#LITERALLY the first thing that caught my eye after open tumblr in weeks?? months??

[gyublues]

i experienced a whirlwind of emotions through this in incredible writing.

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, i just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." you try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thoughtthe image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[fereldanwench]

A Personal, and Final, Reflection on A Certain Fandom

Having spent the past week and a half away from the Tumblr side of the C*b*rp*nk community after a resurgence of old wank (not hashing out the details–IYKYK), I heavily weighed the pros and cons of saying anything else. Ultimately, I decided for my own peace of mind and ability to fully move forward, I do want to say a few things (or a lot of things, given how long this is). This blog is my personal archive first and foremost, and I think writing a “final chapter” will help me find closure. I’m also choosing to publish this because, at the risk of sounding presumptuous, I think my mistakes and subsequent revelations might be good learning experiences for others, too. 

Like many of us, just by the nature of when this game was released, I entered this fandom during a very fragile, tumultuous time in my life–Well, sort of, let me back it up a little: I actually initially entered it during a great time in my life. It was July 2021, I had just enjoyed about 6 weeks off from work after quitting a demanding job that had sucked the life out of me for almost 10 years, and I had started a promising new job. I even bought the game with the first paycheck from said new job!

Unfortunately, while I had been told that this position was temp-to-hire, not only was it not a path to a permanent role, but because I completed all the work in my contract over a month sooner than they anticipated (early September vs late October), I was being let go early because they had nothing else for me to work on. I was literally told over the phone, “You did amazing work, you got us caught up through November, but we don’t have anything else for you.”

Cue about 6 months of recruiters ghosting me, exhausting interview processes, demoralizing rejections, and scam upon scam upon scam, all culminating in me returning to the job I had been so happy to leave a year earlier. And while my old coworkers were ecstatic to have me back, I couldn’t help but feel like a complete failure. I took what I thought was a calculated risk, I thought I could do something better for myself, and I couldn’t. It’s something I’m still struggling with today, honestly.

On top of this, I also experienced a debilitating physical health episode in January 2022 which led to me being effectively bedridden for about 3 weeks. [CW: Menstruation, sexual health] I’m not sure of the exact cause–maybe a bad reaction to emergency contraception, maybe unsafe menstrual underwear, but it resulted in menorrhagia so severe I fainted from blood loss. My insurance had literally just ended, another wave of COVID was hitting, and I didn’t want to risk getting infected sitting in an ER for hours only to rack up a few thousand in debt to get a blood transfusion. So rest, iron supplements, and lots of meat and spinach and orange juice was the best I could do.

All of this led to my world becoming very small. I wasn’t working, I could barely do my hobbies or see my local friends, and simple everyday tasks like showering drained me of all my energy. When I was stuck in bed and could barely keep my eyes open for more than a few hours at a time, gossip was a welcome, low-effort distraction from the physical pain and fear that I might either have to put myself in thousands of dollars of medical debt or risk lifelong damage (or worse) from the blood loss.

I also found myself having groups of friends in a way I’ve never experienced before. I’m extremely introverted (even online, though less so than IRL), I have social anxiety, and the handful of times I have been “in” a group I was never really in it. I was always on the outskirts and usually just close to one or two people, max.

Regretfully, this set the stage for me to get caught up in the culture of rumors and speculation that permeates this fandom more than I think it has any other fandom I’ve been a part of.

Academically, I know about things like groupthink and tribalism, and I could see how those influenced the groups developing in the fandom, but I had no direct, personal experience with those phenomena. I think in conjunction with the other struggles I was dealing with, I ended up being incredibly susceptible to an us-versus-them mentality, which led me to feel justified in being unkind to people I knew had been unkind to my friends, even if deep down I knew what I was doing was antithetical to who I strive to be. 

I don’t share any of this for sympathy points or to smear anyone else or to avoid accountability–I still chose to act like an ass on a couple of occasions, and regardless of what I was going through, that was still inappropriate. I’m still responsible for my own behavior no matter what’s going on. 

But I do want to contextualize my fuck-ups for two reasons:

The first reason is ego-driven, full-stop. Not even gonna gloss it over. I can’t defend being an asshole nor do I want to, but I think it’s normal and healthy to look back on your mistakes and go, damn, why the hell was I acting like this? 

Even on my best days, I can be very stubborn and self-important and pedantic and judgemental, and I certainly can’t say that I’ve never inadvertently offended someone–Sometimes a joke might not land as I hoped. Sometimes I get tangled up in my own thoughts, burdened by an excess of nuance and details, and I express things poorly while I try to account for all sides of things. Sometimes I can get a little too opinionated about blorbo stuff. Sometimes there might just be a full communication breakdown or an insurmountable personality clash–But I can also confidently say that I have acted with good intentions in this fandom far, far more than I have with spite or because of petty rivalries.

And when I did get caught up in the drama and gossip and the wank? I was literally at the lowest point I’d been in a very, very long time. 

Again, because I feel like I can’t say this enough, that doesn’t make acting like a dick in a Discord server any more excusable, that doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt anyone, and that doesn’t mean that someone I hurt during that time has to forgive me or stick around for me to grow. Hurting someone because you’re hurting is still not okay. But I’m pretty sure every single one of us has had a bad day (or two or three or 365 or–) and made an isolated bad decision (or two or three or–) because of it–None of us deserve to be wholly defined by those moments or denied a chance to learn from those mistakes and be better.

And I think the most important takeaway for me personally is that I have learned from these mistakes and I have not repeated them. Some of these mistakes even helped me realize that I needed professional support for my mental health, and they played a role in my seeking medication and therapy last year. I still have a lot of work to do, but the silver lining to all of this is that I am in a much better place today than I was 2 years ago (even if this year also fucking sucks for non-fandom reasons and I would still very much like a goddamn break.)

The other reason I wanted to share my journey of navel-gazing and healing a wounded ego ~*self-discovery*~ is I think there’s a very good chance my story might sound familiar to others in the fandom. Maybe someone else can learn from my hardships and mistakes, too. Maybe you too were dealing with chronic fatigue or mental health issues or financial stress or isolation or all of the above and then some, and it led you to fixate on things that were harmful to you, to form unhealthy relationships with equally hurt people, and to act in a way that you know doesn't reflect who you are. The past several years have been so hard on so many of us, and I think we’ve all brought a lot of pain and misery into the community even if we weren’t trying to.

A somewhat shameful realization I had last year was I could recognize that kind of behavior in other people, but I completely missed it in myself. I could see how people were making this fandom their whole world and how it was so damaging to them, but I was doing the exact same thing and I just let it go completely unchecked because I thought I knew better. It was a brutal lesson in the pitfalls of pride. 

--------

So I was initially thinking at this point, I would take the time to address a few specific lies, rumors, and insinuations that have been said about me over the past couple of years. Because while I was a jerk in a couple of situations, most of the things said about me are exaggerations, if not outright fabrications.

And I did start writing a lot of that out, but as I was doing it, I was just overcome with a huge feeling of OH MY GOD I just don’t fucking care anymore. As one of my dear, long-time fandom friends has pointed out, there’s a great line about just this kind of thing from one of my favorite characters in one of my favorite games: “Why should it [bother me]? They don’t know me. I know me.”

I also really don’t want to run the risk of pulling anyone back into the fray (especially if they’re not even in the fandom anymore or if we’ve talked privately about certain issues) by even alluding to shit that happened years ago.

Instead, I would like to offer three of my big takeaways from the experience of being falsely accused of awful things:

You do not know nearly as much as you think you know about people’s fandom relationships. The one semi-specific thing I will mention is that I had been explicitly named a few times as being in cahoots with people I don’t think I ever even spoke to or that I had already drifted away from–Just because you saw two people existing in the same public space doesn’t mean they’re besties, bestie. Also, friends don’t always have to agree with each other, nor should we be expected to participate in a public spectacle of shaming if we do have a disagreement. People are allowed to resolve their differences privately.  

Not all conflicts/disagreements are inherently abusive or toxic. When you are hurting or dealing with unresolved trauma or starting to confront uncomfortable truths about yourself, the slightest disagreement can feel like a personal attack, but that doesn’t mean it is. Sometimes differences might be irreconcilable, but sometimes they might not be if you don’t automatically assume the worst of someone with a different perspective than you. Sometimes we just need to give the other person a little grace and the benefit of the doubt that they’re doing their best. And sometimes we might need to consider that it’s actually our own behavior driving the conflict and not the other person.

Even in situations when someone has clearly been unfairly targeted/victimized, that doesn’t mean they can’t also be a perpetrator of harassment/abuse to someone else. Victim and abuser are not mutually exclusive roles. I would wager a lot of us are familiar with the cyclical nature of abuse, and to quote a line from one of my favorite movies (admittedly a bit of a flippant line in the context of the film, but it still rings true): hurt people hurt people. Accountability for shitty behavior is never conditional, regardless of the pain we’re experiencing. 

--------

I titled this my final reflection, and I want to clarify what that means:

First of all, I’m not leaving this fandom (don’t everyone clap at once ha ha ha). I’ve been in various online fandoms since the early 00s, and while this has been one of the more challenging communities for me to navigate, it’s not enough to make me give up something I love this much. My blorbos are my perpetual muses, and I feel like virtual photography is the creative outlet I’ve been searching for my entire life. I love this game and hobby too much to stop creating and sharing.

I’m also not leaving Tumblr. While I’ve had this specific account since 2016, I’ve been here since 2010–Tumblr is not just this fandom for me. I have many friends (some I’ve known since my original account in 2010!) from other fandoms, and I’m not losing the best place to hang out with other people who are special to me just because one fandom got a little unpleasant. (I mean, look, I weathered the DA fandom here circa 2012-2015–This ain’t my first rodeo.) I also have a lot of hope for the Tumblr Communities feature, and I’m really hoping the VP community we’ve set up can continue to grow and flourish.

But I am no longer addressing any of this wank. If you have a problem with something I’ve done or said to you and you want to address it with me directly (preferably in a private space just so we don’t keep putting this shit on people’s dashboards), I am open to conversation and apologizing where needed.

Otherwise, this is the last time I’m talking about it anywhere. Tumblr, Twitter, Discord, publicly, privately–I’m done. I’m washing my hands of it. I don’t want to hear anything else about what other people have done or who they’re friends with or who they’re following or what they’re saying about me or my friends or any of it. This bullshit has taken up too much of my time and energy, and I have very important smutty shots to take. 

And I am probably going to continue to be less active in the fandom on Tumblr, at least for a while. You probably won’t see me here much until September at the earliest. This time away has been really good for me, and I think I need to continue with limited Tumblring and making the time I am here more structured. Plus, with some of my other fave video game series returning this fall, my blog will probably shift back to a more well-balanced multi-fandom space. 

I’m also going to need to diversify my dash a little bit more, which means I will likely end up unfollowing some mutuals, particularly if we don’t interact often, if you don’t tag, or if I see any mention of fandom drama–It’s nothing personal, but I know breaking mutualship can hurt a little, so if following me after that makes you uncomfortable in any way, please don’t feel like you have to stick around. I totally get it. Similarly, if it would make you uncomfortable for me to continue to interact with your posts after unfollowing (because I probably will if you post in certain tags), please feel free to block me. 

Okay. Christ, that was long. Shut the fuck up already, right? This is why I can't do social media with character limits. ghdfjgjhkfdgkfdg

Seriously, though, that's it. People are welcome to comment on this post if they want, but I really have nothing else to say about any of this so please don’t be offended if I don’t reply. I’m not ignoring you, I’m just… Well, done.

[wespirallin]

sweet tooth fanfic idea

Okay so people, I just finished watching the last season of Sweet Tooth on Netflix, and holy moly is it so good. I had a few fanfic ideas that I hoped were already written, but if you're in the community, you've realized by now that we're kinda small.

So I decided to write my own (yay!!). I don't wanna give any spoilers but it's going to be about a bird hybrid oc (Mack) that's found and semi-raised by the Animal Army.

I want to focus on a few specific (all platonic so far) relationships Mack has and how his character grows as the seasons progress. I literally just wrote chapter one of the fic and decided to come talk about it on tumblr lol.

Anyway, here's the first chapter. It's more like a prologue that features Mack's dad who is going to be very relevant to the story later on.

Chapter 1 / prologue

It was just a regular Tuesday for Benjamin Crane when the end of the world hit. Well, at least when shit started to get actually real. Perhaps dumbing down the Great Crumble to a specific day wasn’t the most accurate way of looking at history, but it helped keep him sane. 

It was the end of a long shift for Benjamin and he just wanted to go home to his wife, but he had one more argument to get through.

“Sam, I already told you. We had Room 3 booked from the very start of the week. Everything’s already prepped up for the surgery tomorrow. I can’t just bail out of it. The patient -hell the kid's family is counting on me.”

“So?”, dared to ask his collogue “I still don’t get how you can’t just rope Sthe new guy teve in. He has no major operations on for tomorrow as far as I know. And he’s more than capable of getting the job done. Not to burst your ego bubble, Benji but you’re as replaceable as the rest of us mate”

Benjamin made an incredulous expression. “Well if I’m ‘perfectly replaceable’, why don’t you go find another guy to help you co-op your operation?” he scowled.

“Come on, you know I need a plastic surgeon for this. There’s no way I can reconstruct that hand on my own. And last I checked, there wasn’t another one of you guys in the market. So you’re my best shot. You in or out?”, pleaded the surgeon.

Normally, Sam wouldn’t have needed another pair of hands to help him out, however, this one was a special case. The patient was a 20-year-old guy, who got his hand caught in a machine of sorts. According to the X-ray results, the hand was broken from multiple different places, and several tendons were snapped. As a general surgeon, hands weren’t Sam’s specialty. And no matter how much pride he had in his abilities, he knew when to ask for help. Even when it killed him inside. Even when it was from his best friend/arch-enemy (who was way too arrogant for his own good).

The argument was interrupted by the blaring alarm of an incoming ambulance. That was nothing out of the ordinary, seeing that the two colleagues were in the break area just outside the ER. Just as Benji opened his mouth the reply, the doors of the ambulance flew open and a team of medical personnel (who were decked out in hazmat suits for some reason) rushed a stretcher into the ER.

The two barely had the chance to take a look at the patient before she was out of sight. The woman looked deathly pale and her face had a sickly yellow hue to it along with beads of sweat that had drenched her hair and clothes. The skin around her nose and eyes were red and if Benji looked close enough, he was sure that he could see a few exposed arteries. The one thing that had unsettled both men was the rapidly twitching pinkie finger, which seemed to be the only sign of life from the patient.

After losing about five percent of the population of Earth, the Sick had seemed to be taken under control. The hospitals around the world had had about a month of Sick-less break until now. It seemed that another wave of the Sick was incoming.

Benji grimaced and bit his lip.

“That was…”

“Unsettling as fuck.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“You think it’s back?”,  Sam tried to steady his voice. 

He had lost his wife and kids to the first wave. Benji’s heart ached for him but he pushed the bitter feelings down. Getting sentimental never helped anyone. It hadn’t helped the woman he saw as a sister nor had it helped the two little innocent children he loved as his nieces.

“I don’t think it was ever gone in the first place” Benji answered honestly and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

The lingering hazmat team outside the ER didn’t help settle any of their nerves, but they had more pressing matters to get back to. Sam patted Benji’s shoulder a few times before opening his mouth to speak.

“Think about it yeah? You still have the rest of the afternoon to think about it, but be quick. Promise, I’ll organize everything and I’ll talk to Steve. See if he’s up for covering your little case of local anesthesia.”  

Benji snorted at that and shook his head in disbelief. What part of a ‘3-hour very important surgery’ did his friend not understand?

The patient up next was a nine year old kid that had fallen on his face. His parents had said that he slipped from some monkey bars. A broken nose and . It was nothing that major compared to what Benji usually dealt with, but these were the relatives of a friend he was talking about. Benji pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, damn had he missed the old days where all he had to do was get in and out of a surgery. Managing the scheduling of the patients without any secretarial help in a collapsing world wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

The hospital was short of staff at the moment, as it constantly was after the new ‘Sick Pandemic’ had broken out. Almost all of the nurses and other staff were either dead or transferred to ER or to the patient care areas that were heavily quarrantiened. 

Finally, he let out a sigh of defeat and grunted. Hand operations were his favorite anyways.

“Fine, but I’m not organizing shit -and the beers on Friday are on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very grumpy and pregnant wife to go back to.” 

Sam forgot about the topic at hand at the mention of Pemma, a school friend of his. He let out an excited chuckle. He clapped Mikey’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? Congratulations dude! I’m so happy for you two. Finally, becoming parents eh? Say hi to Pemma and Sam Jr for me yeah?”

“Sam for the last time, we’re not naming my child Sam Jr!”

“Pleaaseee? And it’s a unisex name. It can be short for Samantha if it’s a girl, or for Samuel or whatever that starts with Sam. Or it can be just Sam if it decides to be non binary or something one day! See? Win-win.”

The younger man gave him an unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow.

“Sam, my kid is not going to be nonbinary. See you tomorrow for the surgery, idiot.”

Benji pushed past Sam and walked toward his car. Now he had a very unpleasant phone call to make to the family of the kid he was supposed to operate the next day.

Benjamin Crane drove straight home, completely unsuspecting of what the future had in store for him, his wife, and his soon-to-be-born child.

Okay so that was that. Some feedback would be very welcome because I feel lost on which platform to post it on or if it would get any traction at all. I'd probably keep working on it tbh just to scratch that writing itch inside me but oh well. We'll see. Go watch sweet tooth if you haven't yet btw, it's amazing.

[tallymonster]

Memories of Us chapter 8

So here we go!!!! First time cross posting AO3 and Tumblr! This is exciting 😏 anyway, I wanna give a giant thanks to my friends over at the Astarion Brainrot discord, you all have helped me out with figuring out AO3 and now both places I'm posting to are caught up! Only took the whole week 🥲😅

Well anyway, as always many thanks to my bestie @micropoe10 I appreciate everything you do for me babe 😘 many many maaaaany thanks to @cheesy-cryptid for their artwork ❤️ I literally look at it each time I have to think of something to write.

Chapter 8

Stay and watch me fall

 After the fundraiser, the museum had gotten into its busy season. The warmer months made it so that more people were coming in to get away from the heat.

 Which meant more reasons to finally solve this damn mystery that's been hanging over Octavia's head for the last few weeks. She's gotten as far as she can without having to go consult Astarion on the source of this book. There was only so much trying to convince Gale to use his magic to try to restore the book without him lecturing her about misuse of his studies, magic, and family line. 

 

Ever since they shared their secret and the fact that he woke up in her house with a nasty hangover and some embarrassing flashbacks, they've become much closer as friends.

Eventually he confides in her that her rejection of him was not unexpected. "To be perfectly honest, I see the way you look at him...it's fine, because I also see the way he looks at you. Just because you can't see his eyes, doesn't mean I have not. I know him, I know how he looks at you." 

 Gale kept his gaze in the book he was reading, "Besides, I can't resist it sometimes either. He's got this way of twisting things to his benefit. I can only imagine how he uses that to his advantage." Octavia looks up somewhat shocked, Gale is giving her a challenging glare, as if he's given her all the help he would give her in this particular situation. They smirk at each other and keep working.

—-------------------

Following the little routine she had gotten herself into, Octavia does her rounds surveying the first floor of the museum. She reaches into the pocket of her cardigan and plays with the silk handkerchief she never returned. She's been meaning to give it back to Astarion, but he was 'traveling for work' whatever the hells that meant.

 Octavia continues her stroll, going up to the office corridors. Out of the corner of her eye she sees something peculiar. The giant ornate dark wooden door that leads into Astarion's extremely off limits office is cracked open. She could knock and see if he's in there, but she takes the opportunity to give him a taste of his own nosey medicine. 

 She walks up, tiptoeing slowly to the door, she gives it a small push and it easily flows open. It's as of the room itself is inviting her in. She steps through and gently closes the door, leaving it unlocked. 

 As she turns she begins to take in the room. A full suit of armor is put together next to a massive bookshelf, candelabras stacked with melted wax and softly lit candles.

His desk is at least twice the length of hers and Gale's combined. There's books, papers, art, and all sorts of random things all around. Each square of wall is crammed with trinkets. Much to her advantage, the room is still fairly dark due to the heavy curtains covering the window behind his desk, a small slit of the last beams of sunlight peeking through them.

 A faint smell of gardenias, moonflowers, and primroses filled the room. Seems like he's close to their gardens, but as she looks towards the window, she notices a small bundle of them as if they've been recently cut. 

 She comes up to one of the dusty display cabinets and peers through. As she eyes some gemstones, she can hear faint footsteps coming towards the office. The only way out is to hide and wait, so she sprints over to the only alcove she can slip quietly into. There's a spot between the armor and the bookshelf, she takes her place as her heart travels up her throat. 

 Astarion opens the door, speaking to someone and trying to make his departure. "Yes yes, I'm very honored that you have donated sooo much money to our esteemed institution, but I really must get back to my research, you understand right?"

Octavia hears the door open and close, her breath shudders a bit and she regulates her breathing. She can still see what he's doing, thankfully shrouded in partial darkness. 

 Octavia watches as Astarion sauntered over to his desk, he sits with his arms dramatically thrown behind the headrest of the chair, his legs stretched out in front of him. Octavia never noticed how svelte he was, the suits paint a clear picture, but this was a new angle. 

 He lets out an exasperated groan and takes off the glasses on his face. Octavia takes another sharp inhale, was she about to see what he fully looks like after three godsdamned months? Astarion leans forward and has his face in his hands, he's clearly stressed out about something.

He turns the chair to face the window, takes one of the flowers into his hand and sniffs it deeply. He lets out a soft sigh and Octavia swears he said something behind it. 

 "I should have seen this all with you, my moonflower. I was so foolish to not accept your offer, I can't let our past get in the way, not this time." He speaks softly as he walks towards the window, pulling on the heavy fabric. Swinging open the window and looks out as the sun's final light turns to dusk. "To have planted all of these flowers for you, and I can never share them." 

 He sighs deeply, taking a long inhale."Fuck, I keep seeing her, now I'm smelling her too? It's like this ghost has come to haunt me yet again." He closes his hand on the small flower bud in his hand, crushing it. 

 It's become a little difficult for Octavia to see what he was doing. As she tries to get a closer look, she balances on the suit of armor, making it swing a little. She gasps and pulls away immediately.

The weight of her back hitting the wall causing a sound loud enough to alert Astarion, whom she can hear mutter a disguise spell. 

 He turns and she can see his eyes clearly at last. They're gorgeous, an orange hue with a reddish ring near the pupils. "I know you're there…" Astarion's voice sounds eager, threatening yet alluring, like a cat chasing a bird. 

 He stalked around the room slowly, Octavia's heart was thundering in her chest; her breathing quick and shallow. She pressed herself into the corner she was tucked in, shutting her eyes tight as he approaches her.

 "Come on, I really don't think you want to play this game with me..."

 She trembles as he stops in front of the bookshelf, her eyes open wide, they're practically face to face and somehow he doesn't react. He's just staring absentmindedly.

 Astarion takes a sharp inhale, and exhales in a shudder, his face warps into a mix of emotions. She watches as he goes through anger, confusion, fear?

 The way his whole body tensed as he glared at her, past her, it was startling. He takes another deep inhale, a wave of emotions passes through him. She watches as his chest rises and falls rapidly. His pupils are blown and he seems elsewhere. 

 The way his gaze is boring down on her makes her knees weak, all the choices she made up until this point shooting alarm bells into her limbs. "Little mouse, I've caught you." 

