that agony.

They didn’t search well enough…! She had to be somewhere! If only Richard would listen to him!

She could die!

She could…

She is…

Anger came over him in a wave and Alex let out a pained roar, as he kicked over the coffee table, sending all its nicknacks flying.

A glass vase shattered, papers and flyers and documents flew around, the small piece of furniture rolled to the other side of the room.

You weren’t dead… you were just out of reach of anybody else.

That was it.

Fuck Sullin’s suspects, fuck everybody’s incompetence.

You were somewhere out there and if Alex found killers, rapists and even former military, he would find the love of his life.

He exited his house like a hurricane, not even grabbing his heavy coat to fight the cold of mid-autumn.

He had to check that place again. Even if his colleagues assured him the place was empty when they looked, Mahone had a feeling.

Because if you weren’t there...then you really just up and left him without a trace.

Five Day Earlier:

“What?!” you snapped, pressing your phone against your ear. You barely heard Alex through it, the sound of chatter and keyboards muffling his voice. “But we had plans...you know we had plans!” you whined, making some coworkers turn their heads.

You huffed, storming out of the office and on the emergency stairs, just so you could chew him a new one in peace.

“We found a new lead for the Ragman case-” “Like I care! You’re not the whole fucking Bureau, Alex! Let someone else handle it!” you barked, your free hand grabbing the railing.

It was that or it was crossing the street, up to his office and smacking him to kingdom come.

He sounded angry just like you, his voice cold and strained. “I can’t just step down! I’ve been following this case for weeks, you know it!” “I know that I’m planning this fucking dinner since EASTER, Alex! It’s not even the real Thanksgiving because you ALREADY HAVE that day filled, but no! No, you HAVE to be on the other side of the fucking Nation even tho you assured meー no, SWORE me you WOULD BE FREE!” you found yourself basically screaming into the phone.

It was like a dam exploded and now days and months of pushing down emotions kept pouring out.

It wasn’t only for a missed dinner, it was for the rest. The feeling of being less than his job, being unimportant. Not being enough for him.

Those thoughts gnawed at you for quite some time and now they came back in full force. “You know what?? Fine! Go be a superhero! Go hunt your next bone, good doggy! While you’re there, marry your fucking job too!”.

With that you slammed the phone shut without even listening to his voice anymore.

One after another, his promises kept missing...and you were at your wit’s ends. There was some talking to do, for sure, but before that you absolutely had to cool down or you would totally wreck what was left between you two.

So, after finishing your boring day at work you went out and, instead of going back to your shared home, you got on a bus and straight to your favourite place.

The park was nice even when the summer was just a memory, a thick fog rising from the browny waters of the lagoon.

You walked down a wooden path, feeling the wet earth beneath it shift slightly, and you breathed a long, long sigh; you didn’t need to be so mean, but you were so tired. Tired of battling for every inch of attention. Tired of tiptoeing around Mahone’s always full agenda.

You didn’t mind his line of work, being a federal was a very dangerous and busy occupation, but Alex seemed to always do more of what was expected of him. No one ordered him to travel and manually grab the killer of choice to bring back. No one ordered him to stay afterhours for days on end, leaving you to wait up until midnight with an empty plate in the kitchen.

He was the one going the extra mile for his job...but lately, you wanted him to take some, not all! But some of that mileage and invest it in his relationship with you.

Especially now that he proposed.

You chuckled a sob, remembering the day.

Was it just so you wouldn’t run away? Did he really love you?

Or did he love the cooking, the cleaning, the company?

You stopped in the middle of the wooden road and looked left, seeing a faint path in the tall grass.

That small, invisible trail led you to the best place of the park, where you played cop and thief with your friends.

It was a small, round clearing among the trees, with one L-shaped stone covered in moss you called ‘The Couch’.

You hopped on The Couch and groaned your anger away, laying down on the soft greenery.

You didn’t know what to do anymore...

Mahone stopped his car inches away from the main gate of the park, leaving the engine on as he got off.

He grabbed a torch from the glove box and ran inside, moving the light around like a blade cutting the darkness. His eyes swallowed every little detail as he walked, combing with his gaze through the trees, the grass, the waters.

Frantically he moved along the main path, flashing the wooden boards now dark and soaking wet.

The recent rain erased any single footprint that would have existed, but Mahone knew your favourite place.

You showed him once, making him find a basket full of good food, a blanket and some wine. “Twenty steps from the crooked tree… thirtyfive to the left,” he mumbled to himself, finding the faint trail almost immediately.

He walked like a pirate in search of a treasure, careful to never stray from the path.

“Y/n! Y/n honey!” he shouted.

Alex had this foolish thought, this little movie in his head that, once he overcame the underbrush and pierced the thick veil of trees, he would find you.

Maybe angry, maybe scared, it didn’t matter. He just wanted to hug you tight, to never let go.

As he walked up into the clearing, his already broken heart shattered.

Everything was as he remembered: the long, thin trunks of the ashes, the big green rock, the blades of grass.

Even the smell was the same, humid and woody.

But you weren’t there.

You weren’t sitting on that strange rock or maybe laying in the grass. Not you or your body or any kind of hint you were ever there.

Alex’s hand trembled, the light of the torch vibrating. “No...no no no…” he sobbed. “Y/N! HONEY!” he started to shout, “Y/N PLEASE! Y/N!” his eyes darted left and right as the realization started to really hit him. “Y/N I’M SORRY! PLEASE! DON’T...Don’t...p-please come back...” his voice crumbled as did his body, overexerted by the long days without respite.

The flashlight flew from his fingers in a fit of desperate rage and Mahone wept alone in the woods, almost wheezing in the constricting pain holding his heart.

Tears streamed down his face as his palms pressed against his temples, nails digging into his scalp.

It was his fault, all his fault...if he just said no to Sullins, if he sent Wheeler instead...if he listened to Felicia…

You would be home with him.

Eating a warm, good dinner together and then crashing into bed, holding each other until morning.

Now you were gone and his heart was, too.

c l a c k c l a c k c l a c k s p l a s h

Amongst the sobbing and the sounds of the night, Alex’s ears picked up on something. A sound that seemed to come almost from underneath him, faint and muffled.

Then, raising his head, Mahone noticed he was in complete darkness. His torch was nowhere to be found.

No, there was something: a few strands of grass seemed to shine, but the light was too feeble to be his flashlight...or was it?

He moved slowly, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment...and then his eyes shot open wide, for what he saw there, at the foot of the big green rock.

You lingered in that place for at least a couple of hours, watching the sky turning from grey to black as the night progressed. Your phone pinged a couple of times with messages from Alex, asking you to answer his calls, to stop being childish, to please reply. The last one was a defeated ‘we’ll talk when I’ll be back. Write when you’re home. Love you’ that made you melt a litte. You sighed, closing the phone with a little clack and laying it on your forehead, thinking. Now that you were calmer and level-headed, what had happened seemed a little excessive. Sure you’ll speak to Alex about your insecurities, about how you felt being always brushed aside, but at the same time you had to make peace with the fact that you still loved him, so very much. He had that job before you came into his life, it was one of the things that made you fall in love with him: his stubbornness, his logic, his courage. It was a new point in your life and it just needed adjusting, that’s all… “ehh...fuck me…” you whisper with a strange, sweet tone in it, as you took your phone and started to slowly type ‘Going home. Love you too’ to him. As you hit send, the phone froze for a second before giving you a small error message. “No signal? Where am I, Narnia?” you grumbled as you jumped off The Couch, lifting your cellphone at arm-high in search of signals. You stumbled around in the clearing, eyes transfixed on the little screen above your head. “C’mon, now that I wasn’t that angry anymo-” your voice yelped as your heel sank into rotten wood. Something behind you, on the ground, gave away and your entire weight dragged you down, down deep into the earth. You dropped like a stone, your fingers trying to grab the wet, rough walls as you plummeted down. Then a splash, cold water enveloping you with its sharp claws, but it didn't stop gravity enough for your bones not to break. You heard a snap and suddenly a jolt of electrifying pain shot all along your right leg. You cried in agony, scraping your nails against the rocks like running away from the hurt. After a few minutes of intense panic, your eyes started to watch around, to assess your position after the fall. You recognized it, between tears. It was a well. An old well hidden from everyone's eyes but nature, still filled with a couple of feet of freezing water. “Oh no...oh--ffffuck…!” you wailed as you tried to stand up, letting out another cry as you immediately fell down again, your own body too shocked to manage to stand up. The sandy bottom felt grimy underneath your hands, your phone dead in the water where it fell right after you. “HELP! SOMEBODY!” You passed all night screaming for help, watching the mouth of the well light up with the cloudy sky of the morning after. If you squinted enough, its form could be mistaken for a full moon in the middle of a dark sky. Unable to stand on your remaining leg for more than a few seconds, you leaned against the stone walls around you, trying to stay as far as possible from the water. It was too cold to sit in it without freezing to death and you surely didn’t want to die. You screamed and screamed until your throat felt raw and your voice cracked. Your thirst found solace with the same water threatening your life and you drank it with small sips, feeling its coolness fight your body temperature as you gulped it down. Another night came and went. The light grey sky became black again. It rained, water trickling down the walls and slowly pooling at the base of the well, around her legs. You drank your hunger away, using the rain to quench your thirst now that your small reserve of water got, alas, corrupted by your bodily function. Your voice carried less far away, tired but still trying. Third day and leaning against the wall with just one leg had been unbearable. Your knee buckled from time to time, sending you into the water now one feet higher. You convened with your body that sitting down, even if in freezing water, could be done for a couple of minutes at the time. You tried to scream for help again, but your voice croaked pitifully

and never reached the edge of the well, hidden among the grass. Surely someone noticed your disappearance. Surely there was police involved already...it had to be. You secretly hoped he noticed, too. Would he care, after what you screamed at him? You could not feel your leg anymore and looking at its bent shape made you nauseous. Or was it the hunger? "Please….! Someone…" Fourth day. You could not stand anymore. Water reached your chest now and the only moments of warmth is when your bladder empties itself. Rain stopped flowing down that night and you waved goodbye at your only source of clean water. He wasn't there. No one was. Death was. Fifth. Cold. Light. Alex…?

Mahone carefully palmed the edges of the well, double the size of a manhole.

He looked down, the light of his torch now reverberating along stone walls, impressing on them the dance of water. And his heart sank down the same moment he saw you.

You were sitting down with water lapping at your collarbones, your skin so pale you looked like a ghost.

His voice hiccuped a second, before coming out in full force. “Y/N!” he cried, but you didn’t move.

Only a slit of your beautiful, beautiful eyes was open. So were your lips, turned a dangerous shade of blue.

Quickly, Alex grabbed his phone and dialed Lang’s number, knowing full well she would still be in the office. She was leading the search, despite her pessimistic view about it.

The woman replied almost immediately, her voice tense. “Yes?” “I found her!” he hissed, panicked. “Send me the firefighter, now! And paramedics! Please she’s unresponsive I can’t reach-” “Alex, breathe! I’ll send you a backup, but you need to calm down! Where are you?”.

Mahone breathed in, tensing his jaw, before moving his head to search for something to try and pull you out. “She fell into an abandoned well,” his voice was colder, professional. “There’s no time, just track my phone. I’m going down…!” “Alex wait-!”

With that, Mahone closed the call and safely left his phone a couple of feet away from the mouth of the well.

Without a second thought, the man slid one leg into the hole, then the other, slowly lowering himself inside with his feet searching for pursuit on the smooth stones. His fingers found cracks in between the rocks and slowly started his descent. Alex slipped a couple of times, holding on just enough for his shoes to find a ledge again.

The journey you made in a few seconds five days prior, took Alex at least one solid minute of intense climbing. When only a couple of feet separated the both of you, Mahone let go of the wall and fell down into the freezing water, feeling it gnaw at his legs. “Y/n…! Oh God honey...please answer me…!” he panted as he reached you, kneeling down into the stagnant water. His hot hands cupped your frozen face, thumb caressing your cold lips and your damp cheekbones.

For a moment there was nothing. No movements, no reactions but only the sloshing of water around your bodies.

Slowly, then, you came up from the dark, fuzzy place where you were drowning, your eyelashes trembled, stuck, unable to open.

Resuscitated by his warm touch, his presence. “A...lex…” your voice was barely a raspy whisper, but that was enough for Mahone.

He exhaled a deep breath, a smile cracking his tense expression as he lowered his head to kiss your damp forehead. “I’m here love… I’m here.”

For a moment you thought about wrapping your arms around him, searching for more of that scalding sensation against the skin. As you tried, a new explosion of pure agony rebounded in your body.

You couldn't move, almost frozen solid in that curled position. Your stone-cold body started to shake visibly, like a broken machine trying to power on. “h-h-he...reー” you whined under your breath, one hand fighting against the cramping muscles to reach his shirt.

You gripped on him with all the strength you had left, eyes rolling behind the eyelids from time to time.

Mahone immediately wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in his body warmth. “Yes Y/n I’m here. I’ll take you out darling...I’m here, I’m not leaving…” he whispered hurriedly in your ear, a big lump forming in his throat.

You yelped softly when he touched your broken leg, your only functioning hand pulling at his clothes in pain and Mahone furrowed his brows, watching down in the muddy water.

He saw your injury but didn’t say anything about it, only shifting his body to be able to hold you without causing any pain.

Cuddled into his arm, you let yourself mold into him, your heavy head resting on his shoulder and face searching the hot angle of his throat. “I’ll not let you die…” he sweetly spoke onto your wet hair. “You will not...leave me like this.”

You sighed against his skin, your trembling starting to subdue. Oh you were so tired, the weight of entire oceans on you… but you could not stand losing his voice into the fog. “h--urts-…” you let out a soft noise, desperate and scared.

Your eyes finally managed to unglue, lashes thawed and gaze glassy, but you watched his face, crossed by the undulating lights the torch created from the bottom of the water. If you died there, at least you managed to see the summer skies in his eyes one last time. “I let you down so many times darling…” Alex hushed, his voice low and closed in his throat. His hand never stopped caressing your face, brushing away locks of hair and heating up your skin with his palm. “But I’ll get you out of here...this is a promise I’m going to keep...you just...you just have to keep holding on.”

You wanted to speak, to reply to his sweet, sweet words. Transform your groan into words of love and pureness, but your hand felt heavier than ever before and your aching fingers lost grip on his shirt.

It had been difficult to even remain conscient at that moment, focusing on the beating of his heart in his throat. Focusing on your body now split in two: freezing death on one side, burning pain on the other.

“Stay awake Y/n, don’t sleep…! C’mon honey you have to stay with me now. Please..!” you heard Alex as if he spoke to you from the other side of a glass, the voice you always loved now muffled.

As your mind started to drift off again, a thought came into your mind.

You never managed to reply to his message.

You never said that to him. “ ーove... you…” your tired, hoarse voice managed to claw out of your mouth before passing out again.

Red and blue lights pierced through the trees and seconds after a group of men in uniform came rustling into the clearing.

Guiding them was Felicia Lang, her phone in her hand trying to reach out for Mahone without success. “Where are you, you dumbー !” her mumbling stopped as her eyes saw light coming through the earth, then a little mmmmhz-mmmmhz of Mahone’s vibrating cell phone.

“HERE! HERE!” she shouted, waving her arm. Both police and firemen crowded around the well for a moment, assessing the situation.

There was a man on the bottom of the well, standing in water up to his knees. He was holding a woman in his arms, trying to keep her as close to him as possible. “WE’RE COMING DOWN! STAND BACK!” one of the policemen yelled, as one of the firemen wore a harness.

Alex made one step back, watching intently at the man being lowered into the well by his colleagues. “C’mon…! C’mon!” he hissed under his breath, his body trembling with adrenaline while time slowed down to a crawl.

As soon as the fireman reached them, Alex neared him. “She’s hypothermic, unresponsive...I can’t find a pulse but I see her breathing…!” he spoke quickly, agitated and the fireman nodded. “Paramedics are on the surface, sir, don’t worry.”

You didn’t even make a sound as your frozen body passed from Alex’s determined hold to the arms of the unknown man.

Slowly, you were brought up and out of the moist hell you fell five days prior, and while the fireman carried you towards the on-coming stretcher, Alex was given a rope to use as a way to climb up right behind rescue.

He didn’t even feel the pain in his arms as training and fear both pushed him to move quickly, grasping at the edge of the well with one hand and the other being grasped by Lang. “She’s there, go…!” she whispered to him as soon as he came out.

Mahone neared the stretcher the same time the paramedics put it down for you to be laid on and start first aid.

They couldn’t find a pulse for a good thirty seconds, before one of them confirmed that yes, heart beats were present but slow.

“Shallow breathing. Have you temp?”

“25 degrees. She’s gonna collapse, wrap her!”

“On three. One, two, three-up!”

“Gently!”.

Alex walked near the stretcher, watching you being wrapped up in insulation blankets and with one of the paramedics pumping air into your lungs through a mask.

He never left your side, as the little procession sped through the park, towards the exit and into the back of an ambulance.

On the ride to the hospital, Alex never left your hand.

Your fingers never left his, too.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I Learned That From You: Seven

Clint sat behind the wheel of his car and gnawed on his lip anxiously. “I’m not sure I can do this, Tasha,” he said softly. 

The spy made a soft sympathetic noise and rubbed the back of his neck, “Maybe we need to catch her at work… Not at her house?” she suggested.

