#I saw someone paint over a marble countertop

[bella-rose29]

I cannot wait to have my own house and just do what I want (unfortunately I will most likely have to sell all my organs to afford one 🥲)

society's infantilization of decorated objects is honestly one of the greatest recent crimes against humans' innate desire for beauty

[bloatedandalone04]

Back To You

➪the one where anakin is slipping away and needs you more than ever.

Part 1 | HAPPY MAY THE 4TH (had to get this out for today)

Warnings: self deprecating thoughts once again, anakin on the verge of turning evil, angst, fluff, insecurities, mentions of insecurities, mentions of death, urges to kill

Word Count: 4.3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Your reflection stared back at you, your own eyes looking at you with pity.

Poor, lonely Y/n. 

With tense shoulders, you shudder out a deep breath and avert your eyes to the marble of the countertop. 

You hated when your thoughts ran around in your head like this. It didn’t happen often, no, not anymore. You weren’t a teen anymore, you had no excuse to feel like this, yet you just couldn’t help yourself.

Taking deep breaths to calm yourself down, you miss the way Anakin appears in the doorway, his brows furrowed and his shoulders tense, matching yours. “Y/n,” it was as if he knew what was happening, felt the way your own body was attacking itself with a sense of hatred and burden. 

You look back up and meet his eyes in the mirror, a small whine of embarrassment leaving you. “I wish you wouldn’t see me like this,”

Anakin hadn’t seen you act this way in many months, not since you were on the verge of becoming an adult. Your shoulders shaking beyond your control, the crease in your forehead, the quiver in your voice. He hated all of it. 

“Wish all you want,” he said as he stepped into the room. “I still see you.”

Crossing the short distance, Anakin stands behind you, his height towering over yours as you look at each other in the mirror. “You want to know what I see?” You quietly ask him and he stays silent, his eyes giving you a look of warning that told you all you needed to know. No, if you see anything negative about yourself and voice it to him, he doesn’t want to know what you see. You say it anyway. “I see someone unworthy of love, of being cherished. I don’t see a powerful warrior like I’ve been told I am. I’m nothing.”

Ankin places his hands on your waist, his grip firm as he stares you down in the reflection. “That is not true and you know it,” his voice was stern and left no room for arguments. 

But you were far too stubborn for your own good, a trait Anakin saw in himself and one of the many reasons he fell for you in the first place. “But it is true, Ani,” you protested, looking at yourself with a hint of embarrassment and disgust. “Look at me.”

“I am,” his voice was the most serious you had ever heard it, something that makes you promptly stop talking. You weren’t intimated, no, Anakin would never put you in a situation in which he held his power and strength over you, but you were, however, intrigued. So much so you waited for him to continue, a ghost of a frown painted on your lips. “You are so much more than that. Your mind may betray you, but it doesn’t mean it’s right. You are strong and more powerful than you even know. One day you will save this galaxy, and you don’t even know it yet.”

Your lip quivers and you repress showing the chill that runs down your spine. “What if I don’t believe that?”

“You will,” he affirms. His arms wrap around your middle and he leans down so his chin is hovering over your shoulder. You rest your arms over his as you hold eye contact, your sight slightly blurred. “And until that time comes, I’ll be here to remind you just how powerful you are.”

-

One by one, all the happy memories Anakin had with you faded into nothing, his heart cracking each time he felt a part of him slip away. 

His body nearly gave up on itself as he stumbled his way through the temple. One of his hands shot out to catch himself, his palm pressing flat against the wall as he steadied his footing. “Get it together, Anakin,” he muttered to himself, taking a deep breath in hopes to relieve some of the pressure he felt was weighing him down.

It was then when Obi-Wan rounded the corner and saw his padawan struggling to keep himself up right. He was at his side in seconds, his hand wrapping around the younger man’s arm and pulling him into a standing position. “Anakin,” he said, worry lacing his words. “Are you alright?”

Anakin gave him a slow nod, his dull eyes focused on the stone of the floor. He thinks back to his last conversation with you, a full three weeks ago, and his eyes abruptly shut, your words repeating in his head before leaving his own mouth. “I fear I’ve fallen ill,”

Obi-Wan gives him a concerned look, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “Take it easy,” he says, noticing the way Anakin refused to show him his eyes and the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. “Relax, Anakin. You’re needed for the mission of protecting Senator Padmè and we can’t have you falling weak a few days before you’re set to leave.”

Anakin felt his ears begin to burn at the mention of Padmè, his jaw locking tightly as he lifted his head. He still refused to meet the eyes of his good friend, his shoulder raising quickly and making Obi-Wan’s hand fall off it. “I’ll be fine,” he muttered before walking forward and leaving the older man behind with a worried look.

His strides were quick, his chest heavy with a rage he had never felt before as he opened the door to his room with a rough shove. 

Protecting Padmè? The woman he had not spoken to since the night you left him? Putting his life on the line for the person who was the reason he hadn’t been happy in weeks? The one who helped him destroy the best thing in his life?

Not a chance.

Anakin’s shoulders tensed up as the door slammed shut behind him, his eyes flickering all over the near-empty room. 

He wasn’t as in control as he thought he was, and that much was obvious when he turned the entire place upside down a mere ten minutes after you walked out the door. 

He couldn’t help it, everything reminded him of you.

The thought of staying in this room that had always meant to shield you from the harsh reality by himself was one that kept him up at night. The dark circles that had formed under his eyes the day after you left him had become a seemingly permanent addition to his appearance. 

He almost didn’t recognise himself when he first noticed the deep and dark marks that shadowed his face. He assumed they’re from the lack of sleep he was getting, or not getting. 

He couldn’t sleep without you. He found that out pretty quickly.

After he had finished destroying every piece of furniture in the communal area of the room, he felt his bones ache with exhaustion. His eyes were burning and his hand was sore from throwing anything it could grab a hold of. Yet, as he made his way to the bed, the same one he had been holding you on - if only for a couple of seconds that he wished he could have back - only minutes prior, he discovered that he couldn’t fall asleep. 

His mind wouldn’t turn off, past memories with you flashing behind his eyes at a rapid pace. As he tried to get his body to relax and succumb to the darkness, he had no control over the way his hand twitched in the direction in which you always were, right beside him. Your side of the bed was cold, yet another thing he wasn’t used to as you were always there, for him to hold, for him to hide with. 

Now, three weeks later, and he is no better. He had gotten about five hours of sleep in total during the time he spent away from you, and it wasn’t something he had a say in. 

He wasn’t able to sleep in the bed, that much was obvious after his first failed attempt. After he rummaged through the dresser and grabbed onto one of your robes, he held onto the fabric with both hands. His face buried in it as he fell to the floor, his back pressed to the end of the bed. 

He fell asleep a few minutes after that, a death grip on your robe - one of the few things he had left of you. When he awoke half an hour later, he was met with the still dark sky and a pain in his lower back. 

It didn’t take him long to start tearing apart that dresser.

The few times he fell asleep after that were at random. 

While waiting for Obi-Wan to show up for a day of training, Anakin had fallen asleep against the wall of the meditation room. He was woken up an hour later by another Jedi who looked at him with concern and a bit of pity, something Anakin loathed. 

His sleep schedule consisted of quick naps in the most bizarre places, one being behind the wheel of his ship - that one nearly ended in a fatality for both him and Obi-Wan. Seeing as he was supposed to be the best pilot in all the galaxy, Anakin took Obi-Wan’s lecture without trying to defend himself as he didn’t even know what was wrong with him.

His sleep state wasn’t even a safe space. He had one dream about you, one where you came back and you held him and kissed him and told him everything he needed and had been desperate to hear.

The rest were nightmares. Or nothing at all. A void. 

Anakin felt like a ghost, a shell of who he used to be. 

He wasn’t happy, wasn’t consumed with excitement whenever he was set to fly, wasn’t filled with a sense of pride whenever he successfully completed a quick mission. 

He felt like his body was betraying him, and the fact that he hadn’t seen even a glimpse of you since you left didn’t help at all.

The temple was big, but he didn’t realise it was massive enough to keep you hidden from him for three weeks.

Three weeks.

Nearly four without you.

Anakin was sure that when the one month mark hit, his body would no longer function at his control. It hardly was now, so he was not looking forward to seeing how he would be in a week from now.

He turns right and enters the bedroom, everything untouched with the exception of the broken dresser beside the door. His eyes narrowed on the bed and he felt, what had to be, the hundredth sharp stab that pierced his heart in the past few weeks. 

-

“I’m nervous,” you nearly whispered, your hands running over Anakin’s bare shoulders. A single candle was lit and placed on the nightstand a couple feet from where his body hovered over yours on the bed. The flicker of orange made him look so innocent, so young and carefree, a sight you quickly decided was a blessing to see. “Will it hurt?”

Anakin leaned down and placed a kiss on your forehead, his arms tightening around your frame. “Maybe for a bit,” he murmured against your skin. “We don’t have to do this tonight. I don’t want you to feel rushed.”

You shake your head, your nose brushing against his as you did so. “I want to do this, I promise,” your words are quiet and the only sound that fills the dark room. It was just you and him, the outside world blocked by a door and the curtains that covered the window. You had never felt more safe. “I need this. We need this.”

It was true. 

Anakin would be sent away the following morning on what would be his longest absence yet. While you had grown used to his day long missions, this one was said to be no less than a couple weeks. He had never spent that long away from you and he wasn’t coping that well with the thought of leaving you behind. 

The decision to do this tonight was mutual. 

He needed something to hold onto until he returned to you, and you needed the feeling of being completely loved and wanted to get you through the weeks you’d spend without him. 

Anakin nodded, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “Only for a bit,” he said again before the distance was closed once more.

-

Anakin felt the last good memory slip away from him and his eyes darkened, an ache in his jaw as he clenched it again. 

He was going to do the mission; the one where they would be counting on him to keep Padmè out of harm’s way and protect her with his life. 

However, what they didn’t know was that Anakin was now treating this as a form of justice, or, in other words, an assassination.

-

“Y/n,” Obi-Wan greeted as he entered the meditation room. “I’ve finally found you.”

His smile was kind but told you that he wasn’t here to talk about anything good. You return the smile as best as you could, sitting up straighter and holding eye contact with him. “Master,” you say back, brows furrowing when the smile was replaced with a frown. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

The man nodded, his fingers tugging on the sleeve of his shirt in a way that showed he was nervous but was trying to hide it. “It’s Anakin Skywalker,” he said and you quickly looked away. “Something is troubling him.”

Your eyes focus on the floor as you fight the urge to cry in front of Obi-Wan. It would give away the very real fact that you were well aware of what Anakin was going through, and the fact you were in a forbidden relationship with the Jedi. 

Anakin.

You hadn’t heard his name in weeks, cutting off any communication with him and anyone affiliated with him, including the very man standing in front of you. Guilt creeped into you, the same guilt that had plagued you since the moment you left the crying man by himself in the room you no longer felt at home in. 

The weeks you spent without the man you loved were brutal. 

You had been struck with an overwhelming feeling of guilt and you carried it with you every day. Your heart broke every time you heard the hushed whispers of fellow Jedi about how the supposed ‘Chosen One’ was failing to do the simplest of tasks and had become a weak version of himself. One that didn’t show up to important meetings, didn’t give his all on quick and easy missions, and looked like he hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep in months. 

The one who looked on the verge of falling to the dark side.

You didn’t want to think about that last one, despite the numerous times you’ve heard it be brought up. Never did you ever think Anakin would become the worst version of himself, become a person he was so far from and forget about everything that made him the powerful Jedi he had been for so long now. 

There was no way it was because of you and how you left things. How could it? How could you mean so much to someone that they’d forget all they worked for, fought for, bled for, just because you were no longer a constant in their life?

It just didn’t make sense to you, but then again, the fact that you even had a sliver of Anakin Skywalker in the first place didn’t make a whole lot of sense, either. 

He was too good for you, too kind and caring and someone who deserved the world. Something you couldn’t give him, no matter how much you wanted to. 

You wanted to give him any and everything he asked for and more, but you couldn’t. And you would never be able to. 

You couldn’t even give yourself the time of day and dedication needed to progress in your life, so how could you possibly help Anakin in any way?

The question had you looking up and meeting the eyes of Obi-Wan once again. “What does that have to do with you looking for me?”

“If I recall correctly, you and Anakin were quite close not too long ago,” he said and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat and how you wanted to point out just how close the two of you had been. “Is that right?”

You nodded quickly, eyes focusing on the wall behind him. “We were, but not anymore,”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Obi-Wan gave you a look of pity before he continued, “Anakin is a good person, someone who I find myself looking up to. I’m afraid something has happened….something that could lead to his demise.”

That made you stand up, your brows pressing together as you stepped closer. “What do you mean?”

The man hesitated before swallowing harshly. “I’ve been observing him and I’m worried about what I’ve seen so far. He hasn’t been sleeping or focusing. Just this morning I found him against a wall, unable to hold himself up,” he says. “He wouldn’t look me in the eye. I can’t help but fear the worst.”

Your eyes flicker between his. “What are you saying?”

You share a look before he places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m afraid we’re losing him to something he should have never seen or felt,”

-

“Anakin!” Your hand turned the doorknob before you could even think about knocking first. Stepping into the room, you let out a quiet gasp at the sight of destruction. Not a single thing was how you left it, not even the side of the door that faced the inside of the room. It was dented and beaten in, hints of blood here and there that told you exactly what had happened to the wood. 

You stumble your way through the now unfamiliar room and head straight towards the bedroom, where you’re met with a demolished dresser. The rest of the room seemed untouched and you bent down to pick up one of your shirts, fisting the material in your hand. The rest of your clothing was thrown around the floor, some stuck on the corner of the bed that looked like it hadn’t been slept in since you left.

Dropping the shirt, you turn around after coming to the conclusion that the room was empty. You stand outside the door that led to the bathroom, your hand hovering over the doorknob. 

He had to be in there, and that thought had your heart beating rapidly. 

With a firm twist, your fingers press against the door and push. 

Standing in front of the mirror was Anakin, his eyes glossy and staring at his reflection. His shoulders were stiff, his whole body tense in a way that had you swallowing nervously. His hands gripped the marbled countertop tightly, his knuckles turning a few shades lighter as heavy pants left his mouth.

Pushing back a small ounce of uncertainty, you step into the room. He must have been deep in thought as he didn’t notice the door open or your smaller figure enter the room. You were afraid to ask what was going on in that pretty head of his. It had to be something awful to have him this out of it. 

“Anakin,” You say his name quietly, almost to the point of it being inaudible. 

But he heard you. Whatever daydream he was in was ripped away the second your voice hit his ears. His eyes moved from his own and met yours in the reflection, the crease in his brow softening as a shaky breath left his lips. The feeling of relief was short-lived. “You’re not real,” he muttered, not giving you a second glance as his eyes went back to being stone cold. 

It was then when you realised how much you truly meant to the poor boy. You really had no idea that you, of all people, could mean this much to someone, let alone the perfection that is Anakin. 

He was so messed up to the point where he didn’t even believe he was actually seeing you. 

You felt your heart break all over again. “What have I done to you?” You ask, holding back a dry sob as you take a daring step closer. “Anakin…it’s me.”

He only shook his head, his chin tilting downwards as he muttered something under his breath. 

You blink back a tear or two as you cross the room, your hand tugging on his arm. “Look at me,” you nearly cry out, your grip making him turn slightly. His eyes left the mirror and landed on you. The blue orbs softened just a bit and you watched as what seemed to be a million thoughts ran through his head. You reach up and caress the side of his face, your thumb gently stroking his cheekbone as well as the scar that graced his skin. “Look at me.”

The furrow in his brow faded away as his hands left the counter, his body fully turning to face yours. “Y/n,” he whispered, his hand reaching up to wrap around your wrist as he leaned into your touch. 

You let out a quiet hum to let him know that was really you and that you were here, with him. “I’m so sorry,” you say quietly, your thumb continuing to stroke his face while his stroked the skin of your wrist.

His eyes were still glossy and his whole being still seemed as if it was far away. Your other hand grasped his shoulder as you stepped closer, trying to think of what to do to get him to fully come back. 

A delirious grin formed on his lips as he looked at you, still not believing you were actually there. “I missed you,” he murmured, his eyes flickering all over your face before he began to turn back towards the mirror. 

You placed both your hands on his face and pulled him away from whatever trance the mirror held over him. Tugging his head down, you press your forehead against his. “I’m here,” you whisper, reaching one hand down to grab his and place it on your waist. “I’m here and I’m so sorry.”

 Anakin furrowed his brows again, his head shaking as his gloved hand tightened its grip on you. “It’s not…you’re not-”

“I am,” you cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as if it’ll help stop the love of your life from turning on everything he had going for him. You weren’t sure what to do at this point. Anakin was in denial, seemingly stuck in a very fragile state and balancing on a very thin edge of becoming something he swore he wouldn’t. A tear slips down your face as you brush your nose against his, an act you’ve done too many times to count. “Please….come back to me.”

Whatever had a hold on his mind seemed to let go as you said the words he had been craving to hear, the same ones you murmured to him in the first and only dream he had about you since you left - the same ones he said to you.

He pulled back just slightly, his eyes staring into yours as his face relaxed for the first time in nearly a month. His lip quivered and his eyes filled with unshed tears, his hand that wasn’t on your waist coming up to grip the back of your neck as he pulled you into him.

You wrapped your arms around him as your face pressed against his chest, a sigh of relief and desperation leaving both of you. 

“Angel,” the name falls easily from his lips, his arms tightening around you as if you would disappear at any given second - and he’d be alone again. “You’ve come back to me.”

“I never should have left you,” you say back, your voice muffled due to the sobs you were holding back. “I’m so sorry, Anakin. Please, forgive me.”

His hand slides upwards to cradle the back of your head as he quietly hushes you. “It’s okay, my love,” he says quietly, his mind becoming foggy at the fact that he had you back in his arms. “You’re okay.” He presses his lips to the side of your head, his hand refraining from pulling you back in when he feels you push against him.

“I’m not,” you shake your head, your hands fisting his shirt. “I haven’t been. I feel so bad, Anakin. I hate that I hurt you. The guilt has been eating me alive, I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.”

Your sweet voice was music to his ears and he brought his hand around to the front of your head, where his thumb brushes away your tears as he quiets you once more. “It’s alright, angel,” he says, pulling you close once again. “We’ve found each other again, there’s nothing to be sorry for. We’re okay.”

Before you could nod in agreement, his lips pressed to yours in a gentle yet firm kiss. The action made his own tears fall as he closed his eyes, begging to anyone listening that you’d still be there when he opened them again. “I love you,” you mumbled when you pulled away, your forehead resting against his cheek. “So much.”

“I love you,” he says in return, holding you close and inhaling the scent that only belonged to you - the scent that made him dizzy. “Take me back.” Let me live again.

You nod quickly, leaning up to kiss him again. “It’s you and me,” you say against his mouth, feeling the way his arms wrapped protectively around your middle. 

“You and me,” he agreed, kissing you once again. Forever.

-

Part 3

[litfanatic]

Different but Not Less Than

Elucien One-shot Modern Au

Read on AO3

Summary: In which Elain observes Lucien buried under a mountain of children and thinks about how far they've come in their relationship.

Elain Archeron drummed her fingers against the marble countertop as she watched him from across the room. His suit jacket had disappeared along the way, his tie loose and hanging around his neck. A few strands of his hair had escaped his carefully pulled back bun. He didn’t seem to care as he was tackled to the ground by children covered in various degrees of finger paint.

His warm laughter permeated the air–the waves of it seeping down to her bones. She shivered.

It was such a contrast to the first day of the camp.

Such a contrast to the first time that she met him.

Even as he laughed with the kids, she saw him occasionally duck his head, hoping to hide the scars.

But they all had already seen them.

It had done something to him when some of the children had reacted negatively to his scars that first day he came to help her offload the snacks for the day camp, but he’d showed up again to help her.

Day after Day.

She grimaced as she thought back to how she was with him. Not that his scars had ever bothered her–Lucien Vanserra was the most beautiful man that she’d ever come across. 

His auburn hair shone like it was molten metal. His skin was the most beautiful bronze. No one looked like him. She thought of the fantasy romance books that she’d curled up in front of the hearth to read–he deserved to be a love interest in one of them. He sure did look like one.

Tall, lithe, sinewed arms, and a tongue that would enslave anyone to him. The scars did nothing to detract from his beauty.

That wasn’t what had affronted her about him. It was her sister who was trying to play matchmaker. Telling her what the best way was to get over someone. But she had been still in love with Graysen. He had walked away with a piece of her.

Literally.

She still couldn’t believe that she’d donated a piece of her liver to him.

Granted, the organ had repaired itself, but still.

And he left her.

After months of being by his side, nursing him. Putting him before her goals. Before the idea of her opening her own bakery.

He wanted more than her, and he'd just left her cruelly.

Feyre had tried to set her up on dates. The busybody. With her art department colleagues, with her husband’s brother, Az, who she didn’t even want to begin to decipher.

Lucien was her sister’s last attempt at matchmaking with Rhys even insisting that he was “a good male.” 

Nesta was the opposite, insisting that she didn’t need anyone in her life. Didn’t need a partner, but Elain wanted one. Wanted someone to see her. To know that it was okay that she was different from her sisters. That it didn’t make her less than them. That she still had her own thoughts and opinions. That her strength was different, but still strength.

He wasn’t Graysen. That was who her heart was still longing for.

That was until she realized that she was only in love with the idea of him and what their life would’ve looked like. 

She’d been conditioned for that life.

But she knew now that it wasn’t what she wanted.

Wasn’t what she needed.

What she needed had been in front of her. By her side. Constant. Even when she didn’t want to see him. When she thought that he only wanted to know her because she was Feyre’s sister.

He never forced her. Never pressured her, but he was there. Was always this quiet, calming presence except when they played their game. The one where he would deliberately rile her up to get a reaction. She was secretly glad that he thought her worthy of his wit. He had a knowing look on his face whenever she matched his banter—as if he knew that she had it in her all along.

That was the trick of Lucien Vanserra, and she’d realized it too late. 

Elain had chosen him.

Had fallen for him.

She was deeply, relentlessly and soul-crushingly in love with him.

She’d survived Graysen, but she wouldn’t survive if Lucien left her. Graysen might have taken a piece of her literally, but Lucien was a part of her soul.

Not that he ever would leave her.

He was loyal to a fault, and according to him, more in love with her than she was with him.

She thought that was debatable .

Elain remembered their first kiss. How he was wild with it. Unconstrained unlike others before him. Others that thought she would break.

Thinking of his passion made her toes curl even now. He could be gentle if he had to, but he’d learned her. He’d learned what she wanted. He gave and she gave equally.

No one had ever made her feel like how he did, and she wanted to do the same for him.

So she did as often as possible. When he kissed along her collarbone and made her arch her back, she whispered sweet words of undying devotion. She kissed the scar that made him him. She raved to him about his beauty—about his heart.

Because Lucien Vanserra had a heart even bigger than hers, and he gave love more than he took it.

So she would pepper him with it until he learned to take it—until he learned that he deserved love.

Lucien groaned as he attempted to rise, children dangling off of his long limbs. A smile as bright as the sun.

Her sun. 

Her light.

His eyes flickered over to her—one of russet, one of gold.

A knowing look on his face as he saw her watching him. His smile impossibly brighter than before.

He tilted his head, gesturing to the children. A contemplative brow raised and she could see it.

Little ones with gold-spun copper hair. Him buried under a mountain of them, pulling her down to join.

Elain could hear the laughter

And the laughter

And the laughter

Her heart quickened at his silent question. A question that she answered with her eyes, and she could almost hear his heart beat in response.

Yes.

[tsukkiseasalt]

Eyes That Won’t Wonder

2

“What, what!?” You shriek.

Another low laugh erupts from him as he leans against the door, his large frame blocking any potential view of the inside.

“I believe that is a compliment.” He mumbles his lips curling up into a sly smile. 

“Y-yeah, it was.” You stammer, words barely making themselves out of you as your stomach begins to do cartwheels.  

“As much as I'd love to stay right here and chat, you’d probably find it to be much more comfortable inside.” He says, smile fully present now, and you take a moment to admire the sight-storing it in your mind. He moves enough for you to slip right past him and pause the moment your feet touch the dark hardwood floors. 

The aroma is the first thing that invades your senses. It smells of pine and a rich tobacco, with slight hints of something sweet- maybe vanilla, you can’t really tell. The home is just as beautiful on the inside as it appeared from the outside. The dark hardwood floors complimented the ivory walls and dark rust colored trim. The living room was sparsely decorated though, it had only one couch, a chestnut loveseat and a matching recliner. He obviously doesn’t get many visitors. 

“Your home is beautiful.” You say breathlessly, eyes roaming the space in awe. 

“Thank you.” He exclaims, a large hand grazing the small of your back as he slips behind you and towards the kitchen. His touch makes your knees go weak and you steady yourself by placing a shaky hand on the door.

“Would you like something to drink?” You hear him call from the kitchen.

“Ah, water please.” You answer, taking a few deep breaths before you saunter over to the counter placing your folder in front of you. He slides the glass in front of you and you nod as a thank you before you begin to sip.

“I don’t think I ever caught your name.” He says leaning back onto the fridge, arms folded over his massive chest.

“Oh, uh, my name is y/n y/ln.” You mumble your index finger rubbing the rim of the glass. 

“Lovely, it fits you.” He says, eyes catching your own. You can't help the blush that arises on your cheeks. 

“T-thank you.” You manage to stammer out, silently cursing yourself for getting so flustered so quickly. He was a patient not some guy at a bar, you needed to get a grip and you needed to get it fast. “Uhm, you’re a bit younger than most of the other patients i have worked for. Is there actually anything wrong with you?” You quiz, but the words come out a bit harsher than you intended. “Oh goodness, I did not mean that in a bad way at all sir- Mr. Wakatoshi, oh my goodness. I am so sorry.” You exhale letting your head fall into your hands. Your words are all becoming a jumbled mess and you can't help the shame that creeps up your throat. Great, now he probably thinks I'm some kind of asshole.

“No, it's okay. I understand what you were trying to say. Two years ago I had to get a disc in my back replaced and it took a lot out of me. Though I can still get around pretty well, there are still certain tasks that I need help with. I am also set to have another surgery on my knee two months from now, so I thought it would be better to have someone get accustomed to me and my habits beforehands.” He says voice monotone. Is he angry?