 Octavia gulps loudly, she feels his hand grab her arm, pulling her out of the shadows onto his chair. "Your turn now, speak." Astarion's voice was harsh and pointed. "Well?" He kept his gaze on her, his bright eyes seemed to change into a fiery hue, the orange quickly dissipating into a red shadow. 

 "I- I-" she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the silk square of fabric. "I've been meaning to return this to you, but you've been gone. I saw the door was slightly cracked open and I came in hoping to find you." Octavia glances up, the humiliation clearly on her face. "You came in so fast, I don't know what I was thinking. I didn't hear anything, I'll leave." 

 Octavia puts the handkerchief on his desk and tries to stand. Astarion puts his arm across her on the chair, pinning her to the chair. "We are not done here." He lifts her head with his hand, he's looking down at her as if he's reading her mind. "That's not all you want. Talk." She breaks away from him, the electricity from his eyes was far more intense when he was mad. 

 "I- I haven't seen you since the night of the opening, in my yard. You've been gone and you're so damn secretive when you're here. Why do you make it seem like you're so easy to talk to and trust when you're the most shut off person I have ever met?" She feels the heat from the embarrassment and annoyance growing into anger. Her body trembles with the adrenaline rushing throughout.

 "If that was all, you didn't need to be sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and I certainly don't need you slinking around in my private office." He hisses the last words, releasing the grip on the desk he held.

 "Next time you desire to speak to me, come to me, don't decide for me. Is that clear?" His voice is grating and deep, vibrating through Octavia. She gulps and nods, her breaths hot and shallow.

 "Speak up. I'm having trouble hearing you." He calls mockingly back to their time in her garden, Octavia shakily replies "Yes." He lets out a dark chuckle "Good girl. Leave." 

 Octavia hesitates a little, she was breathing heavily, their eyes locking onto each other "Did I fucking stutter?" He glares daggers into her, she's finally able to see his whole face and gods, he's gorgeous.

 "You're- your eyes…they're beautiful. This is the first time I've seen you.." she trails off, his face starts to shift as the anger melts away. 

 Astarion and Octavia stare into each other's eyes for a few seconds, he slowly creeps closer, his fingers trailing up her neck turning her towards him again. He keeps his burning gaze on her, she's right here and he can smell the familiar perfume he picked up earlier.

 He shudders, the sweet scent is intoxicating and nostalgic. Octavia lets out a soft gasp, he's so close to her lips, their eyes stay locked on each other.

He leans in closer, ghosting his lips on hers. She takes a sharp inhale, thinking he'd close the distance. Instead, he rubs his nose on hers and whispers into her mouth,

 

"Get out before I do something we'll both regret." 

tag list:

@justporo

@satanicspinosaurus

@sleepy-timaeus

@tragedybunny

@davenswitcher

@wayward-hel

[possibly-baby-g]

Okay,

Throwaway account because there's no way I'm letting this woman (my surrogate mother) find my tumblr. This was messaged to me 3x last night by friends who know my story (I'm pretty open about the abuse my surrogate mother did to me in my early childhood).

I think there's a 92.8% chance I'm baby G here. I'm G (first initial), my parents first initials are N & M, and I hope to god this didn't happen 2x.

No, this is not a fandom thing (unless there's a fandom that literally has a plot that's basically my life) & No, I did not write this, I texted my mom (M in this story) to see if there's any chance that she did and I showed it to my dad (N) and he didn't either. I am sitting here this morning, stunned.

Okay, for starters, I know the author of this is coming across as unsympathetic, but I promise you (if this is her), that is just the way she is. She sucks. And, if this is my story, this is her trying to come across as sympathetic, because the actual story, and what follows it, is so, so much worse. Also, 0f could easily just be her not knowing how to use aita, since she's 54-years-old this year.

If this is my surrogate mother, this entire situation happened in 1993-1995, in California. I was born in a catholic hospital in 1994, there were no laws or policies on the books yet regarding surrogate pregnancies. In California, in 1994, there was no precedent to change maternity on a birth certificate whatsoever. IVF had only become a thing less than 10 years ago when all this happened and laws hadn't caught up yet.

Also, the 'I kissed him at one point' thing is the understatement of the century. It was a full on sexual assault in a bathtub. The week my mom got on a plane to Spain, L (my surrogate mother), 7 months pregnant with me, bought a copy of the Kama Sutra and showed it to my dad, telling him with no warning or further explanation that she wanted to try everything in the book with him. She just started telling people she was his girlfriend and I was their baby.

She also started calling him her 'G*psy lover,' which is a slur she has no right to reclaim. We're Romami (sinti, roma and romanical for anyone who cares), she's not. So she's also racist.

A few days later, she asked my dad to bring her a glass of water while she was taking a bath. My dad came in with his hand over his eyes and tried to give her her drink, and she full on stuck her mouth on his and tried to drag him, fully clothed, into the bathtub with her. God knows what would have happened if my grandmother hadn't heard splashing and him screaming and come in to find out what the hell was going on.

The birth certificate thing wasn't discovered until about 6 weeks after I was born. As many people responding guessed, this was completely and utterly ineffective in causing her to get custody of me. My dad did have to sue for custody, but was granted full legal custody of me with her getting 'supervised visitation' 2x every two weeks. However, we're POC, my real mom (M) is not a US citizen, L's dad is a high powered lawyer, so he was able to intimidate my dad into L having complete physical custody of me 2 weekends a month until I was 5, and a friend of hers do the supervision (and her friends never actually were there to supervise, they just showed up for the custody transfer and then left and lied about being there the whole weekend) which sucked because she was incredibly abusive.

(L did things like lock me in a dark room for a 'timeout' as a punishment, and her husband would drag me off of cowering on the floor to 'look him in the eyes' if he thought I was lying. Nothing too bad, just a lot of telling me I was a bad seed, and punishing me excessively, nothing too scandalous or even probably illegal, but she definitely did treat me like shit. I also wasn't a bad kid, my real parents almost never to punish me at all, I was well behaved.)

This finally came to a head when I was supposed to see my mom on a vacation outside of the US when I was 5 and L refused. Then my grandfather (M's dad) got a friend who is a US lawyer to look over the custody agreement and revealed that in fact, L had no rights whatsoever. I never stayed the night with her again, I got to meet and hug my real mom for the first time in a seafood restaurant in Tijuana and then hang with her for 2 weeks looking at Mayan Pyramids, and I was free and it was glorious.

What the birth certificate thing did do was screw up my life in ways that you wouldn't expect. She's STILL on my brith certificate and I've been told by lawyers as recently as 2021 that there's no way to get her off it without her signing away parental rights like in an adoption (I hate this woman and want her off my birth certificate). I have considered just having my mom adopt me as an adult adoption, since L doesn't have to sign anything for that.

(the main reason I want her off my birth certificate is, legal/assumed biological relatives always get priority in custody and, after what she did to me, I'm afraid if in 20 years I have kids and I die she'll try to get custody of my future kids if she's still on my birth certificate, and I want that to go to my mom or a non-relative of my choice)

L had to sign papers when I got my childhood passport. When I was about 3, L got married and changed her name, and her ID no longer says she's the name on my birth certificate, as a result of this I couldn't get a new passport between the ages of 7 & 18, because both parents need to sign paperwork for minor to get a passport and my second legal parent didn't exist anymore (L could have tracked down paperwork regarding her name change, but she's a bad person and she refused).

I also couldn't get a legal ID, so no drivers licence, no passport, no anything, until I was in college because you need a 3 forms of ID from document list B to get a real ID and all of my secondary documentation said I was 'G N (Dad's last name)-(Mom's last name)', but my birth certificate said I was G N (Dad's last name)-(L's maiden name). Finally, I could get a legal ID when my college documentation matched my SSC and other secondary ID documentation.

My mom (M) is from the EU, specifically Spain, from Euskal Herria (my mom is also not Romani, she's Basque, just for clarification). My mom had a criminal record from when she was a kid in her 20s back in Spain (nothing too big or bad, just the kind of bullshit that US immigration doesn't like), she was here on a tourist visa and, being an EU citizen, this wasn't a big deal, but when she applied for permanent resident status, her criminal record was suddenly a problem, and this was the cause of her US visa issues.

Am I the asshole for putting my name on my surrogate baby’s birth certificate because I wanted to keep the baby I carried and the man who got me pregnant from leaving the country?

Some background, I (26f) have secondary infertility (egg issues) and have had several miscarriages due to this, but I have no primary infertility (uterus issues). Earlier this year, I was accepted into a university about 500 miles away from where I was living, I am an older college student, so a lot of financial aid options weren’t available to me, so I decided I would live with my boyfriend (28m).

Fast forward, I’m a 25-year-old freshman and I m living with my boyfriend. I get big into the local art and poetry scene. Among other friends, I meet a nice older couple (36f and 37m)-let’s call them N&M, in a committed relationship, but not married, who are looking into hiring a surrogate because she had a hysterectomy some years ago. I’ve always wanted to carry a baby to term, but have never been able to due to my fertility issues, so I immediately volunteer.

Papers are signed, second ivf cycle takes and I’m pregnant with a baby girl (let’s call her G). My boyfriend decides that this (being in a relationship with someone pregnant with someone else’s baby) isn’t what he signed up for and we break up. I don’t have anywhere to live, so N & M offer to let me move in with them, so me and the (unborn) baby have a place to live.

About halfway through the pregnancy, M has a visa issue and has to go back to her home country for a few months, leaving me alone with N.

M’s visa issues turn out to be more serious than she thought and their plans change. During this time, I also developed some romantic feelings for N (I am carrying his baby, after all), and I kissed him at one point and let him know I’d be open to expanding our relationship and stepping in as a mom for G, since M had effectively been deported. (They were never married, I’m carrying his baby).

He kinda freaked out. This is also when their plans change, N is going to move to M’s home country with the baby as soon as she’s born and I start to panic because at this point, I’m carrying her, this is my baby, more than she’s M’s. I mean, people donate eggs all the time, but I’m carrying this baby and M isn’t even in the country, so I feel like at this point I’m more of a mom to her as M is. so (and this is where I think some of you might think I’m an asshole) I took the surrogacy papers from their important documents drawer. I didn’t know if I would do anything yet, I just wanted to have it so N couldn’t leave the country with my baby.

When the baby’s born (0f), it was supposed to be a home birth, we had a plan and N had documents all filled out and ready to submit that had M listed as her mom, and I was just going to go along with it, but there ended up being some medical complications and it turned into an emergency ambulance ride and hospital birth.

G is born with some pretty significant health issues due to the traumatic birth and spends most of the next week in the neonatal icu. N is with her, the hospital asks me to fill out her birth certificate and I put myself on it as her mom since M wasn’t even in the country and I want custody of this baby and now, without a dna test from M, which isn’t going to happen because she was deported, even if he doesn’t want to be with me, N can’t leave the country without fighting me for custody.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[itzyourgirlnat]

Caught in the act

Being Kara and Lena’s daughter was...let's say it was complicated. You always had everything that you could possibly need and your family loved you so much. However, it wasn't all perfect. Kara was almost like your best friend, you both watched movies, went flying, cuddled almost ALL the time and told each other everything. Sadly, you hadn't seen each other a lot recently.  You obviously don't blame her cause she was probably also dying to spend time with you. But, between Supergirl (who was very needed lately) and Catco she was always busy. It's surprising how you two live in the same house but only have a full conversation every three or four days. Lena, on the other hand, also hasn’t been very available. And, again, it's not her fault. L-Corp is growing even more and has many projects going on so she’s always in her office.

Even if you miss them, you never ONCE complained. It wouldn't be that bad if you hadn’t fallen into a routine, not spending much time with them became a habbit. You obviously talked to them (cause you live together) but about basic things and you simply stopped mentioning things about school and your private life. Your life went on, without your mothers knowing about it. And then the unexpected happened, you were in volleyball practice when she walked in. She was new and had just joined the team, somehow Rao blessed you and the coach asked you to show her around. Two weeks later you were somehow dating. Honestly, you can’t even believe it, you weren’t popular and didn't have many friends (the Luthor name made things harder for you) but Zoe saw you.

 Anyways, all that happened...and you just, kinda, didn't tell you moms anything about it. IN YOUR DEFENSE they were both very busy lately and honestly, they were already very protective and so you just didn’t say anything.

It was all going on well until one day. You were on a date with Zoe, you had gone to the library to study a bit and then you grabbed some food and simply walked around. You then accompanied her to her house but before going in she turned around and kissed you.

‘even if I love this, your parents could see us’ you said.

‘They are not home yet’ she said

‘Well in that case’ you slowly kissed her.

Zoe’s parents did not see you, what you didn’t know was that both Kara and Lena were in their car on their way home…

‘ We really have to make a change’ said Kara while looking through the window.

‘I know honey’

‘I just hate having such little time with her! What if she drifts apart from us and stops telling us things!’ Kara huffed. Lena grabbed her hand and squished it softly.

‘That won't happen, look, we have been very busy lately but, we are not anymore and we will spend time together like we used to. Besides it hasn't been that long and if something big had happened she would have told us’

‘Yeah you’re probably right’ Kara turned again towards the window. That's when she saw it. You kissing a girl who after hugging you and kissing your cheek entered a house.

‘OH MY RAO’

What?!’

‘It’s Y/N!’

‘Kara what is it?!’

‘She was making out with a girl!’

‘WHAT?!’

*******************************************************************************************

After saying goodbye to Zoe you walked to your house. Everything seemed perfect at that moment: the sun was shining, there were flowers everywhere and you had just had one of the best afternoons of your life. However it all changed once you got home. You opened the door and both of your moms were on the couch. They weren't talking or doing anything in particular, they were waiting for you. Oh no, this can’t be good

‘Hi guys’ You walked towards the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water

‘Hi baby’ Kara stood up and walked towards you. 

‘How was your day?’ Lena who wasn't too far away asked

‘Great, I had a study session and it went way better than I had expected’ 

‘Oh we know ’ Kara said. Lena immediately hit her on the arm

What?’

‘Oh well nothing’ 

You walked towards them and raised an eyebrow at them

‘Soo, what did you study?’ Kara asked, trying to change the topic

‘Algebra’

‘Oh, I didn’t know a part of algebra consisted on literally making out with a girl for five minutes’ Lena mumbled

‘What!’

‘We were, we kind of...we coming home when we...we saw it’

‘Oh my god’

You turned around embarrassed. Out of everything that could have happened it had to be that.

Lena walked towards you with her arms crossed

‘So, who is she?’

‘Um no one, just you know, a friend’ 

She looked at you right in the eye. Well nothing could be worse than this could it?

‘I met her at school, she was the friend of a friend and one day we just crossed paths. She was failing french and I offered my help’

Lena laughed softly ‘She asked for help with french and you kissed her. Why am I not surprised?’

‘Don’t laugh! She’s really nice and smart’ You were now blushing

‘For how long have you been together?’ Kara asked

‘Not much, just um, a couple of months or so’ You avoided looking at her.  Even if it didnt seem like it, Kara was incredibly overprotective with you.

‘A couple of months?!’ Oh no, this is not good.’WHAT DO YOU MEAN A COUPLE OF MONTHS?’ 

‘I mean 60 days or so’ you said sarcastically

‘Why didn't you tell us?!’ she runned towards you

‘Well I…’ You looked at Lena who immediately rose her brow

You took a deep breath

‘It's just that I, i don't know, at first I thought it wasn't a serious thing, but the it suddenly was and you were both really busy and I was kind of scared and I just, i guess I made excuses to not tell you’ You were ashamed and looked down

‘Baby’ Kara held your hand. ‘We know that we haven't been around much lately and we are really sorry, but you don't have to be afraid, not of telling us things’

‘Yeah, because we really wanna know what's going on in your life’ Lena added

’I’m sorry’

Kara hugged you

‘Don't be Y/N, it's kind of our fault, but please tell us what’s going on in your life’

Lena hugged you too and know you were between them

‘Yes please tell us and we promise that it is the most important thing for us, more than work and anything’ she said

You all stood there just enjoying each other's touch since it had been long since you had all hugged properly. 

‘So tell us, how is she?’ Lena asked breaking the hug

You then spent the whole night talking about Zoe and the other things that had happened in your life, and finally, you felt at home.

The end

Ok so I wanna thank @supercorpkid who inspired and ecouraged me to write and @gleamylix who also helped:)

If you have any request feel free to tell but (but I’m new to tumblr so im not sure how this works yet, have mercy )

[fanficimagery]

Friends in High Places

Summary: When Spencer comes home with files to a case that has his team stumped, he's surprised when you- his neighbor for a couple years now- is the person who gives them a new lead to follow. That and that you're ex-SHIELD.

Words: 8K Warnings: This is what I get for starting a rewatch of Criminal Minds and then watching Marvel movies all in one day. Fml. I've never written for Criminal Minds, so please excuse the mediocre-ness of their characterization. I have no idea what I'm doing; I just knew I wanted a crossover between these two fandoms. Also timeline? What are those? All you gotta know is that this is an AU where Bucky's joined the team and Steve DIDN'T ruin the life Peggy Carter would have had. As for the CM side, this is sometime after Hotch has left and Emily took over. Idk.

Having the night off and wanting nothing more than to just be lazy, you're sitting on your couch in your most comfiest clothes and mindlessly scrolling through Tumblr as your TV plays some program on Animal Planet. You're not even paying attention to the program, but the low sound is perfect for background noise.

You're queuing up some art posts that catch your attention, as well as some gif sets of the TV shows you've become a constant viewer of in the past few years, when there's a knock at your door. But not just any knock. It's a specific knock that you and your neighbor came up with after you got to know each other and became fast friends, and it was to let the other know they were home and wanted company. You mostly worked nights and his work schedule was always all over the place, so it's surprising you're both home at the same time.

Picking up your phone, you shoot him a quick text that you'll be over in five.

Spencer Reid is literally the man of every woman's dream, even if they didn't know it. He's cute and adorable and sometimes dangerously hot all rolled into one, and the best thing about it all is that he doesn't even know it. You had met him on one of your first few days in the apartment complex, but unfortunately it was during one of your slight panic attacks when a thunderstorm had caught you off guard while you were sitting in your car and you didn't have an umbrella.

He had seen and heard you freaking out as he was passing by, and knocked on the passenger window. You had collected yourself just long enough to roll the window down a few inches when he asked if you were okay, then proceeded to answer his own question by stating you obviously weren't. When he realized you lived in the same complex and asked if he could climb inside your car and out of the storm, you had stared at him in confusion until he realized that might have been a bit weird since you were strangers. He stammered his way through his explanation of being an FBI agent and after showing you his badge you had let him in.

You didn't have to tell him what was making you panic and he proceeded to keep your mind occupied. He asked about you and where you had moved in from, and spewed random facts about anything to temporarily make you forget about the storm raging outside. But the torrential rain wasn't letting up and the lightning was only getting closer and closer. He made you realize you had to make a run for it and even offered up his umbrella for you. You had thanked him with tears in your eyes and made a run for it on the count of three when you were settled just enough.

Inside the lobby of your apartment building, you had stood there trembling while Spencer nervously gripped onto the strap of his messenger bag as he stood across from you. When you were shaking the water off his umbrella, you hesitantly told him your reasoning for your freak-out. It wasn't necessarily the thunderstorm, but rather the torrential rain that wasn't letting up. A few years back you had a drowning incident and too much water on your face tended to bring back those memories. He said he understood and then with a sympathy tinged smile he offered to walk you to your apartment. It was a pleasant surprise to learn you had only lived two doors down from him.

Weeks turned into months and months into a couple of years, and you and Spencer were nearly inseparable when you both had the same day/night off.

So after quickly fixing your already messy hair so you don't look like a complete slob, and pulling on a loose hoodie, you grab your phone from the sofa and then head on out. Your socked feet keep your footsteps quiet as you head down to Spencer's door where you knock three times on it before opening it up and stepping inside.

But before you can greet him with a cheesy welcome, he's already calling out, "Hope you haven't had dinner. I picked up some burgers on the way home."

On cue, your stomach grumbles. "God bless you, you beautiful, beautiful man!" You hear him laugh from a room that's not where his kitchen is, so you make a beeline for the kitchen instead of accidentally walking in on him changing. There are two paper bags on the table and you quickly grab plates from his cabinet to separate the food on. Spencer enters the kitchen in a shirt and some gray joggers, and you greet him with a beaming smile. "You're home and in one piece! Yay!" He laughs and you quickly lean in to peck his cheek, not saying a word when you catch sight of his pink tinged cheeks. "You have any beer?"

"Yes. Grab two, please."

"Got it." You hear one of his kitchen chairs creak as you open his refrigerator to grab two beers, you then searching a nearby drawer for the bottle opener. Once you find it, you walk back over to the table and open each beer before handing one over to him.

"Thanks."

"Mhm." Taking a seat, you set your beer down before unwrapping your burger and dumping your fries out onto the plate. "So what's up, doc? You're home surprisingly early."

"We've hit a wall on our latest case," he says, keeping it vague. "There was nothing for us to do while Garcia did her thing, so Emily sent us home for a bit."

"Nice." You take a bite of your burger and your eyes widen when Spencer's eyebrows raise in surprise. When you realize how your words sounded, you're quick to backtrack. "Wait! It's not nice that you hit a wall, but nice that you got sent home! I got free food out of it. That's why it's nice. Not because, you know, you haven't found the-"

"Y/N, you're rambling," Spencer says, lips twitching. "I understood what you meant."

You sigh, shoulders dropping, and grab half a fry to toss at him. "Eat your food, Reid. It's getting cold."

It surprisingly doesn't take long for the two of you to eat your dinner, you both being hungrier than you first thought. After you're done, Spencer turns down a second beer but tells you to help yourself. You do. And on the way into his living room, you bump into one of his chairs and knock his bag over. You gasp and set your beer down on the coffee table, falling to your knees to scoop up his files that had spilled out.

Chuckling, Spencer crouches next to you as you profusely apologize.

"It's okay. It was an accident." A few pictures had slid out of their files and normally you'd just shove them back in because his work wasn't any of your business, but the face staring back up at you makes you pause. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a little heavy on the eyeliner, and a lip piercing. You know her. "Y/N?" You gulp and flip to another picture- brown hair, brown eyes, mole above the right eyebrow. You know her too. "Y/N? Are you okay?"

With trembling hands, you flip back to the first picture and show it to him. "Is Lilian dead?"

Spencer's eyes widen. "You knew her?"

Knew. Past tense. She is dead. Showing him the second picture, you nod sadly. "Kyndall too."

He seems to stop breathing then and from one moment to the next he's opening files and pulling out picture after picture. As you stare at each of them, you grimace and swallow down the bile that's threatening to climb its way up your throat. "Y/N, do you know any of the others?"

Shakily exhaling, you point at each picture. "Desiree, Celeste, Maria. I don't know this one, but I think her last name was Valdez? And then the male is Tim."

Spencer falls on his butt, staring at you in surprise. "That's right. We know their names and their current line of work, but that's about it. Their files only seem to go back a few years. Everything between the end of their high school career and current line of work seems to be scrubbed clean. Do you- do you know of any connection between these people? Any little thing you know can possibly be a big help to my team."

Your gaze darts up to him and your heart sinks. You've managed to keep your past mostly hidden, but now it seems the time has come to tell him what you did before. "They, uh, they're all ex-agents of SHIELD. The real SHIELD, not HYDRA."

"What?"

"If I remember correctly, they were computer analysts or paper pushers. They had gun training as one would think an agent would have, but they were agents who didn't really have to train in hand-to-hand since they never made it out into the field."

"You're positive? How do you know this?"

You gulp. "Because I'm ex-SHIELD too."