In the back seat, Bucky made a soft irritated sound but, when Natasha shot him an angry look, he didn’t say anything. In a way, he could understand why Clint was torn up. But it didn’t make him not angry. Clint had been struggling for weeks to man up and tell his ex-wife what he’d done. Ostensibly to keep from hurting her. 

Clint nodded slowly. “I just-”

“I know,” Natasha said, “But you know that she deserves the truth, Clint.”

The archer hung his head and took a deep breath. He knew that you did. And that was his own fault. But he didn’t want to do this. He wanted to talk to you. He wanted to keep talking to you. To keep feeling the way he felt when he knew that you were happy. 

Neither Bucky or Natasha said anything as Clint pulled down the street. And Clint took in the sights. The town looked exactly like you described. It was idyllic and sleepy. Brick and white picket fences. Tree-lined streets. Big enough to have a college but not big enough that there was a Walmart. The kind of town you always wanted to live in. To raise a kid or two in. The kind of place that Clint wouldn’t have been caught dead in when he was 20. 

The kind of place that sounded like heaven now. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Nat asked, “Wait for the shop to open?”

“I don’t think I can eat,” Clint said.

“Well I’m fucking starving,” Bucky said, “Try the diner up there.”

Clint sighed, but pulled the car over to park off the street. Bucky and Nat were there as a favor to him. Nat for moral support and Bucky to maybe- well. To be perfectly honest he wasn’t sure why Bucky was there. Maybe to show you that Bucky was real and Clint really hadn’t conjured someone up to trick you. And in that vein, he needed to make sure that he wasn’t being a dick. They hadn’t put him in this mess. 

So. He got out of the car and followed them. And it looked like every 50’s diner that he’d ever seen in a movie. Complete with a jukebox and a lighted dessert case. 

A uniformed waitress took their order, all bubbly and beaming. Natasha’s burger, Bucky’s pancakes, and Clint’s black coffee. And Clint watched the foot traffic on the sidewalk. He knew that your shop was somewhere on this street. It was a shop made from a converted newspaper office. Second Chance Treasures. An eclectic little boutique shop that held antiques of all kinds and refurbished furniture. The kind of store you’d always wanted. 

And he was sure that inside, it was perfect. Down to the last little detail. You’d always been good with tiny details. And making plans. Saving money. Clint wasn’t sure how. Your home life had been just as horrible as his. But at some point, evidently, you’d made up your mind that the family curse was going to end with you. And Clint wished that he had come to that way of thinking himself, just a little faster. 

“Penny for your thoughts,” Nat said softly, pushing his cup of coffee closer to him. 

Clint smiled a little sadly, “Just wondering how things could have gone, I guess.”

Bucky restrained an eye roll with effort. He didn’t understand any of this. Or rather, sometimes he understood it, kind of, and sometimes he was at his wits end. Today, he was at his wit’s end. He wanted Clint to grow up. Just go find this girl, tell her he loved her and move on. The wistful looks and whining were working his last nerve. Especially since, for Bucky, there was no second chance. Any of the women he had loved before were either dead or wishing for death at this point. And you were here. Alive and well. On the dating scene even, not married with three kids. 

The bells above the door chimed and Bucky watched Clint’s head snap up, “Shit,” he muttered, going pale. 

And Bucky half turned to see what he was looking at. A woman with long hair half piled on her head. Paint spattered over alls. And a wide, friendly smile. Bucky turned back around quickly. And absurdly, he could almost understand. He wanted you to talk to him. He wanted to talk to you. To see that big smile up close. 

He tried not to turn back around. And Natasha was frantically trying to get Clint to stop staring. To not draw attention to the table by making an idiot out of himself. 

But. 

It was all too little too late. Even over the din in the diner, Bucky could hear your soft little gasp of “Clint?”

And the flurry of movement as you pay for your coffee and run out the door, dodging a handful of old farmers on the way. 

Bucky applied himself to his pancakes, pretending that he wasn’t moved. Pretending that he hadn’t even seen. Anything to keep from hearing the devastation and the confusion in your voice. 

“Clint,” Nat muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Tasha,” Clint muttered, lips bloodless, “What do I even say?”

“I’m sorry might be a good way to start,” she answered. 

But both Bucky and Clint had a sinking feeling that “Sorry” was just not going to cut it.

__________

Clint sat behind the wheel of the car and stared at your shop front. The closed sign mocking him from across the street. “C’mon, Y/N,” he muttered, pleading with you like you could head him, “Throw me a bone here.”

But the sign didn’t move. Even as they could see you moving around behind the glass. 

“Maybe Nat can go talk to her first,” Bucky piped up from the back seat. “Explain how stupid you are.”

“She knows-”

“She knew almost 10 years ago,” Nat said looking at Clint. “It’s not the worst idea.”

And Clint nodded after a moment. It was true that you might respond better to another woman. Someone you could commiserate with. Someone else who knew how dumb Clint could be. The woman that had taken over trying to keep him alive. 

____________

You looked up to see the redhead from the Diner standing in the door about to knock and sighed. “Just a second,” you call, walking around the jewelry counter where you had been frantically fixing a display of antique broaches. 

When you unlock the door and open it, leaving your closed sign flipped, she opens her mouth, but you hold up your hand for silence. “I don’t want to see Clint,” you tell her. 

“He needs to see you,” she said quietly, reaching down to stroke Rocky’s ears when he came to investigate. 

“Why?” you challenge. “It’s been 8 years. What the fuck could he have to say now?”

Natasha exhaled slowly, “He should probably tell you himself.”

You sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose, “I can’t. I just-” you exhale slowly and look up at the ceiling for a second, looking for control. Admiring the details on the antique light fixtures you’d restored. “It was hard enough to move on. To even want to move on.”

Natasha felt a twinge of sympathy and reached out to squeeze your hand. Before, she’d felt for Clint. His pain. But now? Watching you, a real, live woman. Watching you try and tamp down  the pain. She wanted to punch Clint in the nose. 

“That’s what he needs to talk to you about,” Natasha said softly.

[annaofthenorthernlights]

It´s your life

Chapter 3

New world

Kristanna Modern AU

Rating: G

Word counting: 2228

Previous chapters (on AO3)

Note:

I´ve been to Disneyland Paris (Europe) before. Please forgive if there are inadequacies about the resort in CA.

Along this chapter I figured this fanfic takes place around spring 2014. Why? You´ll see…😊

Another note at the end of the chapter.

“You didn´t!”

Anna shrieked with excitement when they turned around the corner, entering the Western-Town-Alley. The imitation of the pioneer-aera town would catapult their guests into the time of cowboys and saloon girls roaming the street. So, the saloon would make the breakfast room, while bank building contained the tourist-information, informing all guests about major events, tickets selling of all sorts and providing material for the trip along the parc. Along the alley there stood little buildings as accommodations from single up to family rooms. At the end of the road there was the “great Casino”, the dining hall. That´s where they would eat shortly, so there was not that much time of wandering about.

The room was clearly expanding the feeling of being thrown back in time. It was situated further down the “towns street”, which was great. Because then one would need to walk all the way along the buildings and exploring the “western flair”.

Anna gnawed on her lower lip as she plunged herself on the wood framed bed, bouncing on the mattress to check its sound and feeling. Okay, it was sturdy, because there was no sound of a squeaky slatted frame.

Kristoff had put down their bags and looked at her amused, sitting down next to her. “You like it?”

“Are you kidding me? I love it. This is so great. Thank you so much considering this type of accommodation.” With that, she perked a kiss to his cheek, laughing and glancing around their nest. It was a simple room, but with a lovely charm to the details of interior and decoration. Nothing fancy, all wooden furniture and a woolen knotted carpet in front of the bed. Not much more. Th bathroom was modern of course, but simple in style, too.

“Glad you do.” Kristoff smiled and lay back for a moment. “I´m still sorry, I can´t give you the exquisite room in the princess hotel… But to be honest, I like it in here quite the more…”

“Stop that!” Anna scolded. “It´s really great, I love it. And I love it even the more, because you do this all for me.” She leaned over and cuddled against his side. Then, she pushed up on her elbow, looking around one more time.

“You know what? This reminds me so much of a story I have recently read on an internet blog site. It´s not a real story, well you know it´s a so-called fanfiction – a story about a story…Never mind, it´s called “Where the world is in the making”, taking place about 150 years ago, pioneer-aera. A young girl from the east coast travels west to marry a young homesteader by advertisement. It´s a hard life but they gradually and slowly start falling in love with each other, without realizing it of course… It´s so romantic and tragic all in one.” Anna laid back into her man´s embrace and sighed. It was good to know, they wouldn´t have to go over to some creek to get some washing…

Kristoff had listened. He was not the reader, but he liked listening to her story telling. He had heard of it before, of women traveling far to get married to some advertising men in the west. That was so crazy. But it was a different time and apparently it had worked. Somehow. Maybe. Who really knew today what they had lived like?

*******

Their table at the Casino restaurant was situated by the window and they had the perfect view onto the street. Anna sat beaming, and glancing around the place in disbelief. She could hardly take it all in, the moment was to blissful to her. She pulled up her shoulders and pressed her lips together.

“I can´t believe we´re sitting here. This is… wonderful. Thank you so much!” She reached over and Kristoff responded by squeezing her hand, smiling. “You´re welcome. Glad you enjoy yourself so immensely.”

A young woman stepped up to their table and pulled them out of their stare. She smiled so naturally and handed the menu. “Hi. I´m Honeymaren and I will be your server tonight. What can I bring you for drinks?”

When the server had left with their orders, Anna leaned back in her chair and tilted her head in thought.

“A penny for your mind.” Kristoff leaned back himself.

“Hm. I was thinking.” Anna fiddled with her fingers. “About that story, that I´ve told you just before. Those times must have been harsh and dangerous, too. I wonder how brave people back then must have been. I mean, they have left their former homes, pursuing a dream to find a golden future in the western realms. They have built new homes, towns, and established communities. Okay I´m not going into the dark chapter of forcing whole folks to move and leaving their land of ancestors. That was the bad history… But they had literally formed a “new world”. Like in that story I read, it was in the making. Are we still “in the making”, or is it all done and settled?”

“That´s a good question. I think we should never be “done” and stop dreaming of a better world. Otherwise, we get lazy and inattentive. That´s dangerous.”

That moment, Honeymaren appeared with their drinks and was ready to get their meal order taken. While Kristoff and Anna still take a quick moment to gaze into their menu cards, the young woman looks back and forth between them, curling her lips. When she´d taken their wishes, she smiled, thanked, and disappeared. Once behind the bar, she hurried to the phone and started to dial a number. “Mathias! Hi. Honeymaren here…”

“I hope Elsa is alright.” Anna bites her lips and looks genuinely concerned. “I mean, it was not nice of me to cut her off like that. It´s not her fault, our family is in that business. Now, she had to deal with excusing me in some way. But then, the time would never be right for this, no?”

“No. It´s not. Whenever you would want to decide for yourself, you´d be the “troublemaker”. But Anna. Again, no matter what happens, I will be there for you. Not telling you what to do, but to support you. Okay?”

Now, her smile was back. “Yes, I know. Thank you. It´s just… Well, I guess that I will get to hear my lot. And I´m sure grandpa won´t put up with my “rebellion” and support me in this. So, I was wondering if I might be even able to finish my exams in the first place. I will have to take it step by step once back home. But that´s okay. I have time, don´t I? Otherwise, I will change plans and do something else. Something useful, that I know I will be good at, somehow. Around normal people, in a normal world.”

“Yes, you will!” Kristoff smiled at her reassuringly.

***

Kristoff held the little gift in his hand, unsure to give it Anna yet… When he had picked her up today, he had not expected the call Anna would get from Elsa. For some reason it had hit him in a spot, he had not realised before. Kristoff loved Anna for so many reasons. Maybe the greatest one was the fact that she loved him so naturally, so unconditionally, even though she was raised in such high standard surroundings.

But then, she had suffered this ugly betrayal, painfully facing the smirked mask of greed, when Hans had dropped her like a cheap cloth to the ground. She had been nothing more than a good trespass into the Rendelle business. Once his chances of career at the well named establishment got shrinking, she had been of no interest or rather use to him anymore. He was gone, faster than he had shown up. She´d been so embarrassed and devastated.

So, when Kristoff had first met her, it had been merely per accident. They had bumped practically into each other on a birthday party, neither of them had been eager to attend. That friend of hers from Senior High had moved on ever since. Kristoff had been invited by Sven, who had been invited by the birthday girl´s boyfriend. Sometimes the world was just small indeed.

Kristoff smiled at the memory of that first so dreadful evening, that at the end turned out to be so warm and wonderful. They had – by fate? – landed sitting next to each other, both kind of uninterested in great talk, while Anna was the one starting the conversation. First on a more polite basis, where at the end, they found themselves wound up discussing all sorts of things, from music, movies, food tastes, cars (well that was more his part, but she had listened and shown great interest best she managed), up to holiday spots worth dreaming about. And when he told her about his passion of working with wood and tools of all kinds, her eyes sparkled with pure and honest interest. He was bewildered at this recognition and asked her about this affection. Anna had smiled and explained, that she loved it when people were excited about what they did or loved. She didn´t know that much about passionate work or hobbies because all she was ever taught was to work hard for the family name and focus on that career. There was not much space left for anything else.

And when he had invited her to come and look at some of his and Sven´s projects, she had eagerly agreed and had never failed to show her pure interest.

Kristoff was positive that Anna would make her way and do a great job, no matter what she would do. If it were to help with guests and provide breakfast for them at his parents boarding house. She would do it enthusiastically and passionately. If she would defend some kid from being accused of robbery or any other unproved mischief, and then getting the best deal sorted out at court – she would be great. He was sure.

But now, he was wondering if his plans would fit her upcoming life. Just today, she had taken the courage to step away from an old life that had kept her in its forceps for so long. Was it fair if he asked her into his world like that? Binding her to him in this way, that maybe meant that she would be kept captive again? She deserved all freedom to herself now.

Kristoff sat on the edge of the bed, turning the little giftbox in his hands, waiting for Anna to emerge from the bathroom. When he heard the shower being turned off, he quickly stored the little box off into the nightstand drawer.

***

A desperate yell from the bathroom, followed by a shower of swearing from Anna´s exaggerated and clearly annoyed and shocked voice startled the young man to jump and hurry over to the bathroom door, just to push it open.

“Goodness, Anna! Are you alright?”

She stood wrapped in the towel, fumbling within her toilet bag, all the while stamping her foot, frowning, and swearing to the bag. Then she looked up, a miserable expression on her face, close to tears.

Kristoff stepped closer, worried she was hurt or in pain or whatsoever. “Hey, honey, what´s the matter?” He didn´t dare touch her while she looked so furious in a way.

Anna let out a heavy sigh, shrugged helplessly, and then held up the accusing delict.

Kristoff studied the little white cotton thing that was swinging in front of his nose and once recognising what it was, he grimaced and withheld the laugh.

Anna blurted out in a wild explosion, “I´m so sorry! It´s terrible, I had forgotten completely about this. It started just this evening. I´m so sorry….” She pleaded frustrated… At some point she had lowered her hand, fumbling with the tampon, annoyed...

Kristoff couldn´t help but laugh inwardly. Yep, that was bad timing, but for sure not her fault. So, he wouldn´t blame her or anything. That was after all a nature´s circle and part of the game.

He shrugged, scratched at the back of his head and sighed.

“Well, that´s too bad, isn´t it. I mean, think of it. Every princess of this resort and her catch ´might have sex tonight, except for us. Not think of what Mickey and Minnie Mouse will be up to…?” He grinned.

Anna stared at him. He was the best. Surely, he would be upset. But then, he was always so considerate when it came to her various conditions. By now, she shook her head in amusement and punched a fist to his upper arm.

“You pervert!” Then, she laughed and gnawed her lower lip. “Dam it! Now, I can´t get the picture out of my head!”

“We can change that.” Kristoff remarked, and pulled her close to him, “I´m sure we figure out some other ways of cherishing our time together.”

Anna frowned again and sighed, “but…!” She gestured to the room. “But… This is sooo amazing, and I screw it up!”

“No. You don´t! This not your fault and it isn´t like we wouldn´t get some other chance, wouldn´t we? Still… I do envy Mr. Cotton a bit, you know.”

That was it. Anna shoved him out of the bathroom playfully scolding him along the way.

*********

Note: The idea of mentioning another fanfic within the fanfic was very spontaneous – including the authors´ consent (WTWIITM – thanks to @upthenorthmountain and @karis-the-fangirl) 😊

[chalkrevelations]

Well. Episode 34 of Word of Honor, and, oh.

(Spoilers. Scroll on by and come back later if you want to watch it unspoiled.)

Oh. No. NO, show. Only A-Xiang is supposed to make me cry, so fuck you, Zhou Zishu, with your SAD LITTLE FACE, oh my god, why don’t you just pull my heart out of my chest, throw it down in the dirt and stomp on it? It would be kinder than having to watch you deal with the implications of whatever it is, precisely, you’ve done to yourself that means you’re expecting to drop dead any day and lose your chance at lifetime happiness with your soulmate but are hiding from everyone. (Well, I guess it’s your turn to be hiding something, because it looks like everyone in the jianghu except you was in on at least some part of Wen Kexing’s plan.)