“Mr. Wakatoshi, I am so sorry if I came off as rude earlier- I didn’t mean to offend.” You say feeling guilty. 

He shakes his head. “You’re fine sweetheart, I’m actually quite flattered that you think that.” Before you have a chance to relish his words he starts again, “I’m going to go put some clothes on, but here. I made a list- well a schedule really- of how my day usually functions. You can look over it and if there is anything that seems to be a bit much for you let me know and we will make alterations to it.” He says walking out of the kitchen and returning with a piece of paper. “Here, I will return shortly.” He says handing you the paper. Your eyes skim the page as you read the text.

7:30am- Arrive & make coffee ( I prefer mine black)

7:45am- Read the newspaper

8:00am- Feed Randy & Lyle 

8:15am- Pour second cup of coffee & wash dishes

8:30-9:30am- 2nd Workout (If you could have a bowl of fruits waiting that would be lovely)

10:00am- Post shower stretch (Help isn’t required but appreciated)

10:30-12:00pm- Take Lyle to the park (You are more than welcomed to join us) 

12:30pm- Lunch / with Aone* (*Mon. & Thurs. only)

1:00pm- Stop at farmers market

1:30pm- Arrive home & check on Randy

1:35-4:00pm- Varies (You may leave at this time or you may stay for dinner.)

4:00-6:00pm- Prepare dinner

6:05- 6:45pm- Eat then wash dishes

All that is required of you is bolded, the italicized text is completely voluntary, though I would enjoy your company.

“Goodness.” You mumble, placing the paper down. “This is even less than I did with Washijō.” You thought you had it easy then just checking his oxygen, helping him up, and taking him wherever, but you were basically an in-home barista.

“I hope it isn't too much.” The voice startles you as he appears beside you now fully clothed- well not really. He had on a pair of dark sweatpants and a gray sleeveless shirt putting biceps on display for all to see.

“Uh, no, not at all sir. I was expecting much more actually.” You admit eyes darting between the paper and his arms. 

“Oh, well I'm sorry to disappoint you.” He says voice low as he bends down to tie his shoes. “I’m sure that there will be more for you to do after my knee surgery.”

“Yes, and I'm not disappointed sir, I'm honestly kind of relieved. I haven't worked with anyone in quite a while, so this is a good refresher to allow me to get back into the routine of things.” You say words falling from your lips before you realize it.

“Is that so?” He asks standing back up to his full height, face full of curiosity.

“Yes, my previous patient passed away and I took some time off. He and I were close, friends even, and the death really hit me hard even though I knew it was coming. It still hurts ya know.” You exclaim as feelings of sadness wash over you at the thought of your friend. 

You didn't know what you were expecting when you told him that, maybe an ‘i'm sorry for your loss’ or nothing at all but it is safe to say a hug was not one of those things. His body was warm and his chest was solid- it felt good. You wrapped your own arms around his waist and closed your eyes. 

“I hope that one day you and I could be friends as well.” He says quietly pulling away. 

You don't fight the smile that graces your face, “Yeah, I feel like we will.”

The words seem to liven him because a large smile spreads across his face again. “Well I’m gonna go lift now, feel free to look around. There's food in the fridge and snacks in the pantry. Make yourself at home.” He says walking to the back of his home.

“Oh, Mr. Wakatoshi!”

“Yes love?” He asks, turning back around, a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Who are Lyle and Randy?” You ask looking back down at the paper, partly to hide the blush that you are now sporting. “Are they your children?” 

“Yes, they are my children. I’ll introduce you when I return.” He laughs before turning back around and disappearing into a hallway.

You sigh as soon as he is out of eyesight dropping your head onto the cool marble countertop, raising your head just enough to read the time on the clock that sits unwavering by stairs. 8:37. You had just under an hour to get somewhat acquainted with the home you would now be in for ten hours a day for six days a week. You decide to begin with the kitchen, opening and closing drawers & cabinets identifying the contents within them, occasionally rubbing a light hand over them. Next is the living room. The wide open space is mostly vacant and you take a seat on the loveseat sinking back into the cushions. “Nice.” You mumble.  

Pushing yourself up you wonder to every room opening the door just enough for you to peek in and see what it is. You hesitate though when you get to the room at the end of the hallway. It’s his. You could sense it, nonetheless you slowly push the knob down and peek inside. It’s clean just like the rest of his home. You don't linger and decide its best to close the door & move onto the next. 

By 9:15  you’d looked throughout his entire home, and it was more beautiful than you could have imagined. The ceilings in the bathrooms were high and had beautiful artworks painted atop of them, they looked as though they belonged in a museum rather than someone's guest bathroom. The spare bedrooms were just as lovely. Each had a shelf that was littered with books and knick-knacks that looked foreign. All of this just fueled your curiosity- what did he do & how long did he do it?

You shrugged as you went back into the kitchen jumping when you saw his large frame in the fridge. He was shirtless, again, but this time his hair was wet and clung to his head. The small gray stripes were clear as day against his dark olive locks.

“Oh, hi. I didn’t think you’d be done yet.” You say awkwardly scratching the back of your neck.

“Yes, I finished early and decided to shower & grab a snack.” He says waving the bowl of strawberries.

“I was about to prepare one for you.” You said.

“Oh, thank you. You don't really have to do anything today, just get accustomed to things.” He says popping the small red fruit into his mouth. 

“Would you like me to stretch you out?” You ask, remembering the list. 

His eyes shoot up to yours as soon as the question escapes your lips and you realize how wrong it sounded and before you had a chance to correct yourself he spoke. “You stretch me out, I mean i’ll try anything once but i’d prefer the opposite..”

His words startled you to say the least, and almost instinctively the words flowed from your lips, “I’d like to see you try.” 

His eyes widened at your remark and at that you began to spew apologies. “Shit, fuck, DAMMIT. God, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that, the stretching part I mean. Well I meant that, but not what I said afterwards. Ok, let me start over. What I meant to say is do you need help stretching considering you just got done working out. There, that's what I meant.” 

Your eyes are frantic as they lock with his. God, it's the first day and I'm already gonna lose my damn job. Just great. His lips are pressed in a straight line for a moment before he finally lets the edge of them glide up into a small smirk. 

“I’ve already stretched, but I suppose I could go a little deeper, maybe a little harder this time.” He says emphasizing the two words as he pops another strawberry between his lips smirk still evident.

“The stretches of course.?” You ask for clarification.

He hums and pops another strawberry between his lips setting the bowl down onto the counter stalking towards you, his large figure quickly engulfing your much smaller one almost instantly. “That’s not quite what I had in mind.” 

You can feel his warm breath on your lips as he leans down, “But if that is what you insist.” 

A loud bark bellowed throughout the kitchen causing you to jump. He smiled and wrapped a protective arm around your waist. “No need to fret, he was probably just getting anxious to meet you.”

“He?”

“Yes, my son, or at least one of them. Come on so I can introduce you.” He says guiding you down the hallway, to his room you assumed. You were correct, you realized as he pushed the door open revealing a large dog. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart he doesn’t bite. Daddy made him promise to be on his best behavior.” He whispers lowly into your ear. 

Fuck, this may be harder than I thought.

hiiiiii, this is the second chapter & you can just check the tag eyesthatwontwonder to read the first. anywaysssss i hope you enjoyed! likes and reblogs are always appreciated <33

[quiet-onset]

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact. 

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant. 

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside. 

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume. 

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up. 

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew. 

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

— 

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.” 

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.” 

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay. 

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go. 

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you. 

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment. 

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America. 

And Captain America he was. 

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed. 

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you. 

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh. 

“Took you long enough.”

[untaemedqueen]

Room 732 (M)

Mafia!Jeongguk x Courtesan!Reader

Jeongguk brought to you by The Bird Cage

WordCount: 10k

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Strangers to Lovers!AU

Warnings: Excessive Drinking, Excessive Swearing, Guns, Jeongguk Is Haunted By His Dead Girlfriend, Character Death (Lee), Mafia!Jeongguk, Shy!Jeongguk, Possessive!Jeongguk, Dom!Jeongguk, Sub!Reader,  Jeongguk Is Riddled with Guilt, Praise, Cunnilingus, Orgasm Denial, Fellatio, Throat Fucking, Deep Throating, Begging, Jeongguk Has A Huge Dick, Daddy Kink, Did I Say Possessive? Because Jeongguk Is Possessive As Fuck, Cum Swallowing, Degradation (Cum Slut), Marking, Unprotected Sex, Squirting, Multiple Orgasms, Creampie, Begging

A/N: Can Be Read As A Stand Alone But If You’ve Read TBC. There are fun easter eggs. OKAY. ENJOY.

The mansion was silent on this Wednesday morning. Not a noise to be heard as Jeongguk pads down the right staircase of the large home. His sleep laden eyes drift to the brand new door before yawning loudly. His hand coming up to scratch at his bare tattooed chest as he makes his way through the sitting room. The perfectly white marble countertop of the island gives him a place to lean as he runs his hands through his black hair. He drank way too much yesterday with Taehyung to celebrate the birth of his new son. 

Everyone was finding love around him, starting families and here he was still a bachelor since his girlfriend Lee was murdered. He could sometimes still picture her, her black hair blowing in the breeze in the garden. Or, the way she used to wrinkle her nose at everything, a habit Guk had adopted from her. He sighs to himself before shoving off of the counter as he rounds the island to the liquor cabinet. Sometimes Lee visits him in his dreams, begging him to move on, to experience happiness like the others in his gang. But, how could he? He has this warped mind that only knows how to torture and kill. After she was gone there was no love, no yearning. He smiles, sure, at his nieces and nephews. He finds happiness in others' happiness but never his own.

Jeongguk jumps up on the counter, Johnny Walker in his right hand as Hawon runs into the kitchen. He smirks down at her before putting the bottle of alcohol behind his back. 

"Our Hawon." Her body sways as she does a little dance noticing her uncle. Jeongguk chuckles before hopping down off the island and picking her up. 

"Airplane?! Airplane, Uncle Guk!" Mirae enters not even a second later before sighing as Jeongguk throws Hawon up in the air. Her screech echoes throughout the kitchen as Jeongguk chuckles. See, this is a flint of happiness he obtains through the people around him. He can smile at the way Mirae becomes disheveled with the kids even though she has OCD and hates to be out of perfect form. He can smile at how Hawon is delighted to be with him. And yet, when he's alone the loneliness and anger gnaws at him, as if he has a constant leech on his body. Jeongguk spins around, hands grasping at Hawon's small body before putting her back on the ground. 

"Uncle Guk has to go to work. I'll see you later, hmm? We can watch that Tinkerbell movie." Hawon nods ecstatically at his promise before running out into the garden. 

"Just a ball of energy." Mirae mumbles before chasing Hawon out the kitchen door. Jeongguk smirks before grabbing the whisky and walking out of the kitchen.

The blood tainted towel falls into Guk's lap as he sits down in the wooden chair in his warehouse. The blubbering and shaking of the man in front of him makes him sigh as he kicks the chair back on its hind two legs. His feet coming to rest on the blood stained wooden table in front of him. 

"Just tell me what I want to know." His tone was not to be taken lightly as he shakes his long hair out of his face. Assessing the pained body in front of the table, he tilts his head. 

"I didn't cut your tongue out for you to talk so you'd better do so, or I'll tell my boss you bit it off instead." This is what Jeongguk was best at. Jimin's wife on many occasions has stated that she couldn't believe the cute, tattoo riddled boy in front of her was such a fierce person. But, it's what he is best at. It's all he knows and he's damn good at it. 

"You-I...Ple-Please." The voice was hoarse as if they haven't had water in days. Jeongguk taps his fingers against his leather pants before looking up at the wooden ceiling of his warehouse. 

"Not what I want to hear. I want to hear from your mouth how you got the address." All he needs is a name, that's it. 

"I have nothing else to take from you, Kyung. I took your eyes, your dick, your fingers." The man sobs hopelessly as Jeongguk looks at the blood stained bandage over the top of Kyung's head. 

"Im Junggoo." Jeongguk sighs, his hands covering his face before nodding. 

"Yeah. I was afraid you were going to say that." Jeongguk's body moves gracefully as he jumps out of the chair. He whistles to himself as he pulls his gun out from the back of his waistband. His fingers roll the silencer onto the tip of the gun before sighing as he jumps up onto the table before sitting down crossing his legs. 

"This was fun, Kyung. Let's do it again sometime." He closes one eye, aiming at Kyung's head before pulling the trigger. The body falls, twitching slightly before stilling and Jeongguk can do nothing but set down the gun on the table and watch how the blood begins to pool into the reddened dirt around him. His blood covered hands lean back behind him as he looks up at the ceiling. He was damn good at his job.

"You need to go get some relief of some kind." Jimin tells Jeongguk as he sits at his desk. Jeongguk looks over the rim of his whisky glass before furrowing his eyebrows. 

"What?" 

"Since you've stepped into this room your hands have been shaking, you have bags under your eyes and you can't stop bouncing your knee. You need to get some relief." The older man points at his knee, product of proof right in front of him that has Jeongguk rolling his eyes. 

"I'm fine." Jimin sips his coffee before leaning back in his chair, his crisp white shirt wrinkling as he does so. 

"I'm not asking you, I'm telling you." Jeongguk licks at his lips before folding his hands around the whisky glass in his lap. Jimin was the closest person to him since he was young. Jimin helped him find himself, made him who he is today and Jeongguk never takes that for granted. 

"I can't sleep. She comes to see me in my dreams." He tells his best friend as he looks down at the newly purchased Persian rug that replaced the old one after Jimin's wife killed someone in the office. 

"Lee?" Jeongguk nods to his question before downing the rest of his liquor. 

"She always tells me to move on, or be happy. Like that's such a fucking easy thing to do. Like I can't remember what her fucking body looked like when we came home." Jimin swallows thicky before looking up at the ceiling. 

"I get it. Really I do." Jeongguk's chest begins to tighten as he turns his head to look at the stained glass window. 

"It's not like I have a Kitten, like you do that magically transcends me into a different plane of existence and makes me better." Jimin takes a deep breath through his nose as he sets down his coffee. 

"Watch it. Your words are getting reckless." His eyes flicker shut, his heart beating in his ears as he sees Lee painted on the back of his eyelids. 

"I can see her. She's wearing that pink dress that I bought her for Valentine's Day. Her hair was in pretty curls. I can see her smiling at me." Jeongguk chokes on his own spit as his eyes open wide before standing up and walking over to the liquor caddy. 

"Guk." Jimin whispers as the alcohol sloshes into the crystal glass. 

"I'm fine." The lie slips right past his lips as he looks up at the portrait of all the guys behind Jimin's chair. 

"Go see one of Kitten's girls. It might help." A giggle bursts through the room as Jeongguk turns to his older brother. 

"Help? They aren't therapists. They suck cock for a living." Jimin sighs before putting his hand to his forehead. Jeongguk was stubborn, he always has been and probably always will be. 

"Then go see a therapist. You're getting out of control. I saw what you did to Kyung's body. You're lashing out." 

"I was doing my fucking job." Jimin clicks his teeth as the study door opens.

Jimin's wife stands in the doorway, one hand holding their son Minseok as the other rests comfortably on her growing belly. 

"Sorry. He wants daddy." She whispers before looking at Guk. 

"We don't cut people's eyes out." Jimin responds to Jeongguk before standing up and grabbing his son from his wife's arms. 

"I got it, Kitten." She hums before her eyes take in Jeongguk's disheveled body. 

"I was just doing my fucking job. Okay?" He looks over at Jimin's wife before raising his eyebrows as she stares at him. 

"WHAT?!" He screams to her as Jimin sighs gently.

"Jeon Jeongguk-" 

"Easy, Kitten." Jeongguk's head cocks to the side as Jimin rubs at her pregnant belly. 

"Go to a therapist, Guk. I'm not asking." The silence was palpable, eyes glancing here and there from all three people in the room before Minseok whines. How would Jeongguk even be able to process his thoughts? Let alone tell them to some quack who would just nod and ask him how he feels about it? Just give him snarky remarks before writing down a prescription for some soothing meds and telling him his hour is up. "I'd rather get my cock sucked."

Jeongguk stands in front of the Beasley Hotel. His eyes reading the same scripted letters on the facade of the expensive building for the thirteenth time before sighing. Of course, Jimin's wife immediately made an appointment with one of the girls for him. She asked Jeongguk what he liked and he didn't respond to her so she just set him up with someone new. Now, of course, all the girls that worked for her and her partner Hyunah were  incredibly capable. It takes a high standard to get into the Golden Cage. But, he couldn't bring himself to want to go through with the whole ordeal. Lee constantly springs to mind every step he takes. Could he really watch a girl get undressed, suck his dick or do anything to him without feeling guilty? He can't say he could. 

This girl would probably tell Jimin's wife he didn't go through with it and there would be hell to pay. He's getting a million dollar session for free. Jeongguk steps off the curb across the street before walking to the ritzy hotel in front of him. His hand digs into his black skinny jean pocket before producing a folded piece of paper. 

732

Jeongguk takes a deep breath through his nose. Just have to get it over with, right? He steps through the revolving door before entering the hotel. He pockets his tattooed hands as people bustle about in the hotel lobby. He receives a few strange looks, this was not the sort of grandeur hotel that usually has leather clad, tattooed men just waltzing in. His hand reaches behind him making sure to feel the comfort of his gun in his waistband before relaxing. His combat boots make a dull thudding noise against the marble flooring, the sound reverberating in his ears as he approaches the front desk. 

Orchards litter the large stone desk as he leans over it, a girl in a pants suit looks up before raising an eyebrow. 

"Can I help you?" Everything about her was dripping with disdain as Jeongguk cleared his throat. 

"Yeah, I'm here to see a guest in room 732." The front desk agent clicks her teeth before looking over his top half incredulously. This was the usual hotel for Golden Cage clients. 732 was always the room people would go to. It was common knowledge for most people in the hotel to know that a guest for 732 was going to get their rocks off. 

"Mkay." The agent mumbles before picking up the phone and pressing the numbers languidly. Her eyes never leave Jeongguk's face as he looks around the hotel lobby. This place was nice, really nice. Lee would have loved to stay here. See, this is the problem. Everything is Lee. Every waking breath he has he could equate something to his dead girlfriend, for years now. Even when he sleeps, all he sees is her. Whether that be alive, dead, dismembered, you name it he's had a dream of her doing it or being there. He pokes an orchard petal as the agent lets the girl in the room know she has a visitor. His body sways back and forth awkwardly as he looks towards the elevators. 

"You can go up." Jeongguk looks back down at the agent before nodding. "Thanks."

The hallway smells expensive, like lavender and warm vanilla. The chandeliers that hang from the ceiling exude the persona of this place and Jeongguk cannot begin to process how he came to be here. He nods his head to the Lee man who guards the door. 

"Arms up." Jeongguk clears his throat before doing as told. 

"I have a gun and two knives on me." He's courteous at least to tell him. He respects the Lees, they work quick and fast and have never given the Lions a problem. Especially since Yoongi just recently got engaged to Hyunah. The Lee man hums as he pulls the gun out from behind him. Jeongguk reaches down before pulling his knives from his boots and handing them over. 

"Have fun." He says before shoving the door open for him. Jeongguk looks into the room before clearing his throat and stepping inside.

The lights were dim upon entry, white furniture beckons him forward as he looks around the room. 

"Hello?" His voice was timid as he stepped towards the bed. The gold headboard catches his attention before turning to a noise in the bathroom. 

"Hello." There you stood, a grey satin robe covering your almost naked body as you take the tall man into your sights. Jeongguk runs his fingers through his long black hair, his eyes looking over your body before looking away as if it was inappropriate. He shifts awkwardly on one foot to the other, there was something cute about it. The tall, muscular man was seemingly nervous in your presence. You smile warmly as you walk past him, his muscles tensing as your satin robe brushes against his leather jacket. 

You sit on the bed, legs crossing as you lean back on your hands. The robe inches up, your bare thighs coming into view for his eyes as he pockets his hands. 

"You can sit. You know." Jeongguk opens his mouth before giving a small laugh. 

"Yeah." You pat the spot next to you and he slowly makes his way over. He sits on the edge, his butt barely connecting with the mattress as his shoulders tense up. He stares straight ahead at the black television screen. You lazily take in his features, big doe eyes and a perfect nose. Nice pink lips and a killer jawline grace your sight as you sit up. 

"I'm Y/N." Jeongguk turns to you before bowing his head. 

"Jeongguk." You hum to him before watching how his knee bounces in anxiousness. Why did your boss tell you to give him the plus treatment if he seems like he doesn't want to be here? 

"Drink?" You ask pointing at the liquor cabinet. Jeongguk takes his hands out of his pockets only to place them on his knees, his fingertips digging into the fabric of his jeans before nodding. 

"Sure!" He springs up before crossing the expanse of the room. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath before opening the liquor cabinet. 

"Are you a virgin?" You ask as he pours two glasses of whisky. He chuckles, a sound that blesses your ears as you tilt your head. 

"No. I'm not a virgin." He turns back around to you, his black hair falling into his eyes as he smiles. He has a pretty smile, something about it makes you feel warm. Like nothing bad could happen when it was around. You find yourself smiling back as he hands you the glass. 

"You can take your jacket off, you know. I'm not going to immediately jump your bones, unless you're into that." He snorts, a simple exhale through his nose before shrugging off his leather jacket and throwing it onto the bed. 

"Good." You say before taking a sip of the whisky. The warm liquor soothes you, a fire producing in your belly as Jeongguk side eyes you. You were beautiful, he expected as much. Jimin's wife wasn't in the business of hiring ugly women. His gaze flickers to your bare thighs once more before looking anywhere else. You catch this within a second, and notice the discomfort he begins to feel. His body turning away from you out of instinct. 

You feel pity for him, something clearly isn't right with this situation he has been brought into. You grab at the duvet cover of the bed before throwing it over your legs. 

"Better?" You ask quietly as Jeongguk notices your movement. He looks back over at you, his doe eyes widening further. 

"I'm sorry. I must be being rude." You shake your head at his statement before giving him a smile. 

"It's okay if you don't want to do anything. I understand." He makes a noise in the back of his throat that you can't decipher before turning to you. You seemed like an understanding person. You didn't strike him as a courtesan to say the least. 

"I want to. But, I can't. My brain won't let me." He taps his index finger against his temple before taking a large gulp of the whisky. His teeth grit, neck veins fluttering as he swallows the whisky. You can sense his nervousness and it really doesn't look good on this handsome man. 

"I'll be right back." You whisper before standing up and heading for the bathroom.

"I fucked up." Jeongguk whispers before closing his eyes, he could see her. He could see Lee plain as day. She was frowning, her long black hair strewn over her shoulder as she folded her arms. Jeongguk couldn't move on, he was trapped in this miserable mindset. He wasn't even sure what it would be like to not see Lee or think of Lee at every given moment. It would probably terrify him. The bathroom door opens and you emerge in a long mocha brown sweater, black leggings shield your thighs as you smile at Guk. 

"I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to make you embarrassed or anything, I-" You cut him off with the shake of your head. 

"It's alright, you didn't offend me. Takes a lot more than that to make me offended." Jeongguk nods, his shoulders relaxing slightly as you jump on the bed. Your back connects to the gold headboard as you grab your glass. 

"Might be nice to not get fucked for once." He laughs gently before turning his body to you, the way his eyes crinkle makes your heart skip a beat. He's way too handsome. His hand pushes his hair behind his pierced ear before taking a sip of his drink. 

"You can have a drink and just chill out. Or, I can leave if you want." You suggest pointing your manicured finger at the door. Jeongguk is quick to shake his head, 

"No, no. Don't go. It's nice to just...just be able to sit and drink." He wholeheartedly means it. You felt comfortable to him. Nothing about this experience felt weird or strange which was a blessing in and of itself. Jeongguk scratches at the back of his neck and you catch the branding iron you've seen a few times before with a few clients. 

"You're a Lion." Jeongguk puts his hand down before giving you a small smile. 

"Yeah. I am. I'm one of the original seven." You hum before sitting up and putting your hand under your cheek. "I heard that you guys defile women and torture men." Jeongguk gives a carefree laugh as he fully turns to you. 

"Clearly that isn't the case. I made you go put your clothes on." You giggle before sipping the whisky and tapping your fingers to your temple. His smile doesn't fade as his warm brown eyes gaze upon your face. 

"I'm sorry your boss made you take me on as a client. I'm sure it's a waste of time." 

"You're not a waste of time. Don't say that. You're actually nice, compared to most people that enter this room." Jeongguk tilts his head before sucking air through his teeth. 

"I'll kill them if you want me to. The people that aren't nice to you." His eyes gleam with playfulness as you kick back your body before giggling. 

"Is that your way of flirting?" He takes a sip, the corners of his mouth quirked upwards as he stares at you. 

"So why are you here anyway? You said my boss made me take you on. Why?" Jeongguk clears his throat as he kicks off his combat boots before sitting cross legged on the bed. Now, he's uncomfortable. He looks past you to the pearlescent night stand as he puffs out his cheeks. 

"Because I, uh, can't function. My boss says I'm getting reckless." You hum as if you have any idea what he's talking about. After the hour you've been talking and drinking, you've kind of just assumed he's an enigma. He only answers what he wants to, he looks away at any given chance to not feel something. He seems like he doesn't want to feel. You wouldn't push him, it isn't your place. And yet, there's something about him that just makes you want to give him a hug. He seems so sad. You want to make him smile and laugh, he seems like he deserves that. 

"So they thought that you getting your dick sucked would make you better?" He laughs before looking down at his lap. 

"I think so." You sigh before sitting up and putting your hand on his knee. He stiffens, his eyes look up at you before relaxing his muscles. 

"Don't worry. I'm here to talk to you, if you want. I know my main job is to spread my legs for people but I'm a good listener." Jeongguk is quick to defend your honor to yourself. 

"Don't say that. Your main job is irrelevant to me. I'm happy I could sit here and just bullshit with you for hours. I feel kinda better than before." Your smile brings one to his own face. 

"Good. I'm glad." A knock comes at the door and you both turn your heads to the noise. 