Spencer blinks at you, but then in the next moment he's up on his feet and reaching for his phone. He places a quick phone call, stepping into another room and leaving you alone. Your stomach sinks and you have a feeling that this confession might have just put a wedge in your friendship. After all, though ex-agents were being picked up by other different branches of the government, you weren't sure just how exactly trustworthy all ex-agents were being treated.

Spencer reappears, nervously tucking his hair behind his ear. "Do you mind coming with me back to work? My co-workers could really pick your brain about this."

You blink at him. "W-What? You're not mad at me?"

"Mad?" He chuckles. "Why would I be mad? I mean I wish I had known what you did so I didn't have to worry about you being alone when I left for a case, but I can see why you would keep that underwraps. HYDRA made a lot of people paranoid."

"Tell me about it," you mumble. Then after a few seconds, you finally climb up to your own two feet. "Um, just let me go put on some shoes. I'll meet you in the hall."

Spencer's smile and nod eases some of your worries, but you still quickly make an escape to go put on some shoes. Your front door bangs open and you hurry to your hall closet. Yanking open that door, you pull on the first pair of Converse you come across. Then taking a moment to think, you grab a pair of knee high boots that you use every once in a while. Reaching inside, you grab your old badge and a USB stick, sticking your badge in your back pocket and the USB in your front pocket. Then grabbing your keys from the hook by the front door, you shut the door after exiting and lock it. Spencer is waiting down the hall for you and you jog towards him. He tightly smiles and then leads you downstairs, towards his car, and you sit quietly in his passenger seat while he drives.

On the way towards Spencer's place of work, he can't help but ask, "So what exactly did you do with SHIELD if you don't mind me asking."

You shrug. "Cat's out of the bag now, so I don't mind." You chuckle though it kind of falls flat. "I was, uh, a computer analyst for a while. But then I was taken on a field trip with a few agents and we ended up trading bullets with several not so nice guys. The field agents liked the way I handled myself and requested I level up, so to speak."

"And you never thought of trying to get hired on with anyone else? If I recall, the FBI and CIA were picking up ex-SHIELD agents after the fall."

You shake your head. "Remember that drowning incident I mentioned? Or the reason why I can't take baths anymore and have to turn my shower on and off between washing?" Spencer hums, remembering what he thought were odd quirks until he realized it was all because of your fear of certain amounts of water. "That drowning incident was HYDRA's fault. I spent months in rehab and just- well, no one wanted a damaged agent."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm kind of glad they didn't. I quite like my neighbor who picks up take-out and bakes sweets for me after a rough case."

You try not to think too much about his words and instead choose to smile at him before looking out your window. The drive is only about twenty minutes and fortunately the radio fills in the semi-tense silence.

When you get to the FBI building, Spencer escorts you inside with a hand at the small of your back. You're given a visitor's badge and you quickly clip it onto the hem of your hoodie. The elevator ride up to the BAU's main floor is a short one and it opens up to a wall of glass where you can see several desks behind it.

Spencer opens the door for you and you can't help but make yourself seem as small as possible. You cross your arms over your chest, hugging yourself as you enter the room. There are several people milling about, but no one pays you any attention. Only one female, dark bangs covering her forehead while the rest of her hair falls just passed her shoulders, heads towards you once she spots you and Spencer.

"Y/N," Spencer says, introducing you to the woman as she nears, "this is our Unit Chief Emily Prentiss. Emily, this is my good friend Y/N Y/L/N."

Emily is all smiles as she reaches to shake your hand. "Hi! It's nice to finally meet the girl who takes care of our boy wonder after cases."

Spencer nervously chuckles and you find yourself genuinely grinning. "It's nice to finally meet you too. I've heard some funny stories about all you guys."

"I will neither confirm nor deny any of those."

Emily then leads you towards a room where three others are waiting. "Guys, this is Y/N Y/L/N. Friend of Spence and ex-agent of SHIELD. Y/N, this is Special Agent Derek Morgan and Jennifer Jareau, and our very own technical analyst Penelope Garcia."

Everyone happily greets you and Jennifer even gives you the go ahead to call her JJ. You're offered a seat at their round table and you glance at their board filled with pictures of people you used to work with. Spencer sits next to you and you offer him a feeble smile when he reaches beneath the table to squeeze your knee.

"Alright, guys, I know we're all interested in the girl who lives next to Spence, but we need to get down to business." Spencer groans as his teammates all chuckle. "So Y/N, is there anything else you can give us about the victims? What exactly did they do? Did they all personally know each other or just enough because they were coworkers? Even the smallest bit of info that you think is inconsequential can help us."

"I, uh, I can do you one better," you say. You shift in your seat and reach into your front pocket, pulling out the USB stick. "Since I figure all those NDA's we signed are now null and void thanks to Agent Romanoff's data dump, and because you're Spencer's friend, I feel comfortable handing this over. It kind of made me nervous keeping it in my house anyway."

You slide the USB towards Penelope and she gasps, snatching it up and holding it as if it were the holy grail. "Is this- are these files? Because let me tell you, I tried to download those files as soon as they hit the net but there were just so many and not even our WiFi could download it fast enough before they were scrubbed clean."

You grin and nod, chuckling at Penelope's squeal. "I started collecting everyone's files that I could get my hands on. I started with the baby agents- agents whose files wouldn't toss up red flags when their files were opened. The more clearance I was granted, the more files I was able to download."

"Oh my god. Yes! You are my new favorite person." Penelope rushes around the table, bending down to kiss your cheek with a loud mwah! "Reid, keep this one. I'll be in my lair."

The group all chuckle as you blush, but then Agent Morgan is clearing his throat. "Not that I'm not grateful about what you're giving up, but isn't what you were doing illegal?"

You shrug. "It possibly was, but then Director Fury realized I was memorizing it all and didn't have a problem with it so long as those files didn't leave my office."

"But you have them on you now," Morgan says.

"Yeah. The USB was hidden within my belongings in my office. My office surprisingly survived unscathed after Captain Rogers crashed the helicarriers into the Potomac, and my stuff was packed up and shipped to me while I was in rehab."

"If you don't mind me asking," JJ wonders, "but were you at the Triskelion when HYDRA came out or..?"

"I don't mind the questions at all," you say. "It's actually quite nice to talk about it with people who aren't eyeing me suspiciously." The group flashes you small smiles. "I was actually on a consulting job with a recently formed SHIELD team whose base was a humongous plane that was constantly on the move. Anyway, one of those trusted team members ended up being HYDRA. He led a group of his men onto the plane, killed half of us to get control of it, and then locked me and two scientists into a holding pod before dropping us into the middle of the ocean."

"The drowning incident," Spencer suddenly realizes.

You smile sadly at him, nodding. "We sank to the bottom of the ocean floor. There were three of us and only one little oxygen tank." Spencer grabs your hand beneath the table and you're grateful for the grounding pressure. "We gave it to Jemma. Fitz and I were going to attempt to swim, but we didn't make it. Fitz blacked out first, then me, and then- then nothing. We woke up in a trusted SHIELD facility, and Fitz and I couldn't operate like we used to. With our brains having been deprived of oxygen, it messed us up for a while."

"Wow," Emily says. "I am so sorry."

You shrug at her with a small smile. "It was all part of the job."

"What do you do now?" Morgan asks. "I hate to say it, but with all our victims being ex-SHIELD, and you as well, we have to rule you out as-"

"I get it." You smile in reassurance at him since it kind of pained him to admit that you could be a suspect and have Spencer glare at him for even thinking it. "I'm a bouncer at a bar most nights."

Morgan chuckles. "A bouncer? You!?"

"Hey! I might not look like much, but I did train with Avengers. I could probably give you a run for your money, agent Morgan."

"Okay, okay," he muses.

"I also work as private security for Stark Industries when they throw galas. If you need the exact dates I've been working, I can get that for you."

"Please," JJ says. "Spencer's already vouched for you, but protocol and all that. You understand."

"I do. I'll just- I'll text my bosses to email my clock-ins and clock-outs."

Pulling out your phone, you immediately text your boss at the bar and Pepper Potts. You keep the explanation vague as to why you need it, but assure them it's very much needed for a case the FBI is working on. They completely understand and you even have to make Pepper swear not to get Tony involved.

The emails come in not even ten minutes later and JJ happily takes your phone to run the dates with Penelope, promising to be quick about it. You remain in your seat, watching as Morgan and Emily walk towards the board and start tossing their thoughts back and forth over what they've learned so far.

Your hands are atop the table, thumbs chipping away the already chipped nail polish you have on. The second you raise your hand with the intent of chewing on your thumb nail, Spencer catches your hand. "You okay?" He quietly asks and you stare at him. He then lets your hand go as you pull them back into your lap.

"Yeah. Just getting kind of tired. And a bit anxious. Someone's targeting ex-SHIELD agents and I- well I'm one of those people."

"No one is going to hurt you, Y/N. I promise."

You feebly smile, not taking his words to heart because you know he can't actually keep that promise. He might want to, but you know better than to take these types of promises seriously in situations such as this.

JJ reappears, a bright smile in place as she hands you your phone. "I'm pretty sure Penelope programmed her number in there."

"That's fine." You chuckle. You lay your phone on the table, giving your attention back to Emily and Morgan who's now being joined by JJ.

"Guys, Garcia is having a ball right now. There's so much information she wasn't privy to before, but I'm not sure how any of it is going to help more than Y/N already has." Emily and Morgan look at JJ, waiting for her to explain. "We already know victims weren't the best at hand-to-hand, which the unsub clearly took advantage of. But we need to know what they were presently doing and if they were checking in with anyone because there are a lot of dead ex-agents. That's not a coincidence. Either someone who's ex-SHIELD or HYDRA is picking off ex-agents one by one, or someone who has a grudge against SHIELD found a list of ex-agents and is working their way down the list."

"Where do we even start?" Morgan asks, incredulous. "SHIELD technically doesn't exist anymore and those who are operating in the shadows are nearly impossible to track down thanks to the Avengers. None of them are exactly easy to get a hold of after General Ross made it his personal mission to bring in James Buchanan Barnes for crimes HYDRA made him commit. They like working on their own."

"We'd have to jump through a bunch of hoops just to get a face to face," Emily says, sighing. "If we're lucky they'll want in on the case since it's related to SHIELD."

"Um, actually.." You nervously raise your hand, calling all attention on you. "You can bypass all those hoops."

Emily stares at you, sitting on the edge of the table as she crosses her arms over her chest. "You still have connections, don't you?" At your sheepish grin, she huffs in amusement. Every other team member straightens with hope in their expressions.

"Agent Prentiss, I am the connection." As you pick up your phone once more, JJ and Morgan step closer to the table. You scroll through your contacts, finding the one you need and tapping on it. Then putting it on speaker, you try to soothe your nerves as the ringing through the speaker seems to make the atmosphere of the room become tense.

The ringing stops as the connection is made and then, "Well, well, well. If it isn't my second favorite human on God's green Earth." You roll your eyes at the charm oozing from him. "What kind of trouble are you in now, doll?"

Emily and JJ's eyes widen, and you shake your head in amusement. "Put your boyfriend on the line, Barnes. I'm calling in a favor."

"Are you calling to finally take us up on that offer of joining us for a night?"

Everyone in the room seems to freeze, although Morgan is highly enjoying where this seems to be going. You close your eyes, scrunching up your nose. You can't believe they just heard that. "Steve really needs to put a muzzle on you."

"Well if you're into that-"

"Bucky!" You bark. "You're on speaker." Morgan finally loses the battle with his laughter and you wish you can sink into your chair. Instead you have to settle for just insanely blushing and covering your face with one hand. "I'm currently with the BAU of the FBI. They have a case that they could use some help on."

"Oh." There's a beat of silence. "Christ, Y/N. You should have stopped me sooner. Stevie's gonna lecture me again. Hold on. I'll go get him."

The line goes silent and you nervously meet Spencer's gaze. He's the only one who doesn't seem as amused which is why you don't find Bucky's greeting as funny as you normally would. Something about his expression actually makes you wish Bucky hadn't said anything.

"Y/N?"

You sit a little straighter in your seat. "Hey, Cap."

"What's going on? Buck mentioned the FBI."

"Uh yeah. I'm with Agents Prentiss, Morgan, Jareau, and Doctor Reid," you tell him. "They've been dealing with a case that had gone cold and well I kind of made a connection they hadn't seen before because they couldn't, and uh I'm sure they could use your help."

"What was the connection?"

You look at Emily and she nods, letting you tell him. "Steve, all the victims are ex-SHIELD. Specifically agents who wouldn't have had too much training; who couldn't hold their own without a gun in hand."

There's a sharp inhale. "What do they need?"

Emily's eyes close in relief and she holds her hand out for your phone. You happily oblige her and hand it over. "Captain Rogers, this is Special Agent Emily Prentiss. I'm the one in charge of my team here."

"Hello, Agent Prentiss. How can my team and I be of help?"

"Well we mainly need to pick your brains and ask some questions. We're aware that SHIELD is still operating to an extent, even if it is in the shadows, so we'd like to know if the victims were still affiliated with you. If we're dealing with someone who is or was from SHIELD or HYDRA, we'd like to have you involved since you have more experience with how they operate."

"That's fine. I'll gather my team and set up a room. Are you okay to set up base here in the Compound?"

"Yes!" JJ says, starting everyone. She clears her throat and calms herself. "Yes."

Steve chuckles. "Very well. Gather everything you need. I'll be sending a quinjet for you all since it'll be faster. Y/N knows the pick-up location."

"Thank you so much, Captain Rogers."

Emily hands you the phone and seeing that the call is still connected, you say, "Hey, Steve? Thanks for this."

"It's not a problem, sweetheart. Are you okay though? You're an ex-shield agent yourself."

"I know, but nothing has been out of the ordinary. I'm okay."

"Good. You coming too?"

"I was actually planning on going home after driving the agents to the location. I'm not an active agent anymore, bub."

"I know you're not, but with that agent neighbor of yours coming here I rather have you here as well so we can keep an eye on you." You sigh at his protectiveness. "Bring a change of clothes for a week. I'll have Nat get a hold of your boss and let him know some of what's going on so you'll have a job to go back to once all of this is over."

"You're a pain in the ass, Rogers."

Steve laughs. "See you soon, Y/L/N."

The call ends and you set your phone down. Glancing up, you smile sheepishly at the team staring at you. "So, uh, I guess I'm tagging along. Sorry about that."

Emily opens her mouth, her words getting stuck as she shakes her head in amusement. "Don't be. You got us working with the Avengers within minutes as opposed to taking hours, possibly even a day if I had to put in a request."

Morgan whistles appreciatively. "This is insane. I'm gonna give Garcia a heads up about our field trip. Expect another tag a long. I don't think she'll pass up this opportunity."

You chuckle as JJ says, "Rossi is going to be so pissed he took a vacation and missed out on working with the Avengers." Then looking at you, she adds, "Do you think Spider-Man will be there? My son absolutely loves him and I would be the coolest mom ever if I got a picture or video with him."

"I'm sure Pe- uh, I'm sure Spider-Man will make an appearance," you say. "He's always hanging around after his classes are done for the day."

JJ's eyes widen. "You totally know who he is."

"I do. And let me tell you, he absolutely adores kids. Ask and he'll happily oblige."

"Guys. Guys!" Emily says. "Case first, fangirl later."

Spencer snorts and you elbow him on reflex. He grumbles, Emily and JJ grin, and you innocently smile at Emily. "Sorry, Agent Prentiss. I'll just- I'll go sit on that couch over there so I'm not in the way."

Emily starts telling her team what needs to be done, repeating herself again when Morgan returns with a clearly excited Garcia. Morgan informs everyone he'll go gather the boxes of files while Spencer immediately sets out to disassemble the board of pictures and post-its. Garcia excitedly rushes back to her own office to pack up a few things, while Emily and JJ figure out what all they'll need to be taking with them.

To keep yourself occupied, you waste a few minutes by playing a game on your phone.

You're not sure how much time has passed, but someone hesitantly sitting next to you takes your attention off your phone. Glancing up, you see Spencer sitting there and realize everyone else has cleared out of the room. "We should be ready to head out in about ten minutes."

"Oh. Okay."

There's a moment of silence and then, "Soo.. Bucky Barnes." He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, and you can tell his amusement isn't exactly genuine. "He's- he's not the type of person I pictured you with if I'm being honest."

"Barnes?" You snort. "Ew. No." Spencer seems surprised by your reply. "Bucky likes to flirt with me because he knows it won't go anywhere. He's well aware of the actual person I have a crush on and he respects that. Mostly."

"O-Oh? So there is someone in the picture then?"

"Well, not really," you say. Squirming in your seat, you're not totally comfortable with the direction this talk has taken until you see you're not the only one squirming. Spencer is avoiding eye contact, but he's also clearly awaiting your answer. There's also a telltale flush up the side of his neck to the tips of his ears, and- oh. Oh. Seeing how nervous Spencer suddenly is makes you feel better. So better, in fact, that you feel you should speak up about something that you've kept secret for a while. "Well I mean I'd like there to be," you say, grinning when he freezes. "The thing is, he actually lives down the hall from me." Cue him holding his breath. "He's totally adorable, but also secretly hot which is so unfair, and he works for the FBI." Spencer's head snaps in your direction, eyes wide. You smile sheepishly and shrug. "The only downfall is that he's way too good for someone like me, so I settled for friendship."

Your heart is beating terribly fast and the only thing keeping you glued to your seat is Spencer grinning bashfully, cheeks pink. "If you ask me, I don't think he's too good at all. I-If anything, he probably thinks you were too good for him which is why he never made his own feelings known."

Relief washes over you and you laugh. "We're idiots, huh?"

Lips pressed together, he smiles wide. Then, "A little."

"Rain check on this discussion? We've got Avengers to greet and you have a case to solve."

"Of course!" Spencer hastily stands, offering you a hand up. Grinning, you take it and let him pull you to your feet while shoving your phone into your back pocket. "Wherever we're going, is it okay to leave our vehicles there?"

"Yeah. It's private property and pretty secluded. No one gets in without codes."

"Okay then. We'll swing by our building for your bag and then you can direct one of the drivers while the other follows."

"Sure. Sounds like a plan."

Because of the connection between the list of victims, you have an escort up to your apartment while you pack a bag. Emily and JJ happily accompany you, leaving Spencer to fend for himself with Morgan and Garcia.

In your apartment, the two female agents waste no time in subtly trying to figure out your exact feelings for their dear friend and you take great amusement in skirting around the answer they so desperately try to pry out of you. And it's only after your duffel is packed do you tell them you and Spencer had admitted some things to each other, but you are planning to talk about it further after their case is closed. JJ seems oddly giddy and Emily coos about their boy genius growing up. You blush, relieved that they've taken a to liking to you. Then when you get back to the vehicles, you know Spencer has been questioned as well given the smirks being sent your way.

The drive to the field isn't long and the team is impressed by the level of security for a seemingly abandoned airfield. There's an unmanned gate which you get off at to speak for voice recognition, punch in a specific code, give a hand print, and then secretly have your forefinger pricked for a blood sample. Then when the gate swings open, you quickly climb back into the car and instruct Emily towards the second gate where a guard sits. The guard greets you warmly and, after you introduce those in the vehicle with you, he assures you he knows all about the impending pick-up.

"So what exactly are we in for?" Morgan asks. You're all waiting in an opened hangar, the boxes they'd packed sitting on the ground.

"Your perceptions about them are about to be changed," you admit. "I'm sure you've all told yourselves that the Avengers are just like you and I, but you have no idea how true that it is until you meet them."

"Who is the nicest?" JJ wonders.

You take a moment to think about. "Honestly? They're all nice, but if I had to choose I'd choose Spider-Man. It's hard not to like him. The kid's a puppy."

"Who gives the best hugs?" Garcia quickly adds.

Everyone chuckles at her eagerness. "That's a tough one," you say. You ponder on it for a moment. "I say it's a tie between Steve and Thor. They hug full on, chest to chest. None of that half-assed, one arm hug nonsense."

Garcia practically swoons. "Oh to be wrapped up in those beefy Asgardian arms." You snort and shake your head in amusement.

Another twenty minutes pass and you regale Spencer and his friends about some of your work with SHIELD. But all too soon the telltale sound of a quinjet reaches your ears and when you look up you see one incoming.

"Well that was hella fast," Garcia muses when she spots the quinjet herself.

JJ grins. "Stark technology. Gotta love it."

Emily nods in agreement. "We definitely need an upgrade."

Whoever is flying the quinjet lands it with ease, and Spencer, Morgan, and JJ immediately pick up their boxes. Shouldering the strap of your duffel bag, you start heading towards the quinjet when the ramp is being lowered and the team follows a few steps behind.

Clint Barton walks off the ramp and you chuckle, hurrying your steps. Both your arms go around his neck and one of his arms wraps low around your waist. "Short stack," he says. "What trouble did you get into now?"

"Why does everyone assume I'm in trouble?" You pout as you pull back, pinching his cheek and cooing before stepping back out of range. "And what are you even doing here? Shouldn't you be on the farm with those precious little heathens?"

"I was, but Laura had leftovers for Nat and Wanda. I was just dropping them off when Steve rounded up the team."

"Oh nice." Then turning around, you gesture to the BAU team. "Clint, meet Special Agents Emily Prentiss, Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau, Doctor Spencer Reid, and the brains of the beauty of the team Miss Penelope Garcia. Guys, meet Clint Barton formerly known as Hawkeye."

Everyone shakes hands, with the exception of Garcia who slaps his hand away and pulls him into a hug.

"Baby girl," Morgan laughs, "what are you doing?"

She squeezes a chuckling Clint before letting go, she then whirling on her own friend. "This is my first time meeting the Avengers. Do not take this from me!" Morgan's eyebrows raise in amusement, the whole team and Clint chuckling.

Then not wasting anymore time, Clint ushers everyone on board. He shows them where the boxes and your bag can be stowed before taking the pilot's seat up front, only to be joined by Morgan moments later in the co-pilot seat. You show Emily and Garcia how to buckle in, and then take your own seat between JJ and Spencer.

Clint counts down for lift off and you grip your harness as you feel the quinjet take flight. Spencer nudges you with his elbow and you glance at him, grinning to assure him you're okay. But when you can feel the quinjet picking up speed thanks to the feeling in your gut, you close your eyes and are thankful that no one brings up the fact that you're actually really nervous right now.

Your left hand is grabbed and gently pried from your grip on the harness, and your eyes fly open in surprise. You look towards your left and JJ smiles at you reassuringly as she squeezes your hand in comfort. Then when your right hand is grabbed and given the same treatment, you glance over at Spencer and can't help but blurt, "I-I've never been nervous about flying before."

"It's perfectly normal to subconsciously be nervous or anxious after we trudged up your past earlier," he says. "Just close your eyes and relax. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nod, smiling shakily and turn your head to rest it against the headrest of your seat. Then closing your eyes, you're grateful for the team not asking you anything for the duration of the ride. Instead, they save their questions for Clint who's all too happy to answer what he can.

You know the Compound's come into view when Morgan whistles in appreciation. Clint lands to quinjet with ease and then everyone's unbuckling themselves when he gives the go ahead. Before you can grab your bag, however, Spencer is grabbing it and beaming at you when you sigh with mock annoyance.

One by one the BAU team disembarks after Clint, leaving you and Spencer to bring up the rear. You hear Clint introducing everyone and notice everyone's congregated around in a circle. Then just as you and Spencer join, you notice that Garcia is petting Bucky's vibranium arm. You snort, catching an amused Steve's attention.

"Y/N," he greets.