So, the first thing that struck me in this ep is the way ZZS sits at the table at the post-Hero’s Conference meal drinking session, hunched over, like his bones are made of shattered glass, and here’s the thing: He’s absolutely just had a serious emotional blow. But also, this is a guy who’s terminally ill and in chronic pain, and we saw that repeatedly for about the first two-thirds of the show, and then the emphasis on it kind of slacked off. And I’m thinking now that maybe it wasn’t just slack writing or WKX playing his xiao in the rain through the nights at Four Seasons Manor like the worst emo kid ever that helped, that maybe some of the progression of the deadening of ZZS’s senses might have offered him some relief, but whatever it was, I’m wondering if whatever he’s done now – I presume pulled out those gd Nails - has exacerbated everything all over again. I cannot believe that at least Wu Xi can’t look at the way he’s moving and holding himself at the table and see that he’s not just stone-cold angry and emotionally hurt about being left out of the loop, he’s in physical pain. Don’t get me wrong, I think it’s a little like being stabbed in the chest when he gets confirmation that Chengling and WKX were in on WKX’s “death” together while he was in the dark and believed this asshole actually died on him. But I also think we’re getting physical pain ramped up again from him; there’s a hesitation and delicacy of movement that speaks of someone who’s judging their movements and maintaining a high level of control, because if they do make a wrong move, everything could just explode into agony. I also noticed the way he clutches his cup when A-Xiang starts explaining how WKX made a deal with Xie Wang in order to rescue ZZS from Tian Chuang, and I can’t for the life of me figure out if it’s having to hear about WKX finding himself in that position in order to save him, or if it’s A-Xiang calling him “Sick Dude” at a moment when that’s going to press right on one of the tenderest, most vulnerable places. Because, god, everyone else at this table who even knows about his terminal illness still thinks that Wu Xi is going to be able to fix him. And here’s where ZZS apparently is a better person than me, because I don’t know that I wouldn’t have an absolute breakdown and end up throwing it in WKX’s face that if he had just told me what was going on, maybe I wouldn’t be about to drop dead tomorrow and leave him alone for the rest of his life, asshole. But no! His zhiji’s happiness is so important to ZZS, that he’s not going to say a word about it! It’s more important than his own life, that his shidi has been able to avenge his parents while keeping his own hands (relatively) clean of any more sins. He’s going to continue to be there, to be whatever WKX needs him to be, for however few days he has left. I won’t fail you. (Even when you fail me). Here’s the thing though – at some point, you’re going to drop dead, Zhou Zishu. And apparently you’re going to leave WKX completely unprepared for it, so I don’t know that you’re doing him any favors being the one who’s hiding something, this time around. And oh my god, I just realized something – you made him drink three pots of liquor as a punishment – was that to get him so blind drunk he wouldn’t notice the Nails were gone? You realize you have to tell him at some point, right?

ANYWAY, WKX gets sloppy drunk and stumbles into their(? has everyone just given up any pretense at this point?) bedroom, and first of all, can I take a minute to flail over the way ZZS pushes drunk WKX’s hair back off of his shoulder? Can I? Because I rewound and re-watched that 2 seconds of the show three times. But then, then, WKX starts drunken rambling about how happy he is, and how scared he’d been that he wasn’t worthy of ZZS, and tears start welling up in ZZS’s stupid eyes, and WKX starts talking about how finding ZZS made him a whole new person, and ZZS’s stupid precious face gets SO SAD, and I start fucking welling up too, and then WKX talks about his parents and their shifu, and ZZS presses WKX’s head to his chest and gives us his stupid sad little smile, and I’m literally clutching my shirt hem in inarticulate pain and distress by this point, and then ZZS starts to break down as he holds WKX’s hand as WKX finally falls asleep, and he gives that stupid shaky sobbing little gasp, and just UGH. I’m DYING here, show. Also, how did you manage to do this to me with just your face, Zhang Zhehan? I’m not sure I can take the next couple of episodes, when the whole Nails dilemma is sure to come out.

Second big takeaway of this ep is that I just … oh my god. I cannot with you, Xie’er, holy shit. And I say this in a completely loving yet utterly aghast way. Was it absolutely necessary to literally sit on Awful Yifu’s lap? I’m reduced to a state of horrified laughter over the envelope pushing. The absolute fuckery of the power dynamic fluctuations of the Zhao Jing/Xie Wang relationship at this point … it’s something. It’s finally reached a point where it’s so fucky and complex that I may have to go looking for some fic, despite my general desire to punt Awful Yifu into the sun. I do have to say that the whole (one-sided) conversation when Xie’er finally let everything out was super-cathartic. Go off with your unfilial self, Xie’er. Li Daikun has been amazing all through this, and he’s continuing to maintain a perfect balance as we move toward the finish line. I’ve heard he was offered Wen Kexing and supposedly didn’t want to take the role because he didn’t think he was ready for it? And while I absolutely appreciate Gong Jun and the chemistry between ZZS and WKX that he built with Zhang Zhehan, I’m flabbergasted that Li Daikun was able to pull off Xie’er like this, yet thought he couldn’t manage WKX ... and I have to admit, I kind of would like to see what WKX would have been in his hands. I’ve also heard a rumor that they’re talking about maybe filming an origin story for Xie Wang? I … am torn, because on the one hand, more Xie’er, but on the other, more Awful Yifu. Anyway, I think we’re continuing to see a whole tangle of resonances between Xie’er, Wen Kexing, and Zhou Zishu, and the awful men in their lives who helped make them who they are today; there’s something of a contrast between Zhou Zishu, who, maybe significantly, was older and had some grounding from his Four Seasons shifu when he got tangled up with Prince Jin and Tian Chuang and who was willing to gnaw off his own leg to get out of the trap (and only finally struck back because he was forcibly taken back) and the other two, one of whom killed and … dismembered? flayed? his abuser before taking his literal throne, and the other of whom turned his abuser into a muted … piece of furniture? sex toy? before taking his figurative throne. Xie’er is about five steps behind Wen Kexing on a parallel path, and maybe there’s still time for him to untangle some of the fuckery in his head about his awful yifu. But meanwhile, there it is: You failed me. Xie’er, you’re breaking my heart, but I feel like I have to point out, again, this is the guy who is literally responsible for the existence of the Department of the Unfaithful. I did have a brief moment when I was convinced Xie’er was poisoning himself and Awful Yifu in a murder-suicide move, but then we got lap-sitting instead? Which could have made me think we were getting some kind of reversion to wanting to feel safe, like a kid able to (finally) sit in his father’s lap and play at comfort, but then he went and made it – let’s be honest – a little weird.

Last really big takeaway for me from this ep is that A-Xiang and I continue to be simpatico, because lady, I also have a very very bad feeling about Fan Shishu’s absence in this wedding “party” from the Gentle Wind Sword Sect, and watching your dawning realization at the end of the episode when he doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up and doesn’t show up as the group enters only confirmed my suspicions that something is UP. Am I supposed to expect a fakeout to Mo Huaiyang’s haranguing speech to Cao Weining, with a wrap-up of “But since you clearly love her so much and want to be a good influence …” Because I won’t believe it. And I’m not going to be happy or comfortable until we see the back of this asshole, because speaking of somebody who says everything with his face, Mo Huaiyang was NOT happy when Ye Baiyi called off the rest of the Heroes Conference, after his horse in the race had already been completely repudiated and he lost whatever chance he had at gaining power and influence on Zhao Jing’s back. Even if he did come all this way – bearing gifts – just to tell Cao Weining he’s an ungrateful brat and to never darken the door of Gentle Wind Sword Sect, it would still be a jerkass thing to do. But I don’t trust him as far as I could spit, and my only question at this point is whether all of Cao Weining’s shidi who came with him to the wedding are in on whatever bs Mo Huaiyang’s planning to pull.

A couple other random things:

Oh, so A-Xiang’s two moms are going to stay together for the rest of their lives, are they? And Liu Qianqiao is even like, “Loser Boyfriend? I don’t know him.” Followed by a cut to Luo Fumeng and her vaguely smug reaction. I’m dying.

No one’s going to say anything about this random body that Wen Kexing used for his plan? Just, you know, went to the store or something and picked out a random body? I realize it’s very late in the game to be getting moralistic about the adorable merciless killers, but come on, man. I also think we have once again overused the infodump. I realize we only have 35 episodes, but some of this explanation of WKX’s very complex plan should have been shown, not told. Anyway, cue series of flashbacks to finally explain how the whole Rube Goldberg plan was put in place, and ah-hah! WKX, himself, talked to Chengling ahead of time. I notice that in that flashback scene and the one when he talks to Ye Baiyi, he’s prominently still wearing That Hairpin, so we’ll realize this all got set into motion before ZZS was rescued and brought home.

Finally, why has everyone seem to have forgotten (still) about that KEY that WKX was waving around? No one’s going to mention it? Really?

And now, I think I’m going to fortify myself with some bourbon for the next ep.

[brideofcthulhu10]

I promised you guys I'd whittle something out before the end of the day! (Currently its 11:30 here, so I made my deadline lol) So here's a bit of drama and fluff. Every couple fights, even vampires, but the most important thing is to take responsibility for your actions and communicate. With that in mind, I give you: 

Lost Boys Make Their Fem!S/O Cry During a Fight

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Themes, Possible Triggers, Topics of Physical and Verbal Anger

David

David is not known to mince words in any scenario, so you can bet that means he chooses an s/o who can handle his bluntness. The same could be said for your fights. Unlike Dwayne and Paul, David rarely yells anymore. Instead he's harsh, cold, and what he says often hits very hard. He doesn't tip toe around when he's calm, you can damn well bet he isn't going to be considerate when you tick him off. He can be quite jealous at times, but often it doesn't lead to a fight. Admittedly he can be a tad petty as well, but getting genuinely enraged towards you is not as common. A spat is one thing, but a serious fight can get ugly fast. He is almost jolted when he hears a sharp breath muffled under your hand. Hell he's only ever heard you make that sound during sex, and this was definitely no time to be turned on. He'll turn around and see you with your hand over your mouth trying to hide your shame and feel ungodly levels of guilt. 

David's words are harsh, and when you turn out of the room he's still sitting there utterly flabbergasted that you had such a tearful expression. After all, you had to know he didn't mean it..right?

David will definitely sulk, he hates admitting he was wrong. Not necessarily because he thinks he's in the right for being cruel, but rather he's sure you just need space and then things will get better. He'll expect you back any day... So when you don't, he kind of goes into denial and will wait, and wait… and wait... 

The guys stopped asking about you because every time he hears your name mentioned he grows more pissed off. Eventually he explodes in a rage, which is extremely rare for David.

"So uh.. about Y/N-"

"Why isn't she back yet?! This is stupid, she should know that I don't mean it!"

"Hey, David, man why don't you go talk to Y/N? I sure if you-"

"No! If she wants to stay away, fucking fine! Good riddance!"

Truthfully he's upset. Beyond that, really. He feels awful for making you cry, he's afraid you might hate him now, but he doesn't know how to approach the situation. Apologizing is difficult, to David it's a form of defeat and a part of him doesn't want to face that it's his fault you're gone. 

Eventually he caves in after a week and a half. He misses you like crazy! The guilt gnaw at him to the point that he can't sleep, he can't think straight. Even blood begins to have a bitter taste to it. 

It'll be a late night, closer to 3 am when he just silently appears in your room. If you're asleep he'll just stand there and watch you for a moment. Mostly trying to build up enough willpower to do what he's about to. 

Expect his apology to be kind of crappy. At least, at first. It'll come off as angry, even a bit misguided just because he really hates admitting he fucked up. But when he does, it's the most sincere, heartbreaking moment of your relationship. He may have to turn away from you and shut his eyes before any tears tempt his cheeks. You can't see him like that. Tears means he's getting emotional, that means he's growing attached, and attachment… it's a weakness. When he's weak and attached, people die. 

He lost a love before because he couldn't protect her, he's lost his brothers once because he got careless and underestimated his enemy, he can't lose more. 

Once he apologizes and you come back to him, he's a bit more attached to you physically. He'll hold you from behind with his chin on your shoulder while sitting on his bike, have you sit on his lap at the hotel, even on the boardwalk he's become more open by holding your hand. He isn't ready to say the big "L" word just yet, so this is the most he can muster. Whenever he's too harsh now he'll apologize by hugging you to him. David is still scared of getting close, but he's more afraid of pushing you away from his lack of filter.

Dwayne

It takes a lot to ruffle Dwayne's feathers, so already he's not one to be careless with his words. Unfortunately once he's pushed to that point all bets are off. This usually dismissive vampire of little words becomes an eruption of rage. A lot of it is physical. He'll throw a table or punch a hole in a cement wall. He doesn't mean to scare you. When he gets that worked up he becomes unbelievably tense, almost his body's way of warning you not to push him. With fangs out, standing in the wreckage of his rage he'll pause to see you failing to hold back a mess of tears and immediately stops.

At that point he's exhausted. Rage takes a lot out of him, in the end he just feels flustered and a bit ashamed for losing his cool. The longest a fight lasts is maybe a day or two, usually you give each other space but once he's made you cry that's a different story.

Even if you started the fight he recognizes he shouldn't have done what he did. Temper or not, that's not an excuse to blow up at you. He'll be frustrated with himself for losing grasp of his emotions, and he'll probably take some time to think over his words before trying to solve the issue. It's hard to look at someone else's point of view when you're pissed off at them, he knows that better than anyone. Especially since he grew up with siblings before becoming a vampire. When he's got a good grasp on himself he'll probably try to settle things with you so that you two can get things back to normal.

"Y/N… come here, please," he'll say softly, patting the seat next to him on the couch. As soon as you do, he slings his arm around your shoulder and yanks you into his chest. He doesn't look down at you or say a word, he'll rest his chin on his fist looking straight ahead searching for the right words. If it was a mutual argument he'll explain his own point of view after apologizing for losing his temper, and when it's your turn he'll listen quietly. If it was on him, he's even more remorseful. He's reaching almost a hundred years old by now, he should know better. Truthfully he had the same issue when he was alive, but he never meant to drive you to tears. You'll both sit quietly together on the couch, Dwayne rubbing your back until you've calmed down. After all is said and done he'll tell you how much he loves you, he doesn't want to leave any negative feelings still in your heart. Relationships are a pain, he knows that, but he cares about you more than his own life. 

Paul

Oh when you two go at it the gloves are off! Paul is the most emotional of the group, so when he gets mad all he sees is red. There will be a massive amount of yelling, he may even be fighting back some tears himself. He'll get physically frustrated, punching walls, throwing furniture, kicking things over. Yes, he might get in your face, and you can definitely expect him to bare his teeth at you. Especially if you're in his face too. By now it's not scary, just even more infuriating that he's trying to make to back out using intimidation. 

When you cry it can go one of two ways. It really depends on the context of the fight.

If you started it, or it was a mutual argument he may storm off somewhere in the cave. To him crying can be a cheap tactic to make him feel guilty, so if you've done it when you've done something wrong it upsets him… even more so because he feels like crap! He hates fighting with you! You're his kitten, his babe, regardless whether or not you started the fight he feels terrible seeing you like that. He's just so damn frustrated! After mellowing out with a thick ol' stick of the devil's lettuce he'll sulk out with his hands in his pockets. If you're still there he'll plop next to you and explain why he was so ticked off. Granted, it isn't exactly eloquent the way he puts it. After all emotions are tricky, he doesn't always know how to express himself verbally. If you've already left and it's still night, he'll fly over to your place and try to settle things with you. He doesn't want to go to bed angry at you, and he definitely doesn't want you going to bed upset with him.

If the fight was started by him, or if you're genuinely upset he'll stop. Especially if your tears are from him hurting you. Then it's all love. He sets aside his temper, and pulls you into his arms. It'll take a moment for him to calm down, but it's just a plethora of tender apologies while he holds you.

"I'm sorry kitty-cat," he coaxes you, holding your head to his chest. "Don't cry, okay? I hate it when you cry." 

If you aren't emotionally drained there'll probably be a lot of make-up sex in either situation. Once you two have made up, he wants to do everything he can to be close to you. Plus, he needs a release as well. Afterwards, he'll snuggle up to you still wearily mumbling apologies under his breath. 

Marko

Anger isn't a common emotion for Marko. Well, unchecked rage that is. He can get a little irritated, but it really takes a lot for him to lose his temper. Even still it's closer to David's methods than Paul. Again it's the context. If you've done something wrong or started the fight he'll be more prone to outbursts. 

While you're screaming at him, in his face he'll just watch you silently with a blank stare. On the surface he's calm. There's not a lot of yelling, but there can be some physical rage if you really push him. Marko would punch the wall and leave a crumbling chasm in his path, reminding you what happens when he's pushed too far. Truthfully he'd never put you in harm's way, but when he gets like this it's hard for him to stifle his predatorial rage that tends to poke through the cracks. 

If he's the one who's upset with you, even if it's on him, he probably won't let on at first. While not petty, he'll seem distant from you. In public he'll yank you to him like a wolf warning others to stay away from his mate, but alone in private won't touch you as much. You may try to ace your hand on his shoulder and he'd immediately excuse himself from the room to sulk. If you really get clingy he grows even more agitated and will have very rough angry sex with you, his fangs may even come out in the process. Especially if he's jealous.

 When you cry, it sucks. During a fight, after jealous defiling, when he intimidates you, it just sucks. If you step away from him he knows he's messed up. 