"Time." You hear through the door and you sigh before standing up. 

"That's my cue." Jeongguk opens his mouth before nodding. For the first time in forever, he wants more time. He mentally chides himself, he spent so much time looking away and not answering that he didn't even get a real chance to speak with you. He regrets that. 

"Jeongguk. Hopefully I'll see you around." You say as you grab your bag from the bathroom. 

"Me too! Thanks, Y/N." You give him that warm smile he's suddenly become fond of before leaving the room. The Lee man enters before handing Jeongguk his weaponry and bowing his head. Jeongguk lays down on the bed before closing his eyes. Lee was like a faded print behind his eyelids.

"How was she?" Jimin asks as they sit down for the meeting. Jeongguk smirks before putting his gun on the table. 

"Really nice." Jimin raises an eyebrow before folding his arms. 

"How do you know she's really nice if she had her mouth on your cock?" Jeongguk scoffs before matching his best friend's actions with folding his own arms. 

"Don't talk about her like that. She didn't need to suck my cock for me to know she's nice." Jimin's expression softens at Jeongguk's murmur. 

"Did you dream of Lee last night?" His question is point blank as the others file into the room. 

"Briefly." She had come and gone, Jeongguk for the first time in a long time didn't wake up drenched in sweat. He didn't feel compelled to tell Jimin every single detail of last night but there was one sentence that had Jimin bursting at the seams to know more. "I'd like to see her again."

Jeongguk walks down the hotel hallway, his gun and knives already in hand before handing them to the Lee man standing at the door. 

"Enjoy." Jeongguk has come to know the Lee man as Junkwon, he was nice and always escorted you. Junkwon opens the door, the lights are dim yet again. 

"Hey." Jeongguk sounds breathless as you sit in the chair by the large window, your body covered in just a beige lace bra with matching panties. You look up before covering your legs with a gasp. 

"Jeongguk! They didn't tell me it was you. I'm sorry." You say quickly grabbing your robe. Jeongguk has become really fond of this, fond of how considerate you are. How comfortable you make him feel when you're around just being yourself. 

"Don't worry." He says as you stand up. His eyes drink you in, your skin looking soft as butter in the dim lighting. 

"Let me go change." Jeongguk hums to you before licking his lips. He wasn't nervous or afraid to look at you, he didn't hate himself for it. Because, it was you. You rush off to the bathroom as Jeongguk walks over to the liquor cabinet. His eyes flutter closed and for once his eyelids were just black. No Lee. No smile. No frown. Nothing. He stumbles backwards as he gasps before his eyes open wide. 

"Lee?" He calls gently before closing his eyes again. There was nothing. And, this is what he was most afraid of. His tattooed hand grasps the wooden counter of the bar before choking on his own spit. 

"Jeongguk? You okay?" You ask as his legs shake. 

"She-I...I don't-'' He shuts his eyes once more before a ball begins to form in his throat, it's form ever expanding as his knuckles turn white from clasping the table so hard. 

"She left me." He whispers before opening his eyes and looking at you. 

"Hey." You whisper calmly to him, your feet taking ginger steps towards him as he whimpers. 

"She left me!" There was a small sob before a large one. His innocent eyes glossing over with tears as he grabs at his black t-shirt above his heart. 

"Jeongguk. Sit down." You say putting your hand on his arm gently. He rips his arm away from your grasp before faltering as he knocks the whisky bottle onto the floor. 

"Hey!" The concern in your voice reaches his ears as he falls into the seat you were previously sat in. His eyes were like a wild animals, flitting here and there while trying to grasp onto a thought. 

"Jeongguk. Do you need me to call my boss?" Jeongguk gasps as he leans back in his seat. 

"Don't! Don't do that." You could see his hairline beginning to sweat as you crouch down in front of him. 

"I think you're having a panic attack. Just take a deep breath. In through your nose and out through your mouth." You've had a few panic attacks in your time. It wasn't always cushy like it is now to work in this industry. 

Jeongguk takes a deep breath, his body visibly shaking as he stares down at you. 

“Just focus on something, let your mind begin to process.” You whisper running your thumb comfortingly over his bare knee through the cuts in his jeans. Jeongguk groans as he feels dizziness encumbering his mind, but he couldn’t close his eyes for fear that she wouldn’t be there. His eyes fall to your hand on his knee, he focuses on how soothing your thumb feels. How soft and delicate the touch you’re giving him is. You give him a small smile, eyebrows still knit with concern as he looks back up at you. 

“What color is my shirt?” You ask him quietly before pulling at the fabric. 

“Purple.” He whispers before taking a deep breath into his lungs as if his body was finally allowing him to breathe again. 

“Good.” Then there was silence for a while besides Guk’s heavy breathing. That was alright with you, as long as he felt better. He has only come three times before this and each time he came things were slowly becoming more relaxing. 

You would talk for long hours, sipping on whatever alcohol you decided on at the start of the session. You would laugh with each other, listen to how Jeongguk’s day went. You told him things you enjoy too like the beach and going to the seaside to fish with your dad. He told you about his nieces and nephews last time and it warmed your heart to see him smiling so widely when he talked about them. He was always happy talking about others but never about himself, you noticed. He never mentioned women or anything of that nature and that was okay with you too. Everything was very relaxing when you were with each other, like nothing else even mattered outside of this hotel room. Jeongguk flexes his fingers realizing they were numb only seconds ago. 

“I-I’m sorry.” He mumbles before putting his hands over his face, his palms becoming drenched in sweat as he leans back into the chair. 

“Nothing to apologize for.” His fast beating heart begins to slow as he lets out an exhale. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask gently before standing up. Jeongguk looks up at you as he moves his hands away before clearing his throat. 

“Sit on my lap.” He whispers and you gasp gently. 

“What?” He’s never asked something like this before. 

“Sit on me.” You look at him hesitantly before slowly sitting down on his thick thighs. His strong arms wrap around your figure, his arms interlocking with each other as he lets out a slow breath. You sit still, eyeing him wearily as he looks up at you nervously. 

“Okay.” He mumbles before slowly closing his eyes. The back of his eyelids were still black. He sighs deflated before letting you go. 

“You can get up.” You stand up off of him before tilting your head. 

“I have to go.” He whispers before standing, his eyes don’t look towards you again as he rushes to the door. “Jeongguk!” He was gone.

He had you sit on him to see if Lee would come back, but she didn’t that night. He went to sleep without a single dream. His unconscious mind reveling in the back wasteland of dreamspace. But, she did come back when he was black out drunk. He would have conversations with her as he lay sloped up against the wall of his room. 

“Don’t fucking l-look at me like that, babe.” He slurs to Lee as she sits in the chair across from his bed. 

“Koo, you have to let me go.” Jeongguk laughs loudly, the whisky in the bottle he holds sloshes around as he shakes. 

“Let you go?! You left me!” Lee sits silently, hands on her knees as her black hair falls in rivets over her shoulder. 

“I didn’t choose to leave you.” Jeongguk scoffs before gulping down the alcohol. 

“I’m not talking about when you fucking died, baby. I’m talking about when I went to see Y/N.” Lee’s lips press into a hard line as she leans back in the armchair. 

“Because you don’t need me when Y/N is there. She can take good care of you.” 

“YOU’RE FUCKING DEAD! WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT KNOWING WHAT I NEED?!” Jeongguk’s voice is a sharp, loud cry as he widens his drunken eyes at his dead girlfriend. He scoffs before holding the liquor bottle close to his body as he folds his legs underneath him. There was a quick knock at his door before the door went flying open. 

“What’re you screaming about at three o’clock in the morning?” Hoseok asks his younger brother before noticing just how drunk Jeongguk is. The way his body is slumped over against his headboard, black hair in his eyes so he could barely see. 

“Guk.” Hoseok mutters before stepping inside and shutting the door so as to not disturb anyone. Jeongguk didn’t realize he was crying until now, tears rolled off his jawline before leaving dark wet spots on his light grey sweatpants. Hoseok takes a seat where Lee was just sitting before looking at the drunk younger man. 

“She fucking left me. Y’know? I go see Y/N, what, four fucking times and Lee just abandons me.” Hoseok gives a gentle sigh before running his hands through his hair. 

“Maybe she left you because that’s healthy and you need healthiness.” Jeongguk laughs before taking another swig of whisky. 

“That’s what she said.” He mumbles, his tone warped with pain as he slams his head into the iron bed frame. Hoseok leans forward before grabbing the bottle of liquor and putting it on the floor. 

“This isn’t healthy. You’re a mess. If it helped you so much to see Y/N, you should go back and see her.” You probably hate him after seeing him at his weakest. 

“No. I don’t want to see her again.” He was afraid, afraid to be at such peace with you. Afraid to be able to smile.

Jeongguk sits at the meeting table. His feet up on the table as Jimin’s wife slaps him upside the head. 

“Just bought the table, feet down.” She mumbles before pulling on her cigarette. He mutters an apology her way as the rest of the guys enter the metal room. Namjoon enters with a cheery smile, his dimples deep as he pulls his gun out before presenting it on the table. 

“Oh! Jaebeom went to go see Y/N, thanks for the suggestion.” Jeongguk takes a deep breath before taking his feel off the table and staring at the t.v. screen above him. 

“She’s pretty, no?” Jimin’s wife asks as Jeongguk’s knee begins to bounce. 

“That’s what he says. He also says, she has a nice mouth for sucking cock.” 

“Stop it.” Jeongguk mumbles loud enough for Namjoon to hear drawing his attention to the younger member. Was this jealousy burning through his veins at a quick pace? He wasn’t even sure what the emotion was that filled him, but anger accompanied it. If it wasn’t for the black tattoos on his neck, it would surely be beet red. 

“You went to see her too, right Guk?! Man, I’m fucking telling you, Jae says those tits she has-” Jeongguk pulls his gun out of the back of his pants before aiming it at his older brother. 

“I said stop. Don’t fucking talk about her!” 

“WHOA!” Jimin yells upon entering as Namjoon holds his hands up, backing his chair up into the corner of the room. 

“Don’t fucking go tell anyone to see her! Tell him don’t look at her! Don’t touch her! Don’t you dare!” Jeongguk yells as he cocks the gun. 

“Easy, Guk. Easy.” Jimin whispers before stepping in front of Jeongguk’s gun. 

“Just because it’s her job doesn’t mean she likes it. When she was younger, she wanted to be a painter but no one would accept her into their colleges. Do you know that? She likes to go to the beach to feel the sand between her toes because it keeps her grounded. And, you have the fucking audacity to talk about her fucking dick sucking skills?! She isn’t someone you can easily talk about like this! She’s a fucking person! With feelings! She was there for me when I had a fucking panic attack. She took care of me. Don’t fucking talk about her!” Jimin slowly waves his hands as Jeongguk begins to foam at the sides of his mouth. 

“Alright. Jaebeom or anyone else here won’t go and see her. You have my word. Put the gun down.” Jimin was being gentle with him, Jeongguk recognizes his tone of voice as his wife rubs at Guk’s upper back. Jeongguk uncocks the gun before clearing his throat and leaving the room without another word. 

Jeongguk stares at the bloody dirt of his warehouse, for once his warehouse was empty. It was dead quiet, you could hear a pin drop. He had left the mansion for a few days, just sleeping in the back of his car while he stayed out here. His mind was fucking him over, this much was certain. He left you in that hotel room and he felt guilty about it. He also felt guilty about feeling the need to have Lee around him when she wasn’t even on this plane of existence anymore. More than anything, he can’t help but think about your smile. How warm it is, how comforting it feels to have his eyes on you smiling widely. He remembers how soft your skin looks, how he would have been okay with you staying in that little amount of clothing before his panic attack. He remembers how soothing your thumb was on his skin. Jeongguk sighs before looking up at the wooden rafters of the ceiling. 

“Koo.” His breathing stops as he closes his eyes. 

“Lee.” 

“Why don’t you go and see her?” Jeongguk’s eyes begin to burn, he sniffles before pulling up his black hood and looking at his dead girlfriend. 

“I can’t.” A broken sob rips through his chest as he hangs his head low. 

“She probably misses you, you can’t be locked up in your own head anymore. I’m gone.” Jeongguk wails loudly putting his hands over his face. 

“I know. I’m just so afraid for you to leave.” 

“I’ll always be with you, in your heart. In your memories. But, it’s time to move on. You like her, I know you do. It’s okay to like someone else that isn’t me, Koo.” He scoffs as he pulls down his sleeves to make sweater paws. His sleeves meet his eyes as he sobs. 

“She probably fucking hates me. I left her there all alone.” 

“Look at me.” Jeongguk timidly lifts his head, his hands pushing his hair out of the way as he sniffles. Lee was in front of the table looking down at him.

“You deserve to be happy, Koo. You deserve to smile. You deserve to feel no awkwardness or fear.” He whimpers at Lee’s words as his bottom lip quivers. 

“Go and be happy. She makes you feel better.” 

“What am I going to do without you?” He asks, his voice cracking as he holds his arms out to her. 

“You’re going to smile.”  In an instant, she was gone. Lee’s form fades away in a sudden breeze that chills Jeongguk to the bone. He shivers before closing his eyes and swallowing. She wasn’t there either. 

“Lee?!” No answer but the sounds of birds chirping outside the warehouse. Jeongguk buries his face in his lap before taking a deep breath. Lee left him, after all these years. She just disappeared, to prove that Jeongguk didn’t need her anymore. He didn’t need to depend on her when you were around. He smiled and laughed, he felt relief. Felt at home. He clears his throat before pulling out his almost dead cell phone from his back pocket. He scrolls through his contacts before putting his forehead to the lip of the table as the phone rings. “Jina. Is Y/N working?”

Jeongguk steps out of the elevator on the seventh floor before looking down at Junkwon. 

“She’s with someone.” He tells Jeongguk as he walks towards 732. 

“Open the door.” His voice is brisk as he stares at the three gold numbers that hang on the door. He could hear moaning inside the room before cracking his neck. 

“I can’t Jeongguk, I’m sorry.” Jeongguk sighs before pulling out his wallet and pulling out a few hundred bucks. 

“Go away.” 

“You can’t just-” Jeongguk shoves the money into Junkwon’s semi-open hand before pulling out his gun. 

“Go away.” Junkwon counts the money before sighing and walking down the hallway. 

“Don’t hurt her.” Junkwon calls to Guk as he rings for the elevator. 

“Never.” Jeongguk shoves the door open. He takes you into his sights, you were on your knees jerking off some random guy. You looked bored and unamused before looking over and gasping. Jeongguk points his gun to the guy. 

“Get out.” “Jeongguk!” Jeongguk walks over, cocking his gun before grabbing your robe and throwing it at you. 

“You heard me? Get out.” The man scoffs before standing up and pulling up his boxers. 

“Hey man! I paid a lot of money for this!” You haphazardly put the robe on before stepping away from your client. 

“Jina will pay you back. Get out. I’m asking nicely.” You look up at Jeongguk, his black hair is fixed behind his ears. His domineering persona was something you’ve never seen before and you can’t say it didn’t intrigue you as you lean against the wooden table. 

“Okay! Okay! I’m going. Shit.” Jeongguk watches as the man fumbles to get his pants up from around his ankles. His eyebrow raises as the guy looks at you before stepping in front of your small figure. 

“Don’t fucking look at her. Get out. Now.” The man grabs his dress shirt before running out the hotel room door and slamming it behind him. Jeongguk uncocks his gun before putting it in the back of his pants. 

“Hi?” You say before sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

“Hi.” Jeongguk whispers before sitting down next to you. You sigh before looking at him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the way his black hoodie was two times too big for him. It was endearing. 

“Feel better?” You ask quietly as Jeongguk closes his eyes. 

“I do now.” You hum playfully before laying back on the bed. 

“That was hot.” You tell him as he turns towards you. He snorts before laying down beside you. 

“What was hot?” 

“Defending my honor like I don’t do this for a living.” Jeongguk chuckles openly before turning on his side to look at you. His warm brown eyes bore into yours before fingering at the white duvet cover. 

“I’m sorry I left that day.” How could you hold a grudge against him when he looks like this. His big doe eyes gazing into yours only shows how guilty he actually feels about it. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“Yes, I do.” His answer surprises you, he normally says no or looks away quite quickly. 

“Oh! Okay! Let me put some clothes on!” You go to sit up and Jeongguk’s arm cages you down onto the bed. 

“No, stay.” You take a deep inhale before turning on your side to face him. “Alright.”

Jeongguk gives you a small smile, the corners of his mouth quirk up as he stares at you. 

“You’re very beautiful.” Your cheeks heat up pink at his compliment, he's always looked at you like you were pretty but he's never said a thing before. 

"Thank you. You too." Jeongguk chuckles before laying his head down on the pillow. He clears his throat before taking off his sweater and throwing it elsewhere. His white tank top reveals all of his tattoos up to his chest and you can't help but look at the tasteful designs he has printed on himself. They look great on his honey colored skin. 

"I don't want to keep running away from you anymore. I like you. I just have some...undealt with issues." He takes some time before completing his sentence but you stay quiet as if to tell him to keep going if he chooses to do so. 

"Do you like me?" He asks, tilting his head into the pillow. 

"I do." You tell him honestly, making him smile. 

"Okay, good." You giggle at his beaming smile before he looks off past you. 

"Don't get...I don't know weirded out when I tell you my story." You nod to him before putting your arm under the pillow getting comfortable. He was different now, he was uncertain, sure. But, he was nervous or anxious to look at you. He wasn't fidgety and making himself uncomfortable, he was just him. And, it's really nice to see that. 

"Years ago I had a girlfriend-" Jeongguk clears his throat before sitting up suddenly, "-her name was Lee. I loved her, a lot. She was the first person I fell in love with. Um…" He looks down at his legs as he rubs his hands over his sweatpants. You put your hand on his knee before sitting up, your head tilts to the side as you watch him struggle to swallow. 

"Fuck. Fuck! Sorry." You shake your head as he takes a deep breath. 

"So, yeah, I loved her and she lived in the house I live in with my crew. One day I came home and called out for her and she wasn't answering me. Me and my boss, Jimin, he's been my best friend since we were younger. We ran upstairs and there were little drops of blood on the floor." You close your eyes as Jeongguk clears his throat again before squinting. 

"She was dead. In our room. Another gang had killed her and did stuff to her body." You put your hand over your mouth as he struggles to go on. 

"That was a long time ago, but she stayed with me. Like, a ghost. I would see her every night in my dreams and when I closed my eyes. She was always there. And, it started to get out of hand. I was drinking a lot and I was very angry. Guilty. I was so guilty. Y'know? What if I got home just ten minutes or twenty minutes before I did. What would have happened? It ate me alive, then I would see her and feel this fucking weight pushing down my goddamn chest every second of the fucking day. Everyone around me was getting married and falling in love and I was stuck in this sick little fucking sand glass that kept flipping over when the last piece of sand was about to fall." Jeongguk sighs loudly before looking at you, his hand grabs your wrist before pulling it away from your eyes. 

"But, then. I met you. And, I really liked you because you made me feel comfortable and I didn't feel like this anxious wreck anymore. But, I got scared because before you Lee was painted on the back of my eyelids every second of the day. After I met you she started to fade. Then she left me completely, that was the day I had the panic attack. I felt frightened because she wasn't with me anymore and I-I was so used to it that it made me terrified. I felt guilty that I pushed her away or something. But, I felt even more guilty that I might have pushed you away. That I fucked up my chance for you to like me when I left you that day. Lee was a big part of me that left because you made me feel safe. You make me feel comfortable. And I-I really l-like you. I want to get to know you and not have to feel guilty or worried anymore. I just want to be able to be myself and smile again. You make me smile." 

Jeongguk presses his lips together after he's done talking and he notices how glossy your eyes have become during his talk. You nod to him before giving him a small smile. You lean forward before enveloping him in a hug, he feels his body relax and he didn't even know that he was tense. His arms snake around you before hugging you back. You could feel how fast his heart is beating through his chest as he holds you tightly. 

"You make me smile, too." Warmth starts to seep through him, starting at his heart and spreading through his limbs as he holds you close. Jeongguk pulls back before brushing some stray wisps of hair behind your ear. 

"I'm going to kiss you." You nod at his chivalry before closing your eyes. He takes this moment to look over your features, how soft and angelic you look in this lighting. He thumbs his finger over your bottom lip before leaning in and kissing you slowly.

His kiss was soft and sensual. A small jolt of electricity runs through you as he places one hand to the back of your neck. You would never have assumed this drop dead handsome man could kiss like this. His tongue licks over your bottom lip and it produces a fire in your belly. 

A gasp emits from you, mouth opening as your nerve endings tingle. Jeongguk takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. His tongue, tasting and caressing every inch of you before mingling your tongue with him. His hand pulls you closer, his instinct to have you close makes you mewl as you grab onto his tattooed arms. He pulls away, only to take large breaths to fill his lungs before diving back in. His hands find your hips before flipping you onto him. 

His back hits the mattress with a thud as you lean down to smother him with more kisses. His large hands trail downward. The feel of satin wraps him in a cloud of pure pleasure as his hands come to rest on your ass cheeks. He groans into your mouth and the sound is so intoxicating that you feel your core seeping with liquid pleasure. 

"You're so fucking gorgeous." He whispers as you kiss down his neck, your teeth gently biting at his smooth skin. Jeongguk's hips buck upwards as his eyes close. Behind his eyes all he can see is you, the image of you above him is a welcome sight photographed onto the back of his lids. You tug at his shirt and it brings him back to reality as he opens his eyes. He sits up only to tug off the white article of clothing. Your eyes marvel at his tattooed chest, the way the planes of his eight pack highlight each tattoo perfectly. Jeongguk grabs at the robe belt before pulling it undone. He takes a sharp inhale of breath before looking up at your eyes. 

"Are you sure?" You ask quickly, his blown out pupils shake as he chuckles. "Kiss me, baby." 

You can do nothing but oblige as his hands begin to trail over your bare thighs. His fingertips knead at your skin as he sits up. You wrap your legs around his waist before feeling how hard he is underneath you. A gentle mewl leaves your lips as he kisses down your neck with heated fervor. 

"Feel how hard my cock is for you?" Your arms wrap around his neck as your head lolls back. Jeongguk playfully nips at your bust line before groaning as you thrust your hips to his. 

"I'm going to cum in my pants if you keep doing that." 

"You feel so hard." Jeongguk smiles against your skin before kissing at your cheek. 

"All for you, baby." This was serious whiplash. You could never have expected this. Jeongguk flips you over with ease, his thick thighs pining you underneath him as his lips lazily traipse down your chest. 

His hand snakes underneath you before taking a moment to unhook your bra. It was clumsy but he was determined to do it with one hand. 

"It's been a while." His admission makes you giggle as he finally unhooks your bra. Jeongguk groans as he throws your bra onto the floor. Your nipples become stiff at his longing stare. 

"Fuck." His warm lips envelope one, his tongue flicking at the sensitive skin as you whimper out his name. Something possessive flits across his gaze as he stares up at you. His fingers trail your thighs before swiping up your soaked panties. You could feel how they stick to you, almost embarrassing soaked. 

"Say that again, baby. Say my name again." He rubs your clit through your underwear. The silken fabric feels amazing against your sensitive nub as you moan out. 

"Jeongguk." He hums before bending down and pecking your lips. 

"That's right. That's who you belong to now. And, I don't share." Is he telling you to quit your job? You don't have much time to dwell on it, though as his fingers hook into the sides of your panties before peeling them off of you. The cool air of the room berates your sodden cunt as your skin produces goosebumps. 

"Look how wet you are, baby. Soaked." His voice is that of wonder as he spreads your legs wide. His tongue licks at his lips as if he's seen a feast in a great banquet. 

"Please." You whimper as he bows his body down. 

"What do you want?" His lips kiss at your pubic bone, teasingly slow kisses litter your skin and upper thighs as he intertwines both of your hands locking them to your sides. 

"I want you to touch me." Jeongguk looks up at you, his black hair beginning to stick to his forehead as he smirks. 

"Want me to touch you like everyone else that comes in this room? You think you deserve it, baby?" You wiggle your hips, trying to thrust them towards him. 

Your cunt was aching, a dull pounding reverberates through your lower half as you bite your bottom lip. "Your pussy is soaked and I haven't even started. What does that say about you?" You gasp as he kisses your clit. 

"Jaebeom was in this room not too long ago. You remember him? He touched your pretty little pussy I bet. You think you deserve my touch?" Jeongguk gives a flat swipe with his tongue to your pussy, your body sags into the bed as he pulls away. 

"Fuck, you taste good." 

"I'll be good! Please!" Jeongguk chuckles before suckling at your pussy lips. 

"Please, Daddy." His tongue gives two quick licks to your clit before blowing on your pussy. Your cunt quivers and throbs as the ache begins to drive you insane. 

"Please, Daddy! Please!" Your hands are squeezing his so tightly, he wonders where you get the strength from for it. "Good girl." 

His lips suckle at your clit, his teeth rake gently against the sensitive nub as you moan loudly for him. He hums in agreement as you lift your hips to buck up into him wanting to feel more. He lets your hands go only to push your hips back down into the bed. 

"You taste fucking good, baby girl." He relishes in how fucked out you look already and he hasn't even made you cum yet. He was good at this sort of thing, this sexual torture. He revels in it. 

"Fuck!" Jeongguk smirks before teasing your entrance. His finger slowly enters you as your head falls back. 

"Nuh uh. Watch me. Watch me eat your pussy so well." You whimper, fingers gripping at his black hair as he curls his finger inside of you. 

"Jeongguk!" He likes when you call his name so he takes pity on you and adds a second finger. Your walls begin to flutter, your orgasm approaching at a high speed. 

"I-I'm gonna cum!" He pulls away as you whine out. 

"Tell me what you're mine and that you won't share and I'll let you cum." 

"What?!" You pull at his head but he doesn't budge. 

"Tell Daddy that you're his and his only." He enters his two fingers into you again. Slowly pumping them in as your clit throbs. 

"Daddy, please! I w-want to cum!" Jeongguk hums before spitting on your pussy. 

"That's not what I want to hear." You keen for him as he soothes your clit with a gentle suckle. 

"I'm yours, Daddy! Yours only." Jeongguk sits up before looking at you with passive eyes.