"Steve." You step forward, briefly hugging him and then Bucky. As you step back in line, you gesture towards Spencer to introduce him. "This is Doctor Spencer Reid. Spence, this is Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes."

Steve leans in for a handshake, but then pauses mid-shake. "Wait. Spencer Reid? The Spencer Reid?" He grins. "Are you- are you and the agent neighbor one in the same?"

You sharply inhale, eyes widening when everyone turns to stare at your rapidly blushing face. Steve's grin turns rather teasing and your eyes narrow at him. "Two words; octopus dick." Steve's amusement vanishes, and everyone turns towards a now blushing Steve as Bucky guffaws. You turn your gaze on him next. "I don't know why you're laughing, dolphin boy."

Bucky immediately shuts up and Steve shakily grins before addressing the team. "Okay! Now that we've all been introduced, lets get inside before Y/N starts a war she can't finish."

Morgan and JJ are the only two to follow after Steve, Bucky, and Clint. Emily and Garcia remain with you and Spencer, and both females look to you with pleading eyes.

"Please tell me how four innocuous words got two supersoldiers to blush like that?" Garcia asks, Emily nodding along with her. "I need to know!"

"Sorry, girls," you tell them. "Those stories get out and I'm dead meat."

The both of them grumble about not getting answers, but move on without fuss. Before you can follow, however, Spencer steps closer to you. "You won't even tell me?" He asks, voice quiet.

You huff. "You already know."

Spencer's answering smile is enough to make you roll your eyes and he's quick to keep pace with you as you enter the building. There are numerous people milling about, but since it's late most of the trainees are in bed. Every piece of furniture and fixture still seems brand spanking new, so you don't blame the BAU team looking around in awe.

Heading into the chosen office, you lead Spencer inside before catching Steve's attention. "I'm gonna let you guys get to work. I'll be setting up in my room if anyone needs me."

No one objects, so after taking your bag from Spencer you take your leave. You leisurely make your way towards the living quarters of the compound and find your room with ease. Opening the door, the familiarity of it brings a tired smile to your face. The lamps have been turned on, awaiting your arrival, and even the TV has been turned on with its volume on low. The walls and bedding is the same as everyone else has, but you know it's your room because of the personal pictures on the dresser and bedside tables.

Since you're going to be staying until the case is over and then probably a couple days more after, you decide to put your clothes in the dresser rather than leave it in your bag for the entire time. After that's done and you've switched your TV to a movie you like, you pick out a standard set of black sleep pants and a blue/gray shirt that every trainee at the compound wears to bed so you can shower before crawling into bed yourself.

You're grateful for the private bathroom and even more grateful to see the products you use already waiting for you. You turn on the water to the shower, grab a towel from the bathroom closet and set it on the counter along with your change of clothes before you start to strip.

You keep your hair in a topknot as you shower since you had washed it earlier that morning, so your shower is over within ten minutes. Then by the time you're dried off and dressed in fresh clothes, and your teeth are brushed, you exit the bathroom.

Stepping into your room, you startle at the sight of Spencer sitting on the small cushioned bench at the foot of your bed. He's staring up at the moving playing, the corner of his lips quirked up in amusement. But at your small gasp, he looks towards you, lips spreading into a fond smile.

"Captain Rogers said it was okay that I wait for you. I don't mean to intrude."

"Spence," you huff a laugh and then continue on towards your bed, "we have keys to each other's apartments and sometimes barge in without warning. I think you waiting in here is more than okay."

"Just needed to make sure," he says, "what with this being a new place and all."

"Mhmm." You sit on the edge of the bed that's right behind the bench, putting your feet on the cushion beside Spencer and practically hug your knees as you stare at him. "How did everyone settle in?"

"E-Everyone's good." Spencer turns sideways, grinning up at you. "We got our own rooms here so we don't have to be back and forth from a hotel. When we left, Garcia was being introduced to the holographic tables and now I don't think she's going to sleep tonight."

You chuckle. "I knew she'd fall prey to all the pretty tech here." He chuckles along with you. "And how did everyone take the news to hearing the details about the case?"

"They're taking it very personally," Spencer tells you. "Mr. Barton even asked to stay on as a consultant. He and agent Romanoff are not very happy."

"Well they might not be as smart as you, Doc, but I think they're going to be a big help. You guys will be out of here in no time with the bad guy in cuffs."

"Is that so?" He muses. You grin and nod. "And if we're out of here in no time, are we still waiting until you go home for that discussion we still need to have?"

"We can table the discussion," you say, "but I really need to do this before I chicken out."

"Do what?"

Without thinking too much more about it, you reach out to cradle Spencer's jaw in the palms of your hands. You bring his face closer to yours, pausing with barely an inch between your lips. It seems he's held his breath in surprise, but when he notices you're waiting for some sort of unspoken permission it's him who closes the gap.

There's nothing heated or rushed about the kiss- it merely being a chaste kiss of several little pecks before he catches your bottom lip between his teeth. You smile, your lip popping free from where it stretches, and you giggle as he leans up to chase your lips.

"Ahem." The interruption causes you to jerk back from Spencer, eyes wide when you catch sight of Bucky leaning against your door jamb and looking quite smug. "Hope I'm not interrupting." You groan, laying your forehead on Spencer's shoulder while he quietly snorts. "So with this new development, does this mean our threesome will now be a foursome?"

You can't help but laugh and sit straight once more so you can see your friend. Unfortunately, the question actually gives you pause and there's a split second where you actually give it thought. But in the next moment your nose wrinkles and you shake your head. "What? No!"

He points at you, eyes gleaming. "You paused! You paused which means that no just turned into a maybe. I'm gonna go tell Stevie we're back in the game!"

"James!" Spencer finally laughs and you groan again when Bucky pushes off the door jamb, whistling as he walks away. "I hate my friends."

"Just wait until Morgan finds out. It'll be worse." Spencer chuckles as you sigh, and he gets up before walking around to the side of your bed. He places his palms down on the mattress, leaning over you to kiss you once more. "I'm gonna go to my room before Sergeant Barnes brings back reinforcements."

"Okay. I'll probably see you around the compound, but I'll do my best to stay out of your hair while you're looking for your unsub."

"Are we still talking after?"

"Of course. Well we can either talk or order in some Chinese and hole up in one of our apartments for a weekend. Your call."

"I like the second option," he says.

"I figured you would." You kiss him one last time and then push against his chest. "Now go. We'll figure things out soon."

[saturnsummer]

flutter and kicks

notes: from lay's @/__ryubeom tweet + a pregnant solhwi anon ask. in headcanon form since it's more spontaneous! 

hello tumblr fam! i know, it’s been long... but ficfest and all has kept me kinda busy. a little different this time! a headcanon after a long time, since it’s more fun and easy on the eyes!

extra notes: drumstick reference to hospital playlist episode 4! a little reference to @scripturiends twitter au “dynasty” at the end. have fun! as usual, grammar mistakes by me!

attorney sol and prosecutor joon hwi have been married for a couple years, now well into their early thirties.

sol and joon hwi always take walks in the parks and wondered what it would be like if they had their own.

sol was initially hesitant, with her experience of broken families and having no dad figure. what makes her think her child could grow up in a loving family, if she didn't have one she could be a role model or look up to?

but joon hwi had it worse, having been an orphan from young, and raised by his uncle, his cousins, aunts and relatives ostracising him. yet, he still believed in the happy family he always wanted with sol.

he dreamt of kissing his kids good morning, sending them to school before going to work and sending his wife to work. on nights, they would work on their kid's homework together in fun ways and tuck them in bed after bedtime stories. they would spend the weekends at parks, meeting with seungjae's kid, and the children of their friends.

sol came round eventually, seeing how joon hwi never stopped believing. this time, it was different. joon hwi is not her father, nor is he her step father. he is han joon hwi, the man that saved her lives multiple times. han joon hwi, the man that stood by her when lee man ho was her biggest threat to her family. han joon hwi, the man who loves her, despite being a klutz in school.

he is han joon hwi, the man that loves her for every imperfection and perfection she has.

sol and joon hwi start trying for a baby, which is especially timely when kang sol's mom asks when is she gonna have a grandchild to hold and byeol pipes up saying she would love to have a brother as opposed to sister. (15 years with sisters have made her wonder what it would be to have a little baby boy in the house instead.)

a few weeks after their first time trying passes and sol has been feeling more tired. she's been busy with case after case at kang and park, so she doesn't think much.

only when she misses her period, she freezes. as stressed as she was, even in law school, she has never missed her period or was late. with shaky breaths, she wonders at the slightest chance of having a little life grow in her, as her hand unconsciously travels to her stomach.

sol is excited, but nervous at the thought that maybe nine to ten months later, she would have a child she can call her own in her arms.

over the weekend, sol raised this to joon hwi. joon hwi stops everything and even though he is beyond excited, he stays calm looking at how nervous sol is. together, they go out to get two pregnancy tests, where sol takes it.

the ten minutes of waiting were a complete torture for sol, as she paces back and forth.

"sol, stop pacing. you're going to burn a hole in our floor."

"joon! what- what if it really happens? i'm not ready! how are we ready? you just started your career in the prosecutor office, and i'm buried under cases! i can barely take care of my mom and byeol and myself, what about the child? oh no, what if i'm a bad mom?"

"honey, sit down. look, we'll get through this together okay? no one is ever ready for their first kid. remember seungjae-hyung? he freaked out the day juyeon-noona went into labour and he's a doctor! it's okay, just calm down, alright? do you want warm water?"

when the timer rings, they look at both the tests, showing the double lines indicating a positive test.

sol was pregnant. sol was going to be a mother. joon hwi was going to be a father. their family was starting.

shaking, sol finally let her emotions hit as her tears fall. she was so caught up worrying about herself, life, her work, family; she hadn't had time to process her own feelings on her own. she wanted the feeling of joy of holding her child. she wanted to know what it was like to share a mother's bond with a child.

joon hwi, looking at his wife, only hugged her as she teared up in happiness. his dream of having a family is finally coming. even better, his best friend, his biggest cheerleader, was next to him.

"what are you crying about? you should be happy!"

"j-joon h-hwi ah... we're going to be parents.."

but their journey was far from over. they booked an appointment with juyeon and made juyeon stay quiet about this. seeing the ultrasound and hearing the heartbeats of their unborn child was enough to move sol to another round of sobs and joon hwi held his wife's hand while the tears ran down his face. together, they smiled, knowing that a life was born and growing.

all could have been hidden, but seungjae walked in that moment, asking if his wife wanted to join for lunch. sol and joon hwi were prepared to lie, but having a printed ultrasound scan in their hands, and the fact that they were in juyeon's clinic, a OB-GYN clinic, confirmed suspicions.

"juyeonnie, do you want to go for— joon...hwi?"

"oppa..."

"ah, congratulations sol. congratulations joon hwi." seungjae only smiled looking at the best people he knew become parents. he recognised the pride in joonhwi's eyes, the same eyes he had when juyeon told him they were expecting.

the new parents smiled at their brotherly figure as they wished them a good lunch.

but out from the corner, yeseul spotted joonhwi and sol as she walked into the clinic and she locked eyes with sol. sol slams the door shut and drags joon hwi back and groans, letting a defeated whine.

"sol-ah, what's wrong?"

"yeseul is here! she's probably here for a regular check up, the one she told me about last month!"

and with that, their phones started beeping with countless notifications.

yeseul could put two and two together, especially when it wasn't just sol, but joon hwi in the clinic as well. she texted her boyfriend, bokgi, who spat out his soup when he was eating with yebeom, who sent a string of messages to the group chat.

when sol opens the door again, yeseul only gives a sheepish smile.

"yeseul ah..." sol sighs and joon hwi only smiles, too happy to hide this secret.

"sorry unnie, i can't miss the moment. congrats unnie, oppa! hello, seungjae-oppa, juyeon-unnie!"

"thank you, yeseul. we'll see you next week, as usual?"

behind them, seungjae grumpily argues with his wife.

"why are my ex-classmates seeing you more than i do? i literally work, like, five blocks down at the police station! they live all over seoul!"

"honey, let me see yeseul first, okay? then let's go get lunch. i heard they are serving drumsticks in the canteen today.”

-----

pregnancy wasn't easy for sol. she insisted on working, despite attorney park's orders to take on lesser cases in court. sol couldn't find it in her heart to reject her clients.

yeseul, working closer to sol, would lunch with her to make sure she eats for the sake of her baby. joon hwi did his best to join, despite sol's arguments to not bother and that she can care for herself.

her morning sickness was bad, and she would wake up giddy and nauseous. many times, joon hwi wanted to call jiho to ask him to cover him, but sol would not let him do it. she'll pull herself together and go to work, and promise to take work lightly.

on days she couldn't get out of bed and she was too tired, her mother would come over and cook her nutritious soups, stock their fridge with vitamins and supplements and tonics for sol.

sol's cravings were also odd. she was never one to like sweets, but she found herself craving sugary cakes, cookies and pastries. joon hwi made it a point to stock their cabinets with cookies and buy a cake whenever he could for his wife.

joon hwi was honestly the best husband anyone could ask for. he helped to tidy the house, clean the house while sol was resting. he made soups and tucked sol in bed on her down days.

sol felt bad that she was being cared for and doing nothing in return, but joon hwi would always remind her that she was already doing the most important job, which is to literally grow their kid inside her.

many nights before bed, they would sit together and their hands would rest on her stomach, as they whisper sweet things to their to-be child.

when sol first felt the kick of her child with joon, they smiled so wide, all exhaustion from reports and arguments in their offices were gone. all that mattered was their child responding.

yeseul was beyond excited, as she helped sol with getting furniture and clothes. the study group came together to help them set up a new cot in their small apartment, as the ladies sat while looking at the men, fixing a cot with much difficulty.

aunty yeseul was the first to buy a stuffed bunny for her unborn child, and sol b, even though she was usually cold, offered to babysit in the future.

eventually, attorney park made sol work at home instead of going to the office. she argued that professor kim eunsook was able to teach while pregnant, but attorney park only said "yang jonghoon's orders" and it was enough to shut her up from any complaints.

of course, professor yang. the only person attorney park really is afraid of and listens to.

when they found out that sol was having a boy, joon hwi was lost in thoughts, wondering if he will grow to be like himself. but sol only placed a hand over his and gave a comforting smile.

"remember what you said at the beginning? whatever it is, he will be of the next generation. from him, it will be different."

they then would discuss how they wanted joon hwi's dimples, sol's twinkling eyes and cheekbones and joon hwi's charming smile.

closer to the due date, jiho stepped in to cover for joon hwi as he started to work half days, afraid of leaving his wife at home. sol, now heavily pregnant, really only commuted to the bed from the bathroom and then to the table, where she would spend most of her time reading or doing something relaxing.

yeseul made sol put her on speed dial with sol b, just in case, and so they would be the first to know too.

the morning came when sol woke up to a wet bed and shook joon hwi awake when the contractions kicked in. joon hwi snapped out, grabbed their hospital bag and guided sol to the car where both of them spent the next day in the hospital as sol went through nine hours of labour pains, and another two hours pushing her baby boy.

joon hwi never left once, standing by her side and holding her hand as she pushed her baby out, wiping away the sweat from her face.

when the time came for him to be held in his mother's arms, sol only smiled, knowing that as tough as the past ten months of working, no caffeine and staying up late nights was, it was all worth it for the little life in her arms.

as his son's hand grabbed onto joon hwi's finger, joon hwi made a promise to love this child unconditionally, to guide him in the right direction and bring him up well. sol was right. from him onwards, it will be different.

welcome to the world, seungjun.

[evienyx]

Hey so uh, sorry that this is kinda a personal question and unrelated to what you usually post but you seem really nice and I was wondering how you figured out that you were ace? I’ve been struggling with this myself for a while now, and was just wondering if you had any advice or something. Please don’t feel obligated to respond or anything, I totally get that this is kinda a weird question and might make you uncomfy, so sorry about that in advance. Thanks!

Well, I’m going to start off by saying that everyone is different. You won’t figure it out the same way I figured it out, just like how I didn’t figure it out the same way any of my friends did. That’s all right. Take all the time that you need.

Additionally, I only really figured this out for myself in the last few years, and one day something may happen that I identify with a different sexuality and that’s also okay. This is not a ‘one-and-done’ kinda thing. It’s all right. This is your thing. Yours.

For me, it was around my freshman year of high school that I started realizing that I had never really gotten to that phase where I started obsessing over anyone. Now, in middle school, even though that was the time when a lot of people around me really started going hard into the dating thing, I never did. I skipped a year in school, though, so it would make sense for me to be about a year or so later than everyone else hopping on the hype train of teenhood, but halfway through my first year of high school, it was still pretty mute.

People around me would joke constantly, say things like “Oh, well, once she gets her first crush, everything will change.” I remember distinctly my cousin asking me if I had a crush on anyone, and then me saying no, and then my grandma patting me on the cheek and saying “You just haven’t found the right boy yet.”

So, for most of freshman year, I sort of just accepted what people around me said, that I was a “late-bloomer” and I would one day fall for someone hard and everything would make sense. 

When the end of freshman year came around, I was quite sure that I was just another straight girl, who would get the whole ‘attraction thing’ soon enough. 

As the months went on, though, I realized a few things.

1. Whatever thing was meant to change, didn’t come to fruition.

2. I was perfectly fine and open to dating someone, but I didn’t care about what they looked like. When friends and cousins and the like would show pictures of actors and talk about how hot the actor was, I’d agree, but almost completely on a baseline objective level.

and 3. I was completely uninterested in the idea of sex. I didn’t seek it out, or care about it. It was barely even spared a thought in my mind.

I started thinking that there might be something wrong with me, or that maybe I had felt sexual attraction toward someone, and I just hadn’t noticed. But the further into the year I got, the more I came to recognize the fact that that was not the case. 

I recall on one specific wet day in the late winter of that year, I was walking my dog on the one day the temperatures were slightly decent, and I was just scrolling through the internet aimlessly when I noticed something that caught my eye. It was a post (which I cannot find) of around two dozen pride flags, each with a name and description of the sexaulity or gender identity it represented.

That day, walking the dog through slush that got melting snow stuck to his paws and mud clinging to my boots, as the temperature prepared to drop below freezing for another week, I learned, for the first time, what Asexuality was.

I had seen the flag before, of course, and heard the term ‘ace,’ but I had never looked into it, thought about it. I didn’t think much of it at that moment, either. I just filed it away and moved on to exhale sharply through my nose at whatever ‘Stonks’ meme came up on my feed next.

Quite a while (as in, literal years) passed, though, and I found myself thinking about the idea of ‘Asexuality’ that I had heard about more and more. 

The one thing that really held me back was the fact that I was fine with the concept of having sex with someone, though I was only really interested in doing it for the experience/intimacy, and possibly in the future to have a child, and I thought to myself, “I can’t be Asexual if I want to have a kid. That’s not how it works.”

Surprisingly (or maybe not surprisingly at all), there was one thing that really did it for me in the end, and that was when Muffin ( @muffinlance ) announced on Tumblr (in a post I cannot find) that she was going to be having a baby.

An asexual (married too, so take that grandma!), having a baby. While still being asexual.

I looked into it, discovered the idea of someone being Asexual Sex-Positive, Sex-Neutral, or Sex-Negative. I found out, truly, about the idea of being Demisexual, or Gray Axsexual. The idea of an Asexuality Spectrum was opened up to me, and I realized suddenly that all of my worries, everything that had been holding me back, didn’t matter. 

My Tumblr bio shortly after changed from ‘she/her’ to ‘she/her, ace’ and it was one of the best feelings in the entire world. I don’t quite think I’ll ever be able to describe to someone who never went through the experience of finally feeling like your belong, if only for that one moment.

(also, currently, I’m of the opinion that I am either Biromantic or Panromantic. I’m leaning more towards bi, but I’m completely open still. I also have still not dated a single person ever, so who knows. That’s not what this is about, just thought I’d mention it)

You should take all the time you need, find what fits you. It’s weird to hear, and it’s hard to do, but I’m quite sure that once you find it, you’ll know it.

Last holiday season, while at a gathering with the more intensely religious and traditional side of my family, a cousin of mine sang “I Kissed a Boy,” by Adele, but changed the lyrics to “I Kissed a Girl,” so as not to appear ‘gay’ in any way, shape, or form. 

I noticed a different cousin of mine looking a bit upset while he sang the song, and so I talked to her alone afterward to see if they were all right, and after just a few minutes of speaking about nothing in particular, he came out to me in a hallway at a holiday party when no one else but me was around. And, in return, I did the same and came out to them.

He was the first family member I ever came out to, and that was the first time I truly told someone my sexuality. I told them I was asexual, and they accepted it and we hugged and it was one of the more exhilarating moments of my entire life.

So, in the end, how did I figure out I was ace?

I just sort of did. I feel I could have done more research earlier than I did, but that’s all right. It all worked out. I figured it out, and I promise you will, too. And if you get it wrong a few times before you get it right? That’s perfectly okay, too.

Anyway, one more additional personal thought about something I noticed that I think is kinda weird:

Muffin and her actions and stuff are so weirdly tied to such random core parts of my life. I published the first chapter of Fractures because I was encouraged and inspired when I saw her own stories. I finally figured out my sexuality and felt like I belonged, like one of those flags was mine, because of her. It’s just a bit crazy to me. Thanks, I guess, Muffin.

All right, that’s about it. I hope this helps, at least a bit. 

I wish you the best, anon, in figuring out who you are. You can take as long as you need or want, you don’t need to stick to a choice. This is your identity. This is yours. Not a single person gets a choice in the matter besides you. Good luck, and remember, you’ve always got me in your corner. If anyone ever gives you shit about this kinda thing, send ‘em my way. I did Tae Kwon Do for two-and-a-half years, and I’m also constantly fueled by spite and Twix bars. We’re all here for you. 

That goes for anyone. Don’t be afraid to embrace who you are. I’m proud of you, we’re all proud of you. This is who you are. Enjoy it.

[silentprincess17]

The Perils of Swimming

This fic is a collab between me and the wonderfully talented artist @neivaloz on tumblr! Check out her awesome artwork that accompanies this fic! I love how we inspired each other and I look forward to more!

Summary: Link agrees to go swimming with Zelda when she gets her body back. He does not think this through, because there is one major problem: he can't swim.

Read on AO3 here!

Now that the sea in Aboda Village was directly in front of him, with Zelda no longer a ghost and made of flesh and skin, her promise of taking him out to swim actually a reality and not a passing comment at Papuchia Village, Link was beginning to regret the rashness with which he had said yes.

He hadn’t expected her to actually take it seriously. In the throes of the whirlwind adventure, he hadn’t anticipated she would actively remember, let alone take it to heart- it was now... four months since they had reclaimed the Ocean Realm? Which means it was roughly two months since they defeated Malladus. Towards the end, time seemed to fuse together, and life boiled down to essentially overcoming whatever barrier was in their way at the time. First it was restoring the tracks, then obtaining the Compass, followed by the Bow of Light and finally entering the Dark Realm to fight Malladus with the Lokomo Sword strapped to his back. By the time they reached the Compass, Link had more or less lost all notion of time, as Zelda and he grew progressively more panicked with each setback and it became an increasingly hectic race to save her body…

Link had chosen to stick with his engineering, primarily. He still felt he was more of a rookie soldier who only knew how to perform vague attacks that just so happened to work out in his favour, and without Zelda’s help as a Phantom he most certainly would have failed from the get-go. With that in mind, he chose to continue with what he had trained for up until now: to pilot the trains with mechanical engineering as his mainstay. Still, he didn’t want to completely lose what sword skills he had developed, so he regularly stopped at Hyrule Castle to train with Captain Russel and his guards. (The latter was really just an excuse to see Zelda before. Or afterwards. Most of the time it was both.)