Part of him doesn't want to cave in so easily to your displays of emotion, but if you're legitimately hurt by his actions he'll just let out an exasperated sigh. He may excuse himself verbally for a moment to try and gather his thoughts, or he'll sit you down and try to explain his reasons for being so enraged. If it's on him he'll carry you to the couch and hold you to him. 

"*sigh* Look.. I'm sorry for going overboard the way I did, baby girl. I shouldn't have done that…"

If you cry after sex he'll feel like an utter asshole and hold you tight to him. He'll pet your hair, rub your back, even offer to let you smack him for being such a jerk. He may try to nibble your neck over kiss you until you start to giggle then give you his signature smile.

"There she is. I'm sorry I made you so sad, baby girl."

In all honesty this isn't a common occurrence. Marko still rarely ever gets mad at you, most of the time he's very laid back. So losing his temper is a bit jarring for him as well. He's never sure what will come out when he loses his temper, which is a huge reason why he does everything he can to keep himself in check. You may be a pain in the butt sometimes, but so can he. And above all, you're his pain in the butt. He still loves you more than anything at the end of the day. 

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

Us and Andie. Ch. 8

Summary: Bucky works as an Avenger because it’s what’s right. He feels he has sins he’ll never be able to make up for, but he’ll spend the rest of his life trying. However, his life takes an unexpected turn when he comes across Andie, the daughter of recently divorced Y/N. The life he had once “maintained” in hopes of surviving changes as his heart warms for a tough-as-nails nurse and her wonderful daughter.

Pairing: Bucky x singleparent!Reader

Word Count: 4529 words

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Steve couldn’t have been more wrong on his timeline. The mission, something they thought would only be a couple days, was now going on a week. A week of hunting down an evasive Zemo. It seemed every time they thought they were ahead; he revealed the reality of always being four steps behind.

And it was pissing Bucky off to no end. 

“Cool it, Tinhead. I can hear you grinding your teeth.”

Sam’s voice over the comm made Bucky adjust his grip on his gun. He wasn’t just angry anymore. He was furious and bitter. “Shut it, Sam,” he growled out. The hall creaked underneath the weight of his and Steve’s footsteps. He didn’t apologize when Steve gave him a look, simply gesturing for him to walk ahead.

This was the fifth location they had come across. After the third, Bucky was starting to wonder how much of this was a goose chase and if there was actually any potential in finding their target. The two looked down the grimy hall. Lights were busted, mold practically painting the walls, and the other three rooms they checked on this floor were empty. This was the last one. Still, Bucky felt they were at a dead end. This wasn’t the type of place that seemed to be Zemo’s style. He liked comfort.

Bucky and Steve shared a look as Bucky raised his gun, ready to fire at whoever or whatever was on the other side of the door. Steve took a slow breath, calming his nerves before putting all his strength in kicking the door in.

It gave way, splintering and shattering inside the room. Steve, shield in hand, and Bucky ran inside – more than ready to catch Zemo.

But there was nothing. Just an empty room and open window.

Bucky dropped the gun, squeezing his eyes shut. He knew what the next steps were. Search the room, find Zemo’s next clue, keep going. But he didn’t want to. As much as he knew he had a lifetime’s worth of sins to make up for, he couldn’t bring himself to want to keep going. Not anymore. Not with how much had changed.

“Buck?”

Bucky opened his eyes. Now wasn’t the time to mope. He crossed the room, taking note of the quaint furniture and lack of food…It almost looked like no one had been here. However, when he saw what Steve had found, he cursed. A map was hung on the wall with X’s marking every city they had already searched. Zemo was turning it into a game, taunting them, reminding them that he was brilliant. He didn’t have to be found unless he wanted to be.

And already the next city was circled.

“Great. We’r failing so spectacularly that Zemo thinks we need hints,” Bucky spat.

“Where’s the next location, boys?”

Steve glanced at Bucky, knowing his friend wanted to go back to New York. They hadn’t had any contact with the Avengers which meant they also had no contact with Y/N and Andie. But they couldn’t call it quits yet. Not with this guy on the loose. If it was anyone else, Steve would send Bucky home. But Zemo had a soft spot for targeting the Winter Soldier last time. He needed his friend’s knowledge. As much as they both hated it, Bucky was a necessity this time.

“We’re going to figure this out.”

Bucky scoffed, certainly not believing him at this point. Instead, he pressed on the comm, eyes fixated on the map. “Set a course for Rovaniemi, Nat.”

“Finland? What the fuck is he doing there?”

Bucky and Steve shared a look, unable to give her an answer. Truthfully, neither of them had any idea.

Once again, they were left four steps behind.

-.-.-.-.-

Y/N found herself checking her phone again. Still nothing. Bucky had said he’d be gone a couple days and she knew she had no right to be worried. Bucky was just a friend. He was an Avenger. This lifestyle was normal for him. But to not hear anything? Not even Tony knew where they were, but she tried assuring her that this was okay. It was normal.

But it wasn’t. Three weeks with no contact? That wasn’t normal.

Taking a slow breath, she tried to ignore that worried feeling gnawing at her gut. She couldn’t mother an Avenger. She sure as hell didn’t have the strength for that job.

“You look thoughtful.”

Y/N blinked, pulled out of her thoughts when she saw there was a to-go mug in front of her. She looked up at Ciara and smiled, taking the warm beverage. Her best friend took a seat on the table next to her, neither of them in the mood to sit in a chair like normal people. She sipped the warmth, humming when she realized Ciara had surprised her with hot cocoa. “Thanks for this, I needed it.”

“I could tell.” Ciara was never one to push Y/N, understanding that she always needed time to process things. And it wasn’t every day that someone like them dealt with such high levels of stress in and outside of the workplace. “Where’s Andie?”

Y/N nodded and Ciara followed her gaze. There, Andie was playing with two boys. They couldn’t be older than Andie. She was sure one might even be around Andie’s age. “Who are they?”

Y/N didn’t answer, her bitter smile enough of an explanation.

“Are they…”

“Yup.”

Ciara took a drink from her own mug, mumbling a small, “Fuck.”

Y/N laughed. “You got that right.”

“And Bucky hasn’t…?”

Y/N shook her head. “Honestly? I think the only reason Ethan’s made any effort with Andie is because he doesn’t like Bucky being so involved in our lives. As long as he thinks he’s priority, he makes an effort.”

Ciara scoffed. “Sounds like him. Possessive and a dick like always.”

“You met him once,” Y/N reminded her, laughing.

“And I regret it. You know, I will never get those thirty seconds back.”

Y/N chuckled, pressing her palms against her mug in search of warmth. “This is the fifth time she’s seen them since the Aquarium.”

“I didn’t think Ethan wanted her to have a relationship with any of them.”

“He doesn’t.” Y/N sighed softly. “He keeps it short. No longer than two hours. Always some outdoor activity. Leaves little room for talking. I’m honestly not even sure they realize she’s their sister.”

“And you just let him do this?”

She clenched her jaw, body trembling. Whether it was from the cold or her anger, she wasn’t sure anymore. “I have to give her something, Ciara. If I don’t, she’ll think I’m keeping her from them.” She exhaled sharply and if Ciara didn’t know better, she would have mistaken it for a laugh. “He played that conversation so well. It was like we were married all over again. There was nothing I could say or do before he was saying he wanted to get to know her.”

“Well…” Ciara looked at her. “Has he?”

Y/N shrugged. “This is the most they do. Throw a ball around or go to the park. Something where there’s distance. People.”

Ciara looked back at the three kids, noticing Ethan a little ways off. He wasn’t watching his sons or Andie. No, he was watching Y/N, hands in his pockets and jaw set. He looked almost like a predator stalking his prey. “What about her being a mutant?”

“Hasn’t come up.”

“That’s bullshit. It’s part of who she is. How can he just – “

“Andie is smart, Ciara,” Y/N reminded her, finally looking at her. “And the only time she can’t control her powers is when she’s nervous or scared.” Gesturing around them, she asked, “How can she be scared in this environment? It’s always out in the open. I’m always here.”

“He just acts like it doesn’t exist?”

“Simple enough, isn’t it? He still acts like we weren’t even his first family,” she spat, her voice venomous. Y/N looked back at Andie, tucking the mug into her chest. “So imagine how easy it is to act like she’s human when her mutation never makes an appearance.”

Ciara watched her carefully, shifting in her seat and drumming against her drink. “You know you have a say in all of this, right? You could tell him to go to hell.”

“And then tear away Andie’s hope of having a relationship with her half-brothers?” Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m not doing that to her. Besides…” The words felt heavy, tasted wrong on her tongue as she told Ciara, “A girl needs her father.”

“A father figure would be liked, sure, but it isn’t a necessity. Besides – Bucky was looking pretty cozy with you two.”

“Three weeks ago, remember? He was in our lives for a month and now he’s been back out of it for almost as long.” Her thumbs stroked the slight ridge and bump of the mug’s words. She was trying to ground herself in some sort of way. “Andie needs someone dependable.”

“And you think that’s Ethan?”

“No, but,” Y/N sighed. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die. “Ethan hasn’t backed out on any of the visits we’ve set up. He hasn’t rescheduled, nothing.”

“Don’t you think that’ll change though? You just said the only reason he’s even been making any effort is because of tall, dark, and handsome.”

“I said ‘think’. I’m not sure about anything when it comes to Ethan.” She focused her gaze on Ethan, biting her lip. “Not anymore.”

Ciara studied Y/N in that moment. She noticed that her friend had been working more shifts and the darker circles under her eyes seemed even more prominent. She looked like she’d been dragged through the dirt. Emotionally speaking at least. And putting her trust in Ethan to do right by Andie? Ciara knew it wasn’t doing her friend any good. Both of them were going to get hurt and nobody was going to be able to pick up the pieces. “Has…Has Andie been spending any time with the Avengers?”

“Uh…no, actually. Bruce has offered to come get her. So has Tony, but…” Y/N gnawed at her lip, stopping when she tasted blood on her tongue. Oops. “She’s just not interested.”

“Because of Ethan?”

Y/N didn’t answer. She really didn’t feel like there was a point to it. Instead, she took another sip of cocoa, relishing in the feel of her insides warming up. Sadly, it vanished just as quickly when she saw Ethan heading her way with Andie. The boys, like always, were still playing. And judging by the smile on her brilliant daughter’s face – Andie was still oblivious. Y/N hated it.

“You wanting to go home?” Y/N asked Andie, raising a brow.

Andie giggled and Y/N’s heart splintered. Smudged dirt on her cheeks and sparkling eyes, Andie hadn’t looked this happy in a long time. “Not at all,” she told her, catching her breath as she adjusted the cap on her head. That cap was the only thing that made Y/N hopeful that Ethan hadn’t taken over in Andie’s heart.

“Unfortunately, I got to get the boys home. Their mom’s finishing up dinner.”

“I’ll bet she is,” Y/N agreed, too-perfect smile in place.

Ciara choked on her drink, coughing as Andie started pounding on her back. She knew that smile of Y/N’s all too well. It was her you-can-go-fuck-yourself-up-the-ass smile. A personal favorite of both women.

“Can I actually talk to you for a second, Y/N?”

Her brow quirked as her eyes studied him. Ethan never went out of his way to ask Y/N to talk. They didn’t need to. Everything was through text and she preferred it that way. It gave her the space she absolutely needed to survive this. Sighing softly, she glanced at Ciara. “Get her some hot chocolate?”

Ciara glanced back at the nearby vendor and nodded. “We’ll be back in a bit,” she promised Y/N. Turning to Andie, she slipped on that beaming smile of hers. The one that made Andie giddy. “Let’s sugar you up, girl! I want to feed that sweet tooth of yours.”

Andie giggled, racing ahead of her as Ciara pushed herself off the table. Looking at Ethan, she promised, “We’ll be right back.” And then they were off. Out of hearing range, but within sight.

But Y/N never tore her gaze away from Ethan. She couldn’t. “What do you want?”

Ethan chuckled and raised his hands. “I come in peace.”

“I’m pretty sure Hitler said something similar,” Y/N told him, smile still in place. “So what is it?”

Ethan sighed softly, glancing over at Andie and Ciara before taking the seat next to Y/N. Her shoulders tensed, but other than that, she made no show that she was uncomfortable. She refused to let him get the upper hand. No, this wasn’t the same situation. She was stronger now. She’d grown. And Ethan saw that. “I wanted to thank you for letting me spend time with my daughter.”

Y/N snorted. “Letting you? Ethan, you never showed interest in her until the Aquarium.”

“That’s…” Ethan sighed, nodding ever so slightly. “You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right!” Y/N turned to face him. Her eyes were filled with a fire he never would have seen in the time they were married. “It only took you eight fucking years to decide to play dad for her. Tell me, do your boys know who she is?”

Ethan grimaced, looking down at his clenched hands. “No. Not yet. But I want them to.”

Y/N scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“I just wanted to ask you first.”

She hesitated, fingers digging into the plastic she clung to. “Ask me what?”

“I – We’ve seen her a few times these past few weeks. And I have to ask – are you sure she’s a mutant? I haven’t seen any sign of any powers or anything, but I need to know.”

Y/N simply stared at him, unable to piece together why the fuck that had to matter. “Yes, five times in three weeks and suddenly you’re an expert on who your daughter is. That is such a realistic expectation for you to have.” Venom laced her voice, lashing at him and slicing through his façade as if it were nothing more than a thin blanket with which he hid behind. She rose to her feet, determined to walk away. She didn’t need this. They did not need this.

Ethan grit his teeth as he rose to his feet, catching her forearm. As far as the rest of the park was concerned, he was a boyfriend or husband trying to make amends with the woman he loved. At least – that was how it looked.

But appearances can be a funny thing.

Y/N stared straight ahead, eyes on Ciara and Andie. She refused to show that his grip hurt, already knowing there would be fingerprints in the morning. “You should really win an Oscar for these performances of yours,” she hissed, finally looking back at him.

He chuckled at that, leaning into her ear. Y/N was barely able to avoid flinching, doing everything in her power to keep her strength. She needed her strength. “Keep in mind, your daughter has become quite a fan of me, Y/N. So let’s just keep up appearances, hm?”

Y/N looked away from him, everything in her wanting to throw up in that moment. She felt dizzy. Panicky. “What do you want, Ethan?”

“Well first, I’d like for you to answer my question.”

“Yes. She’s a mutant. And she’s your kid. Congratulations.” Something similar to a growl slipped past his lips and she smirked, meeting his gaze. “Let me guess. Still an active member of the Friends of Humanity?”

Ethan’s grip never wavered, instead twisting her skin sharply and earning a sharp gasp. He was satisfied with just that, the smallest reaction. “Actually no. I’ve made new friends. Better ones, I think.”

“Of course, you have,” Y/N sneered. “You never change. You’re still the same arrogant, manipulative prick.”

“And you’re still the same frail, naïve, little girl.”

Ethan released her, knowing the jacket she wore would hide any sign of the strength he used. The anger in his eyes vanished quickly as the smile appeared. Y/N whipped around, the faintest hint of relief fluttering in her chest when Ciara and Andie returned. “Mom! Aunt Ciara bought me the biggest cup of hot cocoa!” Andie took a long sip, making the ridiculous noise and smiling to reveal her cocoa-stache. She looked from her to Ethan and back again, smile tilting to a frown. “What were you two talking about?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ciara muttered.

“Actually,” Ethan told Andie, ignoring Ciara. “I was inviting your mom on a double date.”

Andie’s brow furrowed as Y/N felt her heart squeeze. Nope. No, she was not okay with whatever this what. Whatever Ethan was planning, she wanted no part in it. “A double date?”

“But only if it’s okay with you, Sweetheart,” Ethan said, earning a smile from Andie as Y/N’s stomach churned. “I would be going with my wife and I would be setting your mom up with someone I know. A really close friend of mine.”

Y/N shoved her trembling hands in her pockets as she looked to Ciara, silently pleading for help that she knew her friend couldn’t give her. So she was left with Andie. A child that hadn’t been thinking clearly for several days.

Andie really thought about it for a moment. She was thinking about how long her mom had been alone. How hard she was constantly working. Her mom never took a break or a night to herself. She was always sacrificing for Andie. If there was a chance for her to do something for herself…Andie wanted her to take it. Looking at Ethan, she shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t keep her out too late.”

Y/N felt a chill run down her spine, only one thought on her mind. Where the hell is Bucky?

-.-.-.-.-

Four more days passed. Finland was a failure. Then they went to Romania. Another miss. Then and then and then – every fucking time they had missed him. And every time it looked like they had been so close. The guilt and anger – they were eating Bucky alive. He slouched in his seat, straggles of his long hair falling in his face. He wanted to go home. That was all he wanted.

“Want to talk?”

He didn’t look up, eyes merely glancing at Steve’s boots. “Not really.”

“I’m sorry it’s taken so long.”

Bucky leaned forward, pressing the balls of his hands into his temples. He didn’t want apologies. He didn’t care about apologies. He just wanted to go home. But what was home at this point? His apartment in Brooklyn? The compound? Neither mattered to him as much as the broken family he had stumbled upon.

And they hadn’t heard from him in almost a month. Bucky knew Y/N. He knew she was guarded and careful because he was the same. Their reasons were different, but their actions? They were the same. And it was already hard enough for her to trust them this past month. Letting him in to the extent that she had? All that progress had been undone while he was gone. And it hurt that he was completely aware yet unable to do anything about it.