"Yeah, you are and you better remember that, baby girl." You moan loudly as he begins to flick quickly at your clit. His fingers fucking into you so fast it almost knocks the wind out of your lungs. His fingers curl, finding that one spot inside of you that has you melting into the bed. Your orgasm comes back and full throttle as you whinge. 

"Daddy, please! I'm going to cum." Jeongguk moans as he feels your walls coax him. 

"Cum for me." As if he has given you the right to do so, you orgasm for him. Your eyes fill with spots as your thigh tremble with pleasure. 

"Good girl." He pulls away from your clit, his fingers slowing as you come down from your high. You looked gloriously fucked out before him, thighs and cunt still twitching as you lick at your swollen, kissed lips. He pulls his fingers out of you and you mewl at the loss before lifting your head. "We aren't done here. I'll fill your needy cunt, baby girl. Don't worry about that." 

Jeongguk stands up tall, his hands pulling down his sweatpants as you sit up on your elbows. His cock springs out, slapping his stomach and smearing it with precum that seems to be oozing like a never ending waterfall. His tip was an angry red as he strokes at his long length. Okay, you knew he was hard before but this, this is impressive. He had the length and the girth that has your mouth watering as you look up at him through your lashes. He chuckles at your surprise before sitting up on the bed, back resting against the headboard. His hand lazily strokes his cock before tilting his head at you. 

"Come suck on Daddy's cock." You're quick to scramble in front of him, your body falling between his open legs as he stares down at you. He nods his head simply before letting his cock go. 

"No hands." He says as you go to grasp him. You lean down, swirling your tongue around the tip earning a sigh from him as he grasps your hair into a makeshift ponytail. 

"Suck Daddy's cock better than you did Namjoon hyungs." With pleasure. You swirl your tongue around the base before bobbing your head up and down with quick movements. 

"Oh fuck." Jeongguk's teeth clench as he watches your cheeks hollow out. You gag on his cock, spittle and tears streaming down your face as you look up at him. 

"That's a good girl. Choking on my big cock like some cum slut." You whimper against him, his eyes falling between your legs as your arousal and cum drip down your thighs. 

"This is the only cock you'll be sucking so you better take good care of it." You moan against him and Jeongguk's eyes flutter shut. You gag on him once more and he taps at your throat. 

"Take it in." You whimper quietly before relaxing your throat for him. Wanting to do nothing but please him as he looks back down at you. You nestle your nose against his bare pubic bone earnings a hum from Guk. 

"Good girl, baby." He tugs at your hair gently, testing the waters only to be rewarded with a whine. 

"Mmm. Fuck. You like that? Like being pulled like a little fucking rag doll? Hmm?" He pulls harder and you moan against him, the reverberation has his cock thrusting gently into your throat. 

"You're so fucking pretty choking on my cock like this." He pulls your head up, before pushing it back down on his member. His toes curling in pleasure as he groans. 

He does this a few more times gently before beginning to thrust into your throat. "Fuck! That's it! Take this cock baby girl. No one else gets to fuck this throat but Daddy. You hear me?" You moan for him as his cock begins to throb. 

"I'm going to cum down your throat and you're going to swallow and show me that you're a good little girl that can follow instructions." You grab at his thighs as he puts his hand around your throat, squeezing gentle as he feels his cock pumping in and out of you. That's all he needs before he's groaning loudly. 

"Oh Y/N, shit! I'm cumming!" The way he moans your name has you fueled with desire, you greedily guzzle his cum as he streams ropes down your throat. 

"Fuck, baby! Fuck." Jeongguk gasps, his head lolling back as he eases up on your head. You pull off of him before showing him your empty mouth. He hums before wrinkling his nose and leaning up to kiss you. 

"Good." He lays you down before twirling his finger. "Get going." 

You flip over, face down and ass up as Jeongguk slaps your ass. "Who do you belong to?" You moan as he soothes the rub, "You, Daddy." Jeongguk kisses down your back before spanking you again.

"That's right. Good girl." You whimper as his slaps get stronger. 

"You let Namjoon hyung cum in your pussy?" His question sounds rhetorical but you answer him anyway. 

"No Daddy, everyone uses condoms." Jeongguk hums at the information before running his cock through your soaked lips. You moan gently burying your face on the mattress. 

"Does Daddy have to use a condom? Is baby girl on birth control?" 

"Yes, Daddy. I want you to fill me, show me I'm yours." Jeongguk takes a sharp breath between his teeth before smiling. 

"Aren't you just a perfect little girl, hmm?" You smile at his praise before rubbing your pussy on his cock. Jeongguk groans before stilling your hips.

“Be good, don’t make me punish you. I just became your boyfriend, don’t make me scare you off.” You laugh at his comment and he chuckles in response before bending over you and kissing you softly. He prods the weeping head of his cock to your entrance before slowly pushing in.

Your mouth opens with a groan as he stretches you, “Thank Daddy for his big cock.” You whimper as Jeongguk buries himself to the hilt. Your cunt begins to accommodate the intrusion by relaxing on him. 

“Thank you Daddy.” He moans gently, his fingers gripping at your hips so hard you know you’ll bruise by tomorrow morning. But, fuck if it doesn’t feel good. He pulls out, his eyes marveling at how sodden his cock has become with your arousal before thrusting back in slowly. 

“Fuck, you’re so wet on Daddy’s cock. Jesus Fucking Christ.” You moan loudly, your fingers gripping at the white sheets as you spread your knees wider wanting more. Jeongguk thrusts harder, his power would send you up the bed if he didn’t have such a tight grasp on you. 

“So tight on me, baby girl. Like your pussy was made for me.” Your eyes roll back as he begins to bulldoze inside of you. Your thighs quake at the pleasure as Jeongguk wraps his hand around the back of your neck pulling your body back onto his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so good. Such a cum hungry slut.” You moan loudly, as he picks your body up to press flush against his chest. His fingers toy with your nipples, plucking and rolling the stiff peaks between his fingertips as he suckles harshly on your neck. He paints your neck with pretty red and pink patches before burying his forehead in the crook of your neck. 

“Mine. All mine.” 

“Yes, Daddy! Yours! Fuck! Your cock feels so good!” This angle is perfect for your pleasure as the bulbous head of his cock brushes against your g-spot. 

“Yeah? Shit, you feel good on Daddy’s cock, baby girl. Daddy’s gonna cum in your little pussy and claim what’s his.”  His words goad you on to your next orgasm as his fingers open your pussy lips before rubbing at your soaked clit. You sob loudly, head lolling back on his shoulder as he clasps his arm around your waist holding you in place as he fucks you to his liking. 

“Such a pretty little thing getting fucked right open. You’re going to take my cum nice and deep. Hmm? Walk around with my cum running down your legs so everyone knows who you belong to?” You grip at his hair as you feel your second orgasm approaching. 

“Yes. Fuck! Yes! I want people to see you drip down my legs.” Jeongguk lets out an almost inhuman groan as he kisses across your jawline. Your pussy begins to flutter around him, the action making his cock throb. 

“Daddy, gonna cum. Can I?” Jeongguk could fucking die right now and he’d be pleased. 

“Cum on my cock baby. You deserve it.” You moan loudly, ears ringing as you orgasm. Your cum coats the bed and Jeongguk can only choke on a moan as he looks down. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Christ.” Your cunt begins to milk him in the aftershock of your orgasm, Jeongguk’s grip on you tightens as he moans. 

“I’m cumming. Fuck. Take it like a good girl. Take it deep.” He gasps loudly before stilling inside of you, his warm seed filling you as he gives a few more short thrusts before gripping you tightly and falling onto the bed.

You giggle before closing your eyes as he kisses the back of your head. “Turn and smile for me.” You raise an eyebrow before turning with a genuine smile. 

“I love that. You’re so beautiful when you smile.” He wrinkles his nose once more before kissing you gently. His teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip lovingly before sighing. Jeongguk pulls out of you before looking down at the mess your pussy makes as his cum floods out. 

“Fuck, look at that.” He murmurs before smirking. You lay on your back, eyes taking in his tattoo riddled body before smiling. Who knew the nervous man you met a while ago would turn into this. Jeongguk stands with a before hearing feet outside the door. He’s quick to grab his gun from the floor and cock it at the door as you raise an eyebrow. 

“Who?!” Jeongguk yells walking over to the liquor cabinet, his eyes still trained on the door. 

“Junkwon.” 

“Fuck off.” Jeongguk calls back before uncocking his gun and putting it on the wooden table. 

“You’re kinda hot Jeon Jeongguk.” You tell him as you sit up against the headboard. He gives a whole hearted laugh, his back muscles tensing and releasing as he pours two glasses of whisky. 

“You’re kinda hot too, baby.” He turns back to you, eyes glued to your cum laden pussy before pointing at you. 

“I meant what I said. You’re mine. No one else's.” You sigh gently before closing your legs. 

“This is my job.” Jeongguk clicks his teeth before walking the expanse of the floor and handing you the whisky glass. 

“We’ll find you something else to do. Jimin’s wife was supposed to be a maid and look where she is now. She can teach you how to be a vixen like she is.” Jeongguk presses his lips to your temple before pulling your naked body to his. You ponder this for a second, you had told him before you never wanted to do this but it paid well. And, you trust him enough to not lead you down the wrong path. “Alright.”

You stand with Jeongguk in his bedroom, his eyes flitting to the green dress he bought Lee that many years ago on the day she was murdered. 

"You don't have to do this, you know. I understand." You whisper to your fiance as you hug his broad back. His hand rubs comforting strokes at your arms around his waist before turning to you. 

"Yes, I do. I've moved on. I'm happy. We've been together for two years. It's time for this to go." You look over at the dress before looking up into his doe eyes. Although one is black and bruised from a fight he got into not long ago because someone looked at you too sexually they still had this innocent look to them. A look that melts your heart as he opens up your bedroom door. He holds his hand out and you take it without a second thought. He leads you down the hallway and down the staircase as you both pass Jimin's wife. 

"What're you doing?" She asks, raising an eyebrow as Jeongguk balls up the green dress. 

"Tying up loose ends." She hums in confusion before shrugging. 

"Have fun, meeting in thirty minutes. Y/N, I expect you to be there." 

"Yes ma'am!" You call back to her as Jeongguk continues to pull you. 

Jeongguk wraps his arm around your waist as you walk out into the garden. Your feet feel the green blades of grass underfoot as you walk out to the firepit behind the row of rose bushes. Jeongguk looks up at the orange sky before sighing. 

"Baby-" He throws the dress into the pit without another word before grabbing a book of matches from his pants pocket. He lights a match before throwing it into the fire pit and looking at you. 

"I love you, baby girl." 

"I love you, too." He sits down on the stone bench before patting his thighs. You sit on him sideways, your arms wrapping around his neck as he leans his cheek against your breast. He watches the green fabric blacken as it scorches to nothingness. He was finally happy, he was finally safe within the confines of someone's heart and he couldn't ask for anything more. He rocks you gently as you run your fingers through his hair. Lee never came back to visit him. Not in his dreams or anywhere else. But, he didn't need her to, he found his own happiness.

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt8

hello everyone!! i hope you’re having a fantastic weekend :) 

pt1

pt7

pt9

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quickly. “I’m totally fine, just have amnesia.” She knocked against her skull. “Nothing’s getting in here, I guess.” Before Asami could speak, Korra knocked on the door of the sparring room.

“How’s it going?”

“Well...” Asami started, glancing down at (Y/N). She stared up at Korra, a frown pulling at the ends of her lips.

(Y/N) didn’t sleep at all that night. She could feel the tiredness weighing on her body, pulling her limbs further and further down into the comfy sheets of her bed, but her eyes wouldn’t close. All she could do was stare up at the ornately decorated ceiling, painted with depictions of a tan, thinly mustached man as a cherub. She wondered whether or not she should go bang on Mako’s door and demand what that was. She thought he hated her! He had seemed so angry on the balcony and then the next thing she knew, he was kissing her. She knew it was ridiculous, but part of her thought she could still feel the softness of Mako’s lips against hers. She smothered her face with her pillow and screamed into it. 

When the rising sunlight just barely started filtering into her room, she slid out of bed. She walked to the mirror and brushed out her hair, which had become tangled from how much she had tossed and turned throughout the night, and pulled it back with a hair tie. She could see the faintest hints of tiredness on her features, so she splashed cold water on her face and hoped that no one would bring it up. Once she had pulled on her athletic clothes for her training, she walked to the kitchens. 

It was still early enough that the kitchen remained unoccupied. (Y/N) searched through the pantry to find something easy to make. Everything looked incredibly fancy and had labels that made absolutely no sense. She was lucky to have had Asami with her yesterday to help her decipher the meaning of some of the words. What in the world was a saffron? 

“Looking for something?” (Y/N) was so startled that she knocked her head against the frame of the pantry. “Oh, geez, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, are you alright?” 

As she pulled away from the pantry, rubbing her head, she found Bolin standing beside her. His black eyebrows were pulled together in concern and his bottom lip jutted out apologetically. “Yeah, I’m fine,” She said, laughing lightly. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up so early.” 

“I used to get up early for Nuktuk! I guess I haven’t really broken the habit yet. What are you doing up?” 

“I didn’t sleep that well,” (Y/N) said, and she supposed she wasn’t totally lying. She turned back to the pantry. “Plus I was hungry and I didn’t want to wait for everyone else to be up to eat. All these foods look too fancy.” Bolin snorted, as if she had said something funny. (Y/N) supposed it had something to do with her past, so she didn’t press him. 

“I can make you something!” He said, pushing past her to get into the pantry. His fingers were on her arm for only a moment but (Y/N’s) heart leapt into her throat and she had to take a deep breath to right her emotions. Bolin’s hands reached out and grabbed all sort of different ingredients. 

“You really don’t have to make me anything,” She assured him, to which Bolin scoffed. 

“I know I don’t have to,” He said to her, flashing a smile. “I want to.” He went over to the main island in the kitchen, laying out all of the ingredients in a row. “Today I will be making the lovely lady...toast.” 

“Toast?” (Y/N) repeated, a giggle following her question. “These seem like a lot of ingredients for toast. Do I even like toast?” 

“’Do you like toast?’” Bolin asked in a teasing manner. “You love toast! But you have to eat it in a very specific and sometimes frustrating way, if I remember correctly.” 

“I’m picky when it comes to toast?” She took a seat across from him, leaning her elbows on the marble countertop. “You’re making me sound pretentious.” 

“Oh you are,” Bolin said as he turned on the stove. He gave her another smile and (Y/N) knew he was kidding, “But only when it comes to food. You’re a big food snob.” 

“You’re telling me a lot about myself today and I’m not sure if I like any of it.” Bolin laughed at that, then began walking her through the instructions of how to make her special toast. As she watched, (Y/N) understood why Bolin had become a mover star. She felt like she could listen to him talk for hours. 

When her food was ready, Bolin elegantly garnished the plate and slid it in front of her. He watched her with an eager smile on his face. “Try it!” (Y/N) bit into the warm bread and hummed in delight. 

“I understand why I’m such a snob now,” She said. “I have pretty good taste.” 

“Does that mean I nailed it?” (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I’m gonna assume so, yes,” She said as she took another bite. 

“Great! I was worried I had forgotten how to make it! Y’know it’s been years since-” He stopped himself, his green eyes falling to the floor. Unsure what to do with the silence, (Y/N) slid the plate in between them. 

“Try your masterpiece, Chef Bolin.” She smiled softly at him and the corners of his lips turned up slightly. As they sat there sharing their food, (Y/N) was more curious than ever as to what had really happened between her and Bolin. Because right now, she feared that she was going to fall for him all over again. 

After their private breakfast, (Y/N) and Bolin walked to the main dining room, where the rest of their group was waiting. Korra and Asami’s faces lit up as they entered the room, but (Y/N) noticed how much of a point Mako was making to look away from her. The uneasiness from the morning rising in her stomach again, she took her seat between Korra and Asami. 

“Ready for your first training day?” Asami asked. 

“Could barely sleep thinking about it!�� (Y/N) said. The waiters brought in their food, but (Y/N) only picked at hers while the rest of her friends dove in. 

“You’re gonna have to eat something if you’re gonna train today,” Korra said through a mouthful of rice. “Don’t need you passing out. Again.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes. 

“I’m pretty full! I got up early and Bolin made me this toast that I apparently really love.” Korra’s eyebrow quirked up in curiosity and, unbeknownst to (Y/N), a small smile made its way onto Asami’s lips. 

“That’s nice of him,” Asami said.

Once breakfast was finished, Asami led (Y/N) to the sparring room. She showed her mostly defensive maneuvers, like how to block an attack and get out of someone’s grasp. But (Y/N’s) mind was so far away that each time Asami taught her a new move, (Y/N) forgot it almost immediately. They had to go through each move close to seven times before (Y/N) was somewhat okay at it. 

Sweating, she sat down on the mat and flopped onto her back like a starfish. “I’m sorry for being such a bad student,” She huffed as she caught her breath. Asami stood over her, a quizzical expression on her face. 

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quickly. “I’m totally fine, just have amnesia.” She knocked against her skull. “Nothing’s getting in here, I guess.” Before Asami could speak, Korra knocked on the door of the sparring room. 

“How’s it going?” 

“Well...” Asami started, glancing down at (Y/N). She stared up at Korra, a frown pulling at the ends of her lips. 

“I’m feeling a bit too much like an emotional mess today to spar, I think,” (Y/N) admitted, her voice rather sheepish. Korra sat down beside her, Asami doing the same. 

“Even more of an emotional mess than usual?” Korra quipped, nudging (Y/N) with the toe of her boot. (Y/N) sighed and stared up at the ceiling. There were so many secrets surrounding her life already. Did she really want to keep one more? She turned and looked at Korra’s bright blue eyes and she felt her heart squeeze inside her chest. Part of making friends was trusting people, right? And these seemed like people worth trusting. 

(Y/N) sat up and tucked her knees into her chest. “Mako kissed me last night.” Her words came out fast, rushed, and for a moment (Y/N) was unsure if they had actually heard her. 

“Woah!” Asami exclaimed, just as Korra said, “What?” (Y/N) covered her face with her hands to hide her embarrassment. 

“I was thinking last night, about how Bolin said he hadn’t seen me in years, but when I met Mako, he said he hadn’t seen me in months. So, I confronted him about it, and apparently I did something to him, whenever he saw me last, but he was just being so...Mako about it that I yelled at him! And then after I was done yelling, he kissed me.” (Y/N) groaned. “Everything is just so messed up and complicated. I can’t wait to get my memories back.”

“I’m going to go talk to him.” Korra stood, hands balled into fists at her sides. (Y/N) grabbed her by the wrist. 

“Korra, wait! You seem mad-” 

“Because I am! You don’t deserve the way Mako treats you, and I want answers.” She wriggled her hand free from (Y/N’s) grasp and stormed out of the room, Asami and (Y/N) watching in her wake. 

“I have a feeling this isn’t going to be good,” (Y/N) said. Asami gave her a sympathetic smile. 

“Mako’s just a complicated person. When I dated him-” 

“You and Mako dated?” 

“Yeah, we dated before he and Korra did.” 

“Mako and Korra dated?” (Y/N) leaped to her feet. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know! I didn’t mean--Oh, I’ve messed everything up! I was worried that me being around would put a strain on your guys’ friendship, and now look what’s happened! Korra’s about to beat Mako to a pulp!” 

“Korra’s not going to do that,” Asami said with a laugh. “She’s just going to talk some sense into him.” (Y/N) couldn’t stop fidgeting with her fingers. She felt so anxious. 

“Are you upset that Mako kissed me?” 

“Of course not,” Asami said gently, standing so that she and (Y/N) were face to face. “I got over Mako a long time ago.” 

“And Korra? Is she going to be mad at me?” 

“It’s not your fault and she knows that. Korra wouldn’t be upset with you over something you had no control over.” Asami’s reassuring words put (Y/N) just a bit at ease. But the knot in her stomach tightened as she worried about how Mako and Korra’s conversation would go. Should she have kept what happened to herself? 

---

Korra found Mako easily, standing on the top deck of the ship by himself. “Hey!” She shouted, and Mako tensed. He knew that tone of voice. He turned to face her, raising an eyebrow. 

“What’s up?” He asked, but he had a feeling. Korra and (Y/N) had been getting closer, after all. 

“Care to explain yourself?” Korra asked, crossing her muscular arms over her chest. Mako opened his mouth to speak, but he shut it when no words would come out. He couldn’t even explain himself if he tried. He had laid in bed last night, mentally beating himself for kissing (Y/N). Maybe he had gotten too in the moment when she had told him she actually cared about him. Maybe he did it because he had been wanting to for a really long time. Mako truly didn’t know what he had been thinking. 

“I thought that when she left, the feelings I had for her would leave too,” Mako said quietly. “I did a good job pretending, while she and Bolin were together, but last night she told me that despite the way I had treated her she still cared that somehow she had made me upset. If you want an explanation, I don’t have one, because I don’t even know.” 

“Look,” Korra said, grabbing him by the arm. “We’re going to go inside and you’re going to tell me, Asami, and Bolin what exactly happened the last time you saw (Y/N).” 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

“I don’t really care if you think it’s a good idea. If we’re going to go into the Spirit World to help her get her memories back, then we all need to be on the same page, alright?” 

So Mako stood in the middle of Varrick’s fancy den, the eyes of his three closest friends curiously boring into him. With a deep breath, Mako began recalling the last time he saw (Y/N). 

---

Mako had just finished dinner with Asami when he began his walk to the pro-bending arena for practice. It was still early enough in the evening that people were walking about, but the streets were surprisingly less crowded than he expected. Mako tightened his scarf around his neck and shoved his hands into his coat pockets as a cool breeze flitted through the spring air. 

He was rounding the corner when he saw a familiar figure, huddling further into their coat and ducking their head down. Mako recognized the head of (color) hair and the way her fingers just barely peaked out of the sleeves that were too sizes too big for her. “(Y/N)?” He asked, coming to a stop. Her head snapped up at hearing her voice, and she took a staggered step back once she recognized Mako. He recognized the familiar sight of her tear-stained cheeks and watery eyes. “Are...are you okay?” 

And he knew he probably should be colder to her, considering what she had done to Bolin, but she looked so...sad. She gripped onto the edges of her jacket tightly, as if she was trying to hide in it, as she shook her head as her bottom lip trembled. “I messed up. I’m an idiot, I’m such an i-idiot and I-” She started crying again, her shoulders trembling as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth. 

“What happened?” Mako asked. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head furiously. 

“I saw-” She was trying to speak, but her own tears were getting in the way. She tried to wipe away her tears but they just kept falling. 

“Listen,” He said, gripping her by the shoulders. “I have to run. Meet me in the park at ten, okay? By the riverbank. We can sit down and talk and figure whatever’s going on out, alright?” (Y/N) looked up at him, nodding as she wiped away her tears. 

“Okay,” She said, her voice quiet as she tried her hardest not to let it wobble. “Thank you, Mako. I-I’ll explain everything.” She nodded determinedly and gave him a watery smile. “I’ll see you later.” 

Mako smiled too, despite himself. “Okay. Ten, don’t forget.” 

“Okay.” They walked away from each other, but he turned around countless times until she became lost in the crowd. He hated to leave her like that, but he had to get to practice. He couldn’t have anyone being suspicious about what he was doing: Bolin was still in the process of getting over her and the last thing he needed was finding out that Mako had seen a hysterical (Y/N) back in Republic City. 

When practice ended, Mako walked as quickly as he could to the park. He made up a story to Bolin about swinging by a store to get a new pair of shoes to get away from him. But when he reached the park at the exact spot he had told (Y/N) to meet him, just a few minutes before ten, she was nowhere to be found. Mako waited until late into the night and became angrier with each passing minute. He should have known that she would treat him the same way she had treated Bolin. 

So he returned home and had continued on with life, trying to forget about the night that he had found her sobbing, and was grateful that months passed without seeing her again.

---

Mako knew when he had finished his story and looked at Bolin that his brother was furious. “If you had told me,” Bolin said, his voice scarily low, “We wouldn’t be in this mess. She might still have her memories!” 

“You don’t know that,” Mako countered. “Just because she didn’t show up that night doesn’t mean that was when she lost her memories.” Mako looked to both Korra and Asami for reassurance, but both stared at him sadly. “Right?” He asked, and the guilt was starting to settle in his stomach. He had been so angry, so upset at (Y/N), for something that she might not have had any control over. Maybe if he had stayed with (Y/N), all of this never would have happened. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Mako said. “I was trying to look out for you. You were just starting to be okay again. I couldn’t ruin that.” Bolin set his jaw, clenching and then releasing his fists. 

“You can’t start thinking about the what ifs, Bolin,” Asami said, leaning over to place her hand on his. “She’s here now, right? And for the most part, she’s okay.” 

Bolin remained silent until a knock sounded against the heavy wooden doors of the den. (Y/N) peaked inside, her smile falling once she found all four of them gathered together and realized what the topic of discussion must be. “Dinner will be ready soon,” She said, before shutting the door. 

(Y/N) didn’t think she had ever experienced a more uncomfortable meal. No one had said a word since they sat down, so (Y/N) ate her food and wondered what on earth they could have been talking about before she had entered the den. She knew it had to have been about her, otherwise they wouldn’t have met, just the four of them. She glanced over at Bolin, who sat uncharacteristically far from Mako. 

She looked at Korra, dramatically raising her eyebrows and just slightly nodding her head toward the two boys. Korra gave (Y/N) an awkward smile, which all but confirmed (Y/N’s) suspicions about what had caused the two brothers to be so tense around each other. She cleared her throat to speak. “Asami taught me a few defensive moves today. I wasn’t very good, but hopefully I’ll be better tomorrow.” 

Bolin smiled at (Y/N), but she could tell it was straining him. “That’s great!” And he didn’t continue. She had only talked to Bolin a handful of times, but he always had much more to say than that. She rolled her eyes, tired of the weirdness that was culminating around the room. 

“Look, I know it’s strange, what happened between Mako and I, but it was honestly just an emotions thing. We were arguing and he probably got so mad at me he didn’t know what to do.” 

Mako’s wide amber eyes flashed up at her, his face instantly paling. He shook his head and (Y/N) tilted hers to the side in confusion. “What are you talking about?” Bolin questioned. 