And yesterday, Friday night, was one of those times he had gone to training, visiting Zelda before he supposedly went home for the weekend.

What he hadn’t expected was for her to insist on coming with him back to Aboda Village. He would never refuse her anything, and he assumed she might have wanted to meet Alfonso, or Niko, or really just visit his hometown, and he had agreed, staying at the castle that night. Zelda had long since given him a room close to hers, as a “more convenient place to stay” seeing how central the castle was to the rest of Hyrule.

Taking all that together, it was a surprise when she dragged him across to the small beach, where the sun sparkled against the deep blue sea, unclasped her belt that had the small sash attached to it, and pulled her dress off.

He gaped, before hurriedly turning away, “Zel! What are you doing?!”

“Taking my dress off silly, I’ve got my swimsuit underneath! We’re going swimming! I’ve finally, finally, caught up with the paperwork that accumulated whilst we were on our journey, and I finished my lessons in advance this week, for this reason! I know it’s not Papuchia, but there’s always a next time!”

What? Swimming? NEXT TIME?!

Nope, he had to ignore that for now. There was the issue of surviving the first-time round.

Because the idiot that he was, he couldn’t swim!

He lived in what was basically a seaside town, and yet, he couldn’t even paddle in the water, let alone swim.

He would drown as soon as the water reached higher than his neck!

“Link? It’s not too late, is it? I know it’s a little bit later than what I originally intended for when asking you, but there was just so much reordering to do in the Kingdom. Plus, you remember the whole scribing thing we had to undertake; it all took up so much more time than I expected. And then the weather was just awful this past week whenever I had some free time...”

Oh yes, he remembered the scribing. That whole incident had happened a week after their return to the castle, where Link had stayed behind both to physically recover himself from exhaustion and his wounds, and simultaneously help Zelda adjust to the land of the living.

On the first day, she had walked into so many doors and walls he thought she might have concussed herself, she regularly forgot she had to eat, and she didn’t have any fear of heights, despite the fact that falling with a body had pretty serious consequences. Consequently, Link felt honour bound to try to help her to remember she was, in fact, Hylian, and as such susceptible to many perils that she seemed to have forgotten over the course of the long months she spent as a spirit. Plus, she was very cute, and he blushed every time he felt her grip his hand excitedly, or drag his arm towards a bookshelf, or give him impromptu hugs for helping her.

Niko had cornered them after a week, wondering where Link had gotten too. When he found the two of them nibbling on sweet buns from Castle Town, a book on maps wedged firmly on their thighs, Link’s arm resting on the panel just above her shoulders; Niko had pulled a right fit. He had fussed over Link before declaring he would now create a tapestry to commemorate the newest iteration of legendary events. And that had taken the better part of two weeks to complete, and was now referred to as the “scribing” by Zelda and him.

“Link! Are you going to change your clothes or not? That’s the second reason why I didn’t drag you to Papuchia, because I forgot to tell you to pack your trunks.” She paused, “You do have trunks, right?”

No, no he didn’t. He’d just sacrifice an old pair of cargo pants he had. It would be fine. Probably. He made a vague motion towards his house, before deciding to put the Hero’s cap on. It would hopefully hold some of his hair back, and it would bring him luck on this death quest he was about to embark on.

Why?

Why did he put himself through this?

He sighed. He knew the answer.

This was all because he couldn’t say no to her.

He shuffled back into his home, Niko popping up whilst he half-heartedly opened his wardrobe and shuffled around some more. Spirits. He didn’t want to go back out. He didn’t want to admit to Zelda he didn’t know how to swim. Worse still, he didn’t want her to think badly of him for living by a seaside town, and yet, never having learnt such an essential skill.

Niko hobbled across on his cane to Link, peering around the wardrobe door.

“What’s with the long face? I thought you’d be excited, bringing the Princess over. Yes boy, I know she’s here, everyone heard the two of you enter town. It’s a small place, Link.”

He fished out an old, half-faded blue pair of shorts. “Zelda wants to go swimming, Niko.”

Niko’s eyes widened, “What? But you-”

Link slammed the wardrobe door shut with perhaps more force than necessary. “I know.”

Niko hesitated, before he placed a gnarled hand on Link’s shoulder. “I have a question for you Link… Do you know of any of Princess Zelda’s weaknesses?”

Well, that one was easy. “She’s absolutely terrified of mice. She will literally jump into my arms, or onto my back, to escape them.” He chuckled, “Even as a giant Phantom, three times my height, she couldn’t come near one.” He hesitated, thinking back to their recent conversations on her balcony under the stars, “She’s also scared of not doing well... but I guess this is a fear we all have…”

“That’s your answer then, Link.”

Huh? Why would knowing what Zelda was scared of make any difference?

“I can see you are still confused. Let me make it clearer. Did you judge the Princess for having those failings? Did you at any point think less of her?”

He vehemently shook his head, before stopping midway as it finally sunk in.

Oh.

Niko simply tapped his cane against the floor twice, before ambling off. “I’ll make some fried chicken for you both. One always gets hungry after swimming in the sea.”

Link scrambled into his shorts, and then ran out, just as Zelda walked up to meet him. “You were gone for an awfully long time, Link. I don’t want to imagine how disorganised your wardrobe is-”

The words bubbled out, “Zelda I don’t know how to swim.”

“-at least you’ve got some… are those even trunks? Well-”

“Zelda.” He grabbed her hand, shaking her arm a little, “Zelda!”

“What?”

“I don’t know how to swim.”

She stared, stupefied. “Why didn’t you say? I would have brought my floats!”

It was his turn to gape. “Floats?”

She waved her hands in the air. “You know those things you use to keep you upright in the water.” A frown grew on her face, “Wait, does everyone here not know how to swim? That’s quite dangerous! We’ll have to change that.”

She shook her head, gently clasped his hand, pulling him along, “But that’s for later. I’ll teach you today, Link, if you want?”

He nodded, and she smiled.

“Let’s start off with paddling first, and then progress to basic kicks!”

Time flew by again, as he started off gently peddling his feet in the water, arms spread out wide, head just about jutting above the water line as he hovered, suspended in the sea, for the first time. Once he’d mastered just holding his weight in the water they proceeded onto kicks. That involved first thrashing his legs whilst gripping onto the ridge of land to hold himself in place. Then he advanced to doing one leg at a time like a proper swimming pattern. Zelda wrapped her arms around his middle, and he had a go at moving both arms and legs in synchrony.

He was surprised she could carry him, “Link, I do exercise you know. I’m not just a fluffy Princess. Being a Phantom was quite the experience.”

She heaved him higher, and he spluttered in the water, thrashing his arms a bit at the unexpected heave, “I liked being strong, and being able to help you. So, I’m going to do the best I can with my current body too. You never know, it might prove useful on our next adventure!”

He could only smile. He thanked the Spirits for giving him the chance to meet Zelda. For going on their convoluted journey. For having her as his best friend.

Soon enough, she gently let go of him, and moved to interlock her fingers with his hands as she guided him through the waves, his legs doing the measured, purposeful kicks they had practised.

He was so focussed, he hadn’t at all noticed Alfonso on the shore, until he called out to them, probably wondering what Link was even doing in the water. Zelda told Link to keep on kicking his legs as she slowly walked backwards, screamed back that he was okay and that he was learning to swim. Both of them cringed as they heard Alfonso guffaw loudly and watched as he shook his head, walking off towards the station.

“Well, we’re nearly there, Link!” She loosened her grip on his left hand, moving to clasp his wrist instead, “I’m barely holding onto you! You’re doing it! You’re swimming!”

And he gave her the biggest smile he could, as she slowly let go, wading backwards, and he swam by himself towards her, for the very first time.

Suddenly, the idea of doing this again was no longer so horrifying.

What was there to worry about when he had Zelda, his partner, his best friend, by his side?

[classysassy9791]

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor/Fluff Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

Originally written for @inukag-week on tumblr circa 2016, now officially being updated. Its been a hot minute, hasn't it?

For InuKag Week - Day 2: Warmth

Part 1 l

Part 2 Word Count: 2,600

Can also be found on FFN and AO3.

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Kagome couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Sometime between the moment she met the arrogant, rude man known as Inuyasha and the three shots she had consumed, they had fallen into a flirtatious banter that she rather enjoyed. Gone was the pompous jerk who had so rudely called her audacious names, replaced by a man who proved to actually be decent company.

No, she hadn't forgotten about their initial meeting, but as she downed another shot of whiskey, she realized she didn't much care. For the first time in months - maybe longer - Kagome found herself enjoying her evening. With her shackles removed and her inhibitions lowered, she relished in the sweet taste of freedom that had been sorely lacking from her life.

"You did not!" she squealed with absurdity in her tone, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Inuyasha chuckled, tilting his glass and giving a half-shrug. "I did," he confessed sheepishly, but not at all ashamed of his actions. "Miroku ran down the dorm hall, completely naked, screaming after me."

Kagome shook her head. "I can honestly say I have never stolen my roommates clothes while they were in the shower. Or pulled any pranks on them, really."

"To be fair," he continued, signaling the bartender for another round. "He actually met his girlfriend that way."

"By running naked down the hallway?"

He nodded. "Knocked her down and stopped to apologize."

"Still want to leave the tab open?" Kouga interrupted.

"Yeah, that's fine." Inuyasha finished off his beer. "Another round of whiskey shots while you're at it."

Flashing Kagome a smile, Kouga took their empty glasses. "You're going to dry me out."

"It's still early," Kagome barbed playfully. "Your bar will last until midnight at the very least."

He chuckled, filling up their shot glasses and handing them another drink. "Oh, thanks. I was afraid I'd have to close up soon."

Leaving with a, "flag me down if you need me," Kouga wandered to the other end of the bar where a busty blonde waved at him.

Typical, Kagome thought sourly. On the one hand, she didn't like the way her thoughts were turning, considering she didn't really know Kouga, and hated grouping him in with the rest of the spineless male population she had become accustomed to - especially since he was a bartender and it was literally his job to tend to the needs of his customers. But on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel bitter about his attention leaving her. Maybe it was because she had so blatantly been deprived of it for so long, that her longing for companionship had been exacerbated ten-fold.

Taking a sip of beer - which she had switched to once they started doing shots - Kagome heard her phone buzz in her purse again; it had already gone off several times during her conversation with Inuyasha. She finally pulled it out and unlocked it, frowning at the array of messages popping up on her screen.

Inuyasha raised a brow at the irritable look that overcame her expression before Kagome sighed and locked her phone. She quickly downed her shot of whiskey, not even bothering to 'cheers' him.

"Everything okay?" Inuyasha questioned, against his better judgement. There was a reason people showed up by themselves at a bar on Friday nights - either to drown their sorrows in whiskey or to find company for a few fleeting, midnight hours.

Kagome pressed her lips together. She didn't come to the bar to talk about her problems. She wasn't some sad case that needed a therapist to pour her drinks. If anything, she wanted to forget about the emotional damage that had been inflicted earlier that day. Her heart had been broken, her ego bruised, and no matter how many times her friends had told her he wasn't worth it, their sympathies didn't make her feel any better.

But, alcohol had a funny habit of turning into truth serum, and she found herself spilling her guts before she could stop herself. "Just my ex-boyfriend - er, fiance - blowing up my phone."

Inuyasha chuckled. "Can't take a hint, huh?"

Kagome shrugged with a bitter smile. "I mean, he broke off the engagement. Not sure why he can't follow through with his decision."

She had expected sympathy, perhaps even empathy. That's what most people offered in a situation like this, when they didn't know what to say or how to react. But Kagome was caught off-guard by Inuyasha's next question.

"How long were you together?"

Kagome eyed him curiously, his honey gaze hiding a wealth of understanding. "Five years," she answered him, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "Planned our life together, put a ring on it, and even booked the venue. But… I suppose he got cold feet a long time ago."

"His loss. What kind of bastard would put someone through that?"

She hummed thoughtfully, but didn't answer. It wasn't in her best interest to start talking about the past now, and she would rather take the spotlight off of herself all together. "What about you?" she asked her barstool companion as she took another sip of beer. "Any lucky ladies in your life?"

Inuyasha chuckled mirthlessly. "Nah, not anymore."

Kagome arched a brow. "Dare I ask?"

"Not much to tell. Her career and ambitions drove a wedge between us, and she decided they were more important than me. Simple as that."

"Sounds high maintenance."

He grinned. "Something like that. I mean, she knew what she wanted and didn't care what stood in her way. Even me."

Kagome felt an ache beneath her breast for the man beside her. She knew the pain of rejection very well. "Put out in the rain just like a dog. Doesn't that bother you?" she asked, tilting her head.

He frowned at her choice of words, and Kagome knew she may have touched a nerve then, but the alcohol had stripped her of her filter apparently.

"Well, I guess we're all damaged somehow," he replied with a shrug.

She scrunched her nose. "That's a bit thoughtless."

"What can I say? Shit happens. Get over it."

And then Kagome suddenly remembered the arrogant, rude, condescending jerk she had met when she had sat down at the bar earlier in the night. She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you such an ass?"

Inuyasha smirked while bringing his beer to his lips. "You are what you eat?"

Kagome let loose a growl of frustration. She had only known him for a short time, but she had quickly learned that Inuyasha was the most infuriating human being on the planet! "Your immaturity is revolting," she stated matter-of-factly, waving down Kouga for another shot of whiskey. She was definitely not drunk enough to deal with the way the conversation had turned.

"I'm not known for my friendly disposition."

Kagome glared at the man sitting next to her. "Is it fun being a jerk to me? Does it satisfy you?"

Inuyasha chuckled. "Actually, it is pretty entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, Inuyasha. You can hide behind that fake bravado all you want, but I know you're just a big softie underneath."

"Keh," he grumbled, finishing off his beer.

Kagome threw him a glare. "What? No witty repartee?"

He set down his empty glass with a little more force than usual, grabbing Kagome's attention. "I know your type, wench," he snapped, his amber eyes boring into hers. "I know exactly the kind of person you are; all high and mighty, acting as if you're better than everyone else. You think you can show someone how great life can be and how fantastic it is if I would just try. Well, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but not everyone is worth saving, all right?"

His words left Kagome stunned into silence for a brief moment. How did their witty banter only a few minutes ago turn into this? This… This denied anger and unadulterated cynicism had Kagome reeling, her thoughts turning to what exactly had penetrated Inuyasha's life so completely that he had such a negative outlook on such.

She pursed her lips. "How much do you think you're worth?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Like twenty bucks. Or two twinkies." He grinned at his own comment, but Kagome didn't find it very funny.

If anything, Kagome felt pity for him. No matter how bleak her life became, she always managed to find the good in it. If a person couldn't do that… Well, that was a pretty sad way to live. "As much as I would love to hear you divulge all of your secrets, this is a great song and I feel like dancing."

"Look, wench," Inuyasha barked out, his anger palpable. "I'm not looking for your validation. I'm pretty fucking happy with my life of dirty pennies and whiskey bottles. We don't all need to be Barbie."

She looked over at him, the low dim of the bar lights shining off his silver hair, and found she could only nurse one wounded heart at a time. "I just wanted you to leave tonight and think the world is a little less horrible than you thought."

"Hey, pretty lady," Kouga greeted as he appeared at the perfect time with another shot of whiskey for her and a full beer, stealing her full attention away from Inuyasha.

Kagome immediately downed the shot and chased it with her beer, ready to forget half of the night and lose herself in the music pounding through the speakers. As the evening wore on, the bar became busier, and the DJ had started up a round of tunes that had half the customers on the dance floor.

Kouga watched her curiously, arching a brow. "You alright there?"

"Dance with me?" she called over the bass pounding through the speakers. Oh yes, it was now the time of the night in which she had no qualms for asking for what she wanted.

He chuckled and glanced over at the other bartenders who appeared to have things under control. "You can steal me for a few minutes."

Kagome grinned and giggled like a school girl, leaving Inuyasha behind without delay. Kouga met her at the end of the bar and took her hand in his as she pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Some upbeat dance music blasted through the speakers. Kagome moved and swayed through the bodies crowding near the DJ, the vibrations of the music becoming part of her energy, raising her up several levels at once. Gone were her heartbroken wallows and the biting arrogance of her barstool companion. Her mind buzzed with pure joy. She moved in her dress like her hips were made to sway, the black sequins catching the disco ball that twirled above, causing her to glitter on the dance floor.

Kouga pulled her close, his strong hand pressed against the small of her back, his chiseled chest pressed against hers. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and pulled it to the side, feeling the beat of the music pound with each beat of her heart. Bodies pressed in tighter all around them. Kagome felt the part of her that was really her come out to play, to feel the vibe of the music and let her body go free.

"You're beautiful," Kouga's voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

His lips looked soft and very kissable, and Kagome knew her decision-making skills were indeed hindered by the alcohol that buzzed through her veins. And then his attention was caught by something else, his royal blue eyes pulling from hers to the outskirts of the dance floor. He said something to her, attempting to shout above the music, but his words were swallowed up by the electric beat that kept her entranced.

Kagome felt his hands slip from around her waist and he disappeared into the crowd. She didn't bother to follow, her hands playing with her hair, her hips moving to the music as she lost herself within it. This was what her heartbroken soul had fiercely needed; a night to forget all the troubles of the day.

Large, meaty hands found her waist, but they were unfamiliar and too warm to the touch. Kagome felt a warm flush find her cheeks as she gazed up to meet a stranger's hazy stare. He pulled her in close - too close - and even in her alcohol-ridden mind, she felt mild panic begin like sparks in her abdomen.

She tried to push him away, first gently and then forcefully, pretending to laugh at his behavior. "Thanks for the dance, but I need some fresh air."

"C'me on, baby," he slurred, pulling her tighter to his sweaty frame, his hot breath rolling over her skin. "We just met. Let's dance s'me more."

Kagome frowned. "I said no." Before she could stomp on his foot and fight her way out of the throng of dancers, the man was forcefully pulled away from her. They became separated by another man, one with very familiar silver hair who had his back to her. She didn't hear the words exchanged, but whatever was said was enough to send the man scampering off to the other side of the bar.

Inuyasha turned around, his piercing honey eyes studying her expression, before his hand gently wrapped around her waist. His grip on her wasn't strong like Kouga's, or possessive like the stranger. Inuyasha's hand was warm against the small of her back, and the anxiety she felt moments ago melted away.

"You okay?" he asked, swaying his hips in tune with hers as they continued to dance to the beat of the music.

She grinned up at him. "Were you worried about me, jerk?"

"Keh," he grumbled, his lips pulling into a smirk. "I despise you more than any other human I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. You're loud and wild and apparently have no sense of self-preservation. You also act like you have the mental capacity of a five year old."

"Are you flirting with me?" she barbed in return.

"Maybe."

His hand found the back of her neck, his fingers finding purchase in her hair, his hips grinding against hers. Warmth pooled into the pit of her stomach, his breath caressing her skin, and she moved her lips to find his.

Kagome barely had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and delved inside her mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of beer being exchanged between their billowing breaths. Her arm reached up and tangled around his strong neck. She pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, letting a moan escape in the contact of body heat against her own, before she drew back into his lips.

She could nearly taste the slight bitterness of the beer as it rolled off her tongue and seeped down her throat with every push of his tongue against hers. The kiss coupled with the beer and whiskey humming through her system obliterated every thought. For the first time that day, her mind was locked into the present. Her usual concerns for her life were suspended, and she had no wish for the kiss to end.

But as the music changed, they pulled apart. Inuyasha's skin shimmered with sweat and his amber eyes flecked with gold held her gaze. The beat of the music consumed them under the crazy neon lights, and Kagome felt alive during a night that was still so young.

[kippykasey]

Grace - Chapter 5: Hydra

Pairing: Howard Stark x F!Reader , Bucky x Reader [Eventually]

Word Count: 3522

Series Summary: A young nurse is recruited by Dr. Abraham Erskine to join the SSR to assist on Project Rebirth. Following her work with the SSR she is drafted into the US Army Nurse Corps in the war against the Nazis...and HYDRA.

Chapter Warnings: violence, torture, bad things because Hydra

Author's Note: Surprise?! I wasn't even expecting to get this done but I literally just finished and thought, eh why not. So here it is! Also I hate hurting my characters so this was a bit eh to write but I hope all is well!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the gifs they are either found on google or under the gif tag provided by tumblr. Any language other than English was translated using Google Translator, and translations will be posted in bolden italics after. I am not a nurse or in the medical field although I may do some research medical treatment written may not be correct.

Grace Masterlist | Snowdrop Masterlist | Masterlist

Pain. A throbbing, harsh pain echoed through my head from the temple. The throbbing beat opposite that of my heart. The second thing I noticed was how cold and damp it was. After battling with my body to force open my eyes I squint through the dimly lit room. A deep voice spoke in another language… German it was German but my head hurt too much for me to understand it. Seconds passed before I realized that I was sitting on the ground in a cell. The door opened and two men walked in flanked by four additional soldiers than the one that had been watching me.

“Ah Fräulein (L/n) glad you have finally woken up.” Miss.

“Who are you?” I cursed how weak my voice sounded at that moment. Though the man didn’t seem to find me a threat of escape as he spoke. “Johann Schmidt. You see we have a common acquaintance… or, well, had.” The grin he wore made my stomach drop and he didn’t need to verbally admit it for me to realize this is the man behind Abraham’s death.

I raised my head in defiance and although it made the pounding in my head worsen I pushed myself from the ground and stood within the cell. “You’re after the serum.”

“Ah, clever girl. You were Abraham’s assistant when he made the serum.” The second, much shorter man spoke. “Fault in your plans. I don’t know how to make the serum.” Schmidt smiled at me and it took all my self control not to shiver from his intense look. “I was hoping you would say that,” His eyes turned off me to the soldiers. “Bring sie zum Stuhl. Probiere es an ihr aus. Vielleicht wird ein kleiner Elektroschock Ihr Gedächtnis auffrischen.” Take her to the chair. Try it out on her. Perhaps a bit of electroshock will refresh your memory. As Schmidt talked his head also turned towards the shorter man.

I could feel the blood drain from my face as I moved back against the wall. Three soldiers stepped towards the cell. One man opened the cell door before the other two stepped inside to detain me. I managed to elbow one in the face in my struggle but it was useless. The two soldiers dragged me from the cell, out of the room into a brighter lit hall. We were in some kind of warehouse. My eyes zeroed in on a chair that looked right out of a nightmare. Stronger hands forced me into the hard chair and held me down while I was struggling against someone’s attempts to strap me in. My struggling did nothing but get me a slap to the face. The strength of the slap disoriented me long enough for them to strap me in.

The shorter man who followed us now stood next to my head. I could see the reflection of myself in his glasses. “This is only going to hurt a lot, try to hold still.” He instructs lowering two plates down around my face. It was only a few short moments before the electricity forced its way into my head. I had no control over my body as it thrashed in the confines of the chair. An agonizing scream of pain carrying throughout the building went ignored.

That wasn’t my first time in the chair but it was the only time I had passed out in the chair. Spent 30 minutes in the chair 3 times a day, sometimes longer. After a week I had to start muttering things to myself in my cell so I didn’t forget who I was. The Nazi soldiers gave me the bare minimum to survive as far as water and nutrients goes. I cracked halfway through October. I gave the short scientist, Armin Zola, the list of what I would need before I was taken back to my cell after yet another time in the cell. I was given parchment and a pencil to write things down with but it kept coming in flashes.