“I feel like I’m out of control. Like I was with Hydra.”

Steve frowned. Bucky’s voice had barely been above the smallest mumble. If he hadn’t been standing so close, if he didn’t have the serum coursing through his veins, he was sure he wouldn’t have heard him. “Why do you say that,” he asked, taking a seat next to Bucky.

The brunette sighed, shaking his head. He didn’t want to talk.

“I can’t help if you don’t let me in, Buck.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder and it was then Steve saw it. The tears shining in those endless blue eyes of his best friend. Fuck. This was hitting him hard. “You know, I didn’t even take her on a date. Not a proper one at least,” he muttered, hanging his head. “I told her I cared about her. That I wanted to catch her when she falls. I wanted to be there and protect her and Andie from that dick she calls an ex.” He ran his metal hand through his hair. “But she called it.”

“Called it?”

He swallowed thickly, refusing to cry in front of his teammates. “She said our lifestyles are different. And she’s right. I’m an Avenger now. Being that means I can’t be anything more than a friend. A babysitter.”

“Clint has kids. He’s a father.”

Bucky looked at his friend. Steve had never seen him look so pitiful before. “And how much time does he actually spend with them, Steve? Besides, it’s different. His wife – She went in knowing what Clint does. She signed up for it. Y/N? She has so much on her plate already. She needed consistency. She needed something steady.”

Steve looked between them, finally understanding. Bucky and Y/N had clung to each other subconsciously – relying on one another for that one little thing the other so desperately craved. Bucky needed something good. Something that wasn’t a fight. Y/N needed something consistent. Something safe.

They needed each other.

“I needed normal, Steve And the one piece I had…the one good thing I had…” He sighed, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “I don’t think I have it anymore. I can’t – No, I won’t ask Y/N to be okay with this lifestyle. I won’t ask her to let me in and trust me to be that missing piece they need. Not with this.”

“Then quit being an Avenger.”

Bucky scoffed, closing his eyes.

“I’m serious, Buck. You are holding yourself accountable for a lifetime of crimes that weren’t your fault.”

“I still did them.”

“And you still deserve something good.”

Bucky looked at him, nothing but an ache in his eyes.

“You deserve to live a life where you are happy. You deserve that. And you deserve to have a family.”

“That’s just it, Steve,” Bucky murmured, shaking his head. “I don’t want any family. I wanted to be a part of that family.”

“It’s not too late.”

Bucky shook his head, already tuning Steve out and fixating on the ceiling of the quinjet once again. “Yes, it is,” he murmured.

Steve watched his best friend for a few moments. He could never fully understand the thoughts racing through Bucky’s head. He could never imagine the guilt that wrapped itself around Bucky’s heart, squeezing and suffocating it. All he could do was try to help. Rising to his feet, he walked to the pilot’s seat and leaned over, catching Natasha’s and Sam’s attention.

Sam raised an eyebrow, asking Steve, “There something we can do for you, Cap?”

“Chart a course home. The sooner we get back, the better.”

Natasha and Sam glanced past Steve, their gazes landing on Bucky at almost the same time. They shared a look before turning back to the controls. Sam shrugged. “You got it.”

-.-.-.-.-

“Mom?”

Y/N turned to the door as she finished slipping one of her heels on. Andie was watching curiously. Her baggy jeans and that Winter Soldier shirt were a sharp contrast to the black dress Y/N was currently wearing. “What is it, baby girl?”

Andie took in her outfit, smiling softly. There was a time she would have hoped she would wear that dress for a date with Bucky. But that was just a kid’s dream. And seeing her dad more gave her hope that maybe Ethan would be willing to let them all be one big family. She hoped at least… Smiling at her mom, she whistled. “You look really pretty.”

Y/N smiled and rose to her feet. “Remind me to thank Ciara for lending me the dress.” She took a shaky breath, murmuring more to herself, “I – I’m really nervous.”

“Do you not want to go?”

Andie’s brow furrowed as her concern was mistaken for fear. Y/N smiled and ruffled her hair. “I do, but everyone gets nervous for a date. Don’t you know that?”

Andie giggled and followed Y/N into the living room. Her mom hadn’t looked this pretty in a long time. It was a simple black dress with a halter top and open back, reaching the floor and hiding red heels. To Andie, she looked classy. Like one of those old movie stars in Steve’s and Bucky’s favorite movies. “What time do you think you’ll be home?”

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been to an opera before,” she told Andie, putting her phone and some cash in her small purse. Just in case.

“It sounds boring.”

Y/N laughed and kissed the top of Andie’s head. “You’re probably right. Anyway, Peter should be here in fifteen minutes. So, anything I’m missing?” She did a small spin for her daughter, waiting for the final verdict. But instead of judgement, Andie hugged her.

“Just that,” Andie mumbled, looking up at her.

Y/N smiled and brushed her hair back. “No matter what happens tonight, you know you always got me, right?”

Andie nodded. When a knock came from the door, Y/N took a shaky breath. She was not ready for tonight, but she could do this. She would do it for Andie. And then she would never go on a date ever again. Well…probably not at least. Untangling herself from Andie, she turned to the door and opened it. There, standing just outside, were Ethan, his wife, and –

“Y/N, allow me to introduce you to your date this evening. This is Quentin Beck.”

He stepped forward, taking her hand and placing a chaste kiss to the back of it. “It is a pleasure, Ms. Y/L/N. Ethan has told me a lot about you.”

Y/N glanced from Ethan back to Quentin. Her nerves hadn’t settled. If anything, the unease in her gut was ever more prominent. She didn’t have a good feeling about any of this. But…she would play the part of supportive mom. The smallest smile curved her lips as she said, “Good things I hope.”

Quentin smiled. “Only good things, I promise.”

-.-.-.-.-

“What are we doing back at the compound?” Bucky’s gruff voice earned a chuckle from Sam.

He looked over his shoulder, asking Bucky, “Can’t you just be grateful? Like ever?”

“Not to you.”

Natasha chuckled. “Easy, you two. We figured it might be time to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y. for a little help.”

“Meanwhile, Bucky can reach out to our favorite family,” Steve offered, earning a glare from Bucky.

“Steve, you didn’t – “

Bucky’s argument was cut short by Clint running out of the compound, greeting them with a rather…panicked sort of appearance. “Guys, we gotta – It’s important. I – Oh, I need to work out more,” he said, huffing and catching his breath. “This place is way too big.”

“Slow down, Birdbrain,” Sam teased. “What’s going on?”

Clint straightened, eyes shifting from each of them. He lingered on Bucky for the smallest moment before turning to Steve. “Tony has reason to believe that…Y/N’s ex-husband is connected to Zemo.”

-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List:

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[saunteringhusbands]

“What are your thoughts on me?” Jason looks down at Roy who begged the question while tying his shoes. Jason opened his mouth, though nothing came out, as he wasn’t quite sure what it implied. Roy rose up, locked eyes with the other boy. Looked to his lips then back up, studied those blue eyes and waited. 

“I’m not sure what you mean,” the response was gravelly. He turned his back on the red-head to put on his jacket. 

Roy grabbed at Jason’s hand and tugged. He spun him around and took a step forward, holding the other man in place. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Jason stared down at their hands, eyes transfixed on how perfectly their fingers tied together. Roy was right. He knew exactly what he meant. He couldn’t answer yet, though, the words weren’t there and any spoken would simply be forced. He leaned forward instead, squeezed the hand he was holding and parted his lips and fell into Roy. And one could say that was an answer enough for Roy. He smiled into the kiss and moved his arms to embrace Jason. Both consider it the start of their life together.

Not much time passes, some months, maybe a year maybe two. They’re shopping downtown, in some furniture store and Jason is looking at plates. He’s holding a blue one in his hands, inspecting its ridges. Roy looks up from a selection of hand cloths to focus on Jay. He smiles softly. 

“What are your thoughts on moving in together?” Roy asks, stalking over. 

Jason raises an eyebrow, ponders slightly, and bites his lip. He eyes the atrocious, bright orange wash cloth in Roy’s hand. “Fine,” he starts, “but only if I’m in charge of the decor.” He tears the cloth away and gives Roy a kiss in place of it. It’ll simply have to do.

They’re walking through the park. It’s warm, that first solid week of spring when all signs of winter are out of sight, out of mind, and the flowers begin to bud. They’re hand in hand, strolling down the sidewalk path. Neither is really talking, save for simple phrases, lines about the weather and a bird over yonder and what they’ll have for dinner. Things are good for them right now. 

Roy takes mental notes of the dogs. He turns to Jason, ever so suddenly. The corner of his lip rises and he looks down at the ground thoughtfully. 

“What are your thoughts on getting a dog?” 

Jason chuckles. They spend the rest of the afternoon spit-balling names back and forth. They spend the following day picking out chew toys and a leash and collar and harness and food bowls and a bed at the local pet store. By the weekend they’re at the shelter, wandering up and down aisles of kennels. They find a pitbull named Raptor. Jason chats with the receptionist and fills out adoption papers. Roy sits with the dog on the ground, covering him in kisses, scratches, and belly rubs. Jason smiles at the sight.

They just finished dinner, a roast chicken with mashed potatoes and corn. Jason cooked the majority of it, and he does the dishes now, scrubbing away at their plates and setting them aside to be dried. He hears Roy enter the kitchen and teases him with a comment about having to do dishes alone. No response. He rolls his eyes and shuts the water off, drying his hands, ready to say something else, but Roy beats him to it.

“What are your thoughts on marriage?”

Jason’s jaw drops the slightest bit. He turns around. Roy is knelt before him on the ground, a look of pure wonder on his face. One hand is caressing an open box, revealing a simple gold ring. The other reaches out for Jason. He grabs that hand, pulling Roy up. There’s a foot of space between the two and neither’s quite sure what to do. One is holding on anxiously, awaiting an answer he’d hoped would come without thought. The other is terrified. His mind is going a million miles a minute. He loves Roy. He’s sure he loves Roy. Yet, there’s still a tugging, a fear. 

It doesn’t matter. It can’t possibly matter. From their last four years together, Roy has given Jason everything he could ever possibly need; every ounce of solace, every kiss, every hug, every dance, every smile. Life with Roy is comfort. It’s serenity. It’s everything he’s never had, everything he’s longed for.

He collapses then, into freckled arms, an embrace. “Yes,” he relieves. “God fucking yes, Roy, god do I want to marry you.”

They spend the night covering one another in kisses, drinking the finest wine their cupboard could serve them, straight from the bottle. They make plans. They aren’t in a rush, but they are in love, and perhaps there isn’t much of a difference. 

Their wedding is small. Immediate family and friends only. Alfred walks Jason down the aisle. They marry and eat cake and Dick gives a speech about each of the grooms and they spend the night dancing to a shitty playlist put together by Tim. Oliver and Bruce try to outdo each other with wedding gifts. And at the end of the night, when it’s just the pair of them, Red Hood and Arsenal, Robin and Speedy, Jason and Roy, they hold one another close and talk in soft voices, breath entwining, much like their bodies beneath the sheets. They speak of love and promises. 

Months later. Roy is working at the dining room table, clicking away on his laptop. Jason is in the living room, rereading Hamlet for the umpteenth time, twisting his wedding ring around on his finger. He loves that damn ring. Once so afraid of the weight it might bring, he’s been met with the utter opposite. He finds relief in it all. In having someone to hold onto when the nights get long, look forward to on the stressful days, lounge with when the outside world is gray and he’s in need of a day off. They work together. Everything aligned so perfectly, fit so snugly, like pieces of a puzzle. 

Jason’s never been happier.

He looks up now and is met with the image of Roy standing in the door frame, laptop in his hands still.

“What are your thoughts on a house with a white picket fence?”

They move to the middle of the country, far from both Gotham and Star City. They hang up their capes and never touch a weapon again. Their days open up and begin to be spent painting the walls of the house. Their nights are spent cuddled up on the couch, Jason reading aloud to Roy and Raptor, exposing them to worlds they’d never before tasted, never even thought to step foot in. 

With bliss comes rain and when it rains it pours. They just had a big fight. Each party said things he didn't mean, and though they both know they weren’t coming from truthful places, neither is ready to apologize just yet. 

They sit side by side on their bed, a few feet between them. Both stare absently at the wall. They won’t go to bed angry, it’s something they both agreed on. Still, this waiting game doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and it’s getting late. Roy has work early the next morning, Jason an appointment. 

It’s half past one when Roy breaks the silence. He gnaws on his cheek, straightens his back, bows his head and looks at his husband out of the corner of his eye. 

“What are your thoughts on kids?”

Jason’s shoulders drop, all pent-up tension released in a single second. He crawls across the bed and falls into Roy’s lap, wrapping arms around a slender waist. They stay up late dreaming up a family. 

Jason doesn’t make it to his appointment that day. Roy calls in sick to work.

Over the course of the next few years, they adopt three children, who they love as much as if they were their own. Their house becomes chaotic, the good kind. Jason cooks family meals and cleans up and gets the kids to school. Roy works as an engineer for some company and comes home every day to his husband and children. 

When the kids are asleep, and the house is still, and the night is a haven in opposed to a battleground, Jason and Roy still snuggle up on the couch for Jason to read aloud to his husband, their dog at their feet. It’s a particular night. Jason’s back is against Roy’s chest, Roy’s fingers are running through Jason’s hair as he reads Picture of Dorian Gray. There’s a candle burning on the coffee table, and a small, warm lamp is turned on from its place on an end table, but besides that, the house is dark, it’s sleepy, it’s homey. Roy trails kisses down Jason’s neck.

“What are your thoughts on me?” He begs, a whisper.

Jason smiles. It’s been twelve years since he was first asked that. He remembers his response to it then: a passionate kiss, a skipped patrol, a night in bed together. He had been young, full of fear, yet lust, yet a deep, growing love for this boy before him. And now, today, tonight, he sits with twelve years of experience in his back pocket.

He’s fallen in love with Roy. With his hands, freckles, eyes, cupids bow, back dimples. With his corny jokes, useless inventions, stupid catch phrases that aren’t catchy in the slightest. With his mannerisms, the essence of him, the ins, the outs, the very existence that is Roy William Harper.

Jason’s heart swells, it’s warm, his head is an eruption of butterflies and he simply thinks to himself, “I love him.”

“My thoughts, Roy Harper, love of my life, father of my children,” Jason starts slowly, taking small breaks between words, as if sounding it all out, warming up to the water before jumping in head first. “Are that I love you, and that you complete me.”

Roy buries his face in the crook of Jason’s neck. “God, I fucking love you.”

They fall asleep there, on the couch, a tangled mess of limps and a book discarded to the floor. They awake the next morning to their children bouncing atop them. They spend the Saturday as a family. Roy plays a board game with the youngest two while Jay helps the eldest with a history assignment in the kitchen. In the midst of it all, they exchange a look, a knowing look, a loving one, one which promises so much, one which reads, ‘we’ve made it.’

[luulapants]

Hale Royal Family AU - Part 5

Based on @shey-elizabeth​‘s post:

”Me reading the Prince Harry-Meghan Markel royal family drama:

Wait… I think I read this fic already. (Starts scrolling through my AO3 history)

#random #royalty au #someone write me a steter fic #reading the news before coffee”

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

September 2019

“Lady Danu’s is the largest adoption service for non-human children in the state. Which, as you can see, isn’t saying much,” Dot, the facility director, explained. She made a sweeping motion with her hand to indicate the relatively petite size of the facility. It was a large estate house, but certainly not large enough to hold more than a couple dozen children at a time. “Placements, of course, can be tricky for our kind, but we place exclusively with non-human or mixed families, and we have nearly unheard of retention rates for family placement.”

As they made their way through the front hall, Peter peeked into an empty room, which looked to be some sort of study room. There was a chalkboard on one wall, bookshelves on the opposite. The tables and chairs in the middle had bits of paint and marker stains.

Peter thought about all of the obscenely expensive furniture in their home and found himself horrified almost to the point of delight at the thought of little finger paint hand prints marring the wood.

Stiles squeezed his hand as he tugged him along to keep up. “What age ranges do you have?” he asked.

“We have a couple of teenagers at the moment, brother and sister, but that’s not typical,” Dot answered. She started up the wide wooden staircase. Teenage wolves would typically stay with their packs if any remained. Either they weren’t wolves or they had lost absolutely everyone. “They’ve taken over part of the basement so they can have their own space.”

Peter found himself wanting to ask about the teenagers, see if they needed some help. Maybe he could make arrangements for them. But that wasn’t what they were here for. This was the compromise: instead of surrogacy, they could adopt, so long as it was a werewolf baby.

“Eight through twelve are on that end of the hall,” Dot said, pointing toward a large set of French doors. “Four through eight next to them. Babies and toddlers have the largest space, over here.”

Lady Danu’s was partly funded by the druid’s council, Talia had explained as she gave him the pamphlet for the facility, but the majority of their funding came directly from the royal family. Their doors would be open to Peter and Stiles. There would be no wait list, no agony of false hope. One visit, and they could walk out with a bundle of joy that would satisfy both the family and the press.

Well, she hadn’t said it like that, but she may as well have.

----

She had brought up the subject over brunch, just the two of them. Peter had known something unpleasant would come up – the last time they’d had brunch, just the two of them, had been after Stiles’s infamous leather rant.