“You know, the kiss last night?” Korra choked as she sipped her tea. “That’s why everything’s so weird right now, isn’t it?” As she looked at the faces around the room--Korra’s mix of fright and amusement, Asami’s surprise, Mako’s shame, and Bolin’s shock--(Y/N) realized immediately that she had miscalculated. Horribly. 

“Actually it wasn’t,” Bolin said, narrowing his eyes at his brother. “Mako conveniently left it out during our discussion today.” 

“Just use some Avatar powers on me the next time I’m about to say something stupid, okay?” (Y/N) asked Korra. The girl humored her with a salute. 

“I think I’m going to finish dinner in my room,” Bolin said, taking his plate and getting up from the table. The group watched as he walked out of the room, slamming the door shut on his way out. (Y/N) turned to Mako. 

“I’m so sorry!” She said quickly. “I thought he knew and that’s why everything was so weird!” 

“No,” Mako sighed. “Bolin was mad at me for a different reason.” Mako’s eyes met hers and he gave her a smile. “He was bound to find out eventually.” 

“I hope I haven’t ruined anything between you two.” (Y/N) had been so worried about causing rifts between the group, and that’s all she had done today! She thought about keeping her mouth shut permanently unless she was spoken to. 

“It’s alright,” Mako said. “Really. This isn’t the first time Bolin has been upset with me and it won’t be the last. I’ll talk to him once he’s calmed down.” (Y/N) nodded, turning back to her dinner. She probably shouldn’t talk to Bolin, but she wanted to. 

---

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[stevesharrlngtons]

108. Go ahead, baby, I got plenty of time. + Roman 🖤

prompt requests open

“We just have one more stop…” Roman trailed off, ducking his head down to peer up through the windshield at the fast passing scenery. 

Roman had insisted on taking you out to dinner that night, to the nicest restaurant Hemlock Grove had to offer. With plush velvet chairs and pricey cuts of meat and aged whiskey and wines. He made a show of holding your hand on the tabletop, fiddling with your fingers during conversations, cupping your palm gently while he ate. When he needed both hands for something, he’d only part for for a moment, before quickly resuming his previous grip. 

After two delicious courses and fifty dollar sundaes with rich espressos, you’d both left feeling fat and happy. You were idly discussing plans for the weekend, when Roman took a right down Main Street instead of a left that would lead to the Godfrey Mansion.

“Is this finally it?” You asked, “Is this where you finally kill me?”

Roman chuckled, the hand that lay on your thigh gave your exposed skin a squeeze. 

“Not just yet,” He mused, flicking on his turn signal to drive deeper a web of backroads and brush. 

“Oh thank lord,” You sighed dramatically, “That gives me more time to earn my keep with you.” 

Roman snorted and gave you another pulsing squeeze before removing his hand completely to aid his other in turning the wheel of his Jaguar. You could feel the ghost weight of his palm and fingers still tingling your skin. 

He had removed his hand to steer into a sharp turn onto a long gravel road flanked by a lumbering sea of trees. You looked out the passenger window to see the blur of passing greenery and couldn’t help but wonder what Roman was up to. He wasn’t a fan of the outdoors, openly scoffing at the idea of hikes and camping trips. He didn’t like public bodies of water or picnics anywhere but artistically groomed parks. While your murder joke had been just that, you wondered if Roman had in fact killed someone and they were folded in the trunk, waiting for the both of you to dig a hole in the middle of nowhere Pennslynia to dispose of them… You’d have to dig two holes if that were true. You’d strangle Roman to death if he made you dig a grave in heels and a brand new dress. 

Just as you were about to seriously inquire on what in the living fuck you two were doing out in the woods, Roman turned once more, which placed you both in front of a massive home. Smaller than the encompassing Godfrey estate, but large nonetheless. This home was much more angular, modern, with a much more muted color palette. 

Roman put the car in park and removed the keys from the ignition and simply stared at you. Utterly confused as to why you were at this mystery house was your final destination of the night, you just raised your eyebrows with a shake of your head. 

“Well, let’s get out.” He said frankly, before opening his door and stepping out into the cold. 

You followed his actions, though you were still completely puzzled by his behavior and the reason for this visit. When you exited the car, Roman extended his hand out for you to take, which you did without hesitation. 

“C’mon,” He gestured with his head to the house and you both started to walk up the drive to the entrance. 

“Do you know who lives here?” You asked, glancing around for any neighbors or the owners.

“You could say that.” Roman replied with a glint in his eyes, before he began to rummage through his pockets. 

“You’re being awful cryptic…” You laugh uncomfortably as Roman procedures a set of keys, which he uses to open the front door. 

Roman pushed it open with an effort so it swung wide open to reveal the entire first floor; the entire first floor that was completely empty. 

Roman said nothing as he guided you by the hand across the threshold. The sound of the soles of your shoes echoed through the house as you both walked across spotless hardwood. The house smelt like fresh paint and industrial glue. 

The home was open concept and extremely modern, something you would no doubt spy on the pages of a magazine. While it felt a bit cold, you saw so much potential all around.

“Do you like it?” Roman asked as he looked at you while your eyes scanned the bare home. 

“I mean -- yes. It’s beautiful. Is it a new place for The Tower or something? Like housing for clients or patients or something?” You said, eyes still inspecting the marble countertops and printine fixtures. 

“No, not exactly.” Roman swallowed thickly, so loud that you could hear him. 

You stopped your wandering and looked at Roman, who suddenly seemed nervous. Not in a sniveling, shaking, sweating way. Roman could never look anything but dignified and regal. But, his eyes were narrowed and blinking, his jaw was clenched and his shoulders squared as if he were waiting for the worst.

“I, uh, I actually bought this place. Out of pocket, not for Godfrey. I bought it for us.”

Us.

At the mention your eyes grew as large as dinner plates and your stomach dropped to your feet. 

“What?” You asked, completely baffled. 

“Yeah, I found it a few months ago and just closed escrow last week. It’s ours. I bought it for us to live in.” 

You opened your mouth multiple times, lips flapping like a fish as you tried to form words to reply to him with. 

“Fuck, do you hate it? Shit, fuck! OK, baby, just hear me out --” But you cut him off. 

Because you couldn’t find the words to tell him how happy you were, so your lips on his right now would have to suffice. You crushed your mouth to his and wound your shaking fingers in his hair, making sure he couldn’t move an inch away from your affections. Roman made a small grunt at the impact, but quickly recovered, taking a healthy grip of your ass as he kissed you back with fervor.

When you did finally pull apart from your heated kiss, both of you with labored breaths, you had tears on your cheeks. 

“I love it, Ro. I love it, so much. I can’t believe you did this for us.” You sniffled and Roman preened. 

“For you. For us to move on and start over. Away from that fucking mansion and all the pain it’s caused. It’s just us from now on,” He said, taking your face in his hands.

You hiccuped with a large smile, elated. 

Sure, some people might be angry that their partner bought a home without their knowing, but you didn’t care. You just loved the fact that Roman had thought of your collective future, of your new little family, of the love he had for you. You were high off of the adrenaline of surprise and the giddy bubble in your chest from Roman’s spoiling.

“I love you,” You cooed before kissing him once more. 

It wasn’t really a kiss, more of you both just both pressing your smiles together to properly convey your happiness in the moment. 

“Can we look around?” You knew Roman had work early the next morning. 

“Go ahead, baby, we got plenty of time.” He grinned, stroking your cheek with his thumb. 

You squealed with excitement, practically bouncing in your Manolos as you took Roman’s hand and started for the stairs. 

Roman went willingly, his arms straight as an arrow as you drug him around the house, chirping about art galleries, landscaping and antique dealers. He simply nodded and watched you with loving affection, his chest puffed out from the feeling of making you so happy, from the feeling of providing for you, for doing something right. 

He watched with his heart in his throat as you began to plan your future together.

[harringtonstudios]

baby oh baby. (part II)

plot: your due date arrives and things get just a little hectic. part 1!

A/N: i’ve had like the worst two days ever :/ this took me a while to write so i hope ya’ll like this hehee. requested by @kellysimagines​! gif is from casie’s actual birth that kells posted :)

taglist: @iamdorka @no-shxt-sherl @bakerkells @lovemythsworld @rosegoldrichie​

send requests here! (i need inspo.)

Almost nine months into your pregnancy and you were glowing. You also looked like a blown-up beach ball, swollen in places you didn’t even know you could be. One of the best things about being so pregnant though, was the fact that you had Colson hovering over you constantly. Usually, you hated when people worried over you, but having your boyfriend try and tend to your every need was a blessing in disguise. 

You had kept up with a certain filming schedule until it had been harder for you to make appearances. After seven months, you had switched all your vlogs to more indoor ones, trying to show fun content in the Baker house. 

There had been a video where you and Casie had played around with choosing a paint color for the nursery. Another vlog, one of the fan favorites, was when the guys had all come over to set up and decorate the nursery as a surprise. You hadn’t been aware of what was happening, only that Rook had run in to grab a camera from your bedroom. Hours later, they led you into the room, a pale mint-green with a mural painting and a black chalkboard wall on one side. It had been everything you wanted, and watching the footage of them goofing around all day to make it had made the entire experience better.

You had been going to regular gyno appointments, keeping in check with your prenatal vitamins and trying to record every new milestone that happened. 

One of the first milestones was when you felt your baby kick. You had never been through pregnancy, and the feeling of something moving in around you was so foreign that you hadn’t even recognized it. Colson had been the one, hands laying on your stomach as you were editing one of your older vlogs. He had immediately frozen in his movements, looking up at you with the warmest eyes. You hadn’t paid much attention, so he got up, bringing your camera, aiming it towards you before saying, “So, here we have Y/N. And here, we have baby Baker just kicking around.” Your reaction was priceless and it was still one of the funniest things he had caught on camera. 

Another milestone had been hearing the baby’s heartbeat. You had promised Casie that she would be the first person to hear baby Baker’s heart, so you held the camera in your hands as the nurse spread cool jelly on your stomach. Within seconds, soft thuds filled up the emptiness of the room. Casie had dropped open her mouth, instinctively reaching for your hand. There had been such love filling inside of you at that moment, holding her hand and hearing the heartbeat of your new baby. Tears started falling down onto your cheeks and you wiped them away hastily, smiling at Casie’s little face as she grinned up at you.

Your favorite milestone so far though had been when Colson had caught you sitting on the kitchen floor, refrigerator open. There was a mess in front of you, different foods you’d been craving half opened. You were aiming a whip cream can straight down on your throat when he walked down the stairs. He laughed loudly, startling you, sending whip cream all over your face instead of your mouth. 

“Fuck, Colson!” you scolded him, reaching for something to wipe your face with. 

“Baby, I couldn’t help it. What are you doing, its 4am,” he rationalized, passing you paper towels. After wiping most of the whip cream off, you shrugged, motioning at all the foods surrounding you. 

“Baby Baker got hungry,” you tried and he gave you a look, before grinning. 

Picking up the half-eaten carton of cheese cubes, he murmured, “And they wanted cheddar?”

You nodded, before laughing yourself. It was kinda crazy. You had eaten so many different flavor profiles that you couldn’t actually taste anything anymore. Colson came closer, before motioning for your hand. Pulling you up, he reached over, grabbing your face. Licking up the side of your cheek, he whispered, “You got something on your face.”

You pushed him away, snickering at his words. “I wonder why,” you spoke back, tongue sticking out. Moving back into his arms, he kissed your forehead, before looking down to stare straight into your eyes. Making eye contact, he muttered, “Lemme put something else down your throat.”

Your eyes widen immediately and you let out a deep belly-laugh. He smirked and you moved out of his embrace, whacking him, “Do you see the kitchen right now?”

“We can do it right here, I promise I’ll help clean up after,” he murmured, hands back on you, trailing up and down your bare arms. It took two more seconds, and then you were kissing him before awkwardly getting on your knees, belly in the way. 

He cleaned up the entire kitchen afterwards, even using the fancy wipes you had bought to kill germs on the countertops. It was heaven, you sat on the couch, watching him move around, keeping him in check every time he missed a spot. 

-

Sooner than later, you were near the ending days of your nine months. Things had been hectic in the Baker household. With your due date upcoming, the guys had decided to start cooking for the next few days. There was half-eaten food everywhere, pans stacked up on counters, and dishes that no one had bothered to clean up. It was getting a little too crazy, with everyone celebrating the pre-arrival of the baby. You weren’t in the best shape to be cleaning up the house, especially since your doctor had asked you to move as little as possible right before the due date, but you couldn’t just sit back in this messy house. 

Slowly moving into the kitchen, you grabbed one of the plastic bags from under the sink. Sweeping through the counters, you dumped in wrappers, empty cans, and the hundreds of paper plates scattered around the surfaces. You were just reaching for the empty pizza box when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain rise up in your stomach.

Gasping, you leaned against the counter, trying to ride through the wave of pain. Spacing your feet apart, you steadied yourself, breathing slowly. Another sharp pain came through and you dropped the garbage bag, reaching for the marble top. A third pain rode in and you let out a little scream, bringing your head against the surface, trying to breathe through the pain. 

A few seconds later, you felt something wet gush down your legs, and you silently cursed all the heavens to come. Your water had broken. You could hear the commotion going on in the game room and you hesitated before yelling, “SOMEONE DRIVE ME TO THE HOSPITAL!”

For a second, there was silence and then Colson started screaming at the guys. Slim ran past you, going upstairs to get your delivery bag that your best friend had packed for you. Rook was on the phone and as he came to stand near you, you could hear Casie on the other end, mumbling through her sleep. You let out another scream, the pain unbearable. Just as you were about to fall, Colson came up right behind you. He put his arms around you, pushing you to stand back up. 

“Let’s go baby, let’s get in the car,” he murmured and you tuned everyone else out, focusing on your boyfriend’s reassuring voice. As you waddled towards the door, Slim came back, carrying the red leather bag with all your essentials in it. There was a camera you had tossed in there, back when you were still debating filming the birth. Colson had sat down with you one night, and you both had discussed what would be the best option. Finally, you had decided on not exactly filming the birth, but having Colson have the camera before and after, so that he could capture as many moments as possible. 

Sitting in the passenger seat, you pushed it back, almost lying down as Colson started the car. You picked up your phone, facetiming your best friend to get her ass to the hospital just as a sharp turn came up on the road. 

“Colson! What the fuck,” you shouted.

“Shit, I’m sorry, oh fuck, I’m nervous,” he yelled back, running a hand through his hair and you grimaced as you felt a tinge of pain.

 Hanging up the facetime, you murmured out, “We’re fine. Listen, it’s ok. Let’s just get to the hospital yeah?” You saw him nod out of your peripheral, and you reached for his hand, squeezing it just a little as the emergency room came into sight. 

-

An hour later, Colson was sitting next to your hospital bed in the blue scrubs they made him put on. He was talking into the camera, occasionally panning over to you. You were in pain, but the doctors had decided you weren’t dilated enough yet. They wanted to wait longer, just so that the birth could be natural and easier for both parties. They had given you an epidural shot, which had hurt like all fucking hell, but at least you were feeling a little bit better now. Your friend had bought you fruit snacks and you popped another one into your mouth as Colson asked, “How’s mama feeling?”

“I am on many drugs right now,” you responded, waving a fruit grape gummy around in the air. He laughed before turning the camera back on himself. 

“How are you actually doing?” your friend asked, dragging a chair over to sit on the other side of the bed. 

“I just want this fucking baby out of me already. Like I love that I grew this human inside of me, but I can’t do it anymore. And why don’t guys have to deal with this? Can you imagine if this one had a baby inside of him, he’d be going berserk right now!” you ranted, pointing over to Colson as he chatted away on the vlog. 

-

Three hours later, and the nurses had informed you that you were perfectly dilated. Pushing through the slight pain, you gripped Colson’s hand as you focused. He was mumbling jokes out into the air, but at the first sounds of your screams, he quickly shut up. You were pretty sure you were breaking the bones in his hand, but he deserved it for making you go through all this pain, so you closed your eyes, letting out another scream.

“You’re doing good Y/N. Keep pushing,” the doctor stated and you let the tears fall as you put in all the strength you had left. 

“Come on sweetie, one more push,” the nurse next to you mumbled, wiping your forehead. You grunted and then your body instantly relaxed. The sounds of a cry filled the room and you collapsed backwards, crying silently. You felt Colson kiss your forehead before he dropped your hand, moving over to see your baby. 

“Congratulations guys, it’s a boy,” the doctor exclaimed and you let out a soft laugh. Colson had wanted a baby boy, you both had chosen not to know the gender and you looked over to see the excitement on his face. 

“Here mom, why don’t you hold him,” the nurse said, gently picking up your baby from the bassinet. You reached out as she put him into your arms. He was so warm, small body, mouth twisting as he let out another cry. His eyes were a murky blue and you looked up at the love of your life, staring at you both from across the bed with his own blue eyes. There were tears gathering and he reached up to wipe his own away before you murmured, “Come here.”

“Fuck, I’m so happy right now. I love you Y/N. I love you so much,” he whispered as he stood closer next to you, reaching out a hand to put on your baby boy. 

“I love you,” you mumbled back and you turned your head up just a little to give him a kiss. Your baby let out another cry and you sighed, resting your forehead on Colson’s shoulder. 

“I guess he doesn’t like that too much,” you joked and you felt Colson shake with laughter. Your little family had just grown by one, and nothing could have felt better than holding your baby boy in your arms with your boyfriend right by your side.

[somebodytolovesx]

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever - Bucky Barnes

Summary - Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N find themselves having a disagreement that worsens as the hours pass.

Warnings - Angsty

It had been a Tuesday evening at eight fifty-two when the argument had begun for Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes and James Buchanan Barnes. The argument was one like they had never had before in their year of marriage, it had struck a match and blew them both out...

It was after Bucky had come home from work and threw his suit jacket onto the back of the sofa, his suede shoes thrown regardlessly through the living room and the belt of his trousers on the kitchen countertop. He was just too tired to wait until he hit his bedroom. Work was coming down on Bucky Barnes like a ton of bricks; the paperwork, the meetings, the assignments, it was exhausting him at the end of the day and he just wanted to rest.

He dragged himself towards the bottom of the stairs where he would begin his ascent to his Y/N, he had thought of her fondly that day...about what she would be doing whilst he filled out paper after paper and if her parents had returned her call about the holiday they had planned for later on during that year. He had stepped onto the fifth step, holding onto the wooden bannister for support from his dazed state when he had heard the fridge door opening behind him.

Bucky leant his back against the bannister and let his head fall hard against the white-painted wall behind him, he saw his Y/N taking out a slim bottle of the white, Italian Asti from the cold shelf and place it gently onto the marble countertop. She looked beautiful but frustrated, restless; her satin, black robe fell off her shoulder and the belt was so loosely tied, her hair was tousled and ever so slightly frizzy but the eyeliner and dark lip she wore was neat, the black, florally lingerie she wore underneath her robe was elegant and classy. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Bucky called out to her, his voice was concerned and low for his wife. Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes poured the sweet wine into a deep glass for herself and she filled it to just below the brim. 

“Yeah, are you?” Y/N asked, her voice was suppressing the true tone of anger that she was unintentionally feeling. She drunk from the glass, glancing down at the drink within it because, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ she thought to herself comically. 

“Yeah, what’s with the tone of your voice?” Bucky recoiled and sneered.

“Just a busy day, been housekeeping and dealing with business since seven this morning” Y/N sighed breathlessly, the wrinkles by her eyes appearing as she drunk the Asti.

“Come to bed with me then, I don’t go in till later tomorrow so we can stay in bed” Bucky raised his eyebrows sweetly at Y/N but she carried on looking down and away from him. 

“Let me just finish this then” She spoke somberly. Y/N ran a hand through her hair and pushed it away from her face, Bucky could see from where he stood her faded, dark eyeshadow and took notice of how it looked worn down. 

“Alright” Bucky sighed in defeat and pressed his lips thinly together, he started climbing the spiralling staircase once again. He knew when she drunk before bed it must have been a draining day or someone must have annoyed her but he would have appreciated if she prioritised the time with her husband and wanted to be in his arms as soon as she saw him.

“Maybe you could tidy up after yourself with that extra time off” Y/N mumbled under her breath, putting her empty glass in the sink. Now Bucky knew the had a tendency to get into his wife’s system fast but she had only had one drink.

“What?” Bucky turned around on his heels and looked at her inquisitively.

“Go to bed babe, I’ll be up in a minute” Y/N dismissed him like everything was fine. 

“You said something sweetheart” Bucky spoke.

“I just said I would like if you cleared up your clothes before going to bed instead of leaving them all over the place for me to clean up” Y/N spoke.

“I’ll clean them up in the morning before I go, It’s just been a busy day and I wanna sleep with you” Bucky’s voice was defensive and raised in pitch.

“You won’t though because you’ll not bother and then it’ll leave me to do it and I’ve got enough to do already” Y/N groaned, her face was held tightly in her hands and she was clearly frustrated, Bucky could tell that it wasn’t just a new frustration she had with him.

“I think I'm gonna clean the house that I pay for” Bucky stated matter of factly.

That fight had sparked and was beginning to ignite.  

“And do you need me to also rejig your memory of who pays for half of the bills, runs half of your business and cleans up after you since we’ve been married” Y/N argued back. Her temper had moved her from the counter and into the middle of between the living room and kitchen where Bucky could see her bare legs standing their ground.

“Well, it seems as of late all you’re doing is sitting around on the phone, in underwear that I brought you, drinking wine all-day” Bucky knew that stung her more than it stung him because he knew Y/N prided herself on being a woman of business and never wanted to be a housewife. 

“You never complained when I was just another girl in your bed every night but now that you have to be committed and be responsible to only me it’s all different isn’t it?” Y/N’s tone was furious.

“You are the worst person to argue with because you don’t even listen to what I’m actually saying, you just talk and talk and talk and I don’t want to listen right now” Bucky had shouted back at her.

There was silence after that, it was like there was a cold breeze through the fire. Bucky walked towards Y/N and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the sofa, walked past her and snatched his belt from the kitchen counter, then trod heavily through the living room to pick up his shoes up from the floor. 

“We shouldn’t leave this” Y/N sighed exasperatedly, she lowered her head and scratched her forearm.

“You wouldn’t listen if I apologised tonight” Bucky’s strained, tired voice reached her ears and it made her feel like she had to take full responsibility for all of what had happened. 

“Might be the last chance you can for a long time” She said out of spite at his ignorance to her attempt to settle things down at least just for that night. 

“I’ll apologise then” Bucky turned to the stairs and began to take a slow, heavy step up them, his voice was left behind him as he disappeared behind the white, cylinder-shaped wall. Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes stood there and her eyebrows turned upwards as the tears filled her eyes, she ran both clenched hands through the front of her hair and gripped at the tangled lox. 

Her and her husband’s fights were always that explosive and were never solved until the next morning despite what might have been said in the heat of the moment. Y/N prayed that one day their fights would change and it would end in them tangled up in the bedsheets like other couples instead of walking away from each other...

Y/N’s black trenchcoat was pulled tight around her body and her ankle boots were pulled onto her feet lazily, the autumn weather would definitely chill her but she would be back indoors quick enough. She questioned if she should stay before going and if it was too dramatic of her to leave so late but Bucky was most likely asleep in their bed already or had already buried his frustrations with her in extra work. 

The young woman pulled their front door open and turned off the lights behind her, she was met with the heavy downpour of rain outside. The street lights illuminated the rain and made them look golden and the emptiness of the streets made her feel as if she had the whole world to herself like there was no Bucky. It was just her. 

Y/N shut the door behind her and stepped carefully down the small set of stairs, the rain began to dampen her coat and bare legs and her hair was returning to its natural waves as it dampened. She walked along the pavement as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called for a taxi to come and pick her up from the corner of Henry Street, she was embarrassed by how many times she had thought of doing that and now she actually had.

At the other end of the street, Bucky Barnes was sat on the edge of his bed, his duvet was half strewn across the carpet, the lamp on his bedside table was on its side and the wardrobe door was recklessly pulled open. He had heard the front door open and close after their argument when he had thought that Y/N would either come to bed much later or stay downstairs that night. She had never done that and that was the moment he knew that he shouldn’t have been so unforgiving with her. He chugged down the glass of water he had gotten from the bathroom (The light of which was still on) and sat at the edge, accepting his thoughts were too wild and his dreams would be too real for him to crave the sleep he needed. She would be okay, he thought. 

Y/N stepped into the taxi and told the driver where she wanted him to take her, Hotel Le Bleu, it was a hotel that she had been to before when she and Bucky were first in talks of her moving to Brooklyn and in with him a month before they had gotten married. She knew it would have been better for her to go somewhere else for the night that didn’t have any connotation to the man she loved but it was the first place that came to mind and it slipped out of her mouth so easily. 

She leant her head against the rain-drizzled window and watched the different coloured lights blur past her through the traffic and stormy weather, the tears still tracked through her makeup but without vivid emotion, without the groaning or screaming, as she thought of her husband; when would he get tired of this? Not to say that she hoped he would.  

“Rough day, pretty lady?” The taxi driver asked respectfully. He had thin, grey hair, a grey handlebar moustache to accompany and wore thick, black-rimmed glasses. 

“I suppose” Y/N had replied back. She felt uncomfortable even acknowledging that after making such a huge commitment as a marriage that there would be bad days with the person she vowed to love for the rest of her life. 

“Sounds like possibly the worst” The senior man sympathised with her. 

“Perhaps” Y/N was short with her subtle agreement. 

“Look, we’re here pretty lady but I hope you have a good night and feel better” He wished her. Y/N read the money counter on the car’s dashboard and scanned her card onto the card reader that he held out to her. 

“You too” She hummed quietly and stepped out of the taxi, slamming the car door behind her. She turned around to face the steps up to the entrance of the hotel and was blinded by the fusillade of flashing, white lights surrounding her. They were so loud. The men holding the cameras were shouting inaudible things at her, blocking the steps. 

“Can I just get through, please?” Y/N shouted over them but her timid tone was overshadowed by their deep, loud voices and none of them moved. She was caught like a dear in the headlights, stumbling around trying to find a gap in between them to run through.

“I just need to get through, I’m sorry”, Y/N shoved her way through the blinding lights and scampered herself up the stairs rolled with a lavish, blue carpet. The tears streaming down her face were replaced with the aftermath - her bloodshot eyes, strained with exhaustion as she reached the silver door handle and heaved it open. It was warm inside and dry, the calm atmosphere away from the rain and cameras made her want to find the nearest bed and just sleep forever.  