Nights were the worst. Mouth dry from lack of water, eyes trained on an iron grate in the ceiling. I realized two weeks into my daily chair visits that I had forgotten my brother’s name. When I noticed it caused me to cry to sleep that night. So whenever I could I would mutter to myself facts I could remember starting with my name, rank, and where I was from. The list of facts got shorter every day. Somedays I remembered more than others. There were times all I could bring myself to do was hum Amazing Grace to myself to deal with the pain.

The first time I was in the lab I tried to escape. I was left with just one guard and I thought I could take him. I smashed a beaker using a shard like a knife. I ended up knocked unconscious, my hand bleeding from the self inflicted cuts caused by the makeshift weapon. From then on I was chained to the lab table and three soldiers kept watch. I wasn’t given anything to test the serum on. So I never tested unless I thought it would work because I used myself as a test subject.

I was unconscious for two days once from a failed serum. Others cause excruciating pain. Days came and went and I lost count of days but I knew it was still October. Yet a month was close to passing as November began to be discussed amongst soldiers around me. Pressure was placed on me to recreate the serum. Each day if I didn’t recreate the serum I was sent to the chair for the torturous electroshock. That is how I figured out I had been successful in a recreation. The serum, when tested, did nothing but make me drop to the lab floor in pain. I wasn’t even given time to recollect myself before being dragged off to the chair. I lasted longer in the chair than usual. I heard the instruction to increase the power. I don’t remember what happened after that.

It took me nearly half a day to recover, then as soon as I had I was back working in the lab. Suddenly I was pulled away from my work and escorted quickly back to my cell. “Neue Soldaten wurden gefangen genommen.” New soldiers have been captured. I pressed myself up against the bars for a chance, a glimpse at the soldiers being brought in.

It was silent as the Nazi Hydra soldiers dealt with the new poisoners. Suddenly two soldiers appeared with smiles on their faces. “Komm Mädchen. Zola und Schmidt wollen dich sehen.” Come girl. Zola and Schmidt want to see you. The soldiers yanked me up and practically dragged me to the room where the chair was. My body trembled involuntarily at the sight of the chair. It wasn’t me going in the chair, given someone was strapped in but given the uniform he was American. “Ah, here iz our lovely nurse. You’ve been asking for a test subject. Here you go.” Schmidt waved at the man strapped into the chair. The man lifted his head just barely and my heart went out to him. As soon as the hands left my arms I moved to the soldier in the chair. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“S’rg’nt Jam’s Barn’s,” His voice wasn’t clear but it was clear enough for me to understand what he said. The nurse turned to Zola and Schmidt. “I wasn’t done recreating the serum when you had me pulled from the lab. I will need time to work and he needs time to rest or the serum will kill him.” I tried to give him whatever comfort I could in those brief moments before we were pulled apart. His head rose just slightly and I caught a glimpse of stormy blue eyes as he was dragged out of the room.

I never got to return to my cell that night. As my eyes zoned in on the blue chemical mixture in front of me I felt a haze cloud my mind, it wasn’t abnormal to experience but I also felt like I was losing myself when it happened. Following my own written instructions I was able to continue my work. The only other thing I forced my mind to remember were two things.

I am First Lieutenant (Y/n) (L/n) of the US Army Nurse Corps. Soldier boy is Sergeant James Barnes.

The words became a mantra in the blank canvas my mind was currently in as I blindly worked by instructions of my very own that I don’t even remember writing. My body moved on auto pilot as I was taken to a crude looking examination room. In the center was soldier boy Sergeant James Barnes strapped to the table. As my mind raced to catch up with me, flashes of memories clouded my mind from when Steve Rogers got the serum, the explosion that followed, Dr. Erskine being shot. My body tensed at a passing memory of being in the chair passed through being replaced by the pain I felt giving myself the serum.

A hand pressed firmly in between my shoulder blades pushing me forward. I stumbled to the table catching myself with a hand on his arm. Wasn’t he wearing an army jacket before? My eyes landed on the serum filled syringe in my hands reminding me of what I was about to do. “First lieutenant (Y/n) (F/n) of the US Army Nurse Corps.. You are Sergeant James Barnes.. I’m sorry for what I am about to do. You’ll be okay. I’ve used it on myself. It will hurt.” My voice sounded so… robotic and monotone as I spoke to him. My hands pushing up his sleeve.

My hands worked from memory and out of second nature my mouth moved and the hymn fell from my lips. The melody of the song was the only comfort I could offer as I injected the poor man with the serum that would change his life forever. His eyes looked up at mine until the pain of the serum changing his body caused them to shut tightly. The leather restraints holding him in began to rip as he pulled against them. Discarding the empty syringe I tried to soothe him more but the second my hand touched his head I was shot with a sedative.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Steve Rogers has dressed up performing on stage like a dancing monkey to sell war bonds since he was given the serum. His first time on foreign grounds and he was performing for soldiers he should have been fighting alongside of. All to be booed off the stage by disgruntled men who just wanted to see a pretty dame.

Steve finally looked away from the rain but not quite at Peggy, “At least he’s got me doing this. Phillips would have had me stuck in a lab.” Blue eyes finally met the face of Agent Carter. “And these are your only two options? A lab rat or a dancing monkey? You were meant for more than this, you know.” Her wording might have been a bit rude but the point got across. There was a moment of silence between the two but Steve had this look to him. “What?” Peggy inquired.

The man was drawing in the rain when a familiar face popped up. “Hello, Steve.” Peggy Carter approached him from behind, making him turn from his drawing to greet her, “Hi.” She mimed his ‘hi’ back before laying her jacket down to sit on while Steve asked, “What are you doing here?” Peggy looked at Rogers and let out a small sigh, “Officially, I’m not here at all. That was quite a performance.”

Rogers looked away disappointed that she had caught the horrible show that happened earlier. “Yeah. I uh, I had to improvise a little bit. The crowds I’m used to are usually more, uh, twelve.” Steve explained looking out at the drenched ground and falling rain. “I understand you’re ‘America’s New Hope’.” Peggy states watching him. “Bond sales take a 10% bump in every state I visit.” Steve comments like a robot. “Is that Senator Brandt I hear?”

“You know for the longest time, I dreamed about coming overseas and being on the front lines, serving my country. I finally got everything I wanted and I’m wearing tights.” Steve kept looking down at his journal then squinting out through the rain. A horn alarmed behind them as a medical vehicle slid to a stop in the mud. Medics ran from the infirmary tent to help unloaded soldiers on gurneys. “They look like they’ve been through hell.” Peggy turned back towards Rogers. “These men more than most.” Steve looked up at Peggy knowing she had more details. “Schmidt sent out a force to Azzano. Two hundred men were there to back up an already injured fleet, they went up against him and less than 75 returned. Your audience contained what was left of the 107th and 34th.” Steve slowly turned his head feeling bad for the men who were lost but his attention snapped to Peggy at the mention of the divisions involved as she finished, “The rest were killed or captured.”

“The 107th?” The confirmation had him darting out into the rain, Peggy following holding her jacket over her head for coverage from the rain. The two ran all the way to the tent Colonel Phillips was sitting in signing condolence letters. “Colonel Phillips.” Steve called for the man’s attention as he approached. “Well, if it isn’t the Star-Spangled Man With A Plan. What is your plan today?” The colonel responded looking up at the pair now standing in front of him. “I need the casualty list from Azzano.” The tone he used was definitely fitting for the role he plays on stage. Phillips however did not appreciate it. “You don’t get to give me orders, son.”

“I just need one name, Sergeant James Barnes from the 107th.” Rogers responded un phased. Phillips pointed his pen at Peggy, “You and I are gonna have a conversation later that you won’t enjoy.” Steve was insistent though and again requested the information he wanted, “Please tell me if he’s alive, sir. B-A-R..” “I can spell.” Phillips cut him off before muttering, “First Stark and now this.” He stood from the table and paged through the letters he just finished signing. “I have signed more of these condolence letters today that I would care to count. But the name does sound familiar. I’m sorry. To the both of you.” Phillips looks from Rogers to Peggy and the woman knew he was referring to her friend from the 34th.”

“What about the others? Are you planning a rescue mission?” Rogers was something else, optimistic maybe. “Yeah, it’s called winning the war.” The look of disbelief that Steve sent the colonel as he spoke might have been the first red flag for Peggy Carter. “But if you know where they are, why not at least..” Phillips once again cut the man off, “They’re 30 miles behind the lines through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe.” Phillips was eyeing the spot on the map as he talked about it, even pointing the place out directly. “We’d lose more men than we’d save. But I don’t expect you to understand that because you’re a chorus girl.”

The colonels' dig at Roger’s lack of status didn’t seem to phase the man but it did fuel the plan he was formulating in his head while staring at the map, memorizing it. “I think I understand just fine.”

“Well, then understand it somewhere else. If I read the posters correctly, you got someplace to be in 30 minutes.” The colonel walked past him giving Rogers a very clear view of the map marking out exactly where he needed to go, and where he was. “Yes, sir. I do.” Perhaps the time staring at the map was the second red flag that Peggy noticed. As her eyes flickered between him and the map as he left the tent it all clicked into place and she hurried after the taller man.

“What do you plan to do, walk to Austria?” Peg asked as she entered the tent used as the changing room. “If that’s what it takes.” Steve answered not looking up from where he was struggling with boots. “You heard the Colonel. Your friend, and mine, are most likely dead.”

“You don’t know that.” Steve disagreed as he continued to get ready. “Even so, he’s devising a strategy. If he detects..” Steve cut her off as he put on a brown leather jacket, “By the time he’s done that, it could be too late.” He snatched up his bag and shield and headed for the exit. “Steve!” Peggy called following him to the vehicle he tossed his things into. The rain had stopped leaving the sun to rapidly evaporate the water leaving puffs of smoke in the air. Steve looked at the brunette in front of him. “You told me you thought I was meant for more than this. Did you mean that?”

“Every word.”

“Then you got to let me go.” Steve turned to get into the jeep and started the engine before Peggy was at the side. “I can do more than that.” She told him.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Peggy hadn’t lied. She got them a method of transport much faster than the jeep. Howard Stark sat in the pilot seat flying a plane with the slight chance his fiancée may still be alive. Stark was devastated when he first found out that the 34th was attacked and that only doubled when the attack at Azzano took out the 107th as well.

“The Hydra camp is in Krausberg, tucked between these two mountain ranges.” Peggy infomed Rogers as she pointed to the map she was holding. “It’s a factory of some kind.” She gave him as much information as she could. “We should be able to drop you right on the doorstep.” Howard called over his shoulder.

“Just get me as close as you can.” Steve called back up to the pilot. He looked back over at the woman in front of him. “You know.. You two are gonna be in a lot of trouble when you land.” He was worried about her getting into trouble for him but she looked at him just as worried. “And you won’t?” Steve dismissed her worries, turning his head. “Where I’m going, if anyone yells at me, I can just shoot them.” There was a small click of a loaded gun.

“They will undoubtedly shoot back.” Peggy surmised. Steve turned to the shield he had been using on stage giving it a knock, “Well let's hope it’s good for something.” Steve turned back to her just as Howard called back, “Agent Carter? If we’re not in too much of a hurry, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue.” Howard was teasing the agent, the smile on his face hidden from those being him. Peggy shifted in her seat choosing to ignore him and keep conversation going with Rogers. “Stark is the best civilian pilot I’ve ever seen. He’s mad enough to brave this airspace. We’re lucky to have him.”

Steve however was still not fully over the comment Stark made. “So, are you two… do you…” There was an awkward pause as Steve thought of the proper way to ask if they were seeing each other by reusing Stark’s words, “..Fondue?” Stark tried not to laugh from the pilot’s seat as Peggy simply shook her head and handed him a device. “This is your transponder. Activate it when you’re ready and the signal will lead us straight to you.” Steve took a moment to look at the device now in his hand before calling up to Howard, “Are you sure this thing works?”

“It’s been tested more than you, pal.” Howard defended seconds before gunfire hit the side of the plane. The plane shook as bullets pelted the sides, shaking the aircraft from the force. Steve stood grabbing his shield and heading towards the door. That he opened. “Get back here! We’re taking you all the way in!” Peggy ordered yelling over the wind rushing into the plane. “As soon as I’m clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!” Steve ordered back over the noise of the wind, gunfire, and the pinging of bullets on the plane.

“You can’t give me orders!” Peggy disagreed.

“The hell I can’t! I’m a Captain!” Steve looked over at her, giving her a smile that made her weak in the knees. He grabbed the goggles from his helmet, lowered them over his eyes and launched himself out of the plane. Peggy watched him fall towards the ground before the red fabric of his parachute was visible in the night sky from the flying bullets. Howard turned back as instructed by the Captain. Now all they could do was wait.

[toosicktoocare]

🧻❄🤗 for 911 maybe? Or whatever you'd rather do

Happy Valentine's Day!

Happy Valentine’s Day! I’m going to combine this with the anon copied and pasted below! 

🤚🏻 with Eddie and Buck, please? (Also, Tumblr wasn't letting me send you asks for a solid month or so despite having the option up when I clicked on your profile and I have no idea why. Also, sorry if this is too early or I wasn't meant to do this)

So, we’ve got Tissues, Cuddles, and Back Rubs for 911 (Buddie!)

Public. Eddie works the word around his mind, spelling it out slowly, deliberately, honing in on the faint echo of Buck’s voice still ringing in his ears. 

“You want to go public?”

Eddie can still perfectly visualize the faint, rosy blush that colored Buck’s cheeks when he asked just behind a ladder truck after a tasking call almost two weeks ago. Seeing Buck was one thing, but others seeing him with Buck? The question caught Eddie off guard, and while he was hesitant, Buck’s eyes had been so bright and eager. Eddie couldn’t help but nod, and they walked hand-in-hand to the changing rooms, both prominently blushing more at the catcalls that rang out across the station. 

It’s been different since then, Eddie thinks, but he doesn’t mind it one bit. He smooths his hands down his black button up, his eyes dragging up and down his being through a floor-length mirror. It’s his first date publicly with Buck, and it’s also Valentine’s Day. Buck’s handled the reservations, not uttering a single peep, insisting he take care of all the details, and Eddie would be lying if he said he wasn’t just a tiny bit nervous. 

Giddy more so, but there’s an underlining hint of nerves that cradle just beneath his heart. What if he’s not dressed nice enough compared to Buck? What if he hates the restaurant Buck chooses and has trouble keeping his distaste from his face? 

The knock on his front door interrupts his thoughts and kicks his heart into overdrive. He sucks in a measured breath, calming himself with the deep swell of his lungs, and abandons his reflection, deciding that his black button down and gray slacks are going to have to be good enough. 

When he opens the door, he’s greeted with a face full of flowers, all deep red roses that he inhales deeply. He cups his hand over Buck’s, frowning faintly at the cold skin underneath his, and pulls the flowers down until he can see Buck fully. 

“Hey.”

Eddie should be focused on the warm, bashful grin played across Buck’s lips. He should be distracted by how Buck’s maroon button down stretches tightly against his arms, lining his biceps. He should be berating himself for zeroing in on Buck’s navy slacks, and on how much he’d rather be crouching down to undo Buck’s belt. But, he’s not.

Instead, he’s studying the splash of red colored to each of Buck’s cheeks. He’d easily blame it on the cold, considering the chill just from Buck’s hand, but the single bead of sweat slipping down Buck’s temple tells Eddie otherwise. And he’s still working around the single “hey” greeting that came off a tone that’s a few notes deeper than normal and a tad raspy. 

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, and Buck opens his mouth to speak, but then his nose scrunches up, and Eddie snags the bouquet of flowers just in time for Buck to turn away and sneeze sharply into the crook of his arm.

“I’ll take that as a no?” Eddie tries, eyebrows raising as Buck shakes his head, sniffling. 

“It’s just cold outside.” 

Eddie reaches forward and cups his hand to Buck’s cheek. There’s an unnatural warmth that screams fever, but it’s not high, probably low-grade. Buck drops his guard and leans into Eddie’s touch, and Eddie clears his throat. 

“I think you’re running a fever.” 

“Eddie,” Buck tries, and Eddie knows this tone far too well. It’s one Buck reserves in situations where he’s persistently adamant. 

“I... I may have a small cold,” Buck admits, shoulders slumping. “But it’s Valentine’s Day!” He whines that last part, the words falling away to a few more sneezes that leave Eddie wincing. 

“Okay, get in here,” Eddie urges, latching onto Buck’s arm and guiding him into the house, shutting the door behind them. He slides a hand to the small of Buck’s back, ushering him out of the kitchen and into the living room, where Buck flops against the couch, the dramatics never ceasing, even with a fever. 

Eddie slips away to the bathroom in search of a thermometer, tissues, and aspirin, eyes rolling as Buck’s voice somehow carries across his entire house despite being weighed down by congestion. 

“I ruin everything.” 

“No,” Eddie calls back, rifling through his medicine cabinet. “You don’t.” 

“I do, though. I think I’m literally cursed. I’ve been looking forward to this day all week, and the second it’s go time, my immune system rebels.”

There’s a pause, a fit of sneezing, and Eddie steps back into the room to a long, loud groan. Buck’s hunched over, sniffling loudly, and he’s digging his palms into his eyes. 

“Headache?” Eddie asks, dropping down onto the couch beside Buck. He traces one hand up and down Buck’s back when Buck falls into another, harsher fit of sneezing that shakes his shoulders, his back tensing. 

“Okay?” 

“Ugh, no,” Buck groans, snagging the tissue Eddie holds out to him. “I mean, yes. But no.” He swipes at his nose, and Eddie smiles softly, hand cupping the back of Buck’s neck. 

“You’re definitely giving me a lot to work with here.” Eddie reaches for the thermometer, stopping only when Buck clasps a weak hand to his arm. 

“Don’t bother. I checked it before I left. 100.2. I already took medicine.” 

Eddie swallows back the burning urge to scold Buck for not just informing him that he’s ill and staying home. He wants to lecture, but Buck looks the mere definition of pitiful: his blue eyes dull and mutely glassy, his cheeks an unhealthy blush, and he’s shaking and sniffling, a tissue pressed to his nose. 

The breath Eddie lets out instead is low and calculated, and he can feel Buck’s eyes on him as he leaves the couch and crouches down to undo the laces of Buck’s shoes. He helps Buck slip his feet out of his shoes. 

“You’re mad.” 

“I’m not,” Eddie says lightly. “I’m just worried.” 

“No,” Buck argues, “You’re mad, and you should be because I ruin everything.” 

Frowning, Eddie kicks his own shoes off, and he slides back down onto the couch, shifting until his back is pressed against the arm. “Come here,” he says, arms opening, and Buck reluctantly crawls toward him, flopping down against him, his chest flush to Eddie’s. 

Eddie wraps both arms around Buck, frowning at the faint shivering that vibrates against him, and he brings his hands back to Buck’s back, rubbing small, warm circles. 

“You don’t ruin everything,” Eddie repeats, tilting his head when Buck nuzzles his too-warm nose to Eddie’s neck. What Eddie wants to say is that Buck can somehow make even the worst situations okay, that Buck’s smile can brighten a dark room, that Buck’s determination and eagerness are far too endearing, that he’s falling for Buck so fast it’s scary. “You do the opposite actually,” he opts for, and Buck huffs out a weak laugh, his breath hot against Eddie’s neck. 

“You’re truly a man of many words, Edmundo.” 

The sarcasm is heavy in Buck’s tone, and Eddie rolls his eyes. “And you’re really about to get your ass kicked off my couch, Evan.” 

“You wouldn’t,” Buck drags out, lifting his head and batting lashes that should not be allowed at Eddie’s face. “You can’t. I’m too sick.” 

“Stop talking,” Eddie grumbles, cupping the back of Buck’s neck and pushing Buck’s head back down until his cheek is resting atop Eddie’s shoulder. “If you’re so sick, there should be less talking and more resting.” 

Buck shivers against Eddie again, and Eddie reaches over the back of his couch and drags a blanket over the two of them. 

“Eddie,” Buck whispers after a few moments with only his congested, loud breathing filling their space. “I’m-”

“-what? Sorry?” Eddie interrupts flatly, and Buck twists his neck, peering up at Eddie’s face. “You have nothing to be sorry for. People get sick, and I have a feeling you’re only sick because you stayed up to watch over my sick kid when I was still finishing my shift, so I should be the one apologizing.” 

Buck hums, dragging his gaze back down. “I’ll watch over Christopher whenever. I love that little guy.” 

“I love you.” Eddie meant to say ‘and he loves you,’ and yet... His lips snap shut, and he goes rigid, the weight of his words slamming against his heart. He’s sure Buck’s going to leave any second now, but Buck only nuzzles impossibly closer to him, humming absently, content.

“Love you, too.”

[hopekiedokie]

Mall is Life | INTRO : She’s Broke, He’s Broke, We’re All Broke!

Summary: Your dad thinks it’s best for you to pay off the credit card that you just maxed out. Meaning, it’s time for you to finally get your very first job…at the mall. As a true blue spoiled daughter from a very rich family, what could possibly happen? Form a labour union and overthrow the oppressive government with 7 other underpaid and overworked guys??? Or maybe just form a bond with them and have the best time of your life?

Pairing: bts x reader

Genre: mall!au, lowkey a sitcom, fluff, eventual angst, and a whole lot of pure crack

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: As I’m doing final rewrites for this, I overheard my co-teacher call one of our students a “crack” and I honestly have never related hard to a student. Anyways, transferring this from gdocs to tumblr took sooooo long. I literally aged 10 years. I didn’t think writing in this style would be such a pain so I really do hope you enjoy this! Keep safe and hang on while the world still seems like it’s on its way to destruction.

Posted on: 8th of Jan, 2021

— • masterlist | Character Guide | INTRO | next • —

Red

Red is all you see.

Your vision has been clouded by the colour red since the moment you stepped inside the mall.

Sale season is upon you and red tags are everywhere!

Buy one get one for a girlfriend sized “boyfriend t-shirt”, a free cookie if you get 7 drinks, 5% off on your next purchase from Kucci and… Gasp! 75% off for a light sabre handheld immersion blender???

Do you even cook or watch Star Trek or whatever it’s called? Heck no.

bUT IT’S MORE THAN HALF OFF and it looks cool so might as well get it.

Right?

You saunter off towards the sights of free or marked down signs to start making damages.

“Ehem.”

The sound of your best friend, Taehyung’s voice, freezes you in place and you feel like a kid caught in the act of stealing a candy.

Literally, you have both your hands in front of you with your mouth open and watering.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” His hands are placed on his hips, like a slightly inconvenienced Karen.

“Oh, uh...I was just, you know!? About to admire the general splendour!”

He was like, ya right sweetie.

“Shut up. This isn’t a Jane Austen book.”

Well, one can dream.

And lowkey, you were kinda expecting him to not get the reference.

…or even understand what you just said.

Damn.

You really need to give Taehyung some credit.

He is after all, your best friend and that is an achievement in itself.

“Focus, y/n. FOCUS. We’re here on a mission, don’t get distracted.”

Ugh, right.

Reality hit you again like a ton of bricks.

“And as if you can afford anything! Unless, you’re in for some service water.”

You scoff hard.

Though he isn’t lying.

See, the thing is, your family is rich.

Like rich 𝑹𝑰𝑪𝑯.

Like “rent a whole stadium for your dad’s morning run” rich

You, alone, though?

ʰᵉ ʰᵉ ʰᵉ

“Sorry, you’re absolutely right. We’re here for one thing only and that is to find a job! We’re not leaving until we get one.”

And that’s what you did for the next two hours

Job hunting

You might be wondering, “If we're so rich then why are we looking for a job?”