“I heard you and Stiles have decided not to pursue surrogacy,” Talia had said over the soft scrape of her knife against porcelain. She lifted a bit of egg to her lips, staring him down while she chewed.

Peter nodded, resigned to let this argument happen. He reached for his wolfsbane mimosa, knowing he would need at least a bit of a buzz to get through. “We discussed it and decided it wasn’t for us,” he explained. “It doesn’t seem right, going to all of that trouble and expense to bring a child into the world when there are children already here, needing homes.”

“Adoption, then?”

“That’s the idea.”

She sighed, and Peter felt a vein in his temple throb in irritation.

“I don’t see why it should matter to you or anyone else,” he snapped.

Talia set her fork down and fixed him with a tired expression. “Of course it matters, Peter. Our bloodline -”

Peter barked a laugh. “Our bloodline? Dear sister, I don’t know if you’ve gotten a good look at our family tree lately, but it’s practically overgrown. I’ve lost track of how many nieces and nephews I have these days.”

“You’ll adopt a werewolf, then?” she pressed.

Then it was Peter’s turn to set down his fork, letting it slam noisily against the table. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten, but my husband is a human. We may very well adopt a human.”

“Peter,” she practically growled.

He raised his voice, couldn’t help it. “How are you talking to me like I’m being unreasonable when you’ve practically ordered me, as my alpha, to acquire a baby by any means necessary?”

Talia, stubbornly, infuriatingly, kept her voice calm, though condescending. “I know you’ve made it your personal brand to challenge tradition at every turn. And might I remind you, I have been extremely accommodating to it thus far -”

Peter flashed his eyes at her. “Oh, yes,” he shouted, “you didn’t excommunicate me from the family for marrying a man! Have they put you up for sainthood yet, Your Majesty?”

She stood abruptly, her chair clattering to the ground as her eyes flared bright red.

As he felt himself involuntarily cower in response, Peter felt his rage boil down into a quiet resentment. Talia was his alpha and his monarch, but she was supposed to be his sister first. That she would pull this sort of tactic on him stung in a way he hadn’t been prepared for. “Really?” he asked, voice softer than he wanted it to be. “Over how Stiles and I start a family? That’s what you pull rank for?”

Talia softened, her eyes fading back to human. A servant hurried in and righted her chair for her. She sat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It should just be about you and Stiles – I know that – but it’s not. This world we live in, our position is more tentative than it seems. Peter, our traditions are more than media grabs and money. Humans fear us, instinctively. We are predators. We are stronger than them. We’re a threat.” Her words came gently. Practiced, but honest. “By all logical strategy, they should hunt us, eradicate us, as they did for centuries.”

“Like they still do in many parts of the world,” Peter conceded.

“Exactly.” She offered a weak smile. “And do you know why they don’t, here in this country?” He did, but ducked his head, signaling for her to continue. “Because our structure of monarchy gives us an appearance of structure, of stability. It makes our kind seem integrated and like less of a threat. We let them see into every corner of our lives, poke and prod and evaluate. We show them that we have nothing to hide, and they transfer that sense of trust to every member of our species.”

Peter had received lectures of similar flavor from their parents, but they hadn’t been so brutally honest. He lifted his eyes to meet Talia’s. “And you think that the species of mine and Stiles’s child will make so much difference to that balance?”

“No,” Talia admitted. She reached for her coffee. “But a member of the royal family that challenges our traditions at every turn? That might.”

----

So he and Stiles found themselves in the babies and toddlers wing of Lady Danu’s Home for Children. A caretaker sat in a rocking chair in the corner, bottle feeding an infant. Another stood by the cribs, a baby in each arm, rocking and humming. It felt strange to Peter – no, downright bizarre – to come here and pick out a baby like one picked out a pair of shoes at a clothing store.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss for a little while,” Dot said. “I know it’s a lot to take in. I’ll be just down the hall – anyone here can come fetch me for you.”

Once she was out of the room, Stiles stepped in front of Peter with a slightly panicked expression. “I have no idea how to do this,” he whispered.

“Do I look like I know?”

“Are we just supposed to… pick one? It feels weird.”

One of the caretakers glanced up at them, clearly listening in, and Peter huffed a sigh, glancing around the room. “Let’s just… try to settle in for a few minutes?”

This wing of the home was rather large. They had come into the section for the youngest babies. Another set of doors lead through to a play room for the toddlers where a handful of drooling, chubby little were-tots sat around a kitchen play set, gnawing at plastic fake fruit and miming cooking with a sauce pan.

Peter wandered over to them, giving a wave. One little boy stared up at him with wide eyes, most of his own fist crammed into his mouth. It was refreshing, at least, to not be greeted with a bow.

He glanced around to see where Stiles had ended up and found him sitting on a play mat where an older girl with poorly brushed hair sat with a baby girl, maybe a year old, propped up on a pillow. The older one wore overalls and had a toy dinosaur in her hand. “Who?” she asked Stiles, a bit rudely.

“I’m Stiles. Is it okay if I sit with you?” Stiles had already sat down, but seemed to be second-guessing it under the girl’s intense scrutiny. When she didn’t answer, Stiles asked, “What’s your name?”

She turned back to the baby, ignoring Stiles. “So T-Rex can eat this guy,” she explained to the baby, holding up a smaller dinosaur toy, “but dog is too big.” Peter’s eyes settled on a big stuffed dog next to her and smiled.

“That’s Malia.”

Peter jumped a little, not having noticed the caretaker coming up behind him. He turned and smiled at her. “Isn’t she a little old to be in here?”

“She’s five,” the woman agreed, “but she’s been having some trouble fitting in with the kids in her age group. She’s great with the babies, though.”

“Rawr! I am hungry!” Malia said, rocking the T-Rex back and forth.

Stiles stretched and grabbed another toy off the floor and offered it up. “Can he eat this?”

Malia stared at him suspiciously for a moment, then broke into a bright smile. “Yeah!” She snatched the toy out of his hand and fed it to the tyrannosaurus with delighted violence.

Laughing softly, Peter watched as she slowly accepted Stiles into her game. “How long has she been here?”

“A couple of months.” The caretaker hesitated. “She’s not a wolf,” she told him. “She’s a were-coyote. There were some… safety concerns. With the mother. She was removed from her custody.”

The mother-child dynamic for coyotes was a troubled one, Peter knew. Their powers were passed down during pregnancy. He frowned. “Thank you for explaining,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Tracy. And I know who you are, of course.”

Peter ducked his head and smiled. “Of course.”

He made his way over to Stiles, watching the way his face lit up as Malia’s game devolved into a toy massacre. The baby seemed just as fascinated with her, taking toys as Malia handed them to her, then sucking on them.

Talia would think this was just more of his defiance, more of his stubborn desire to fight tradition. But maybe this could be a compromise on a compromise. Not a baby, no, but young enough. Not a werewolf, no, but not human.

Peter crouched besides Stiles and nudged his shoulder. “What do you think?”

Stiles glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?” He glanced at Malia, then back to Peter. “She’s not...” Not a baby, he meant. He didn’t even know about her being a were-coyote.

“I don’t care,” Peter assured him.

Stiles reached over and brushed his fingers against the nape of Peter’s neck, scenting him. He bit his lip, then turned back to the Malia. “This is my husband Peter,” he told her. “Can he play, too?”

Peter waved at her. “Hi, Malia.”

Malia sniffed at him very obviously, her little nose scrunching as she did so. “You have to bring a food for T-Rex,” she told him, her brow furrowing and eyes flashing blue. He knew already that she would be an absolute terror. Forget finger paint on the nice furniture – she would rip it to shreds.

“Fair enough,” he agreed.

----

In one of her less thoughtful attempts at reassuring Peter and Stiles about fatherhood, Laura had told them, “You know, a lot of what people talk about when they talk about being ‘ready’ for parenthood, it just doesn’t apply in our world.”

They had been playing bocce in Laura’s garden, Marco lining up his bowl.

Stiles huffed a laugh. “Why, because we don’t have a choice?”

“No, you absolutely have a choice,” Laura said, and Peter had wondered if she really believed it. “But a lot of the things new parents struggle with – the late nights, the feedings, the expense – we don’t have to worry about that. You would have a wet nurse and a couple of nannies. You already have staff for meals and laundry.”

Peter knew she didn’t mean it to sound as callous as she did. As much as she had inherited her mother’s leadership skills, her poise and ferocity, she had inherited that emotionally tone-deaf streak as well.

Stiles had watched Marco bowl his shot and shoved his hands in his pockets. “That doesn’t sound much like parenting to me,” he had admitted.

A few short months later found Stiles in their daughter’s room, calling for their morning nanny, yelling, “Oh my god, where is Hayden?” while Malia wailed like an air raid siren, shrill and with a truly spectacular lung span.

Peter rushed down the hall to find Stiles kneeling in front of their daughter, frantically trying to extricate a hair brush from the back of her head while she writhed and screamed.

“Malia, please hold still!” he pleaded. “Pulling is just going to  make it hurt more!”

“HURTS!” she shrieked.

“I know, I know, I just -”

“We gave Hayden the day off, remember?” Peter knelt down on the other side of Malia. He reached for her and, though she flinched back at first, managed to press his fingers to her cheek. One tiny, barely-there tendril of black crept up his fingertip. “Now, Malia, that barely hurts at all,” Peter chided. “What are you throwing a fuss about?”

She sobbed loudly and thrashed away from them both. Stiles finally gave up and let go, letting her run away with the hairbrush dangling from the back of her head. Malia threw herself onto her bed to sob into her arms like a distressed Jane Austin heroin.

Stiles held his hands out helplessly, looking to Peter for confirmation that, yes, this was the most absurd show of melodrama this house had ever seen. It was saying something, seeing as Stiles lived there.

They both got up and approached the bed. Peter sat on the edge, not reaching for her just yet, since she was still heaving angry sobs against her comforter. “Malia, sweetheart,” he cooed. “You’ve gotten yourself all worked up. Can you take some deep breaths for me?”

It took a moment, but she sucked in one long, shuddering breath. Peter smiled and reached over to rub a hand over her back. Instead of settling, though, she fucking growled at him.

“Malia,” Stiles started to chide, because they had talked about the growling.

But then her whole body started to tremble uncontrollably. In a blink, Peter found a coyote pup curled up on the bed where his daughter had been, her dress pooled around her. The hairbrush, liberated for lack of hair, fell off to the side.

Peter looked up at Stiles and smirked, shaking his head. She did have quite the flair for the dramatic. “That bad, hm?” he asked, teasing a little.

She growled again.

They were supposed to take her to Talia’s today. His sister had come over to meet Malia a few days after she moved in, but the poor girl had still been reeling from the change, too shy, and they let her retreat up to her room to play before more than a few minutes had passed.

Today, she would finally be meeting the rest of the family.

Peter slid down the zip on the back of the dress, and Malia immediately began to wriggle free of it. Her little dress shoes had dropped to the floor at the edge of the bed. He had to help tug her hind legs free of the tights, though. “Alright, come on, then,” he said, scooping her up off the bed. She growled again and he pressed a finger to the top of her nose. “None of that, now.”

Her eyes shone blue at him, but she settled. Peter passed her off to Stiles, who carefully folded her tail down to hold her against his chest with her front paws curled over his shoulder. “You know, you’re much more snuggly like this,” Stiles commented. “We’ll just have to work on human cuddles, okay?”

“What are the chances we convince her to shift back before we have to leave?” Peter asked doubtfully.

Stiles shook his head. “Hey, if anyone can appreciate a full shift, it’s Talia, right?”

----

“Princess Malia Bit The Queen!”

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. The tablet was balanced on his knees. Beneath the headline, a photo of Malia waving at the camera. Beside it, a stock photo of a coyote. A real coyote. An animal.

“Who leaked this?” he growled.

Stiles shifted closer to him on the bed, nudging their shoulders together. “Come on, Peter. She’s five – who’s actually going to care? It’s a little funny, isn’t it?”

“It’s not,” Peter gritted out. His mind flashed back to the talk Talia had given him before they went to the children’s home, about the games of public perception they were playing. He sighed and looked over at Stiles. “Malia’s species is nearly extinct outside of Mexico, and they’re still hunted like animals in parts of Mexico. Most humans in the US and Canada have never met a were-coyote.” He tapped the screen. “This is the impression they’ll form of them. That they’re wild, violent, dangerous. Uncivilized. They’ll take this one little girl, and they’ll extrapolate it to every were-coyote. Or they’ll say that clearly she was abused – that were-coyotes must be unfit parents.”

Horror overtook Stiles’s expression, his eyes moving back to the article as if seeing it for the first time. “Fuck. They can’t – she’s a little kid. They can’t put that on her.”

“They will.” Peter rubbed at the back of his neck. He felt wrung-out. It was only ten o’clock. He and Stiles had been getting to bed earlier, so they would have time to start their day before Malia woke up. “God, what were we thinking?” he muttered.

Stiles slipped his hand up the back of Peter’s neck, fingers sliding through the curls on the back of his head to scratch his scalp. “We had no way of knowing it would get leaked,” he reassured. “It happened in Talia’s house, for god’s sake.”

“Not that,” Peter sighed, leaning into the touch. “I mean, what were we thinking, bringing a child into this life at all?”

The scratches stopped. “Peter,” Stiles breathed. “You’re not saying...”

Oh, god. Peter pulled away so he could look Stiles in the eye, wanting to be very clear on this. “No,” he said firmly. “No, of course not. I wouldn’t even think about...” He couldn’t say it, couldn’t say, returning her, like Malia was an ill-fitting jacket and not their family.

“Okay, good,” Stiles said, still looking panicked by the idea.

“But I still wonder,” Peter explained, “what gave us the right, you know? To put her in all of this mess? She never asked for any of this. She never asked to grow up endlessly scrutinized by these vultures.”

Stiles’s expression softened. He reached out and cupped Peter’s cheek. “Neither did you.”

“It’s different,” Peter insisted.

“Why, because you’re Hale blood?” Stiles challenged, though his tone stayed gentle. “Because you’re over it? You’re clearly not.”

His husband’s ability to call him on his bullshit was one of the reasons Peter had fallen in love with him. It was also deeply, deeply annoying. “I just...” He closed his eyes, trying to get his anxieties into some form coherent enough to be voiced. He settled on: “I don’t want her to grow up resenting me for bringing her into this world.”

“Don’t you mean ‘resenting us’?” Stiles cocked his head to the side.

“I brought you into it, too.”

Stiles glared at him. “Peter Hale,” he scolded.

“I know, I know, you chose this,” Peter agreed.

“And, again, I’m the only one in this household that did,” Stiles reminded him. With a sigh, Stiles caught him around the shoulders and reeled him in until Peter was snuggled against his side, head on Stiles’s shoulder. He was quiet a moment before he asked, “Did you resent your parents?”

Peter didn’t talk much about them, and Stiles respected that, understood that Peter had never felt close with them, that they hadn’t been warm people. The press brought them up sometimes, usually around the anniversary of the accident. A helicopter crash in the Rockies. Conspiracy theories had flown about for months, most insisting that militant anti-were hunters had shot the helicopter down. When they finally found the black box, it revealed nothing but a simple engine malfunction.

Peter had been just shy of his thirteenth birthday. He remembered how numb he felt, walking down the street in the funeral procession with a stiff expression as the public wailed in mourning around him. He remembered thinking that these people, these strangers, had been allowed more emotional closeness with his parents than he had. They had owned his parents in a way Peter had never been allowed.

“I did,” Peter admitted quietly. “Sometimes I think I still do.”

Stiles pressed two fingers under his chin to tip his head up, and kissed his lips, soft. “We’ll protect her, okay?” he said. “Whatever it takes. We’ll make sure it isn’t so bad for her.”

Letting out a breath, Peter leaned up and kissed him again, then again until he was pressed flat on his back on the bed. Hovering over him, Peter took in the soft flush on Stiles’s cheeks, the sweet adoration in his eyes, the gentle curve of his mouth. “I love you,” he murmured. “More than I can ever say.”

[halinski]

I said I wanted to write more mental health stuff so here is me tiptoeing toward that goal. A quick, spontaneous fic, inspired by my daily sensory overload (and bc bread and darkness are two of my favorite things)

****

Stiles stumbled over to the kitchen blindly finding his way in the dark and groping the wall for the light switch. He blinked blearily at the sudden enlightenment and then froze two steps in as a dark shape in the middle of the kitchen caught his attention. Normally he would be scared if he found someone creeping in the kitchen in the middle of the night but this was Derek's apartment and Derek was always a safe place. It was... Stiles blinked again.

"Derek?"

The werewolf in question was not all too happy about Stiles' intrusion. He had his eyes squeezed shut, accompanied by a grimace and cautiously squinted one green eye open at Stiles.

"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, blinking again, this time taking in the cloth Derek held in his hand and the big sweater he'd pulled over his pjs.

"Wiping the table down," Derek replied gruffly, refraining from any sarcasm. He seemed weighed down, as if the sweater Stiles had never seen before - despite spending time here regularly at this point - was made of bricks. Like, it looked soft, warm and all, bit Derek's shoulders sagged, like he was about to cave in on himself and crumple to the ground. And Stiles was talking about the presence of Derek's aura too.

"In the dark?" Stiles was no less dumbfounded.

"I had to clean up after myself," Derek said, like that explained it all, turning back to the task, still squinting on one eye.