“Miss, can I find you a room or take your coat?” A young lady came and asked Y/N.

“Uh, no but a room will do, just for the night please,” Y/N asked back. Her hands went to take off her coat then retracted when she remembered the clothes that she wore underneath.

“They’re always out there you know? Just waiting” The young lady shared a smile with her. 

It was still raining just as heavy, rattling against the full-body windows when Bucky Barnes had received a phone call from Steve Rogers, his heart had missed a beat considering the time and the quietness of Steve’s phone during working hours. He was reluctant to answer at first, he had only just been able to get comfortable laying down and regaining his need for sleep but it was Steve phoning against his usual routine or work ethic.

“Buck, I’m sorry it’s late but just a quick one, have you seen the news?” Steve kept his voice to a ‘hush-hush’ tone as if there must have been people around him.

“There always news Steve” Bucky stated ignorantly. 

“No, but it’s about Y/N” His best friend informed him.

“There isn’t a day where one of us isn’t in the news, what did they write?” Bucky wondered, his tired state evident. 

“’Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes, wife to James Barnes, arrives at ‘Hotel Le Bleu’ looking distressed and exhausted’ then there’s just a bunch of paparazzi photos of her” Steve read out loud over the phone.

“Alright, thanks Steve, I’ll see you tomorrow in the morning” Bucky spoke then ended the phone call and went to look at them, he couldn’t read through more than two with their assumptions and descriptions or because of how astray Y/N looked. He knew that she didn’t do well with paparazzi following them or the tabloids that they wrote afterwards so he just prayed that she was doing okay but he couldn’t deny the anger boiling inside of him at his and her actions from earlier on during the night. 

Bucky stopped his pacing and for a minute didn’t know what to do with himself, he didn’t know whether he should express his anger and make the room more of the mess than it already was, he knew Y/N would hate him for it if she was home, or to try and fall back into the rest he was beginning to find himself in. The one thing Bucky knew he couldn’t do was to chase after her, it would not do any better for the situation or for the both of them, he had to let her be on her own just for the night...

Y/N stood in front of the bed in the room she had been issued, it was dimly lit, warm and small but nice to be in; the royal blue bedsheets matched the curtains that were closed when she arrived, the bedside lamps radiated a golden hue and the wooden floors made it feel cosy. She invited the warmth and began to untie the belt holding her trenchcoat around her, it dropped to the floor beneath, leaving her in the robe and underwear she wore underneath. She let her back fall to the duvet on top of the bed, it was soft and comforting unlike many other things that happened that night and what she needed, her hands ran tenderly over her thighs and over her chest and then up through to her hair, imagining that they were her husband’s soft touches sending her to sleep and putting her mind at ease. 

It didn’t, as much as she could close her eyes and try to replicate his presence, her sub-conscience couldn’t be tricked enough into thinking it was real. They were still her hands, her body the only one there in a bed she had never slept in before. Y/N’s arms dropped to her sides in an expression of her frustrations and her back arched perfectly as she pulled her back off the bed, she couldn’t describe the emotions that had built inside of her over the last few hours but she worried that that was the last argument they would have, if that was the end of it all. She rested her elbows on her knees and glanced slowly around the room, maybe she didn’t want to be at home because it may be for the best but this wasn’t where she wanted to be either.

The light beside Bucky’s bed had been switched off and the dull gloom of the night was left to lighten their room, Bucky just wanted for her to call him and ask him to bring her back home because at least she was with him.

[eury--dice]

history, huh?

chapter 2: prope

(check the rb for chapter 1 on tumblr + ao3 links!)

Blue’s gum popped loudly on the other line. Adam couldn’t remember the last time he saw her chew gum, but somehow it seemed fitting that she picked up the habit then, with him overseas. “Any weird paintings?”

“I’m legally obligated not to tell you,” Adam replied, flicking his eyes over a textbook. He scanned his eyes over a page, but the fonts and colors all blurred together, creating a grey and red mass of string in front of him instead of a helpful breakdown of France’s pre-revolution economy. His phone, propped up on a tiny potted fern, revealed Blue Sargent in all of her early-evening glory. He wondered what the tabloids might think of her like this: her thick and short black hair held back by clashing vibrant hair clips, dressed in one of Gansey’s old Aglionby sweaters she converted into a halter top, felt-tip pen ink somehow smudged on her cheek. There was something wonderfully grounding about her familiar chaos.

“Contracts are a suggestion and nothing more.”

“Don’t let your mother hear that. She’ll have us both thrown in jail.” Ronan’s words from earlier popped into his head, but he had the luxury of ignoring them with the prince out of sight, and so he did. 

“C’mon, Adam, you know she’s a softie. You’re in Kensington Palace. You have to tell me something exciting.”

Adam scrounged for something to tell her. He glanced around his room again, still caught off-guard by how much it felt like a castle. Admittedly, he didn’t have a great reference for what castles were supposed to feel like; the only other castle he had been in was the Bishop Palace on a tour with his mother at age eight. His hair raised on end at random moments here the same way it did then, the draftiness leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. He couldn't quite shake the idea that someone was watching him, caught between air molecules and screaming for someone to hear them. The White House sometimes gave him the same feeling. Realistically, he knew people passed over every spot on the earth and nothing made the walls of the White House or Kensington Palace any different in that regard. But the history in them intimidated him. The presence of greats, from founding fathers to celebrity politicians to monarchs, was a guarantee rather than a possibility. He couldn’t help but feel watched by them, feel their expectations and disappointment thick in the air.

Living there all the time as Ronan did must be lonely, surrounded only by ghosts. 

He pushed his feet against the floor, leaning back in his chair so that it balanced on two legs. His leg swung back and forth to dully hit the wooden underside of the seat while the other braced him. Adam didn’t quite want to tell Blue any of that. He knew she would understand, both because she was Blue and because her family was a big believer in the supernatural and psychic. But he didn’t know how to say it without a long-winded rant. “There’s a coat of armor outside my room,” he admitted in a low tone. “I’ve been waiting for it to twitch its finger and beckon me closer.”

“I’m sure if you ask nicely it will let you pursue your weird metal fantasies.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Adam said without heat, finally flipping the textbook shut. “No kink-shaming over the phone.”

“I watched the Wizard of Oz with you at age eight, Adam. You can’t hide your reaction to the Tin Man from me.”

Adam rubbed his eyes. “I need ice cream to deal with this bullying,” he announced, standing from the borrowed desk and snatching his phone up.

“Aw, at least I know that the English haven’t been able to suck all the life out of you if you’re complaining and want ice cream.”

“They haven’t managed it yet, but we’re only one photo op in.”

“Well, if the excess of British does manage to sideline you, let me know. I know Gansey will want the heads-up for the tabloids.”

“As long as you don’t feed them headlines again, I’d be happy to.” Adam rounded the corner into the spacious kitchen reserved for guests of the Crown. He’d roll his eyes at the needless expense if the White House didn’t provide the exact same accommodations. 

“I’m telling you again, I know nothing of the allegation.”

Adam gave her a flat look. “Who else would pen ‘First Son Denies Fur Son Residence in the Residence?’ Besides the obvious reason for it being bad, it was clearly you.”

Blue blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Sometimes I hate your intimate knowledge of my love of wordplay.”

“And I yours of the diplomatic taxidermy gifts I receive.”

“I’m sure the Minister of Foreign Affairs’ son meant well, he was just...creepy.”

Adam sighed, opening the freezer with one hand to reveal a box of pre-packaged ice cream cones. “They always mean well.”

He pulled the box from the freezer and shut the door, turning on his heel to face the counter. But he stopped short when he noticed it was no longer just him and Blue alone in the kitchen. 

Prince Ronan stood in the entryway to the kitchen, disarmed in the half-light with his flannel pajama pants and black t-shirt combination. Over-the-ear headphones sat on his head, but he pushed them down to loop around his neck. The music was so loud it bled into the air, carrying the harsh sound of drums until they reached Ronan across the kitchen. On his screen, Blue studied Adam and his sudden pause, and the voice of Gansey carried over from somewhere far away - “I’ve got a new article,” it sounded like, though Adam could barely hear anything. 

“Call you back,” he said quietly, disconnecting from the call. Ronan looked almost apologetic when Adam looked back up towards him.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he confessed. “Goody-two-shoes like you.”

Adam wanted to take offense to it, but something stopped him. “I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, well, insomnia calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?” The two shared a tight smile. 

“I was out,” Ronan explained, gesturing to the box in Adam’s hand. “Knew there’d be a stock here. I’m...sorry.” The word sounded bitter and foreign on his tongue.

“It’s fine,” Adam said. “Midnight snacks are to be taken seriously or not at all.” He slid the box across the counter, suddenly very aware of his threadbare, faded crimson coca-cola tee shirt and GU sweatpants. He couldn’t stop feeling the slide of them against his skin. 

Ronan clutched the box once it reached him, looking to Adam with something close to surprise. Still, he opened the box and selected an ice cream. 

While he was distracted, Adam snapped a picture, the flash bright in the dim kitchen. 

The stare leveled at him by Ronan should’ve been enough to pin any self-preserving person in place, but Adam rarely did what was best for him personally. “What the fuck is that for?”

“Two social media posts a day,” Adam replied, speeding through the filtering process and tapping to the captioning. “It’s part of the contract.”

“Of course it would be,” Ronan mutters with great disdain. “Fucking social media addicted hounds.”

“Not a fan of technology?”

“Oh, sure, other than the fact that it’s a blight consuming the world by slaughtering brain cells and slowly giving us radiation poisoning.”

“You could’ve just said ‘yes.’”

“Ah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Adam smiled brightly. “Not giving me a headache from all of the pomposity?” 

“Exactly. No fun.” When Adam continued to stare blankly at his screen, Ronan rolled his eyes. “Does it take you this long to caption everything you do? If so, I understand why so little governing takes place.”

“Because the monarchy is oh-so-powerful,” Adam replied, but then decided to cut them off before it could turn into a full-blown fight. “It always takes me a minute to think of something good.”

Ronan grabbed the phone from his hands. “You’re overthinking it,” he dismissed, making a few decisive taps before handing the phone back to Adam, photo captioned but not yet posted. insomnia ice cream ft. @PrinceRonan. 

“Thought you hated technology?”

“Hate and lack of proficiency are two different things.” “...Of course,” Adam said, clicking post on the photo. Ronan turned and walked toward the door, the song on his headphones audibly changing. Not one for goodbyes, then. The feeling he had in his room was back then, the idea that ghosts clung to the air around him and stole oxygen with their demands. Although Ronan had not yet left, Adam already felt as though he were lonely. Lonely, but not alone, still technically with Ronan and all of the ghosts thickening the air.

Adam, in a fluid movement he didn’t really plan, dumped half of the ice creams on the counter and held out the box across the marble countertop as though bridging some wide ocean. The coolness of the marble inched closer to the skin of his forearm where it hovered a few inches in the air.

“You can take these if you’d like.”

Ronan froze, his back straightened and still before he turned ninety degrees back to look at Adam. “Pardon?”

“The ice cream cones. It’s probably better you do, honestly. I just eat them when I’m bored. Calories I don’t really need.”

Ronan’s startlingly blue eyes studied him for a moment, roaming every line of Adam’s face as though searching for some trickery and then jumping to the box in Adam’s outstretched hand. “Thank you,” he said at last in an undertone, accepting the offered box. And, leaving Adam with some hint of a smile, Prince Ronan was gone, Adam all by himself and the faint memory of intense guitar music leaking from expensive headphones still lingering in the air. 

  Once they landed firmly in PR territory, Adam felt a bit steadier on his feet.

PR he knew like the back of his hand, armed with years of experience from campaigns and political terms. It was not innate for him like for Gansey, but like everything else in his life, Adam was a star pupil and quick to pick it up thoroughly. He studied diligently, examining the facial expressions of everyone around him, examining each furrow of brow and twitch of lips and bellow of a laugh, practicing and perfecting on his own to ensure that he blended in seamlessly and, when necessary, stood out brilliantly. America’s First Son, valedictorian-intelligent and attractive enough to stop hearts for a moment upon seeing him. By the time he sat on ITV This Morning next to his enemy, he certainly knew all the tips and tricks and expertise ensuring a successful interview, and luckily Ronan seemed to know his way around a talk show as well. His thoroughly British host seemed appropriately charmed by their dynamic, a golden-child American and England’s simultaneously proper and wild Royal. 

Adam excelled at PR not because he was natural but because he was over-prepared, and so he was comfortable with the rhythm he and Ronan fell into - referencing each other’s favorites, cracking dry, sarcastic jokes about ice cream, fist-bumping and throwing arms around each other’s shoulders for effect when needed.

He counted it as a win that his resentment never made it into his words or his actions. Instead, he distracted himself with what they were doing, savoring the news alerts of their “clearly natural” friendship and the thumbs-up and “!!!” texts from Gansey and Blue whenever something exciting reached the press. He ignored Ronan for the most part, and Ronan mostly ignored him. He clenched his teeth and smiled at how rough-and-tumble Ronan looked under stage lighting, as wickedly handsome as a poisoned and sharpened dagger, unfairly attractive even with his head closely shaved. 

Then the time for their second photo op rolled around, sometime after Adam posted an empty-feeling snapshot of Ronan on a deserted London sidewalk with the caption love a nice mid-afternoon walk, and his mood plummeted sharply. 

As well as people and hospitals generally went together, Adam did not have a particularly terrible relationship with any hospitals, especially the Royal Marsden NHS Foundation Trust. He did not enjoy them, sure, but who did? And his discomfort may have gone below the surface-level “death and sickness occur here” jitteriness most people felt, but the majority of the unease coiling in his stomach came from the utterly staged feeling to everything. The First Son and Prince came bearing gifts of books, but they probably did more harm than good for all of the children by displacing all the medical professionals and disrupting their steady routines with full camera crews.

It felt hypocritical, and Adam definitely didn’t want to be shoving cameras in the faces of cancer patient children, but the decisions weren’t up to him, and so he slipped back into PR mode. He shook the hands of nurses and posed faux-candidly for cameras. The only real things he did were with the kids - once they knew who he was, they asked for stories of celebrities and monuments, and although Adam was no fantastic storyteller, he did his best to answer every question and then some. He read to them, too, from the new and donated books, even when the cameras left in search of Ronan. Anger was hard to hold onto when he looked into their faces and resolved to cheer them up. 

He read until his voice began to grind at itself, tucked next to kids on narrow hospital cots. They were all ages, and all perfectly suited to throw Adam back into memories he didn’t want to relive. Looking at the books, with the gaudily-colored pictures and ridiculous rhymes, was easier than looking at the children. They all looked to him with similar looks painted across their faces and twinkling in their eyes, one that made Adam’s heart twist, because he knew that he’d worn that expression so often as a child when he thought someone could help him or save him. They looked at him like he was hope itself, some savior come to grant them a wish and a recovery. He didn’t want to disappoint them.

The visit of the First Son and Prince of England must have cut into naptime because at some point Adam looked up from the book to realize that the camera crews had retreated and all the patients in his ward had dozed off.  He slowly unfurled himself, gangly limbs and all, to stand without disturbing the child who rested so fitfully on the hospital cot. His steps were soft and random against the tile, mostly just a blind search to try and find Ronan. It wasn’t long before he heard Ronan’s voice stretching over space from the next room over. Adam slowed, hoping to stay just out of sight while still observing Ronan.

The Prince perched on the edge of a narrow hospital bed, reminding Adam ridiculously of a bird poised to take flight. Since there were no cameras near him, his posture was slightly relaxed like it had been in the kitchen the night previously. A little girl clung tightly to his hand while he gestured wildly with his other, her eyes wide and hanging onto his every word. Ronan’s voice was somehow hushed and grand at the same time, his posh accent dulled to something a little more rural.

“When three hundred years had come and gone, the four swans traveled South to the sea of Moyle, braving the turbulent tides that wanted to draw them under.” He leaned closer to her and tugged lightly on her free hand with his free hand, perhaps to echo the water he mentioned in the story, and she gripped it tightly, nearing laughter with every second. “They swam past the cold and stormy seas, their feathers ruffled but unharmed when they reached Inis Glora. The swans had grown tired over their long journey, the years of their lives catching up to slow them down.”

Adam, without thinking, felt a bit of a smile take over his face. He was taken aback by the change in Ronan. The boy sitting on the bed seemed lightyears away from any other version - he’d gone a little hazy at the edges, as though he were made of smoke, as though Adam was dreaming and viewing some kind of apparition. His tailored lines still stuck out jaggedly, cutting a harsh figure, but he seemed at ease and gentle for the first time Adam had ever seen. One hell of a storyteller, too. Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know why, as the Prince of England, Ronan could let all of those Irish words roll off of his tongue as though they came naturally.

An Irish children’s tale. An Irish children’s tale. Why would he know any of those? The answer nagged at Adam’s brain, but he couldn’t find it in himself to dig.

The girl was quiet as Ronan’s voice trailed off until it became nothing. The swans had returned to elderly humans and lived with a priest who blessed them for the rest of their days, and Adam assumed that she was processing the anticlimactic ending. Finally, she said, “I like those endings best.”

“You do?” Ronan asked, patience yielding in his tone. “Why do you like them?”

“Sad endings are too sad, but happy endings aren’t real.”

Adam could only see the back of Ronan’s head, but he could hear him clear his throat and see him squeeze the girl’s hand in his much larger one. “Me, too.” He leaned away from her a little, letting go of one of her hands. When he spoke again, a smile was in his voice. “You’re much wiser than the adults I know. I might have to offer you a position advising me.”

The girl laughed again, a giddy and wild and hopeful thing. “You’re very silly,” she informed Ronan, likely too young to realize any breaches in etiquette. Luckily for her, Ronan didn’t care, either.

“I am very serious,” he said, his face no doubt translating that sentiment very well. He squeezed her hand again. “I’ll be back with an offer in fifteen or so years, don’t you worry.”

“Is that a promise?”

Ronan stilled at once, the muscles in his back set just as they had been in the kitchen. Adam didn’t envy the situation she’d inadvertently put Ronan into. As childish and silly as her question was, there was a little too much weight to the response for him to casually offer a yes or a no.

“Do your best to get better,” he said at length, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

And, oh, that expression of hope was back shining on her face, and Adam had to shuffle to his other foot, looking away. The people were the reason he liked politics, liked the idea of trying to help build a world even a fraction better than the one he was raised in, and yet he couldn’t look. Couldn’t bear the thought of letting anyone down.

Ronan glanced behind him, clearly catching sight of Adam, just as a nurse bustled into the room and cheerfully announced that it was time for medicine.

“Thank you,” the little girl said before releasing his hand.

“It was a pleasure meeting you, Ella,” Ronan said with a stiff formality that made her giggle again. “And of course,” he added, a little more softly.

It was perhaps not a polite enough exit for a prince, but after Ronan clumsily thanked the nurse and stepped back into the ward to meet Adam, he knew it was the best they would get. Ronan continued moving past him in the direction Adam assumed the cameras must have gone.

“Ah, so you do have feelings other than anger,” Adam said, trailing Ronan into the hall. 

“Don’t act so fu... completely surprised,” Ronan replied, turning his head towards Adam. At first, he thought Ronan might have been uncomfortable with the idea of Adam seeing the interaction, but instead, his face started to squeeze into something close to a smile, his eyes crinkling and the corners of his mouth lifting. A pop from down the hallway shuttered the expression before it could become fully formed. A shout cut through the air just as Persephone appeared between Ronan and Adam as though materializing from thin air. Her impossibly long, white hair clung to the sleeves of their sweaters with static friction as she shoved them with surprising strength into a closet. 

Her voice was still serene and airy despite the sudden tension settling on everyone’s chests. “Wait for the all-clear.” And the door shut with a thunk behind her. 

Adam leaned his head against it with a sigh, before very rapidly remembering that they were two high-profile targets in a possible active shooter scenario and doors weren’t exactly safe. He scrambled backward, accidentally knocking into Ronan and sending them tumbling into the wall. Of all the closets to be unceremoniously shoved into, they had to be stuck in one barely large enough for the brooms stacked to his right. 

“Can you stop falling into me, please?” came Ronan’s voice, taut with something close to fury but probably closer to anxiety.

“But you love it so much,” Adam bit out, trying to backtrack. Ronan’s face had somehow ended up in Adam’s hair, and he could feel Ronan’s long lashes close, paired with a troubled exhale. Adam managed to extract himself from Ronan and slide against one of the walls, crouching beside something he suspected was a bucket. Ronan followed his example, leaning against the opposite wall until he slid to the ground. Adam couldn’t see Ronan very well, but judging from the faint rustling sounds of buzzed hair against cotton and quick, deep breaths, he wasn’t handling the situation very well.

“This is a new one,” Adam said. “Assassination attempts, I mean. Is this common for the royalty?”

“Shut up,” Ronan said, his voice faint from his position closer to the ground.

“I’m blaming you if we die, you know.” When he received no response, Adam continued. “I probably could have made it at least a couple more years. No one’s ever tried to shoot me before. Guess I’m not important enough on my own. Who knew our fake friendship could be so deadly?”

“Fuck off,” Ronan replied, his breaths still deep.

“I’d love to, mate,” Adam said, forcing faux-jolly British inflection into the last word, “But we’re stuck in this closet for the foreseeable future, or until we get shot.”

“I meant shut up before that happens.”

“What, you’re not keen on life-threatening scenarios?” Ronan didn’t respond, and Adam felt a bit of genuine concern leak into his other thoughts. “Are you doing alright? I thought you of all people would be used to this.”

“Not keen on tight spaces,” he grit out, his teeth likely bared in that dangerous way that made Adam’s hands curl into fists. “Now fucking stop for a minute.”

They sat in silence, nothing but their breaths filling the space between them. The silence must have started to grate on Ronan because he broke it first.

“It doesn’t happen all the time, you know.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, I’m telling you.” Ronan breathed something that sounded like dumbass. “Once, when I was small and out in public with my father. Declan was there, too. I can’t remember much of it. That’s the only other time.”

“Suppose it’s as good a story as any,” Adam said, his voice just a hint louder than Ronan’s whisper had been. “Glad I can hear it trapped in this minuscule closet with you.”

“You’re the one with the foot digging into my hip, not the other way around.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to put it, Your Highness?” He nudged his foot and Ronan surged forward, clamping a hand around Adam’s mouth and the other clenching in Adam’s collar, practically hovering above where Adam stretched out uncomfortably. Adam much preferred this almost-fighting to their pretending to be friends.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to die today.” Adam tried shifting to free himself, but Ronan had a firm grip and he couldn’t gain any ground. Instead, he licked Ronan’s palm, and Ronan was quick to drop his hand in disgust with a quiet noise of discontent. He found himself pinned with one of Ronan’s glares, the intensity tangible even in the dark.

“I don’t want you to die either, you sodding idiot. I’m not the only one in here. You talking is ruining both of us.” “Clearly you’re not, this might actually be comfortable without you and your ridiculous, showy muscles. But I didn’t realize you cared, sugar,” he said, thinking fleetingly of his mother, “if I was breathing or not.”

“Right now, your life is tied very closely to mine, and so I do.”

“Sweet as honey,” Adam taunted, thickening his drawl. Most of the time he tried to school his words into something a little more Northern, but he enjoyed the way the southern accent bothered Ronan.

“No peace, none at all,” Ronan muttered. “Not even in the looming face of death.”

Adam could have said the same, really. The last thing he expected to see from Ronan while shoved into a dark closet with him was any genuine emotion. But the stories, the fear in the enclosed space, the story of his father-

His father. Of course. 

“Was that story from your father?” He asked, although he already was sure of the answer.

Ronan’s response clipped. “Yes.”

His conscience was still mostly intact, and so Adam began to feel a little bad for picking a fight while in a stressful situation and then bringing up Ronan’s grief. “You’re a good storyteller.” Ronan’s silence was judgemental and disbelieving, so he persisted. “What, I can’t give a compliment? You are.” 

“My siblings and I had stories read to us like everyone else, Parrish. We’re not programmed, bland colonialism robots.” A pause. “Well, Mathew and I aren’t.”

“Of course not, imperialism comes first.”

“You’re welcome for the country, then.”

A brief silence followed. It felt, inexplicably, like the two of them had been toeing a line ever since Adam stood outside of Ella’s door and heard Ronan speak to her. They were inching closer with every word spoken.

“My father was the real storyteller,” he admitted, and Adam internally marked another inch traveled. “Since he was an actor and all. He always told us those stories even though he wasn’t technically supposed to. I just...imitate.”

“Imitate?”

“Yes,” Ronan said, providing no other explanation. “Why do you give a damn, anyway? You don’t want childhood tales and neither do I. You hate me.”

“We’re stuck like this forever,” Adam admitted. He’d known it before, but speaking the words made them feel more real. “Neither of us likes it, but here we are, shoved in a closet together. We have to pull off this act for the rest of our lives, Ronan, and I need something more than a cheat sheet your PR team slapped together.”

Ronan was eerily still for a long moment before he finally spoke. “Then why do you hate me?”

The question caught Adam off guard. “What?”

“Why do you hate me?” Off of Adam’s wary look, he threw the words back in his face. “We’re stuck together just like you said. I need some kind of answer.”

Adam sighed, acquiescing. “Do you remember what you said in Rio?”

“The fuck are you talking about, Parrish?”

“The Olympics?”

“When you threatened to push me into the River Thames?”

“No. You being a condescending dick at diving finals.”

Ronan was still for a long moment before bringing a hand to his shoulder and easing himself back away and off of Adam. “Oh. Shit.”

“So. You remember?”

“Vaguely.” A pause, elongated in the dark. “You heard?”

“Yes.” 

“So that did it, then?”

“Yes.”

But Ronan must have known he had more to say because he stayed silent. 

“I probably would have hated you no matter what,” Adam finally admitted, some low part of his gut feeling heavier with the admission. “It’s just - I wasn’t even the First Son then, and everyone was already comparing us. And it didn’t matter if they thought I was better or you were better or whatever, it was just - the idea of you bothered me, a white boy born with the power to make such change and unquestioning support from millions who was throwing it all away instead. And I’ve been compared to a shit ton of people in my life, from my mother to Blue and Gansey to just - everyone, but somehow with you, it was always the worst. So yes, it was the diving finals.”