Well kids, let me tell you a quick story.

Here’s what happened

A week ago, you had probably the most embarrassing yet most eye opening experience of your life.

You were shopping

(like duh do you have anything else to do?)

And your credit card got…

Wait for it…

…………….

🚫DECLINED🚫

◉.◉

Like, that can happen????

Next thing you know, you’re on the phone with your dad and he is MAD

You don’t even know why he is so pressed about it.

Okay, so you maxed out one of his seemingly endless supply of credit cards.

BIG DEAL.

It’s not like he lost a bunch of money.

Maybe to a normal person, yeah…

BUT to you guys?

Come on! He can earn that money back in like two days.

Besides, he always goes on saying that he'd willingly give everything for you, his one and only princess.

bUT NOoOOoo! He has to teach you to be rEsPoNsIbLe with money! You need to be a 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏.

"What? You think I'm a money making machine here?"

Well, tbh he kinda is.

"You think money grows on trees?"

Well, technically, money is paper so...ya it kinda does.

"I don't slave around just so you could plunge yourself in all of your whims!"

Uh, actually.

You kinda do though if we refer back to your whole willingly-give-everything-to-you shtick.

So that wasn't real, huh?

ＡＬＬ ＭＥＮ ＤＯ ＩＳ ＬＩＥ.

smh

Taehyung, on the other hand...

Well, his mother’s old but rich sugar daddy just recently passed away and unfortunately all his money and prized possessions were inherited by his one and only beloved son.

All they got was a couple of stupid jewelry, which did allow them to pay for a new (less glamorous) apartment, but still

Eh.

What a complete disappointment.

11+ years of being a sugar baby, all for nothing.

So now it’s back to the slums for the both of them.

Sad reacs for a fallen warrior.

I’m talking about Tae’s mother, not the sugar daddy...

THOUGh rip for him. Uh,,,,

He’ll be missed? I guess???

(1 like of this post = 1 respect for him)

DW about his mother though. She doesn’t seem quite fazed by it.

“This is why if you find a rich old bastard, make sure he doesn’t have any kids. That or have an affair with their kid. Oh well, on to the next one.” She told you and Tae during the funeral.

It’s been three months since.

She’s currently working at a hair salon and also,,,,

Taehyung thinks she’s seeing someone again cause she’s been using her designated “𝑠𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔” parfum.

WHICH you still don’t know if you should be impressed or be concerned about.

Nonetheless, you respect the hustle of this woman. ✊✊✊✊

Unfortunately, her efforts are still not enough to satisfy their expensive needs so that brings us to the present situation.

Actually, it couldn’t have been more perfect though!

You and your best friend coincidentally just happen to be in the same dilemma.

Kind of

Well, not really

Plus, it’s not really the most pleasant circumstance bUT STILL

The point is, you’re in this together and that’s enough for the both of you.

:’)

“Ugh, this totally blows.” Taehyung says as you both sit on one of the food court booths.

“Which one, us not getting any jobs yet or the fact that we’re hanging at the food court?”

“Get used to it, princess. Honestly, you'll find that the food here isn't as disgusting as you think they are." He says as he fishes for his phone in his man purse.

"Well, at this rate, I won't be able to get used to it since I sTILL haven't found a job. Why are the good stores so demanding? Like, an intensive classroom and in-store training only to have a possibility to get hired??? To think that I'm a loyal Louie Button customer!"

(A/n: This is actually a real procedure for Louis Vuitton, at least in my own experience. But I only applied and never went through with the training cause I figured that it just ain't for me.)

You continue ranting your little heart out about how you could sue these stores for unfair treatment.

Taehyung, though, has long tuned you out and has pointed his full attention to his phone.

This is turning out to be a lot more disastrous than what he anticipated.

So he needs to phone a friend in.

Orrrrr a couple.

He's getting desperate, okay??

The entire spring collection was practically screaming out to him when they entered Kucci.

He's a 𝓚𝓾𝓬𝓬𝓲 𝓫𝓸𝔂 through and through.

He hasn't missed a single Kucci season collection in years.

IN YEARS, PEOPLE!

He can feel his right eye twitch at this blasphemy.

"I'm telling you! These stores are absolutely ungrateful-hEY! Are you even listening??"

"No. I thought that was obvious the second I whipped my phone out."

( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)

Rude

He didn't even try to deny it.

"You know, I really don't need you to be mean to me right now."

"Sorry y/n but this…" He lifts his phone up, "is more important right now."

What could possibly be more important than your current problem??

If you don't leave today with any form of productivity, you just might have to sell the entirety of your closet.

And we all know that ain't happening.

"By 'that', you mean?"

His phone vibrates a couple of times, indicating that he just received a bunch of messages.

He instantly opens them, disregarding you once again.

I-

Seriously, thIS bOy!

"Hello???? I'm still here and we're still hideously unemployed!"

He looks up to you with a smile that seems a tad bit too eerie.

Okay, this is somewhat alarming ngl.

"I called in some reinforcements."

Reinforcements... Huh?

What's that supposed to mean?

You stare at him with scrunched brows and mouth slightly agape.

And as if on cue, a male voice rings from behind you.

"Tae! We're here!"

"Jimin! Seokjin hyung!"

Ohhhhhhh

*Looks at the camera*

Them.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

For everyone's information, Taehyung grew up a hair away from the poverty line.

He was in his preteen years when their family found success through his mother's sugar daddy.

He didn't grow up rich whICH there's NOthing wrong WiTh THAT.

A person's financial status does not define them.

Taehyung's friends, however, already have a collective definition in your head.

One word

༼ つ ◕◡◕ ༽つ MESS™

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

A hot mess you are so not willing to become a part of.

Tae keeps them away from you because he knows that they are not the type of people you would associate yourself with.

Which is why you've never met any of them.

...Until today.

♫︎DUN DUN DUN♫︎

Guess being besties with a broke Taehyung means it only makes sense that you finally meet them.

♫︎dUN dUn- ok that's enough of that.

"We got the Code 17 message. I can't believe I'll ever get that from you. This is history, man! We need to celebrate!" Someone says accompanied by what sounds like someone wiping a window.

You look at Taehyung with a very displeased look.

May god and every higher being out there give you strength.

He doesn't even look the slightest bit bothered by what might be one of the boldest crossovers to ever happen.

Also, "Code 17"??? Wth?

"What's wrong? You never ask to meet at the food court… And who's this with--oh." A different, softer voice talks this time.

"You guys remember my bestie, right? Y/n? Well, I think it's time you guys finally meet."

From behind you, Seokjin and Jimin share a slightly wary yet excited look.

Jimin, being the natural people lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to have another best friend.

From what he's heard from Taehyung, you two are slightly alike, being a total softie.

So don't be surprised if a montage of things like the two of you going on picnics at the mall garden or watching the premiere of the next Disney movie plays in his head.

Seokjin, on the other hand, being the woman lover that he is, instantly thinks that he's about to score big time.

He's heard a lot about you from Tae but the only thing that stuck (and pretty much the only thing that matters) is that you are HELLA rich.

$ ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕓𝕒𝕓𝕪 $

So are we even surprised that what he imagines is him breezing through the luxury section of the mall, with his personal butlers in tow, and having everyone swoon at him?

“Y/n,” Taehyung gives you a pointed look as if telling you to be nice. “Meet Seokjin hyung and Jimin, two of my other best friends.”

Alright, you heard that these people work here at the mall.

So you’re gonna have to suck it up if it means being stuck with them for god knows how long.

You just hope they have some level of bearableness.

(Oh and some form of acceptable fashion taste too please, thank you very much!)

As much as you're not in the mood to smile, you still plaster on the sweetest one you can muster and turn around to face the two----

Oh

(o.O)

oh oh oh oh ho ho ho ho

Hello

hELLO indeed.

One of them has a white button up with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, black slim fit trousers, and a brown newsboy cap like a cherry on top.

He's also wearing a brown apron with a small name tag that says 𝓙𝓲𝓶𝓲𝓷.

The other guy's more casual with his baby pink t-shirt, french tucked into his black ripped skinny jeans.

Personally, you wouldn’t really call them amazing outfits…

bUT SWEET BABY JESUS ARE THEY DOING THINGS.

GREAT THINGS

(Tbh maybe it’s their handsome faces that do it for you)

"Hi, I'm Jimin! It's very nice to finally meet you."

He extends his hand and you take it in a heartbeat because my god that smile.

Wooooooooooo

Now, that's what greets you into heaven.

"Tae says a lot of good things about you and I think- oof."

Cute pink shirt guy (rudely) shoves him to the side.

Jimin almost topples to the ground and it makes you want to stand and check up on him.

The poor cutie.

For some reason, you feel like Taehyung and pink shirt guy get along well.

"AND I'M Seokjin!"

This time, Seokjin swiftly takes your hand without any warning which leaves you feeling flustered.

“Umm… Nice to meet you..?” You manage to politely croak out.  

He gives your hand a kiss and then drops you a sultry wink.  

Thank god you're sitting right now.  

You'd be a lying fool to say that that didn't make your knees weak.  

But ngl, that’s a face that definitely greets you into hell.  

Like, no offense to his handsome face but you are sure there’s something completely devious going on underneath.  

No one can change your mind on that.  

"OKAY! Enough introductions, we’ll have plenty of time for that later... Where are the others??”  

“Hoseok hyung said that he's with Jungkook and they're on their way to get Namjoon hyung." Jimin says as he fixes his hat that slightly slid off.  

"Well, they better hurry!"  

Taehyung DEFINITELY did not have any reasons to cut your introductions off.  

He just did not like how you are practically drooling over Jimin and Seokjin.  

He’s nOT JEALOUS OR ANYTHING  

It’s just...  

It’s not like you’ve never been close to any hot guys before.  

Uh hello???  

HE’S HOT  

And you’re with him 24/7

Wait…  

Do you even think he’s hot???  

Okay now that’s a thought he never considered before.  

Damn bro  

Now Tae’s having an existential crisis…  

anD hE’s dEfiniTEly NOT jEALous!!!  

ᕙ(⇀‸↼‶)ᕗ  

"WE'RE HERE!"  

All four of you direct your heads to the sound of a new voice and you start to think that Taehyung might actually be playing a joke on you.  

Come on!  

THREE 👏  MORE 👏  HOT 👏 GUYS  👏

???  

This can't be real.  

This is literal heaven!  

Gasp!  

Are.  

You.  

DEAD?!  

Maybe you're right about Jimin being what greets you into heaven!

It all makes sense.  

“Dude, we came as soon as we could. We even pulled Namjoon out of his rabbit hole.” The handsome one wearing a sports jersey says. 

“This better be important. I didn’t even get to ask permission to take a break! I’m supposed to be stocking utensils right now.” The handsome one wearing an atrocious outfit of a bright blue shirt and a much brighter yellow pants chimes in.  

The handsome one wearing loose fitting jeans, a plaid button up and a black t-shirt underneath just stayed at the sidelines not saying anything.  

Out of all of them, you think he’s the most stylish one.  

Your eyes meet while you are assessing his outfit but he instantly looks away.  

A noticeable blush blooms on his cheeks and you almost swoon.  

Awww he’s extra cute.  

“Yeah, cause organising cutlery is more important than a friend in a literal crisis.” Taehyung says in a sarcastic tone.  

“So what are we doing here?”  

“What is this ‘crisis’ you are referring to?”  

“Yo, who is she?”  

Namjoon, Jin, and handsome jersey boy all talk at the same time.  

Ugh you need a massage.  

Being surrounded by these broke handsome men is making you lightheaded.  

“This is Y/n. You know, my other best friend.”

“Oh, your money buddy.” Handsome jersey boy butts in.   

Uh EXCUSE YOU, WHAT’S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?  

You scoff hard and loud.  

Taehyung clears his throat and you thought he was going to make a comment defending you or something.  

Oh honey, you are wrong.  

Because for the nth time today, he just brushes you off.  

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Anyways, Guys, meet Y/n. Y/n, this is Hoseok hyung, Namjoon hyung, and Jungkook.”  

You didn't think it'd be possible but for the first time ever, you so badly want to rip someone's hair out.  

And not just someone, it's Taehyung.  

Normally, a sassy, moody, rude boy Taehyung doesn’t affect you at all.  

But then again, his negative vibes were never really directed to you.  

And given the current circumstance, you’re also not in the best mood as well.  

So you aren't as inviting as you usually are when you shook hands with the three boys.  

Somehow, even their overflowing handsomeness did not do anything for you now.  

Your presence, however, did something to the three boys.  

AND I MEAN A LOT.  

Confused, attracted, intimidated, confused, in awe, slightly scared, nervous, confused, hungry…  

What? Hoseok hasn’t had lunch and coincidentally, he started feeling his tummy rumble when he looked at you.  

…..  

Fun fact: Hoseok is DEFINITELY NOT A CANNIBAL NOR HE EVER PLANS ON BEING ONE.  

If ever you were thinking...  

“Okay, so here’s the sitch.” Tae starts to explain your situation and everyone listens to him intently.  

Little did you all know, the final member of the friend group just arrived at the food court and is now walking towards where you all are.  

It wasn’t difficult to spot your group with Namjoon’s obnoxiously brightly coloured towering self and the few girls hanging around.  

Probably Jimin’s fanclub.  

“And so, here we are!” Tae finishes, keeping everyone updated.  

"Wow, so you two are looking for an actual job? Like, here? At the mall??" A very baffled Seokjin asks.  

Tae rolls his eyes.  

"Yes. Is that really hard to believe?"  

"Actually, yes. It is."  

Another male voice is heard coming from someplace.  

“Yoongi hyung!”  

Oh great! Another one.  

Surely, this guy’s not that interesting.  

I mean, what are the fricking odds that he’s also an immaculate being??  

You turn around and your mouth drops to the floor.  

No no no no no.  

No way!  

Another freaking gOOD LOOKING GUY HAS WALKED UP TO YOUR GROUP.  

Okay, this is getting unbelievable now.  

Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?  

Like, where and how on earth did Taehyung manage to get and round up SIX insanely good looking guys??  

What is this? Are you on The Bachelorette??

Wait no   

It's like Oprah!  

And instead of cars, she's giving away handsome men

You get a hot Asian man, you get a hot Asian man, you all get a hot Asian man!  

OR MAYBE  

Are you on MTV Punk'd?????  

Statistically speaking, a hot guy can have two or maybe three equally hot best friends

BUT SIX???   

ARE YOU KIDDING?  

Is Taehyung like Thanos? Collecting the six infinity stones?  

Thanos? lol.  

If anything, he's more like Henry VIII with his six wives.  

“So you guys didn’t even wait for me, huh?”

Yoongi, oh so casually, just takes a seat beside you   

Without even giving you a single glance or whatnot.  

“I didn’t know you'd be here at the mall today?”  

“Yeah, what are you doing here?”  

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “It’s a free country, I can be here whenever I want to be.”  

Well, can’t argue with that logic.  

The mall is practically your second home at this point.  

“... Also… uTunes is hiring and uh… I’m applying...”  

You don’t understand why but everyone else looks either shocked or annoyed at Yoongi’s announcement... 

Are you missing something here?  

“Man, you need to give it up! That place can suck it.”  

Yoongi gives Seokjin one of the scariest glare you’ve ever seen.  

It could rival against your dad’s famous death glares that he gives to his incompetent subordinates.  

Namjoon shakes his head disapprovingly, “You’re applying there again?? I can’t believe it.”  

Yes, again.  

This is going to be the seventh time he’s applying at uTunes Records, the most popular music shop there is.  

So many people flock to it even though we’re already in the digital age.  

But he doesn’t question it.  

All he cares about is getting a job there because the employees get to play their own music in the store.  

Do you know how much of a popularity boost that is?  

A CRAP TON.  

On top of that, one of the employees gets a chance to get signed by a record label every year.  

And if you're not awarded by that chance, you can still meet agents and get signed through their many parties.  

Because of that, so many people also apply for a job there.  

But they unfortunately have such high standards which is why even after three years, he still hasn’t passed their vibe check.

"Listen, seven's a lucky number. I have great feelings about this one. Besides, I've built up a strong résumé. Winning one of uTunes' own rookie dj contests must mean something, right? They can't not take me!"   

Wow.  

You've only known Yoongi for a solid three minutes, but you can already tell that he's quite passionate about this.  

"Hyung, all we're saying is that maybe you should consider doing something else? You could do so much more than run after that store." Jimin says and pats Yoongi's hand a couple of times.  

"All of you perfectly know getting a job there could quite possibly set my music career!"  

"Is that really it? Or is it because of a certain Daphne??" Seokjin teases him.  

The rest just mutters an "ooh" or an "aah".  

You seem to have been turned into an accessory.  

You so cannot relate to anything they've talked about since Yoongi came. 

It's like you're at one of your dad's social gatherings and all you can do is smile and nod.  

"ANYWAY," Yoongi interjects in their teasing. "So Tae, you're also looking for a job?"  

Jeez FINALLY.  

Something you can talk about that involves you.  

It felt like you were just back home watching some random show that doesn't require your input.  

Taehyung gives an overly dramatic heavy sigh.  

"Unfortunately, yes. Y/n and I both need one badly. But all the stores had been rejecting us left and right. Like, the audacity!" Taehyung rants all over again.  

Jimin, listens to him intently as if he hasn't heard all of this before.  

Seokjin seems to have been entertaining the surrounding ladies for a while now.

[by giving some ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ and some (•̀ᴗ-)☞  ]  

Across the table, Namjoon complains to Hoseok about getting in trouble with his boss.  

Jungkook, well, he's just staring at the beautiful pizza this kid next to you guys is eating. (Someone's hungry too, okay?) 

While Yoongi just openly stares at you.  

Welp.  

What the frick are you supposed to do now?

Is Taehyung or anyone going to properly introduce you two?   

No???  

Okay fine.  

Seems like you're gonna have to get used to doing things on your own.  

You smile at him and timidly hold your hand out.  

"Uh hi. I'm Y/n. I don't know if Tae's ever mentioned me to you before but--"  

"Oh, trust me. He's mentioned you plenty. He actually never shuts up about you."  

ʰᵉʰ  

Ok  

You don't really know if he was stating that as a fact or if he's trying to be mean…  

"Oh ha ha… That must be really annoying then."  

"Yeah, it is actually."  

Your small polite chuckle died down your throat.  

Wow and you thought Taehyung can be rude.  

hE'S STILL JUST STARING.  

"Uh…" You finally lowered your hand that he obviously isn't going to shake.  

That is definitely going in your top 10 most embarrassing moments ever.  

God, can someone get you away from this guy?  

What's his problem?  

"SO, can any one of you help us? Like, any tips or something?" Tae concludes his really long and repetitive rant.  

Everyone's eyes FINALLY focuses on Tae again.  

Seokjin snorts loudly.  

Eww.  

He opens his mouth to say something but Tae immediately holds his hand up to stop him.  

"Anyone except you hyung. I don't think you're classified."  

Everyone laughs to that and again,  

ARE YOU MISSING OUT ON SOMETHING HERE?  

Seokjin raises one finger like he's trying to make a point. "If anyone is classified to give tips on how to get accepted, it's me!"  

"Yeah, just not on how to last on one." Namjoon loudly whispers to Tae.  

"HEY I HEARD THAT!"  

Ohhh….  

So,  

Does he constantly get fired from a job?  

Well, that's just sad.  

Hopefully you don't end up like him.  

😳  

"Actually," Hoseok starts, "how do you end up landing on so many jobs? Like, don't they know your reputation?"  

And that's your cue to finally insert yourself in the conversation.  

"Uh, what reputation?"  

"Sweetheart, you don't really want to know! It's not that big of a deal." Seokjin quickly steers you away from the topic but the other guys didn't allow it to happen.  

"Oh, you know. Just that, he's known to be the "job eater" here. Cause he pretty much eats a job and moves on from it in a flash." Namjoon graciously fills you in.  

So you were right.  

That's kind of impressive though…  

But a huge waste.  

"Still! It makes me very much qualified to give the unemployed a tip!"  

"Save it hyung, you might need it for your next job once you get fired from Uncle Aang's."  

Seokjin gives everyone a sheepish smile.  

What's that about?  

It almost looks as if he…  

"YOU GOT FIRED ALREADY?!"  

"Oh you bet I did."  

To be fair, how could he not stop himself from eating the free samples? Those pretzels are literal drugs.  

"You just got that job four days ago. I can't believe it!"  

"I can believe it." Yoongi says out loud.  

Can't he say anything nice?  

"Whatever! Point is, these stores still hire me no matter what."  

"You know what, that is a good point." Taehyung mutters, slowly turning convinced by Seokjin.  

Namjoon groans. "Are you for real Tae? If you want some job advice, maybe ask one from us who has only had one permanent job all throughout."  

"Guys, let's give Seokjin hyung a chance!" Jimin, ever the sweet positive boy, suggests.

"Of course you would say that."    

Not wanting to fade into nothingness, you insert yourself again in the conversation.  

"I want to hear what he has to say."  

Once those words left your mouth, you instantly regret it.  

A.) Seokjin gives you another wink and gives you a flying kiss that has you weak in the knees again- I MEAN WHAT. I SAID NOTHING.  

And B.) Yoongi is clearly not a fan of you sharing your opinions with the group.    

Despite the obvious protests of Namjoon, Seokjin still gives his number one "professional" advice  

And that is to have a perfectly 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉 𝒒𝒖𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒕𝒚 résumé.  

"A high quality résumé? YOU? What the fuck are you talking about?" Yoongi says, slightly amused and slightly tired of the older guy's shenanigans.  

"Don't believe me? Fine. But I'm telling you, it's all here on paper!" Seokjin takes out a folder from his backpack and waves it around.  

Namjoon immediately snatches it from him  

"5 pages long?? Are you for real?”  

Seokjin hums and watches smugly with a cocky grin as the guys read through his résumé.  

“Hang on, since when did you do balloon modelling?”  

"I don't."  

Hoseok gasps. "But bro, isn't that lying?"  

"Yeah, duh! How else are these people gonna hire you? You have to sell them what they're looking for."  

"What if they ask you to use these skills that you clearly don't have?"  

"Then you're just gonna have to fake it till you make it, baby!"  

Huh  

No wonder he doesn't last long on a single job.  

"And how's that working out for you?" Yoongi presses on.  

"Well at least I get hired, Mr. 7th Time's the Charm!"  

Yoongi is like ᶠⁱᵗᵉ ᵐᵉ ⁱ ʷᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʰᵉˢⁱᵗᵃᵗᵉ ᵇⁱᵗᶜʰ (ง'̀-'́)ง  

"That's not really the point of having a job, but I guess, whatever floats your boat, dude!" Hoseok finally sides with Seokjin.  

"So everyone is looking for a job then?" Taehyung realizes, "this is so cool if all of us get hired! We'll all face the real world together."  

"All of us except Jungkook though."  

Who?  

Oh that extra cute shy boy.  

You forgot he's here.  

Boy really hasn't said a word at all.  

"Did ya hear that? All of us are getting jobs!"

"You should get one too!"   

"That would be so cool!"  

"So what do you say? What are your plans Kook?"  

"Guys, don't pressure the kid!"  

The guys talk simultaneously, ultimately kind of pressuring Jungkook to say something before he even thinks about it.  

The table falls silent and everyone eyes Jungkook.  

The guys are like ( ･ิ ͜ʖ ･ิ) and ( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)  

Jungkook is like (ʘ ͟ʖ ʘ)  

Then the guys are like (≖ ͜ʖ≖)  

So jungkook is like (¬‿¬ )  

In the end, they are all like 

(☞°ヮ°)☞ ☜(°ヮ°☜)  

And through it all, you are just ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ  

What the heck is going on?  