"/In the dark/?" Stiles repeated.

Derek sighed, turning away to throw away bread crumbs he'd picked up off the table.

"I have better vision."

And yet, Stiles still didn't know how he was supposed to react. He stepped closer, finally spotting the hazelnut spread on the counter. Derek rarely indulged in anything sweet for himself. It was all in all a very suspicious situation and Stiles felt wide awake, but also like he was dreaming.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, he poured himself some tap water, biding time for the right thing to say. His heart was a flutter like an alarmed rabbit's. The water glass passing from hand to hand nervously. He didn't want to risk saying the wrong thing and prove to Derek that the world wanted him all things bad in vulnerable situations.

All the while Derek didn't move, braced on the counter, head hanging. Movement only came back when Stiles put the glass down by the sink, about to voice the thoughts he'd carefully constructed silently for once.

Before he could though, Derek interrupted, "Turn the light off when you leave? Light hurts sometimes."

So Stiles took that as his cue, nodding in agreement, not wanting to disturb the silence again. As he reached the doorway and flicked the light switch, all he was sure of was that his own stomach had definitely sank. He lingered there, stuck between staying and leaving, should he be a brat by invading on Derek more or would he be an ass for leaving him like everyone else.

There were was barely any sound coming from Derek and Stiles couldn't tell if Derek was actually moving or if he was still frozen, since it was pitch black.

The doorway was smooth and cool beneath his fingers, feeling so alien and unfamiliar now that he was robbed of one of his senses.

"Derek?" Stiles asked softly, looking away from the very faint light that filtered in through the living room window, to the shadows of where Derek had to be. "Are you... Okay?"

He felt dumb as soon as he uttered the words, biting his tongue that suddenly felt fuzzy. But he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep if he hadn't addressed this. His hand curled against the wall, into a fist, and his whole body followed, tensing into the utmost stillness so he wouldn't miss a beat of any of Derek's response.

There was nothing though, at first. Eventually Stiles thought he could make out an outline of a narrow figure but it could have just been his imagination. There was no reflection of any light from Derek's eyes either.

"Go back to sleep, Stiles." The voice was so quiet and tender that again, Stiles thought he might have imagined it too. But it was a clear dismissal and Stiles swallowed, nodded once more and left.

There's another sound or two as Stiles settles back on the pulled out couch, crossing his arms under his head, thoughtfully. His mind raced, all too aware of the werewolf who had worked him into his schedule.

He had slowly started drifting off, giving Derek the space he needed and ignoring the sound of slight shuffling around the apartment but only until he heard a very soft clearing of a throat. Immediately he was sitting up and turning to Derek, still a few steps away.

Stiles waited, even though it made his throat burned with the need to take on the weight of the words that bound Derek's lips shut like this. Derek needed to be the master of his own choices.

There was another small sound, much like a little grunt, or maybe like a manly whine, and a pretty concealed deep breath. Then, "Can I um.."

Stiles barely registered the words alone, much less the barely visible helpless motion of Derek's arm toward him, causing his forehead to crease. He had become quite good at reading Derek. Body language was a big thing with him. But sometimes he thought Derek forgot Stiles was not a wolf and his senses didn't run as high powered. Shifting in his spot, Stiles brushed back his hair - as if it could make him think better, much like Violet Baudelaire, only he didn't have enough to tie up.

Derek fidgeted to his side, seeming ready to split and run and Stiles scooted over, about to offer Derek a place to sit when it hit him.

"Do you want the couch? Here," Stiles quickly stood up, nearly tripping over the blankets and pulling them back up on the cushions. "I can totally leave, dude. It's no big deal. Your apartment, your space and I totally-"

Another sound interrupted him, a sound that was trying to take up more space and anger than it dedication for and Stiles stilled.

"Or not...," He muttered, his eyebrows once more drawing together.

Derek huffed out a sigh. "You just-" and he pointed at the couch again, or so Stiles hoped, and he settled back down on it, making himself comfortable and crossing his legs but remaining upright and focused. They said the brightest minds worked best at night and Stiles hoped his own mind could adhere to that rule and figure out how to help Derek out here. He had a million questions gnawing at his tongue, like fire ants on a designated march.

Approaching slowly, Derek paused as he reached the armrest, not daring to actually make contact with the piece of furniture.

Stiles patted the free space next to him and watched with fondness as Derek adhered and shuffled in on Stiles' bed, so to speak.

Yet -He didn't take up much space, hand burrowed in his lap. It was like the sweater buried him.

"Warmth can help... sometimes." It was like a fleeting whisper of the wind but Stiles understood. Derek had acted as his space heater in dire situations before, during their adventure of demon hunting in the snow, tales of torn and bloodied shirts and rainy fall days.

Stiles smiled. "Dude. I'm the cuddle master. I got you. And if you ask me, I'm pretty hot for a human, eh. Don't you bother that precious head of yours."

As he spoke to try and lighten the weight with his usual wit, he moved to lie back down and straighten the blanket, holding it up for Derek to join him.

"No talking," Derek told him quietly, before he crawled in towards him, tentatively letting himself give in to Stiles' offer. Stiles hummed softly in agreement, having to resist kissing the top of Derek's head because would be a step too far toward domesticity.

As he laid an arm around Derek protectively, pulling him in closer, Derek slowly sank his face into his chest as if he could escape the world in Stiles' embrace.

"And don't call me dude."

Stiles barely made out the muffled words, biting his lip with a restrained chuckle and tightening his hold on the slightly trembling werewolf. He held on until he stilled, breathes evening out hotly against his shirt, and that's when he did lean down, nose tickled by the soft hair and pressed a kiss to the mind he admitted so much, a mind like a beautiful enigmatic enchanted fortress, for which he'd give the world any day to gain a little access too.

[prophetandprincess]

"A.J, dear, what a surprise," Mrs. Malone said with a smile as Alex walked into the restaurant Thursday afternoon, enveloping her in a huge hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's great to see you too." Alex hugged her back with just as much force and love. "Actually, I'm meeting with my tutor here, but I also missed you and wanted to check in to see how you and the fam were doing."

"The indestructible A.J. asking for help? You have truly changed in the last year. I hardly recognize you," Mrs. Malone laughed as he directed her into a booth and sat down with her. "The family is good. Sandy has gone through two babysitters already, which is its own source of stress, but Sandy's strong will is going to serve her well as she gets older. Right now though, thrusting her onto friends while I and her father are working makes me feel like a bad parent."

"Well, now I feel guilty," Alex said with a smile, but there was this guilt gnawing on her heart. "You know I would still be watching Sandy if I could. I love that kid."

"Oh, dear, I know." Mrs. Malone reached out and took Alex's hand, squeezing it. "You're doing so much already, with school and your internship, I would feel guilty if you were coming all the way to Queens to watch Sandy as well."

Alex squeezed Mrs. Malone's hand back, but her reassurance didn't help relieve the guilt at all. Maybe Alex would be able to find a new babysitter. She knew a bunch of women in Monica's sorority that would probably have the energy to keep up with Sandy. They were busy women, but there had to be one of them, maybe studying for early education, that would be fit for the job. Alex knew from experience that the Malones paid well. Alex added that to her ever-growing to-do list.

Mrs. Malone gossiped a bit about the restaurant and some of the regulars that Alex knew before there was an issue with a check that the owner had to take care of. Olivia walked through the front door a few minutes later, taking a long moment to scope out the old speakeasy turned restaurant before spotting Alex in the booth. There was something about the way she surveyed the place again when she sat down that made Alex think Olivia had seen some things during her life. Things that taught her to always have an exit strategy. Maybe she could teach Alex more than just Russian.

"This is a cute place," Olivia finally said when her eyes settled on Alex. "I just don't get how this is any less public than the local Starbucks."

"I used to work here, I know the owner, and I know the lovely Nariah Lawson who is coming to take our orders," Alex smiled as Nariah walked up to the booth. "How are things? Has the boyfriend proposed yet?"

To answer, Nariah held out her left hand, the silver ring with two emeralds flanking a diamond stood out against her dark skin. There was the obligatory cheering and fawning over the ring while Olivia sat there with a polite smile on her face. Nariah took their drink orders before she headed off, a bounce in her step.

"Sorry about that," Alex said when she turned back to Olivia.

"It's your money," Olivia shrugged as she reached into her bag and pulled out a notebook. "Now, are you ready to get to work?"

"Yes, ma'am," Alex said with only a hint of a laugh. Olivia was a very serious person, not in a bad way, but it was jarring as most of the people Alex spent her time with these days were warm and comforting.

The two of them shared a plate of fries as Alex stumbled through her first lesson, which was literally the very basics of the Russian alphabet and the building blocks of the language. After the hour was over, Alex felt as if her brain was about to explode, but Olivia stated that she was already seeing some improvement in her pronunciation. Olivia agreed to stay for another half an hour to help work on Alex's Russian assignments, and by the time she headed out of the restaurant, Alex thought that she might just be able to pass this class.

While she finished her fifth glass of Coke, she tried to figure out where she would be sleeping that evening. As she was weighing the different options, her phone dinged. It was Mr. LeBlanc stating that the renovations on her apartment were finished today and she could move back in. There was probably no furniture in there, but Alex wanted to at least stop in and see what it looked like now that it was clean and repaired.

The answer was it looked cold and empty. Everything that had been salvaged from the apartment was stacked in one corner and it was a rather pathetic pile of mostly clothing. Luckily, her grandfather's trunk had survived with only a few more dents than it had previously. It would have been pretty depressing if a trunk that had made it all the way through World War II had met its untimely end in a studio apartment in New York City.

The new cabinets were nice, they didn't squeak when Alex opened them, but all of her food had been taken away during the cleanup. She should have gotten an actual dinner while she was at Malone's. Still, the apartment was a completely clean slate that Alex could actually decorate how she wanted and take her time doing so. While the whole situation sucked, Alex decided to find the silver lining in it all. She was still upset about the missing laptop and notebook, but knowing that it could have been her life she decided to not be too bitter about that either.

Alex decided that while nothing was in the apartment, she would clean it from top to bottom. There were a thousand other things she should be doing, but she did make the effort to find a Russian news program to listen to as she walked to the store for supplies and a sandwich in the vain hope it would somehow teach her subconsciously. All it probably did was put her on a government watch list. The main living area was covered with the white powder that marked any renovation and dust. The bathroom hadn't been ransacked, but it was still a mess and Alex scrubbed until her arm hurt. By the time she was done, the apartment smelled of bleach and new paint.

Opening the window helped clear Alex's head a bit and she realized that night had fallen while she was cleaning. She crawled out onto the fire escape and took a minute to sit there, the cold air drying some of the sweat off her forehead. It was not the most comfortable place to sit, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to sit inside either. Alex silently contemplated if she should risk putting Monica in danger again by staying with her or risk leaving her alone only to find out that she had been attacked in the night.

A thump above Alex made her jump. At first, she thought it was someone else just coming out onto the fire escape or setting out a plant. However, looking up between the iron, she saw that something large was moving above her, jerking and staggering, and it was heading her way. That's when Alex remembered that the thing that was killing scientists had been able to climb buildings without a problem. She was scrambling to get back into the apartment. While she was pretty sure that Mr. LeBlanc wouldn't renew her lease if it was torn apart again, she wanted to be alive enough to worry about being homeless.

It was only a few moments after Alex closed her window that something slammed into it. A scream escaped her lips as she scrambled to grab her switchblade where she had left it with her things. The blood was pumping in her ears so loudly that at first, she didn't realize the thing at her window was saying her name. That was enough to turn her whole body cold.

Alex yelped again as her phone started going off. Peter's name was on the readout and she quickly accepted the call.

"Peter, whatever it is, it's outside my window," Alex whispered into the phone.

"Alex, no it's not," Peter's voice sounded breathless and almost wheezy.

"Yes it is, it followed me down the fire escape!" Alex didn't have time for him not to believe her right now. Why must men always question everything women say!

"No, it isn't because that's me on the fire escape. I've had a run-in with our friend and could use a bit of patching up," Peter said again before coughing, which Alex now heard through the window as well. "You think you could let me in?"

Alex went over to the window, ready to rip Peter to pieces, but one look at him killed any reproach that was on her lips. He looked like hell, even if he did a little finger wave as he smiled at her through the brand new window, Spider suit still on. It took Alex a minute to figure out the lock to get the window open and then Peter literally tumbled inside, bloody handprints on the frame where he gripped it and smeared it all over the freshly cleaned floors where he dropped.

"Jesus, Peter, you need to go to the hospital," Alex knelt beside him as he attempted to sit up. There were deep claw marks all over his arms, back, and chest that were weeping blood.

"How exactly would I explain this?" Peter asked as he tugged off his mask, bruises already forming on his face, lip split, and so pale that Alex wondered how he was still conscious. "I heal fast, which I also won't be able to explain to a medical professional without being shipped off to a lab to be studied. I just need somewhere to take a breather."

"Why didn't you go home? Your aunt is a nurse and I doubt May would ask too many questions," Alex got up and went into the bathroom where she now kept a fully stocked first aid kit. She had learned the importance of having one last year and while she doubted it would do anything to help Peter, it would at least make her feel better.

"I don't want to make her worry," Peter explained when Alex came back into the room with the kit and a wet towel. "I'm pretty sure she knows what I do, but we've never talked about it. I'd rather not give her a heart attack showing up at her door looking like I lost a fight with a mountain lion."

"But you're alright with giving me a heart attack? I'll try not to take it personally Parker." Alex started to help Peter peel his suit off because he was so badly battered that he was having a lot of trouble doing it himself. The damage was even worse without the red and blue fabric hiding the bruising and depth of the cuts.

"But I come bearing information. The monster of New York that caused your current decorative preferences in your apartment refers to himself as the Jackal," Peter coughed and something snapped in his chest.

"It speaks? With those fangs?" Alex started to gently clean the cuts as Peter focused on propping himself up against the wall. "Did he have a lisp?"

"That's your question?" Peter laughed weakly. "Out of everything you could have asked me about a near-death encounter and it's if he has a lisp. As if I wouldn't have started with that."

Alex laughed, though it sounded a little hysterical, as the towel started to drip with blood while it was doing very little to help clean up his chest. After a couple more seconds she gave up and just started bandaging what she could. She grabbed a wad of gauze and pressed it to Peter's chest in hopes of stopping some of the bleeding since it wasn't like she knew how to stitch up a person. He might say he healed quickly, but there was a whole pool of blood on her floor that stated otherwise. She toyed with the idea of calling the ambulance without him knowing, but how was Alex going to explain the carnage without the police arresting her, Peter, or both.

"I don't think the fangs are attached, more like mouth guards that he wears, which makes the lack of lisp even more impressive," Peter said after a couple of minutes of hissing in pain and breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "His suit also has some sort of armor weaved into it because it hurt like hell when I got a hit in. Those claws, however, were the big issue, as you can easily see. He's strong, fast, and a bendy bastard. He also really hates me for some reason. I mean, most people hate me, but this guy really dislikes me and it seems really personal."

Before Alex could come back with a witty comeback, there was a knock at her front door. They both went very still, hoping whoever it was would go away. Alex tried to figure who the hell it could be. Monica would have called or texted Alex first and none of the other residents would have any reason to come see her. What if it was Steve or Sam, how would she explain Peter to them without revealing his identity? Worse, what if it was Micheal coming to check on her? He was a police officer and would be able to get past the front desk easily. Shit.

One look at Peter and Alex knew he wouldn't even be able to get himself to the bathroom in time as another set of knocks came to the door. Alex had no choice but to try to get rid of whoever it was. She gave Peter a warning look to stay quiet before she got up, attempted to get the blood off her hands, and walked over to open the door.

Jacob Harper was standing on the other side of the door, a duffle bag slung over his shoulder, and a huge smile on his face. "Surprise!"

"Jake, I thought you said you were coming up around midterms," Alex got out as she stared at her older brother's smiling face, trying to catch up to this unexpected turn of events. "How did you get past the front desk?"

"Apparently we look enough alike and I'm charismatic enough that the old bulldog at the front desk let me come up," Jake laughed, looking past Alex into the apartment. "Is there a reason you're not letting me in? Are you hiding a boy in there?"

"Yes! Yes, I am," Alex looked over her shoulder to see Peter attempting to peel himself up off the floor. "So, do you think you could wait down in the lobby until I get him out of here?"

"Absolutely not," Jake laughed as he attempted to push his way into the apartment.

Alex attempted to bar the doorway, but she was so surprised that Jake was able to get the door open enough to look inside. Peter was in the middle of the living room, his suit barely clinging onto his hips and legs, bleeding everywhere, and not a single piece of furniture in the apartment. Jake and Peter stared at each other for a moment before Jake gently took Alex's arm and pulled her out into the hallway. He waited until the door was closed before they locked eyes, his expression dark.

"Alexandra," Jake said in a cold and measured voice. "I've tried, really hard, not to ask you too much about your life here in the city because I know you want your space. Lord knows that I don't want to know about your sex life. However, there is a bleeding man in your empty ass apartment and I need to know if either of you are in trouble."

"Oh, Jesus, Jacob," Alex threw open the door to find Peter in the exact spot where she left him, blinking like a deer in headlights. "It wasn't rough sex you freak. Peter got jumped on his way home and came here to get patched up."

"By who?" Jake dropped his duffle bag by the door while Peter gave him a little finger wave. "And what's with the tights?"