“But it was also you being self-conscious?”

“But it was also you being an asshole.” 

“Yeah, it was,” Ronan admitted lowly, and Adam blinked at the admission. “I was - I definitely was one. I think I was one all the fucking time back then. It doesn’t excuse anything, but my father passed on...not long before, if you can understand.”

Adam didn’t understand, couldn’t understand, but he nodded all the same. He felt something in his throat tighten. “Of course. I don’t think I’d realized.”

“It doesn’t excuse it,” Ronan repeated. “I’m sorry.”

This was something heavier, truer than his other apologies - something beyond deeply-ingrained politeness that allowed him to apologize for petty things. It was as though he genuinely asked for forgiveness, like Adam had any real choice in the matter, like Adam’s forgiveness was something Ronan actually wanted. Adam never expected to receive a genuine apology from the Prince of England.

“I appreciate it. And I’m sorry as well. For...not realizing.” Ronan’s figure visibly relaxed even though it was barely visible.

“So, depressing Irish stories. Is that your default?”

“I’m afraid the Irish don’t have a lot of serotonin-filled stories.”

“There’s the English in you,” Adam said to a breathy laugh from Ronan. “Do you remember any more?”

“Probably couldn’t forget them, if we’re being honest. And not speaking to the press.”

“They hate me at the moment, so you have nothing to worry about.” He paused before he continued. “Would you tell one?”

“...why?”

“I don’t know. We’re stuck in here, aren’t we?”

“Be careful what you wish for. I’ll write you in as a Celtic witch.”

“I always thought I’d make a very dashing villainous magician. If that’s the price to pay, I can live with it.”

Ronan was silent, and Adam thought that he had given up on any conversation. However, he spoke again, his voice oddly light. “Once, the fierce Fianna believed in many things, none as much as the beautiful Eden laying in the Western Sea. Tir na nÒg, it was called, and the name passed between them like a secret.” Suddenly breaking character, Ronan said in his normal whisper, “That means “land of the living” for any uneducated parties.”

“Dick. Go on.”

There was something captivating in this new way Ronan spoke paired with the near-darkness and tight space of their closet. “Fionn, the leader of the Fianna-”

“Great naming process, by the way.”

“Shut the hell up or no story.”

Adam shut up.

“The leader of the Fianna led them to hunt the deer along the shores in County Kerry, including his son, Oisín. But Oisín soon caught sight of a single, bright light in the distance, all the way through the thick green of tree foliage. As it drew closer, he saw that the light was, instead, a beautiful girl with hair of spun gold astride a snow-colored mare. When Fionn inquired as to who she was, she informed them that she was Niamh of the Golden Hair, daughter of the King of  Tir na nÒg, and she had come to take Oisín as her husband-”

Ronan cut off abruptly, and Adam almost asked why, but a moment later he heard the source of the silence - heavy footsteps outside the door. Suddenly, neither of them breathed, instead choosing to sit in total petrified silence.

And slowly, mercifully, the door crept open, spilling cold white light along the floor of the cupboard and across their splayed legs. Persephone stood in the doorway, her expression relaxed once again.

“False alarm,” she said breezily, reaching out her hands to haul them back to their feet. Adam shifted uncomfortably on pins and needles as his legs shot back to life. “Fireworks, not guns.”

“Fireworks in a hospital?”

Persephone shrugged. “It was some teenager.”

“Always is,” Ronan said, dangerously close to a joke. He blinked rapidly, setting his shoulders back to stand at his full height. He slanted a look towards Adam, his mouth curving into something wicked but not intimidating, all bark and no bite. “Bonding is over, then.”

“Thank God.”

[wrinkledparchment]

snake eyes;

Summary: Growing up with one normal, human eye and another as that of a serpent’s as a result of your soulmate, you grew to be self-concious of your eye and hid it from the world. When you’re forced to reveal it, what will happen? 

Word Count: 2,151

A/N: This was NOT meant to be this long but my absolutely-in-love-with-Crowley ass really jumped out and decided to go hard so, uh, yeah. Have fun y’all. 

Warnings: Hella Angst, Blood, Descriptions of Injuries, SOULMATE AU

Taglist:  This is for that one anon and also! @rk900 because Soulmate AU! Crowley makes my heart soft and you wanted me to tag you!! // @obsiidio annabelle i’m love u

you’d already tried to convince yourself it was worth it; it was absolutely not.

they’d call you snake eyes, with no regard for your real name at all. ostracized all your life by everyone, you’d stare into the mirror for no reason at all. one of your eyes was yours, hopefully, and it was quite striking. a beautiful color. 

your eye got no attention at all. your left eye, the one your soulmate harbored, was that of a snake’s.  golden yellow and crested by a fiery, somewhat deeper shade with black slits. they were terrifying, something of a nightmare. 

all your life, you’d wished you could manage to hate the person--or rather, thing--that had cursed you with a snake eye, and you had gotten very close. you’d changed schools numerous times as a youngster, wore sunglasses almost every day, and the only people involved in your life as of now that knew of your snake eye was your parents. 

but now, as you stood in front of your armoire, eyelids puffy and irritated from your crying, you had broken the pair of sunglasses. they laid on your marble countertop--which had a few shards of tinted glass scattered about--in half. 

you wanted to stop hiding, you wanted to find them, and though years ago, you’d wished so only to give them a piece of your mind and scurry off with your normal, human eyes, you understood. 

maybe they were ostracized too, perhaps they weren’t human and having a very obviously human eye caused others to be disappointed, or scared. 

they were your soulmate. even with their serpentine eyes, they were meant for you. and that had to count for something, right?

but god. they were your soulmate, and their serpentine eyes were hellish. they haunted you, around every corner, in every place you walk. that, was the real issue. 

it wasn’t what you thought, or what they thought, or hell, what your parents and friends thought. it was what your soulmate was. 

frightening . . . hellish . . . demonic.

your soulmate wasn’t even a fucking human. 

what if they were a dragon? for all you knew, they could be an alien race and you wouldn’t even meet them, ever. you’d be stuck with this snake eye and it’s consequences for your whole life and you wouldn’t even get to meet them. 

in a moment of confusion, pent-up frustration, and fiery, pure rage, you thrust your fist and straightened your arm just enough to punch and shatter the mirror of your armoire. 

pain seared through your knuckles as fractals of glass dug into your skin and scattered over the marble countertop. you didn’t even flinch, and besides the resounding echo of a crack heard in your bedroom, the only sound was a single drop of crimson landing on one mirror shard. 

you pulled away your hand slowly, careful not to move your feet so you wouldn’t step on a sliver. there was another red stain on the mirror, and not only two seconds after you’d punched it, you regretted it. 

you had smashed the mirror, hard, and you’d need tweezers and a steady hand if you’d actually like to get the splinters out, and even then it’d still be a miracle if you didn’t have dotted scars all over your knuckles. 

you wouldn’t be able to drive, and the nearest urgent clinic was on the other side of the village. there was, however, a hospital that had been burned down about eleven years ago and was partially used as a paintball course, but it would do.

hastily slipping on sandals, you walked with your wallet in your working hand to the hospital. you let your head fall down to the ground, remembering halfway there that you had broken your only pair of sunglasses. 

snake eyes--of course.

you heard machine gunfire, obviously coming from the paintball fight currently going on. being cautious of getting shot with paint (hopefully, it sounded menacingly real), you kept your eyes down before entering the hospital. 

hearing soft voices down a hallway, you followed them, all the while managing to keep your head down and hopefully not bump into anything. “Master Crowley!” you heard Mary speak, and without thought, you lifted your head and called for her. 

“mary?” with a start, she twirled around suddenly and moved slightly to the left, revealing a tall man in dark clothing and sunglasses that looked just like your old, broken pair. 

instantly, it felt like everything in your world clicked. though his face wasn’t quite visible, it was chiseled and he had auburn hair that shone in the light of the partially broken window. the hand you’d been clutching with your other fell to your side, and immediately mary, your old friend, rushed over to you. 

“what happened to your hand, [name]?” she questioned and picked it up to examine, seeing the shards of glass stuck in your skin as blood still trickled out of your open wound. 

“i punched a mirror,” you mumbled, still not taking your eyes off of the man who hadn’t turned away from you. only until a shorter, blonde man cleared his throat did you look away, though you’d gottten lucky, as crowley hadn’t gotten a good look at you yet.

he had a tan coat on, and was a lot less... dark than the other who, based on observation, seemed to be named crowley. quickly, after looking to the other man, you remembered your eye. 

looking back down to your hands, which were being cradled by mary’s, your stomach churned. this was the first time you had been out in public without your sunglasses for some time, and you immediately felt uncomfortable. 

“you punched a mirror?” she repeated, raising her eyes up in attempt to meet your own. obviously, she had a clue why. mary was not completely oblivious, though almost always anxious, so she knew it had something to do with your soulmate’s eyes. 

you refused to meet her gaze, ashamed of what you’d have to show her if you did, so you closed your eyes instead. “that’s what I said; it was just a silly mistake. if you could, can you grab some tweezers and bandages and help me out?” 

mary turned back to ‘master crowley’, still not letting go of your hands, before nodding and walking back to her office, leaving you alone with the two strange men. Open your eyes, you opted to stare at the floor, mumbling a small hello. 

the man in a nicely kept, unwrinkled tan coat stepped forward. “hello [name], i’m aziraphale, and this is crowley. Were you--perhaps, are--a nun of the Order that used to operate here?” 

“i wasn’t, but mary was. it seems you already knew that, though? Uh, sorry for interrupting, i- it’s nothing I just needed mary’s help with something-” you began to stutter, obviously feeling the tension in the air as you brandished your hand and still didn’t raise your head to make eye contact. 

“why in hell would you think it’s a good idea to punch a mirror?” crowley suddenly spoke up, effectively putting a stop to your ramblings. his voice, for some reason, shockingly put you at ease, despite his harsh words. 

“i didn’t, it’s just- i’m very self-conscious about my eye, or rather, my soulmate’s,” you explained as if that wasn’t obvious. there was hum on aziraphale’s end, as if he understood very well. 

“that’s why you won’t look at me, then?” crowley asked, knowing the answer, before you nodded your head dumbly. 

“normally, I wear sunglasses but i broke them this morning,” you explained, again, though they didn’t need to know. before you could stop yourself, you continued with a mumbled: “on purpose.”

mary walked back in quickly, and as an instinctual reaction, you raised your head to look at her, making eye contact. She dropped the whole box of first aid with a loud crash, and you hid your eyes quickly again. “goodness me, [name].”

“now you understand why you’ve never seen me without sunglasses,” you stated, voice falling sadly. The air felt heavy in your lungs, and you turned to leave, just like you’d done every other time someone had seen your eye. 

mary, though, was quicker and had picked back up the First AID kit, and grabbed your hand, yanking you back to her with a harshness you didn’t know she had. “[name], look at me.” 

you turned your head, looking over your shoulder before she took your chin into her hand gently, and turned it towards her. you squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to look at her. “please,” she whispered. 

it was soft, gentle, and friendly, and the two outsiders couldn’t help but watch. aziraphale nearly teared up at the scene, as your eyes suddenly flit open. crowley swallowed down a gasp, because he immediately recognized those eyes. 

because your left eye, the one that was supposed to be your soulmate’s, matched his right; your right eye matched his left, and though he’d made eye contact with you for a millisecond, he had sunglasses on. eyes would only switch back when true, unfiltered eye contact was made. 

you, a girl who had just walked into a paintball facility with a hand of bloodied knuckles, who had just supposedly punched a mirror, was his soulmate. on top of that, he was in the middle of trying to find the antichrist, and, chances are with how many issues you had with your soulmate’s eye, you hated him.

“you’re more than just a set of eyes,” mary murmured, and he saw a single tear slip down your face, before mary could wipe it away. “your eye is something beautiful, [name], and it’s not permanent.”

you nodded, and mary then set down the first aid kit on the windowsill, searching through it before she picked out some tweezers and a disinfectant wipe. crowley, though, decided to step forward. 

his stomach churned, making eye contact with aziraphale, as they both knew what this meant. “mary, I can take care of it,” he stated, plucking the tweezers from her hand and stepping closer to his soulmate. 

before he began though, he took off his sunglasses and his eyes met yours. With an audible gasp, you saw each other, truly saw, before going completely blind as your eyes squeezed shut in pain. 

doubling over, your bloodied hand grasped for his calloused one, squeezing as hard as you could. you saw stars in your shut eyes, showing only an all-black yet somehow colorful vision. There was a resounding silence in the previously burned-down hospital hallway.

crowley opened his eyes, his vision slowly returning normal as he murmured, “darling, you probably shouldn’t be holding my hand, you’ll get the glass deeper into your skin.”

you stood up straight now and opened your eyes. his eye set was now complete with both snake eyes, fiery amber with two black slits. yours, in his vision, were also completed; puffy, red and irritated from crying but still captivating, still starry and wonderous. 

without a warning, crowley looked into your eyes and could infer everything about having a demon’s eye. he was sure that you’d been bullied, that you were insecure, that you’d been through hell and back.

there was a painful, nauseating twist in his gut. guilt. “i’m sorry,” he murmured quietly, breath fanning over your face. your eyes welled up with tears again, and you shook your head. 

“don’t apologize, my dear.” Crowley didn’t look convinced, his eyes, despite being serpentine, held remorse, and sadness. You had never felt something quite like the swelling in your throat at his desperate look, never felt more pained in your life. “There is no need to apologize.”

“I wasn’t even supposed to have a soulmate, I’m a demon, and demons don’t have souls. I shouldn’t have. It’s my fault for wanting a human body.”

“Well, I want a soulmate, and you’re it. You’re the one stuck with me,” you mused, attempting to lighten the mood. Crowley gave a feeble smile in response and you closed your eyes and looked down again. 

“We’ll see about that,” he smirked, suddenly light again too. He picked up your intertwined hands, sliding his own out from under yours as he carefully picked out the glass with his tweezers. 

Through your eyelashes, you looked up at him as his brows furrowed in concentration, and for the first time, you felt wanted. You felt cared for, and your swollen throat suddenly no longer felt so swollen, and the worries of tomorrow, your twisted gut, even the pain in your bloodied knuckles floated away. 

Crowley, a man you’d just met, your soulmate, hadn’t made you fall in love with him yet. You barely knew him still, but you felt comforted and safe. Crowley, you decided, would be stuck with you. 

Even his frightening, serpentine eyes held love, and you knew that yours did too.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Fresh Start: Part 3

Pairings: Bucky x Reader, Cop!Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing.

Word Count: 4,168

A/N: Got the idea for this one while watching ‘The Town’.

Part 1 / Part 2

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You walked into court for the second time from a heavily guarded back room, ten times more terrified than the last time. This time, you had large, dark sunglasses on your face in a vane attempt to cover the bruise and patched up cuts on the right side of your face and a scarf over your head to cover what the sunglasses couldn’t. You knew you wouldn’t be able to keep them on in the court room, but you were still going to hold as much of your dignity as you could.

“Ms. Odinson. How are you today?” Nick Fury, who had been Thor… and at one point, your lawyer, asked after you had been sworn in again.

“I’m fine.” You said with a nod over the judge asking you to remove your glasses and scarf. You took a deep breath and kept your eyes strictly on Tony this time as a woman in the jury box gasped at the sight of your cheek. You could almost see your brother’s smirk out of the corner of your eye as he sat back in his chair, causing the chains of the shackles he was being forced to wear for attacking you to rattle. So you simply sat up a little straighter and looked up at Nick.

“I just have a few questions for you today.” Nick started in as he purposely moved directly between you and Tony to mess with your mind. “What time did Jack show up at your place for dinner?”

“It wasn’t my place.” You said with a shake of your head. “I lived in a small apartment with no real kitchen at that time in my life. We were at my broth’a’s house. I serve supp’a at 6:30 every Sunday. I would say he arrived five minutes before that.”

“And what time did my client allegedly shoot one of his dearest friends?”

“I didn’t look at a clock, suh… but I would guess it would have been about seven…”

“What else did you talk about that night?” He asked quickly. “Besides the alleged bank robberies you claimed he orchestrated and the supposed drug deals. What did you talk about?” You startled the slightest bit and actually looked over your brother since you had never been asked that question before.

“Well it started with my sauce recipe. See, I use ground sausage in the sauce when I cook it and then more sausage in the lasagne. Can’t use too much extra seasonings either; get enough of it in the sausage. It’s all about practice and timing…”

“What else?” Fury asked, almost cutting you off in an attempt to trip you up.

“Well, we talked about a painting that I had put up over the stove. Ain’t nothing special. It was just something I found at a thrift store for a nickel. He told me his sister painted and I asked…”

“What else?” Fury interrupted again. You huffed but took a deep breath immediately after, not appreciating the way this man was speaking to you but knowing he was doing just to get you riled up.

“That’s all.” You said shortly as you wrapped your scarf around your hand. “Thor got aggravated and started talking business so I shut up.”

“When you originally spoke to the police.” Fury said as he walked back over to his table to grab your original statement. “You told them that Jack stayed for dinner, and after dinner, you cleaned up, and went home. Is that right?”

“That is what I said, yes. But…”

“You also said the last time we saw you that you supposedly lied out of fear, correct?”

“Rightfully so.” You said as you gestured to your face.

“Your honor, can you instruct the witness to answer yes or no only, please?” You took another deep breath as the judge repeated the instructions to you. You looked straight forward and found Bucky, who had slipped into the back of the gallery. He gave you a short nod and pulled his leather jacket to the side to show a screen printed black shirt with Jessica’s photo on it, making a small smile pull at the corner of your lips. 

“Yes.” You said to the repeated question as you looked back over at Nick.

“Were you arrested in 2013 for possession of narcotics?”

“Objection!”

“Goes to character.” Fury said as he pretended to study the papers in his hand as if they were the most important documents in the history of the world.

“Overruled.” The judge sighed.

“Yes, I was.” You said with a nod as you finally glanced at your brother, who looked so smug it was almost disgusting. It was the look he used to give you when he knew he was winning at any games you played.

“And you plead not guilty?”

“Correct.”

“So you lied again there, correct?” You felt your teeth grind together as you tightened your grip on your scarf.

“Situationally…”

“Your honor!”

“Yes!” You said a little loudly before swallowing your aggravation down. You looked away from him and looked at the small glimpse of Jessica’s face that you could see. “Yes, I lied.”

“So, why should we believe that you’re not lying here today?” He asked a little loudly as he dropped the papers on the table.

“Because you have to believe that people are capable of changing for the ones they love.” You looked over at him with zero emotion on your face but your eyes continued on to your brother and you shook your head. “Because you have to believe that at the end of the day, I am just a moth’a that would do anything for her daught’a’s safety. And if that means I have to turn my back on my broth’a because he is a dang’a to her well being, and he is asking me be a dang’a to her well being as well, I will. I am doing this for Jessica. Not because I don’t love my broth’a. But because I love my daught’a more.” You looked back up at Fury before turning to look straight forward at the photo once more. It took Fury a second before he shook his head.

“I’ve got nothing more.” He said as he sat down.

“Cross.” Tony said quickly as he shot up from his chair. You looked over at him as he moved just to the edge of the table. “Ms. Odinson, did you or did you not see the defendant shoot Jack?”

“I did.” You said with a nod.

“And did you, or did you not originally lie about it under your brother’s instruction?”

“I did.”

“Last one. Did you or did you not decide on your own that coming clean about what you saw was the right thing to do no matter what the consequences could have been?”

“I did.” You stated one final time.

“Thank you, (Y/N). That’s all I have for you today.”

“You may go, Ms. Odinson.” The judge said quietly. You nodded your head and looked over at your brother for the last time before quickly putting your sunglasses back on. You walked out of the witness box, and disappeared through the side door where there were two Marshalls waiting for you to take you back to the WITSEC holding center so you could get ready for your new life.

——

“This is a house.” You said a little slowly as you worked hard on turning your Boston accent into a slightly New York/ slightly accent less sounding one, much to your displeasure.

“This is our house.” Bucky said as he pulled your new to you Hyundai Santa Fe into the driveway of a three bedroom, three bathroom Las Vegas, Nevada home. “New house for the new (Y/L/N) family.”

“I’ve ne-ver lived in’a house before.” You said as you leaned forward to look at the fake grass covered front yard. “This isn’t real.” You said as you sat back and looked at your fiancé with your eyebrows raised. “No, you’re just teasin’ me.”

“I’m really not.” He chuckled as he pulled into the two car garage and shut off the engine.

“James.”

“(Y/N).” He said with a smile as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. He looked over at you and gestured vaguely with his hand. “Go on. Go Townie…”

“This is faackin’ ridiculous!” You nearly screeched in the accent you been hiding for weeks as he sat in the car, and waited for you to get it out. “Ain’t no one in the Town lives this nice. Like we’re damn royals ‘er some shit. You know, houses like this means ya got shit ta rob. I’d’a robbed a house like this.”

“Well it’s a good thing you threatened to cut off someone’s dick so we could keep Dakota then.” He said with a nod as he looked back at the dog that was laying across the back seat, fast asleep. 

“Even still. Catch chaages ‘ere, boy, I tell ya. This bitch… this bitch’s ours? No shit?”

“No shit.” Bucky laughed.

“Babe. Baaaabe. Stop.”

“Do you even wanna see inside?” He asked as he gestured to the door leading into the house. “You picked out all that furniture last week, you gotta have somewhere to put it…”

“Oh moth’a fuckin’ right I’mma go inside. Tha’s my moth’a fuckin’ house. Gotta find places for the damn guns!”

“You can take the girl outta the Town.” He chuckled behind you as you let Dakota out of the back while he got a still waking up Jessie out of her car seat.

“Ooo, no more quarters!” You said as you pointed to the washer and dryer in the little laundry room. “No more scrubs chattin’ me up at the mat.”

“I love how it’s always the little things with you.” He teased as he followed you into the kitchen while Dakota ran into the house to investigate and make sure everything was OK.

“Bucky!” You hissed as you dead stopped in front of him, nearly forcing him to run into you as you turned around and whacked his arm. “A dishwash’a!”

“And counter space for me to cook.” He said as he gestured with his elbow to the white marble countertops that ran the length of three of the four walls of the medium kitchen except for the places left open for new appliances the WITSEC people would be helping you finance until you both found jobs. 

“Yea, cause we all know I cain’t cook for shit.” You said as you looked in the small pantry built into the fourth wall beside the door to the laundry room. You turned to look at the massive living room (that had very questionable grey tile like the entire first floor) and stopped again at the sight of water. “Wait. That ain’t what I think it is.”

“I don’t know what you think it is.” Your fiancé said with a smile as he put the diaper bag on the counter and moved Jess to his other hip. “So you might as well go look for yourself.” You shot him a glare over your shoulder as you walked quickly across the room toward a sliding glass door that had a cage like screen door fitted over it.

“Fuck off.” You said as you stepped out into your decent sized, walled in back yard, and looked at the pool with a cute little rock waterfall in the deep end to your right that actually belonged to you. “This is a dream.”

“Here, why don’t you take Jessica.” Bucky said as the movers rang the door bell to drop off the boxes of the belongings you brought from Boston and all of the new furniture you had picked out for your house. “And see how she feels about being in a swimming pool. I’ll help the movers out. That way you don’t have to practice New York in your excitement.”

“James.” You whispered as you took your suddenly super talkative daughter from your fiancé with a smile and a hint of tears. “Thank you. I never would have done this without you.”

“Anything for the woman I love and our little girl.” He said softly as he gave you a chaste kiss. “Please don’t be naked when I come back out here.”

“That ain’t happening.” You replied honestly as you kicked off your flip flops and walked over to the shallow, beach entry. “You ain’t never been in a pool before, Jessie. This’ll be fun for you. And you are gunna have to get naked just like Mommy…”

“I heard that!” Bucky said over Jessie’s babbles and the few miscellaneous words she knew as he pushed the sliding glass doors open all the way for the grill, and the small fire pit and couple rocking chairs you just had to have.

“Nak-ee baby!” You said as New Yorker as possible as you pulled off the dress you had on your daughter, and tossed it to the side. “Nak-ee Mommy!”

“Mama! Ball!”

“Don’t you do it!” He chuckled as you stepped out of your jeans, choosing to placate him by leaving your thong on.

“Tan lines.” You said with a glare at him as you sat down on the edge to take off your shirt, which caused one of the younger movers to put down your rocking chair roughly and bee line it back into the house.

“Modesty.” He said as he watched you stand up and pull the strap of your panties up a bit on your hips to slightly cover the ‘Boston Strong’ Massachusetts state shaped tattoo on your hip, which according to your new “official” life story was a memorial to your dead mother who was born and raised in Boston and the location of your birth and the first couple years of your life before you “moved to New York”. You hated that it no longer could stand for your love of your hometown. “Damn, baby. The things I would do to you…”

“That’s how we got this one.” You said as you walked out into the sun warmed water. “Want another?”

“Oh, hell yea.” He said as he turned away to help direct the movers with your belongings.

“Yea, Daddy’s crazy if he thinks I’m puttin’ this body through another baby. You were bad enough on me, you little punkin’. Weren’t you?” You smiled at your baby girl infectious laugh as you carefully walked down the two steps to lower you both into the three feet of water. “What’s that?” You asked playfully as you took a couple steps away from the shelf so she could start to figure out the concept of the pool. “We swimming? It’s like a giant bathtub.” You pulled off her diaper since it swelled nearly instantly and stuck it on the side of the pool as you continued to slowly walk deeper into the pool.

“We never had a swimmin’ pool growing up.” You said at nearly a whisper as you moved to stand just in the shade created by the long pergola so your daughter didn’t get burned with this much stronger sun and so that you could watch the guys moving things into your new home. “That ain’t true. When we were kids, your grand pop bought a plastic above ground pool. Just a round circle with a cheap as fuck ladder. We had it for a whole week until your uncle busted the side open with his skateboard. Faackin’ idiot.” Jess laughed as you pat your hand on the water. 