"I go to Julliard, ballet. I'm sure you now see the problem," Peter said quickly, saving Alex from a way less convincing lie. "You must be the older brother. This is not how I expected to meet."

"Well, I have no idea who you are so likewise." Jake smiled at Peter before he took in the carnage of the apartment. "I'd say sit down, but it doesn't look like that's an option with Lexie's minimal decor. Why don't you hop up on the counter and we'll see if we can't get you patched up."

"Lexie?" Peter raised an eyebrow but did what he was told as Jake took the bloody towel into the bathroom. Alex heard the water running, so she figured they'd have a few minutes to talk without him hearing it.

"You ever call me that, Parker, and I will kill you myself," Alex whispered as she brought the first aid kit over and surveyed the damage again. "You know, this all doesn't look as bad as I first thought."

"Fast healing, remember?" Peter groaned as he peeled off the rest of his suit, including his web-shooters, and sat there in just his boxers. "Hide this somewhere before your brother starts questioning the ballerina angle. You could have given me a little warning that he was coming."

"It wasn't supposed to be until after midterms," Alex whispered as Jake reappeared with a towel and a couple of washcloths.

"Alright, buddy, we're about to get real familiar with one another real quick," Jake said with a smile before surveying the damage. Alex took a moment to go into her grandfather's trunk, saying she thought there might be more gauze in there, and stashing Peter's suit and web-shooters into the false bottom.

The Harper siblings worked in tandem to get Peter back into one piece. There wasn't a lot of talking, just a hiss of pain or a groan from Peter while Alex and Jake muttered for a bandage, gauze, or the pair of scissors. Alex made comforting sounds now and again if something obviously hurt Peter badly, but luckily there weren't more instances of that. He wasn't a stranger to getting the crap beat out of him apparent.

"What kind of weapons were these guys carrying?" Jake asked while he finished bandaging up Peter's arm, the last wound that needed covered. "I haven't been in a lot of knife fights in my time, but the injuries I have seen didn't look like this."

"To be honest with you, I didn't get a good look at it. It all happened so fast." Peter shrugged, and then winced, as they started to clean up the towels and blood. "One minute I was walking toward the subway, still in my gear because practice ran over, and the next I was getting the ever-loving shit beat out of me. They took everything and only ran when someone shouted something at them. I didn't want to scare my aunt so I came here."

"Let me see if I have something you can put on and then we'll figure out how to get you home," Alex said as she took all the blood-soaked items into the bathroom and tossed them into the tub, letting the water run to try and clean them off.

After going all the way to the back of her closet shelf, Alex was finally able to find a pair of gym shorts and a hoodie. It was the first outfit that Alex had given James when she brought him in out of the rain. It seemed to be her emergency outfit for wayward superheroes. Hopefully, Peter would be the last one she ever had to give it to.

"Well, Peter can't walk home in this state and we can't sleep here Lex, so what's the plan?" Jake asked when Alex handed the clothing to Peter.

"You know, Jacob, I really hadn't gotten that far yet," Alex sighed as she looked over at the window. "Maybe you can take a cab with Peter and get a hotel room for the night? I'll help you with the cost if you need help."

"Lex, I am a welder with work, I'm pretty sure I have more money than you do. Also, what are you going to do, sleep on Gramp's old trunk? How long have you been living like this?" Jake sounded frustrated as Alex took the bucket from under the skin and took it into the bathroom. She swapped out the towels for the bucket, wringing out the last bit of water before laying them out to dry before bringing the now full bucket into the living room.

"There was an electrical fire that ruined the place. I lost a lot of my furniture in the fire, putting it out, and the cleanup. It only happened last week and I was just back into the place today," Alex explained as she poured some bleach into the water and started to scrub the floor furiously. "I've been crashing with friends and if you would have told me you were coming I could have warned you."

"If you told me anything about your life, I would have known that your life was in shambles," Jake shot back as he and Peter watched Alex scrub the blood furiously. "Like what the hell, Lexie? You couldn't even shoot me a text message?"

"And if I did, you would have told Mom and Dad," Alex said between clenched teeth, dunking the scrub brush into the water before bringing it out and scrubbing some more. "That would have led to emails and phone calls about how I should come back to the farm and spend the rest of my life raising calves and babies."

"You don't give them enough credit, Lex," Jake said with a sigh. "You don't give any of us any credit."

"Really? Because I'm the only one cleaning the apartment while you just stand there lecturing me." Alex threw the scrub brush in the water, sending it splattering everywhere. "I'm sorry that I didn't move to Miami and just have everything fall into my lap perfectly, that my life is a shit show and it is inconveniencing you. My humblest apologies."

"You think that everything has just fallen in my lap? Seriously?" Jake was properly angry now, his jaw clenched underneath the stupid ass beard of his. "You spoiled brat."

"Excuse me," Alex was on her feet before she even realized. "Spoiled? Is that the word that just came out of your mouth?"

"Um, bleeding guy over here," Peter cut in before Jake said anything else. "If you two are going to royal rumble in the apartment, that's your prerogative. I just need someone to help me get into the lobby and I'll take it from there."

Alex was so angry she could feel the heat radiating off her face, but she took a deep breath and let it out slowly through her nose. "Sorry, Parker. Let's get you out of here and back home so you can get some sleep."

"Well, finish your cleaning first. It will probably take me that long to get off this counter," Peter laughed as he slowly started to scoot toward the edge. "I also don't want you to lose your security deposit."

"I think that ship has sailed," Alex gave him a shaky smile but grabbed some wet Swiffer pads to finish cleaning up the floor before taking the blood off the walls and window sill. By the time she had finished, Jake had helped Peter get up on his feet, gathered his bag, and packed a bag for Alex as well.

The group didn't talk as they made their way to the elevator, Peter held up by the Harper siblings. Alex knew that he was in bad shape when he didn't even make a bad joke while they rode down to the lobby. Thankfully, Henry was busy with another resident so the group hurried out into the chilly autumn air. Peter took ages to get into the cab, swearing colorfully under his breath, but soon they were on their way to Queens.

"Now, after we drop Peter off, where are we going to spend the night?" Jake asked softly.

"Do you think it's the best idea for us to be in the same room unsupervised?" Alex hadn't forgotten what Jake had said to her in the apartment and she was still pissed about it.

"I'm not going to let you sleep curled up on the floor in your apartment like a stray cat," Jake gave her a look over Peter's head, as he was slumped down with his eyes closed. Alex didn't believe for a moment that he was asleep, he just didn't want to deal with the Harper siblings bickering. God, she wished she could do the same.

"Well, as I live here, I don't know any of the places to stay in the city that don't cost an arm and a leg," Alex huffed.

"If you're just looking at a place for the night," the cabbie said over his shoulder. "The Chelsea Inn's rates are pretty low right now. One of my other fares stated that they got a great deal after their AirBnB fell through at the last minute."

"Sounds great," Jake said before Alex could ask any more questions. "Take us there after we drop our other passenger off."

The cab was an uncomfortable silence after that, Peter still pretending to sleep while Jake and Alex looked out of their respective windows. Even the cabbie didn't try to speak with them, turning up sports radio as they moved through New York City traffic. Peter needed help getting out of the cab, but was able to make it up the stairs and into his house without assistance. He didn't say goodbye or thank you, but Alex didn't blame him. The fact that he was standing at all was a bit of a miracle.

The ride to the Chelsea Inn was even more uncomfortable and Alex had never been happier to see another person as she was to see the concierge at the hotel. She must have just started her shift because she was extremely chipper and pleasant as she checked the siblings into the "guest rooms", which were two rooms with Queen beds that had a connecting bathroom. That was probably the best arrangement for both siblings to make it out of the hotel in one piece the next morning.

Jake allowed Alex to unpack the bag he had bought for her and change for bed in blissful silence. However, she knew that it wasn't going to last. It wasn't until she was out of the shower, saying a silent thank you that the cabbie hadn't noticed her hands were stained with blood, that Jake pounced.

"Alright kid, I went down and got gummy worms, gummy bears, soda, and two slices of cheesecake as bribes. Then I went to a super shady alcohol store and got those little bottles of booze to add to the soda. We're having a conversation no ifs, ands, or buts about it." Jake motions to the spread of junk food on his bed. "You could go and slam the door like when you were a teenager, but there is no escaping me, so we might as well get it over with."

Alex sighed heavily, but she hadn't eaten since those fries with Olivia and that sandwich before she started cleaning. She was starving. The promise of alcohol was also not something she could easily pass up given the events of the last couple of hours. However, she would rather die than let Jake think that this was anything but a complete and utter inconvenience on her life, so she made a big show of flopping down on the bed and pouting just a bit.

"You're such a brat," Jake shook his head, but sat down on the other side of the bed, pawing through the goodies he had purchased. "Now I know things got a little heated earlier-"

"You mean when you were being an asshole?"

"But," Jake raised his voice and continued, "just take a second to look at it from my point of view. You went through hell last year and none of us knew. We saw what it did to you, how unlike yourself you were. So I show up a bit early to make sure everything is as alright as you say it is. I walk into an empty apartment that's covered in blood, and a man half beat to shit standing there like this is a bad play. Can you blame me for being a little on edge?"

Alex really couldn't blame him, especially because he still didn't know the whole story about what happened the year before or why Peter had the ever-loving hell beat out of him. While she didn't think Jake would be able to deal with all the superhero stuff, and pparently he thought she was a spoiled brat, part of him did care. If she had seen him in the same scenario when she went to Miami, she would also be upset and concerned. She should throw him a bone, only so he'd stop digging.

"First, you have to promise not to tell mom and dad," Alex said as she popped open the cheesecake container. "Second, you can't freak out."

"I promise not to tell mom and dad, but the second one is a harder sell." Jake dumped gin into his bottle of Sprite and Jack into the bottle of Coke before handing it to Alex. "I am a big brother, after all, so depending on what you tell me, it's my duty to freak out."

"Well, you remember when you told me about the news story with something ripping apart scientists' apartments?" Alex said slowly, looking at the cheesecake instead of her brother.

"Oh, I do not like where this is going," Jake said before taking a long sip from his drink. "There wasn't an electrical fire in your apartment, was there?"

"There was not," Alex said with a sigh. "Whatever the thing was tore everything to shreds, which is why I didn't have any furniture anymore either. Police still don't know what it wants, but the important thing is that I'm fine."

Jake took a deep breath before tearing into a pack of gummy bears and ripping a couple of heads off with his teeth. Alex let him stew with that statement while she polished off the cheesecake and debated whether he was angry enough to not realize she had eaten his piece as well. She decided not to test him when he was already on the edge and moved onto the gummy worms. Jake continued to stay worryingly silent.

"Did you break a mirror or something while I wasn't looking? Maybe got on the wrong side of a witch and got hexed? How is it that you always end up in these situations?" Jake finally said after finishing over half of his drink. "This isn't like the motorcycle gang when you were sixteen, you did that yourself, or that asshole last year that you dated for some reason. This danger is just seeking you out. It's a moth and you're a freaking flame. Unless you're still lying to me, which is also very much like you."

"I'm not telling you a lot of things, but this is everything I know about this guy. He calls himself the Jackal and no one knows what he has against the scientific community," Alex laid down on her stomach to get more comfortable, still eating gummy worms between sentences.

"Maybe he is a mad scientist like in the James Bond movies. Who cares?" Jake shrugged as more poor brave gummy bears lost their heads. "Whatever the reason, you think he'll come back to your place? If so, maybe you should think about staying somewhere else until he's caught."

Now Alex had to decide how honest to be with her brother. Did she tell him about the Jackal's nocturnal visit after murdering someone else? That didn't seem like a good idea, but he'd be able to read about the murder in the paper so she couldn't lie completely. What was the half-truth that wouldn't end in them screaming at one another about what was best for her safety?

"I don't exactly have money to stay anywhere else for however long it will take the police to figure this guy out. Besides, he hasn't hit any of the other scientists twice." Alex took a deep breath before continuing. "But, I am going to tell you something so that you can't say I'm holding anything back or lying to you. The last scientist who's apartment he got into, the scientist was there and he killed them."

Jake downed the rest of his Sprite and Gin in a single gulp. Alex thought that was a good idea and downed her Rum and Coke, which had substantially more liquid in it than Jake's did. That led to hiccups, which made Jake laugh as he got her some water to help. They were both giggling like idiots while Alex attempted to drink the water and hiccuping at the same time, which led to more laughing and more hiccups. It was a vicious circle, but it broke the tension.

"You good?" Jake asked once the both of them got themselves under control, Alex wiping tears out of her eyes as she nodded. "Alright, good. I don't know what's going on in this crazy-ass city, but now that I'm here, I'm going to take care of my baby sister. That means that tomorrow we're going to thrift stores or Ikea or wherever and getting you some furniture. Then I am going to buy you dinner to make sure you eat. You're looking a bit gaunt.."

"I'm insulted that you think I haven't been eating well," Alex put on mock outrage before laughing. "I'm not saying that you're wrong, hot pockets are my main food group, but the fact that you'd point it out is just rude. However, that's all going to have to wait until I'm done with classes and my internship."

"You can't take one day off? Play hooky like high school?" Jake rolled his eyes. "You need to move to Miami and chill out, kid."

"Not all of us can smoke weed and surf all day," Alex smiled as she started to clean up the carnage of their snack session. "Some of us are still in college as well as having to pay rent."

"Jealousy is not a good color on you, Lex," Jake smiled as he laid down on the bed. "How early are you going to have to roll out of here in the morning?"

"Well, the class is at eight in the morning so probably earlier than I would like. Luckily, I'm not going to have to figure out how to get there." Alex stretched as she tossed out the trash and headed into the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"And that's because…" Alex didn't have to look at her brother to know that he had an eyebrow raised.

"Because after the attack on the apartment, Mr. Stark was kind enough to grant me the use of a vehicle and driver to ensure my safety too and from work." Alex didn't think that Jake would even believe her if she tried to explain that Steve Rogers had talked Tony Stark into it. As much as she joked about being the smarter sibling, not a lot got past Jake, especially if they were talking face to face.

"Well, it's the least he could do after working for him puts you in constant danger," Jake muttered.

"We don't know that. All the other scientists have been working at Oscorp." Alex didn't know why she was defending Tony Stark, a lot more powerful people had said a lot worse things to and about him.

"So he just picked you out at random? That is what makes you feel better?" Jake shook his head. "All those academic accolades and you still are an absolute dumbass."

"Goodnight to you too, jackass." Alex rolled her eyes before closing the door to her room a little more forcefully than necessary.

Alex's sleep was far from restful, even though the bed was comfortable and the room was pleasantly cool. Peter didn't return any of the text messages she sent him after telling Mrs. Nazari about her change of location. She only slept for forty-five minutes to an hour before she was awake again, checking her phone and sending another text message to Peter before staring at the ceiling and listening to the air conditioning hum. When her alarm went off, Peter still had said nothing and Alex was almost sick to her stomach about it. Jake was snoring peacefully when Alex slipped out for a run and muttered something when she came back in but didn't wake up.

Jake's eyes were at least open when Alex came out from her shower, though he was still flopped on his stomach and didn't look as if he planned on checking out any time soon. He asked something about breakfast, but Alex just told him to go back to bed. It wasn't that she wasn't hungry, but trying to wake Jake up was like rousing a bear from hibernation and she didn't want to keep Mrs. Nazari waiting. Jake was totally happy with going back to sleep.

"Any reason you're in a hotel today, Miss Harper?" Mrs. Nazari asked, her face concerned as she opened the door for Alex. "You weren't attacked again, were you?"

"Only by a surprise visit by my brother," Alex smiled as she slipped into the car. "And please, call me Alex or A.J. I'm not put together enough to be referred to as Miss Harper by someone I see every day."

"You are technically my client, but if you insist," Mrs. Nazari smiled as she went to close the door. "There are some treats for you in the pocket if you haven't eaten yet. I'm not sure if this hotel has continental breakfast or not. My children don't think I notice when they stuff them there when they don't want them."

Alex smiled as she pulled out sliced apples and mangos from the pouch in the back of the SUV. She also found a small toy horse that she assumed belongs to one of the children as well. Alex tucked it back into the pouch without a word. Mrs. Nazari probably would be embarrassed if Alex brought it up. So, Alex happily munched on fresh fruit while Mrs. Nazari made clicking and humming sounds in response to whatever the news was telling her.

It wasn't until Professor Warren came into class and Peter still wasn't in his seat next to her that Alex went from being concerned to be truly scared that Peter had overestimated his healing abilities. It was one thing not to answer her text messages at night, but to not come to class? His superior healing powers be damned, she should have dragged his battered ass to the hospital the moment he tumbled into her apartment. She was going to murder him if he wasn't already on his death bed.

By some grace of God, Professor Warren was also off his game and even ended class early complaining of a headache. Everyone was so surprised by this that they all sat in their chairs staring at one another as if they were worried it was a test. The poor teaching assistance probably thought that they were all hypnotized when he came in for their lab section. He even asked if everything was alright before launching into how close they were to midterms and how they should book their time with the computers if they didn't have their finished analysis already.

Alex was sure whatever they learned was extremely important, but all she could think about was Peter Parker and as soon as she was able, she was running down the street and begging Mrs. Nazari to drive her to his home and not Stark Tower. It took a little bit of convincing and a call to the lab before Mrs. Nazari was persuaded to head to Queens.