“Yea, baby girl. Us Townies ain’t never seen nothin’ this nice, though. Had ta have money for them in ground fucks. But you, my little meatball, get a beautiful pool in a nice, safe neighborhood. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout walking down to the spa for groceries. Ain’t gotta worry ‘bout the crazies or drugs or bank robberies every other day. None of it. And you know why? Because you, little girl, have the best damn daddy in the whole damn world.”

“Dada.” 

“Yea, Dada.” You said with a nod as you cupped some water in your hand and poured it over the back of her head to keep her cool. “He’s a wicked good man, baby girl. Way better than your Ma deserves.”

“Baf.” Jess said as she tried, unsuccessfully to get water in her little hands to put on her head to ‘help’, only succeeding in splashing you both with water.

“Sure, punkin’. This can be your bath.” You giggled as you sunk down in the water a little more. “We’ll stay out here all day for your bath while the boys do the hard work inside. How about that?” Jessie simply giggled and splashed more water on both of you, trying to give herself a bath like you did every night. “God, you’re such a meatball” You laughed as you helped her put more water on her head like she apparently wanted. “You are so my kid.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So I think we should redo this back yard.” Bucky said as he looked out the far set of sliding glass doors, which lead to the other side of your back yard. “I don’t like that metal fence separating the pool. Bars are too far apart. She could just slip right through…”

“Babe, we just fuckin’ moved in.” You sighed as you unloaded boxes of toys into baskets along the back wall beside the new, very comfortable, grey, ‘u’ shaped couch while keeping an eye on Jessica as she pulled the toys right back out of the baskets and scattered them across the floor in what you were temporarily deeming as ‘her spot’. “Can you maybe finish setting up the TV first?”

“That’d be easy to rip out. Same with this dumb brick.” He said more to himself as he gestured vaguely in that direction. “Grass this whole area in with that fake grass shit…”

“Bucky.” You said in a sing song voice as you broke down the empty box and added it to the growing pile by the front door so you could go put all the toys back into their baskets again. “TV, please.”

“Little swing set for Jess. This live oak is nice for shade… hammock between those two palms…

“James! Put my damn TV together so your kid can stop ripping apart my living room!” Your fiancé turned around with a huff and a smirk as he watched Jess grab the toy you had literally just put away and throw it on the pink, flower carpet with a laugh.

“OK!” He said as he raised his hands in surrender. “TV.”

“Why you gotta be a damn pain in my ass?” You asked both him and Jessica as you scooped her up, grabbed the toy from her hand, and put it back in the basket. “What’r you doin’, punk, huh? You just pissin off your Ma just ‘cause you can?” You blew a loud raspberry on her cheek and pretended to drop her by moving her to straddle your stomach, holding her head and body to your chest, and dipping both of you down toward the ground. She squealed loudly and took off running when you put her down, making Dakota jump up from where he was watching near the half bathroom to follow her.

“How long have you had him?” Bucky asked as you walked over and started to push a box of his books toward the entertainment center he was setting the TV up on.

“Who, Dakota?” You asked as you pulled open the box. “‘Bout two months after Thor got locked up. Couple days after I found out I was pregnant. I just wanted to know that my kid was safe. So I bought the most vicious looking puppy I could find and had a guy from the block teach me how to train him to be a guard dog that was good with kids. And damn did I get a good one. He’s taken a beating from Jess. She climbs all over him, she’ll even just lay on him and yell at me about bed time right by his ear and he just takes it. She’s his baby.” Bucky nodded his head slowly as he hooked up the cable box that the cable company had dropped off that morning.

“I tried finding you.” He said as you walked over to grab your box of DVD’s. “After, I mean. I tried so damn hard. It was about six months after. I went back to your old apartment but the lady next door said you’d just left one night. She’d no idea where you went…”

“I moved into one of Thor’s places.” You sighed. “Rent was paid up for a whole year, bills were all paid for with money he kept stashed there. It wasn’t even a debate in my head. I cleaned out my cash stash, moved out, and sold all my furniture to some guy few blocks over who was moving in to the section 8 housing for wicked cheap. Got rid of my main car to pay for Jessie’s doctor visits.”

“That’s why I couldn’t find anything in your name.” He said, sadly as you both turned around to look at your daughter as she rattled the baby gate that prevented her from going upstairs. “Jessica!” Your daughter whipped around so quickly she stumbled and landed on her butt. “Leave it alone. No.” Her bottom lip trembled for only a moment before Dakota came over to give her a kiss and nudge her until she stood up again to keep playing.

“I know you didn’t want to leave.” You said softly as you watched Jess put her butt in the air to get her feet under her before grabbing on to her four legged best friend so she didn’t topple over. “I’d like to think I knew you well enough to know that. But we both have to accept that our… relationship is wicked fuckin’ complicated. I have to accept that I don’t know what’s true and what was a lie about what you told me about yourself. And you have to accept that me and your daughter were unfortunately collateral damage because of your job. It sucks, we both hate it. 

But we are also here together; just you and me. Not that I mind that at all because have you seen you naked? And have you cried on your shoulder? And for fucks sake, have you ever, ever met another poor fuck that can sit and listen to me for any fucking stretch of time? Do you think anyone else can put up with sleeping with me? No, because you’re the fucking saint to my satan. But you need to remember something. We are actually, legally new people here. I’m a fucking secretary for fucks sake. And you’re a fucking mechanic. So now, we get to develop those people together. Like… I think, I spent a spring break in Miami Beach and I was on some spring break pool party music video show on MTV. And you could be an army vet…”

“I am an army vet.” He interrupted.

“Then you can still be an army vet, jerk face.” You laughed as you gently pushed his shoulder. “Are you even hearing what I’m saying or is New James a shit listener?”

“I hear you.” He chuckled as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you over to him. “I hate that you’re the rational one of us and I’m the emotional one.”

“That’s what you get when you’re raised on the streets of Charlestown. Rationality.” You both looked over at a single bark, a large bang, and Jessica’s sudden scream cry, and you had no idea which one of you ran into the kitchen faster to get to her. She had somehow managed to pull the oven open, and it must have knocked her down when gravity took over.

“Oh, my poor baby.” Bucky cooed as he picked her up.

“Oh, she’s fine.” You said as you shut the oven with your heel and pointed at him. “Shoulda had the TV set up. She’d be watching Mickey Mouse right now.”

“You know what… fuck you.” He laughed as he cuddled his daughter closer. “Go be rational somewhere else.”

“I’m tellin’ you now, that baby may not be raised in the Town but she sure as fuck ain’t gunna be no pussy ass bitch baby, you hear me?” You called out as you grabbed the next DVD box. “She’s got Townie blood…”

“She’s got sweet New York blood, too.” He said as grabbed the two remotes and sat down with his little love to coddle her. “Tell your Mommy that you’re going to be a sweet little angel, aren’t you.”

“Oh, God help us all!” You groaned playfully as you unloaded the next box while Bucky set up the TV and cable under the watchful eyes of Jessie and Dakota.

Part 4

[originalexcerpts]

I made a short ACOTAR fanfiction of Rhys and Y/N. It takes place several centuries after Feyre dies in a war. You purchase her human home in a town near an ocean and find Rhys sitting on a bench overlooking the ocean from your backyard.

I couldn't sleep so here you go:

I slid the pale pink robe tighter across my chest as the wind rustled by. The night was colder than any I had experienced since moving here a few weeks ago.

I knew I would need a new coat for winter with how close to the ocean the property was.

It was almost a dream the day the house went on the market. I had been scouring local ads for months, just praying something would be available. My new writing job required plenty of time at home and in a city like Vickzens, it was difficult to find something that wasnt a 2-story walk up in the city center. I didnt need any distractions. Which is why the moment this place went on the market I called immediately.

It didnt take much convincing for the seller to turn over the keys. She said the place had been in her family for years, but no one lived there. It wasnt until her grandmother passed a three months ago that she was even allowed to list it. She said her family had some weird attachment to it, and that I was more than welcome to take it off her hands. It was only her and her children left anyways, and they had spent too much time in this city, at her grandmother's nursing home, to be good for their mental health.

I felt bad for her, and gave my condolences, but a part of me was really thankful to her as well.

I moved in a few days later, and barely cared to notice the chipped wood floors or broken chandelier in the main entryway. The walls were dusty, but still held a magnificent glow from the gold flecked paint. There were murals along the stairwell of stars and the moon. Little crevices threatened to peel away at the paint, where the stairs had expanded over the years. That only meant the wood was real.

Small drawings done in what I believe was crayon and pencils swirled throughout three of the bedrooms. Maybe there were children here once.

Each room had it's own fireplace, and each fireplace had it's own story to tell. From flames and glittering silvers that almost formed blades, to flowers and autumn leaves.

The kitchen exploded with gold in the sink, the cabinetry, and the thin lines throughout the marbled countertops. How was I able to afford this place?

You could barely see the aging of the bathroom tiles beneath what I believe were hand stitched rugs. The thread pulled in places, but shared images of sunset intertwined with nightfall.

An artist. The original owner, or those who followed, had to have been an artist.

I made my way through the cobblestone trail leading from the back door towards the cliff's edge. My hair whipped against my cheek, but the ocean's waves lulled me closer.

The garden behind me now must have once been amazing. Hedges, withered from the seasons, line the stone path way and lead out on both sides to stone statues and tall old trees. I remember gasping when I saw it for the first time in daylight. But then the fireflies and lanterns glowed that first night and I fell in love. I decided then and there that I would try to find any bit of green my thumb could offer. I wanted to remake it. I wanted to see it for what it originally was.

It's been a few weeks now, and it definitely has a long way to go, but I almost dont want to go back inside at the end of each day. Anytime I take a break from writing, i am right back in the garden plowing away the weeds and planting fresh life.

I close my eyes and listen for a moment as the wind rocks the sea and little insects hum. This is my life, now. I get to be free from the bustling outside world and forget the heartbreak that led me to running away in the first place.

When I opened my eyes the moon was half hidden behind the clouds. I turned to go back inside, but then I saw him. A dark shadow of a man resting against a stone bench less than twenty feet away.

I was supposed to be alone here. I owned the land for miles.

Fear raked through me as I debated confronting him. What if he was dangerous? Should I call the police? What would the police even do?

Just as I stepped back to hurry inside, he swiftly moved from bench. His frame faced me, but I couldnt make out any features other than his impressive height.

"Who-who are you?" My words were choked, and I wasnt sure he could even hear me.

He didnt say a word, but I saw his shoulders straighten.

Then he was moving forward. He was walking towards me in the most graceful and demanding way I had ever seen.

I wanted to run. I wanted to cry. But I couldnt. I just stayed completely still while trying to convince myself I wasnt insane and that this man wasnt a murderer.

"Hello, dear," he stopped just far enough in front of me to half-bow and take my hand. His lips brush my knuckles before he released it. "Why is it that you're here?"

Why am I here?? This is my house. Why is he here??

The words werent forming, but he nodded his head anyways.

"I use to know someone that lived here once. A long time ago." The clouds released the moonlight just enough for me to glimpse sadness in those deep violet eyes. "Forgive me for intruding. I was unaware that Janna relinquished the deed."

So, he knows the woman who sold me the house? I wonder what relation they had. She looks much older than him, from what I can tell. But it's almost hard to determine his age. Part of him screams ancient and deadly, but his features are so beautiful and delicate that he couldnt be more than mid-twenties.

"I'm flattered you think so." He chuckled and looked away. "I have known Janna all her life. This home belonged to a distant ancestor of hers. But was abandoned some time after her death." He walked towards the cliff. "War is a cruel cruel thing." His inflections were playful. Dangerous. But his words were heartbreaking.

I wanted to reach out to him. To touch him. Comfort him. But I couldnt move. My feet were almost glued to the spot.

"Why do you come back here if it reminds you of something sad," I blurted out before I could stop myself.

He turned back to me, and was now fully drench I'm the light of the moon. It seemed to almost glow from within him. His dark hair was riddled with loose curls, and his purple suit was nearly the shade of dusk.

"A dear family member's funeral brought me to town not too long ago, and I havent wanted to leave, since."

The wind picked up with his last word and my robe parted slightly. I watched his eyes trail below my chin and immediately wrapped myself up again. Pervert.

"There is blood across the base of your neck." It was almost a reply, but couldnt have been, because the word never left my lips.

Before I could lift a finger, he already had my chin in his hands and was wiping away the cut with a silk white cloth. How had he moved so quickly?

"You should be more careful, dear." With that, he slipped the cloth into a pocket and disappeared. There were specks of glittering dust and shadows where he once was.

Was it just a dream? Had he been an illusion?

Who was that man?

[slothgiirl]

shadowplay part 15

Sam waves off the real estate agent while you look around.

“So he went down on you,” she repeats for the thousandth time.

It's the 7th place you've looked at this week and you've got to hand it to the agent, he knew exactly what you were looking for. Small cozy place with lots of natural light, at least two bedrooms and a patio or yard because you fancied that you would grow your own herbs at some point after you learned how to cook.

It could happen.

You were going to stop living off takeout.

Eventually.

“Yes and we’re dating. Like I’ve told you for the hundredth time. God I look awful in those photos,” you wave off. You should've worn makeup to the airport. “Do you think redoing the bathroom and kitchen is too much work?”

You hated the kitchen and bathroom.

“We can diy,” Sam grins. “that's what youtube is for and yes you look like utter shit. But who cares when you're getting that good dick.”

“Can you keep it down,” you utter, glancing at the real estate agent. This house was in a good location, close to Regents park. It was a steal well, because the inside needed some updates if you didn't want to live in the tackiest home ever.

Houses were an investment.

“Well at least one of us is getting laid.”

“You just had a one night stand,” you remind her. “It was the first thing you told me. Alex heard.”

“How was I supposed to know he was going to be there this morning!”

“Not to mention you never gave me my spare key back.”

“What are friends for,” Sam winks. “Okay yeah we'd need to trash the inside but the foundation and pipes look good.”

“He asked me to move in with him.”

“What! Really? I never expected you to move that fast.”

You shrug. It wasn't like...with Alex things were...well not easy but you weren't second guessing every single thing. He was starting to write and that meant you'd usually get home with food and Alex would be engrossed in his own scribbles with a keyboard or guitar even while eating. It had bothered you at first.

But you'd talked.

And you just had never felt as comfortable with anyone.

You needed downtime from Sam.

But you didn't mind Alex playing guitar while you went to bed because it was Alex. And you wanted to enjoy every single second he was there because music meant he would sooner or later be touring.

“Well I said no,” you tell Sam. “I mean..I think I would've said yes if I wasn't in the market for a house. It just doesn't feel like I'm rushing things...he's already said I love you. I don't know how to explain it but it doesn't feel like I'm making space for someone in my life it just feels like sharing. If that makes any sense?”

“Ah you're in love,” she sniggers, “stop rubbing my face in it.”

“This color is awful too,” you motion to the puke pink-brown on the wall.

“I've definitely vom’d that up after too many shots.”

“Sam!”

“You should get this house. I will move in exchange for helping you redo the paint and other stuff. Also you love regents park!”

“I do.”

“It's meant to be.”

“You think?”

Sam nods, “your horscope was also very positive this morning.”

“Sam!”

Her eyes widen, “I didn't interrupt anything this morning did I!”

You roll your eyes. “No. We'd-,” you cut yourself off, refusing to tell Sam everything. Give her an inch and she'd take the whole damn mile. “No. I saw this diy on how to make a faux marble countertop?”

“Now you're thinking,” she grins widely. “I still can't believe Mrs. Harrington’s going to wear a whole ass clam on her head! Poshos I swear!”

“Lady Gaga could pull it off,” you add. “Remember that lobster hat?”

“Yes!” Sam laughs. “I saw the pile of instruments you've amassed. When can I expect free concert tickets” She wiggles her eyebrows.

You laugh. Sam wouldn't turn down free tickets, but she, like you, hadn't really known about the Arctic Monkeys before Alex came into your life. “He's writing. Not sure how close to recording that is,” you shrug. You were pretty sure he had stayed up all night composing a song last night. “It's nice. I'm actually managing to get through my reading list.”

“You two both need to do some more Rolling Stones-esque partying. Not sit it. I'd go crazy with that little attention. I'm like a plant but with attention instead of water.”

“My liver is still recovering from the states,” you answer. You'd smoked weed and done shots like it was happy hour twenty four seven. And while it was fun, you couldn't work and party that hard. You liked sleeping too much.

“Well it better recover quick,” Sam opens the door to the yard, a small patch of land covered in weeds and dead grass. “We are going out this weekend. My roommates on and off again boyfriend’s birthday is this weekend. and it's the big 3 O. And there's going to be all the fun drugs. I refuse to turn 30 without snorting coke once.”

You look at her, bewildered, “you did do coke. I remember being there and telling you I wasn't going to look after you.”

“But you did.”

“Where would you be without me?” You smile, trying to picture basil and whatever other herbs people are growing in the little yard.

“Well I'd have ended up flashing the school. Thank god you had some safety pins on you.”

“Ah yes,” you grin. Her punk phase, the reason Sma had gone to trade school for fashion with you. Unlike your suiting skills, hers had fallen more into fabrics and dress making. She always knew just the fabric to use to get the desired cut. “I told you that seam wouldn't hold.”

“I'd probably be working in a bar. Or,” she frowns, “still living with my parents. Gross.”

“I'll put an offer in then.”

“How soon can I move in,” she winks.

“Do you really want to,” you offer. It would be nice to live together. You might hate that she never washed the dishes, but she did cook. And also you remember that she never bought groceries. Or remembered to tell you she had someone over. And Sam had the worst habit of staying up until three in the morning for no reason which wasn't a deal breaker but was way past when you went to bed.

You hadn't shared a flat since she'd moved out to live with some guy that she then broke up with and kept the room he'd been renting.

“No. I can live not having to see you and Alex be disgusting in front of me.”

You smile fondly. “He really is shameless. We made out outside of that pizza place next to Liberty yesterday. Ate out for once. And only because I thought the pizza would be cold by the time they got to my flat.”

“It is a bit far from there,” Sam nods. “But if you end up getting this house it won't be.”

“I am making an offer. Are you sure you're not the real estate agent.”

“Maybe I need a career change.” Sam notes.

“Well let me go make an offer then.”

“We should get bubble tea after.”

“Totally.”

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-One of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @DRiver2u. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.22 from @amypc1​ - tag, you’re it!

—————————————————————————————————— CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE by @DRiver2u

The noise in the room was a low pulse of small groups talking among themselves. The conversations were not enthusiastic or lighthearted, but the former classmates were speaking just to have something to do. Whenever the din let up, someone new took over with a tale from the exploits of high school past. No one wanted to admit that, now they had eaten, there was time to start exploring the mansion for a murderer.

Hovering off to the side, as she so often did in social situations, Veronica's thoughts were exploding as quickly as she felt her ankle swelling. Her injury didn't hurt as much as she thought it should, and she wondered if she was in shock, rather than having an actual physical ailment. She plotted about how to move to another part of the house, so she could test the theories running through her brain. The crowded space in her mind needed an escape, and if she was being honest with herself, it wasn't the only part of her that needed a release.

She caught Logan's eye as he looked up from the drone of Casey's story, and she gave a quick tip of her head towards the direction of the kitchen. "Meet me there," she mouthed from across the room as she pointed with her pinky finger. She assessed her wonky situation and dropped her elevated foot, rolled to her stomach, and one-legged-downward-facing-dog walked herself to a standing position. For a moment, she steadied herself, using one flat foot and the tips of her toes on the other before trying her balance. She hobbled on her bad ankle and made a comment under her breath, just loud enough for the scrum of former classmates in the middle of the room to hear her complain.

"You rang," Logan quipped, as he turned to see her push through the kitchen door. "Or muttered, I guess would be more accurate." He watched as she moved from limping to balancing herself on the kitchen counter, and then doing a half-twisting boost onto the island. The gymnastics of the moves were worthy of more than a participation certificate. Logan studied her as she forced out a sigh and regained her composure. His mind filled with other uses for those skills. "Your powers never cease to amaze."

"I need some ice for my ankle, but I've been thinking, and I might want to reconsider something," Veronica cooed as her finger made its way between her teeth. Before Logan could head towards the freezer, she commanded, "Come closer."

Logan advanced and slid between her dangling legs. Veronica's citrus shampoo, the acid from the tomato ragu, and the yeast from a green bottle of Heineken left near the Belfast sink sent mixed signals to his brain. This wasn't the time or the place, what with the dead bodies, secret passages, and unknown assailants only a few feet from what he hoped would be their suction-cupped bodies, but he couldn't stop the fantasies entering his brain. Veronica stared into his eyes, hoping he would be able to read her mind. The drip of the faucet and the hiss of the radiator under the stained glass windows broke their silence.

As Logan leaned in to kiss the blonde in front of him, he felt the cool thickness of the marble countertop as it hit him just below his waistband. His mouth hovered near her lips, but he turned his head and teased her with the breeze that swept by her mouth. She grabbed the back of his neck demanding to be closer to him, to touch his sweetness. He was stronger than her, and pulled back, watching as her eyes slid shut. As his hands wrapped around her waist and his thumbs pushed into her hips, she let out a small whimper and her breathing quickened.

It was the panting and the moaning that made him pull her closer. He wanted this, she wanted this, but they had made a deal to slow things down this time. He could wait. Could he wait? Anticipation was a hell of an aphrodisiac.

When he finally kissed her, would she taste like roasted garlic, red wine, dried Parmesan cheese, or chocolate mousse? Whatever was left of their dinner would be lost as his mind cleared of all but the softness of her lips. Logan gazed into Veronica's eyes before kissing her wordlessly. Only seconds later, Veronica released her hands from his hair and scrambled to tug his thermal base layer from the waist of his trousers and ran her hands towards his brawny chest, feeling multiple indentations as her fingers spread.

"We need to reconsider that we may have only two days left to live, so three dates seems too long to wait to get naked," she said, at a much higher volume than Logan found desirable. He tilted his head as he tried to shake the noise and vibration out of his eardrum.

"I think you're out of practice on the whispering of sweet nothings," Logan grumbled. "The key to that phrase being 'whispering', sugarpuss."

Veronica reached up and took his face in her hands, then bent the side of his head towards her mouth. "We're being watched, right?" Logan nodded his head and wondered if this new taste for voyeurism would be part of their future escapades. He swallowed at the thought and caught himself breathing harder than only a few seconds ago. Veronica continued her train of thought in his ear. "Let's find out if this is really about us. They're watching, so if they see us, uh you know, all hot and heavy, they may try to break in and stop it."

Logan dropped his head, realizing this was nothing more than part of the game, part of her desire to solve this riddle. "I don't know if I feel like a mark, the bait, or a damsel in distress." He swallowed and took a deep breath.

Veronica kissed him softly and met his eyes. She didn't need words to explain to him that her brain was working overtime. It wasn't desire he had seen in her eyes when they started this rendezvous. But it was passion--just not the kind of passion he was hoping to experience.

"Enid Curtis," Veronica whispered again and gave him a mischievous smile before returning to his ear. "How many people do you know who are named Enid? Not one, I bet. Enid Curtis and Mason. Flip them letters around and what'd ya get? DIES UNROMANTICS." She gave him a quick kiss at his temple, but she wanted to give him a high five.

Logan chuckled before bending his head and raising his eyes to meet hers. "A bit of a grammar cock up, wouldn't you say?" He paused and tilted his head until his mouth met her ear, his hands continued to meander under her shirt. "If you're going to slip down the Enid path, it seems impossible not to bring up Tennyson. You should know to leave the English stuff to me."

Veronica inched away from him and stared at Logan. "So, you think there's a book on one of the shelves by Alfred, Lord Tennyson that'll help solve this riddle?" she asked in a low voice.

"Well, I'm more of a Keats guy myself, but it's tough not to respect a guy who came up with the lines, and I'm paraphrasing here, 'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all' and 'Theirs is not to reason why. Theirs is but to do and die'." Logan turned the words over in his mind. Loss and death weren't nearly as appealing to him as Keats' haunting words about beauty, joy, love, and truth.

"Yeah, it's the 'do and die' part that makes me a bit worried," Veronica chided. "And what's that got to do with Enid?"

"I'm saying that Tennyson wrote Idylls of the King. In it is a poem about the perfect love Enid has for her husband." Veronica stared blankly at him before he continued. "He gets jealous, but she stays faithful. He thinks she cheated, but she stays faithful. He treats her like dirt, but she stays faithful. Seeing a pattern?"

"So Enid is perfect?" Veronica asked with a sly smile.

"It used to be a real compliment for a woman to be referred to as an 'Enid'," Logan remembered from a group project about Victorian poets. Who knew those trivialities might one day prove to be important?

Logan continued after a small pause, clearing his throat. "Oh, and Tennyson influenced the Pre-Raphaelite artists with his sumptuous verses. God, they painted some majestic stuff. Dead women, lots of flowing hair, unrequited love. Come to think of it, one was even of Enid, I think." He smiled at the idea of his mother and said, "First ones I saw were at Andrew Lloyd Webber's estate, because my mom dragged me there when she was desperate to get a part in a possible West End Cats revival."

"Keats, Tennyson, and Raffi," Veronica scrambled, only half listening to the other voice in the room. "I don't see the connection. Unless someone thinks I'm the perfect mate?" Veronica's mind danced with the knowledge that she may have an admirer rather than a stalker. She heard Logan snicker and watched as he shook his head.

"Raphaelites, bobcat, but who am I to doubt the perfect bit," he mocked with a chuckle. "Maybe Enid and Tennyson mean nothing. Maybe you were on the right track with the scrambled letters. Or maybe this mysterious host is telling you to ask others for help with this riddle. 'There's no I in team', 'It takes teamwork to make the dream work', 'Collaborate before we evaporate'. Etcetera, etcetera."

Veronica squinted at him, but only grunted out a, "Huh?"

"OK, maybe I made some of those up," Logan laughed. "But we're all here for a reason, and I don't think it's just to be dead bodies, cute faces, or red herrings." They both stayed quiet a moment and realized their musings had blown their cover. Their so-called tryst had turned into a book club.

"Ice," Veronica directed, and Logan grabbed the hand towel near the stove as he sauntered towards the industrial-sized refrigerator. "But now what?"

"Lead on, perfect Enid," he quipped. He took a deep breath as he felt Veronica going back into her brain. "OK. If you want to stick with rearranging letters, we can do that, but I prefer NUDES IS ROMANTIC."