"Yeah, why not?" Jungkook simply concludes and the guys make various celebrating noises.  

Gasp!  

He can talk???  

"Okay, everyone calm down! Let's wait until after everyone gets hired before we celebrate." Namjoon scolds everyone.  

"Well that might take a while considering Y/n and I can't find one!"  

Namjoon places a comforting hand on Tae's shoulder. "Oh relax, there's like ten thousand stores in the mall!"  

"Actually, there are only 613 stores in the entire mall." Hoseok points out a matter of factly.  

You all look at him dumbfoundedly.  

Aaaand he just stares back at all of you.  

Is this some kind of trivia that you need to know if you work around here?  

Are you gonna have to memorise a lot of facts about the mall???  

Oh, you don't like that.  

Seokjin was the first one to react.  

"Dude?? What the hell?!"  

"I got bored once while I was on a break and counted."

Huh.  

Makes sense.  

Yeah, sure.  

Why not?  

Why wouldn't you just go and count the total number of stores out of boredom???  

…  

THAT WAS A SARCASTIC REMARK IF YOU DIDN'T GET IT.  

"Even if there are 600 stores here, there are only like, 20 good stores that exist!" Tae remarks   

You want to say you can't agree more but you stop yourself because you don't think you can handle another cold stare from Yoongi.  

"Are you perhaps pertaining to the high end stores?" Namjoon muses.  

"Yeah. What else?"  

Jimin's eyes widen in shock. "Hold on. So you two have only been looking at that small section of the entire mall?"  

"Yeah. Why?"  

Yoongi chuckles condescendingly.  

"Bros, you know that saying… 'Beggars can't be choosers'?" Hoseok tries to enlighten you two.  

You and Tae look at each other.  

What an epiphany.  

A very disgusting yet important epiphany.  

"Are you… Are you guys saying that… We need to find a job… Outside of that section??"  

They all nod.  

Ughhhhhhh  

You and Tae make an annoyed sound.  

"Welcome to the real world, peasants!" Seokjin warmly tells you.  

Could things get any worse?  

"Hey, at least we'll all be here together!"  

Ha ha 

Great . Awesome. Wow.

"Well, on that note, I really need to get back to work. Lady and gentlemen, may the odds be ever in your favour. Good luck!"  

Namjoon stands and walks away.  

One by one, the other working guys went back to work as well, leaving you unemployed slackers.  

Hey they didn't even give any actual help!  

Wasn't that the reason why Tae called for a… What did they call it?  

Code something something.  

Oh whatever!  

Anyways,  

So to summarize things  

You might end up working at an awful low end store.  

And you're unwillingly stuck with the wrong set of people.  

One of them is a total flirt and an actual pain to society.  

Another one might possibly hate you for unknown reasons.   

This tall dude seems to be really uptight.  

Then there's this guy that seems really weird.

The other one, well… He's cute and doesn't really have any negative points yet BUT you're sure something's wrong with him.   

And the last one literally said one thing during the entire time!  

Oh, you've got a really really long way before you can pay your dad.  

Good luck to you, indeed.   

[xmint-conditionx]

《the emperor’s dagger》 ch3 | myg

❦ pairing: emperor!yoongi x concubine!reader ❦ w/c: 5.3k ❦ summary: after being caught, you and the emperor decide to let some distance come between you. after a week of being along with your thoughts, you finally meet each other again. this time, he has something special in store for you, but by the end of the night, you both find yourself doing something daring. ❦ tags/cw: 18+ please, smut, lots of angst in this one, pining, lots of backstory here, outdoor sex, penetrative sex, knife (sword?) play, very brief oral sex (f receiving). ❦ a/n: after literal MONTHS, i have finally added another chapter. this is actually me releasing it for a second time tonight because clearly the first time, tumblr hated it so much that it wouldn’t let it show up in searches. i really hope you all enjoy, and i plan to be uploading a new chapter every three weeks, my schedule permitting. anyway, enjoy the filth! luv yas! and let me know if you’d like to join the taglist; i’d be glad to add you ^_^

- minty <3

taglist: @jiminisnotavirgin @aretha170 @btstrash2013 @bbykoos @aquaalanah​

“Your Majesty?” you hear a voice call from the end of the corridor.

It’s Jin.

You both freeze for a beat, and then simultaneously take a step back from each other. You avert your eyes; it feels like you might be spared a harsh reprimanding if you just look in the other direction, for some reason. You’re sure your guilt and embarrassment at being caught is displayed plainly on your face, though, despite your best efforts. You allow your eyes to rake up from the floor, over to Concubine Mother Kim, as he stands firmly in the panel of moonlight shining on the dark wooden floorboards. His hands are placed firmly on his hips and his face is stern; this isn’t a good sign. You gaze up at your emperor, whose embrace just moments ago made you feel so protected and hidden away from the problems of the real world. Who made you feel safe.

And his face is as shocked as yours. 

“Concubine Mother,” the emperor says cooly, recovering more quickly than you, though you can see a tinge of pink flush his cheeks. He’s also blinking far too much. Jin regards him for a moment and then turns to speak to you.

“Please tell me that I did not make an exception for you to stay late, only for you to fool around with the king in secret.”

“Concubine Mother,” Emperor Min says, “I was just walking her back to the wing so--”

“Emperor Min, forgive me,” Jin says, not truly asking for forgiveness by the tone he’s carrying, “but you cannot truly believe I don’t see what I see.”

Emperor Min looks down and clenches his jaw. 

“Off to bed,” Jin says firmly to you. The sting of forming tears tells you to avoid their gaze as you bow lightly to Jin, and then offer a slightly deeper one to the emperor. Quickly and quietly, you padd off to the bedchambers, not wanting either of them to catch the tear that spilled over. You want to look back so badly, but you stop yourself. You can’t even begin to imagine the trouble you’re both going to be in. You stop behind the archway of the shared bedroom and listen in on the hushed conversation.

“Concubine Mother,” the emperor begins, “she really did stay late at the market. She was walking back through the throne room and I stopped her so that we could speak.”

Jin scoffs, “Speak? Please. Surely you don’t take me as a fool. It has been noticed by a number of certain royal officials that you call on her often…”

The emperor sighs.

“I’ve been careful, Jin,” he assures him.

“Good. One more thing,” he says, “I told her that the guards would be briefed on her situation. There was no need for you to walk her to the dormitories.”

“I… I just wanted to,” the king muttered; you were barely able to hear it.

“I see,” Jin says, with a heavy pause, “Truly. Make no mistake, Your Highness. I see everything. And I understand more than you know.”

Silence.

“I see the way you look at her. The way she looks at you,” he continues, “It would behoove you, Your Majesty, to request some of the others more frequently. Other people… influential people may begin to notice…”

“Understood.”

You don’t know why but suddenly, the thought of the king being with his other concubines makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. This is part of your job; something that you are well used to by now. Or... you were.

“Concubine Mother?” the emperor asks, “Please don’t think she is causing trouble. This is on me.”

“Alright,” he says, “but I have to tell you that I love that girl like she’s my own family. Be careful with her.”

“As long as I am alive, no harm will come to her,” he says more firmly than anything else he’s said so far, “that is a promise.”

“Glad to hear it, Majesty.”

You walk as quickly and as silently as you can back to your bed, grabbing your night clothes from underneath and quickly changing into the loose gown. You put your daytime concubine clothing into the other basket for used clothing beneath the bed frame, and climb into your sheets. Casting a shadow in the moonlight draping on the side of the wall, you see Jin’s form pause for a moment at the open door frame before walking onward to his own private chambers. You really hope you aren’t going to be scolded badly for this.

You don’t sleep well.

The next day, the emperor keeps his distance from you, as expected. He normally keeps himself at arms length from you, but today he spares no suggestive and flirty glances. You can’t possibly be upset at that, given what happened last night, but your stomach does drop a little when you pass him and he purposely avoids your gaze. It looked like he was with officials again; he so easily wears his stress in the creases between his eyebrows. 

It’s like this for several days, and you learn to swallow it. The distance is a healthy reminder of what reality is, and it makes the heartache easier.

As before when you wanted to have some distance from everything, you decide to spend your day reading out in the North Gardens. He hasn’t called for you in almost a week, and you’ve temporarily decided to halt lessons as well. It pains you, the separation, but it’s better this way. Safer, this way. The thick novel you hold is helping you escape your own circling thoughts. Although they’ve calmed dramatically over the past few days, they are stirred easily by being busy in the palace. Having to stay vigilant of where the king is at all times, lest you give too much away is exhausting. Seeing the places in the palace that remind you of him is heart-wrenching. Reading next to the soft trickle of the fountain is always a comfort, and it allows you to put your guard down and breathe. You’re deep into your book when the head of the palace guard strolls by.

“Jungkook, hi,” you say, “lovely to see you.”

“Likewise, miss,” the young man says, “I was hoping I would find you out here. I have something for you.”

“Oh?” you ask, leaning forward and marking the spot in your book before putting it down.

He discreetly hands you a scrap of parchment, folded neatly into a small triangle. You know who it’s from, so you slip it into a flap of your dress and tuck it underneath your waist sash without batting an eye. He never sends notes, you think to yourself as you look back up at Jungkook. The only other one you’d received was the first one that he himself had slipped to you.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say, after realizing that nobody can hear your conversation over the splash of the fountain and the chirp of the birds playing in it. He smiles back down at you, wisps of dark hair falling into his face. He is very young to be head of guard, especially for someplace as important as the royal palace, but he is exceptionally bright and extremely skilled in combat. If anyone had ever deserved a position, Jungkook deserved this one.

Jungkook has been an aide to you and the emperor for weeks now, in secret. He walked unannounced into the emperor’s bedchambers late one night, in an attempt to inform him of an urgent palace security matter, only to find the emperor instructing you with your practice sword how to properly parry to the air. 

You had both been struck dumbfounded when the head of the royal palace guard had stopped in his tracks, mouth agape, digesting what was occurring in front of him. You were sure you were as good as dead. 

You’ll never forget the feeling of relief when he spoke.

“She’d learn better if she were able to actually physically parry a sword, Your Majesty,” he had said with a cheeky smile.

It seems that more people than you had realized believe that a woman should have the right to defend herself, the head of the palace guard included. Jungkook was more than happy to help the two of you find a place to practice without worry of the noise escaping and exposing you both. You needed a way to practice outside of the palace walls, so that actual sword to sword contact could be made. It was Jungkook’s idea to change the guard routes to provide you both with an easy exit out of the back, but it was the emperor’s idea to meet in a small clearing in the woods, behind the palace and beyond its tall walls. He had confided to you the first night you were able to practice there that this is where he would come as a boy to practice alone. His father never liked for him to disappear, but he hated being watched all the time. This field was the only place he could be himself without the eyes of the whole kingdom on him. He had said it only felt right to teach his first student in this same place.

The first time your practice blade clashed with his under the stars had felt incredible. It was like you were truly learning to fight.

Now, in front of you, Jungkook doesn’t linger. He nods respectfully and continues strolling through the gardens as if he hadn’t come out here looking for you. You’re outside in broad daylight, after all. The man might be the head of the palace guard, but he still doesn’t take chances if he doesn’t have to. You decide to finish the chapter you’re on and then go back inside the palace to read your note, just to ensure you keep suspicion at bay. Even though you’re aching to see what Emperor Min has written to you.

He’s been under so much scrutiny lately that he’s been extremely stressed. That much is visible from his face alone, but there are whispers within the palace among the concubines about how his temper is getting shorter and shorter. You’re afraid of what that might mean for you, and the contents of the note.

What if he’s calling everything off? Could how he cares about you be a shadow to his overall responsibilities and appearance? It wouldn’t be unexpected, you’d just hoped… maybe it was different.

You’re on the end of the Northern Wing balcony when you find yourself alone enough to take the note from your waist sash and read it. 

“My dove,” it says, “I hope you’re looking forward to practice this evening. I’ve got something exciting planned for you, since it has been so long since we’ve last practiced. Make sure you drink plenty of water.”

Quickly folding the paper again, you return it to your sash. You run over the possibilities in your mind, trying to imagine what he has thought of for you. A million scenarios rush through your head, each one more exciting than the last. Is he going to challenge you to keep a hand behind your back? What if he starts teaching you disarming techniques? Does he think you’re ready for ground fighting?

Really, none of that matters. You’re just glad to return to your nightly routine. You’ve missed him.

You go back into the concubine wing and conduct the rest of your day in preparation of whatever it is you’re going to have to endure tonight. You go through your tasks almost shaking with excitement. Sending a note is risky, so whatever he has planned must be intense. 

You arrive at the clearing a little earlier than usual; your nerves are so on edge that if you had stayed in your bed any longer, you feel like you would have exploded.

You take the moment to enjoy the light breeze and the sound it makes as it rushes through the tall grass and the even taller trees. The sky is beautifully clear, and the moon, though not full, is bright enough to light up everything around you. In the far distance, above the top of the pines, you can just make out the very top of the royal palace. The gold ornamentation gently glimmers in the night. 

It’s not long before you spot your emperor’s pale skin as he walks through the clearing. As he emerges from the treeline, you can just make out that he is carrying a large bundle. The way his long cloak sways around him as he walks is enrapturing, the grass parting and bowing to your king as he steps forward.

“I’ll admit,” you say as he gets close enough to hear you speak, “When I read your note, countless scenarios went through my head. None of them involved a package.”

“You’re a bright woman, dove, but I still have tricks up my sleeve,” he says with a wink as he tosses the wrapped bundle lightly onto the grass between you. It’s like nothing at all has changed in the past week. He takes the two sheathed practice swords off of the canvas and drops them down onto the ground at his side.

“Well,” he says, “are you going to open your present?”

“Oh, it’s a present?” 

“A reward. You’ve impressed me with your hard work, and you deserve it.”

You stand there dumbfounded. 

“Open it, dove,” he says quietly.

Bending down, you remove layers of the tough canvas until you feel something softer. It’s a strange array of padded cloth, in various odd shapes. You look up at your king, standing over you with his hands behind his back, chewing on his lip. Is he… nervous? You dig into the package further and pull out the largest piece. You hold it up and it finally hits you; it looks like a sort of jacket, with two pads on either top side… for arms?

“It’s…?” you start.

“Armor,” he says, almost too quickly, and then hesitates, “for you.”

You’re frozen where you crouch, blinking at the armour set in front of you. The white fabric is edged and trimmed with a fine gold thread, and the padding in the quilting is firmer than one would expect. You give it a good squeeze, and despite its lightweight feel, it’s extremely resilient. It doesn’t bend at all, no matter how much you try to warp it. It’s the best gift you’ve ever received.

In one swift motion, you drop the torso piece into the pile and throw yourself over the package and up onto him. He stumbles back, clearly not expecting the embrace, but it’s only a moment before he melts into it. His arms around your back pull you in tight, and you realize that you’ve missed the way he smells. You almost wish you would have purchased the scent you’d found at the market booth last week. You would have, had you known that he would be gone from you for so long.

“You better hurry and put it on, dove. We don’t have all night,” he says into the shell of your ear. Reluctantly, you pull away and pick up the mound of cloth. You trot to one side of the clearing where there is a particularly large bush. Behind it, you change. Even though the king has seen every last inch of you, it still seems appropriate to change out of sight for this. You don’t even have to remove your gown, but you want it to be a surprise.

Once you have the set on and tied, you walk back out into the clearing. He has his back turned to you, clearly having the same idea, so you call out to him.

“Your Majesty?”

He turns around and takes his time looking at your form. His eyes slowly rake over you, from top to bottom, and a small smile gradually spreads across his face. You wish you could know what he’s thinking, but more than anything, you want him near to you again.

“Aren’t you going to come see how it fits?” you tease. He lowers his gaze and walks slowly to where you stand in the tall grass. He lifts up one of your arms and holds it delicately as he makes a show of examining it. 

“Is it too heavy?” he asks, lowering your arm and reaching around your back, barely touching it. 

“I don’t think so, Your Highness,” you reply, turning fully around once so that he may see.

“And you wear it well,” he says, landing a peck on the spot where your neck and shoulder meet, “of course you do. Come, let’s begin. Let’s see if it works.”

The night is spent as the other nights in the clearing are. You goad each other into a type of dance, explosively throwing strikes and deftly dodging them. You do feel a slight encumbrance at the addition of the light armor, but it also makes you more bold. You take more chances as the night progresses, knowing that the padding will lessen the blow of the dull practice sword that he swings in your direction. The contact still hurts, though, and you quickly begin to tire. It doesn’t help that you haven’t practiced in over a week, either. Other than pure love for the art, stamina has to be another reason the emperor practices as much as he does. Without constant practice, you can expect to exhaust yourself quickly. And you’re absolutely already there. So you start making desperate moves, just so the match will end and you can rest a moment.

You take the opportunity to use your padded forearm to parry away an overhead strike, and he uses your open body posture to his advantage. He lunges forward, and you find yourself crashing onto the soft ground below, his weight fully on top of you. The practice blade falls out of your hand and topples into the grass. You’re both panting wildly, and you look up into his angry eyes.

“Have you forgotten that a sword has a blade, dove?” he asks, not even trying to hide the anger in his tone. 

“No, I…” you begin, but can’t find the words. You know what he’s getting at, but you’re too tired.

“If you were to pull that move in a real fight, with a real blade, you would be missing an arm,” he says coldly. He grabs the forearm you used to block.

“This isn’t metal. It’s cloth. Do you think a real sword could not pierce it?” he asks harshly. You don’t answer.

“Do you?!” he repeats, more forcefully. 

“It... could, Your Majesty…” you say, almost in a whisper. You aren’t sure why he’s so upset about this.

“Never do that again. Do you understand? You will never use your own body as a shield.” You can’t take it anymore. It’s been an entire week with not so much as a word, and now that you finally get to see him again, he’s fussing at you.

“I won’t ever have to,” you spit back at him, “I will never be in any real danger. I will never actually wield a true blade against another. Unlike you, I will never have to. This is all just for fun, and you know it. There’s no point in me pretending it’s real when it’s not. There’s no reason for me to treat this seriously when at the end of the day, it’s just a game. This is all just a game. This means nothing. Nothing real will come out of this, you know, because it can’t. It can’t matter. It can’t be real.”

He stands up and walks a few paces away from you. His fingers run through his hair, and you hear him sigh.

“What if it were real?” you barely hear him ask.

What?!

“Your Majesty?”

“Would you like to wield a real blade?”

There’s no point in lying. There’s no reason to hide what you want.

“Yes. I do,” you say. He sighs. Reaching for his own sword in the grass.

“Then do it,” he says, slowly closing the distance between you. He unsheathes his sword, holds the shining blade in his two open palms, and extends it out to you.

“But that’s your blade, My King…” you begin.

“Yes, dove, I am aware,” he replies, “I want you to use it. Tonight. Against me.”\

No. This isn’t fair.

“What will you use, then? It’s not fair if I have a blade and you do not. What if I… kill you?”

The king just chuckles.

“My dear, you have yet to land a strike to me, and you are worried that you’re going to kill me?” he says, rolling his eyes, before looking into yours again. You’re unconvinced. He just sighs.

“I promise, I’ll be fine.” 

You take the blade, and tighten your right hand around the tang. Your knuckles turn white under the stress. It’s lighter than you thought it would be. You step back and give it a few swings to test the balance and weight. You look at the glint of the moon on the blade, and then look up to meet the eyes of your king. He’s got the practice sword at the ready, and puts his left foot back into a ready stance. There’s not a drop of fear in his eyes. 

In fact, he looks more excited than he’s ever been. You feel a boldness rising through your belly, and you hoist up the blade. Each one of your strikes are met with the clang of his practice blade, and the shrill scrape of blade against metal rips through the night air.

He blocks each of your attacks with precision and ease, and before long, your body begins to betray you. Your dodges become much slower, and soon, you find it hard to take another step. He shows no signs of exhaustion; in fact, his blocks become even more forceful. You let the sword fall gently to the grass at your side, a clear sign to your opponent that you’re done.

He grins and slowly steps to where you stand panting and holds out both of his hands, palms up. You place his sword back into his possession, and crash onto the ground below. You catch your breath as you study the stars. You hear the metal as the emperor sheaths his blade, and you feel the grass shift as he sits next to you. 

“How did it feel?” he asks.

“Like…” you begin, before settling on the right word, “I was unstoppable.”

“Oh, I assure you,” he says with a chuckle, “you were quite stoppable.” 

“Yes, but that’s not how I felt!” you say, playfully hitting him on the arm.

“Yes, that is one of the blessings and curses of learning this discipline,” he says, running his fingers through your messy hair, “You gain confidence, but it can often be miscalculated.” He lets that sink in. He continues. 

“I would be doing you a disservice if I were to simply teach you the technique and forgo the attitude one must have. You see, dove, having the skill to wield a weapon in practice is different than an actual survival situation. Even here, your senses heighten and you feel your body strengthen with nerves, but in a real battle, that heightening of your senses can hold you back. It can cost you a limb. It can cost you your life.”

“Even though you will never see a real opponent, I have an obligation as your teacher to share with you everything I know,” he looks up at you, “I won’t allow for your knowledge to be single sided. A sword’s strength lies in it’s two blades, does it not?” Several beats pass as you take in everything he’s said.

“Thank you,” you say, “for everything. It was exciting to wield a true blade. The danger was… exciting.”

“You know, I had a feeling that you would feel that way. Perhaps I have one additional new thing to introduce you to this evening…”

He reaches over to your arm, where the light armor is fixed in place. He starts to untie the knots at your wrist, kissing the skin once exposed. With every time his lips meet your skin, your heart threatens to come up out of you. But no matter how much you missed him, you can’t stop the brat inside of you from coming out.

“I think I can remove my own armor,” you tease, pulling your arm away from him.

“Yes, but it’s much more fun when I do it,” he replies, grabbing a hold of your other arm. You let him slowly take off each piece of armor, and then your dress, and then your undergarments. He removes his own robe and tosses it to the side, leaving only his undershorts in place.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, wondering what your king has in store for you. 

He reaches over and unsheathes his sword, and everything you thought was going to happen melts away. 

“The danger excited you, dove?” he asks, casually examining his blade in front of you. 

“Yes, My King,” you reply cautiously, and then feel the need to explain yourself, “I...  didn’t know if the blade would cut… If it would slash you, or if I would make a mistake and nick myself…”

He slowly inches his blade closer to you, and stops right before making contact with the skin on your leg.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. You nod carefully, and he grins. “Be very still.” He turns his sword so that the flat side of the blade is facing you, and he slowly presses it against the hot skin of your thigh. The cool metal shocks you, but you are able to remain perfectly still, captivated by the danger of the blade. Every inch he drags the blade unearths something deep within your belly.

He finally removes it from your thigh, and places it in the grass to the side of your body as he kneels down. Now between your legs, he takes the tip of his nose and runs it up to the apex of your thighs, warm breath ghosting over where his cool blade had just been. He arrives at your cunt, and takes the tip of his nose to your clit.

“Mmm, you’re already wet… I knew you would enjoy that,” he says into your folds, “Maybe we should do it again.” Even though it doesn’t come out as a question, his eyes look up at you from his place in between your legs as if asking for permission. Mouth agape, you nod your consent.

“Excellent,” he says, licking a stripe up your slit.

He reaches for the sword at your side, and gives your clit one more sloppy kiss. You watch as the edge of the blade glimmers as he lifts himself up. You allow yourself to fully drop to the soft earth below, your messy hair strewn about the grass. He sits above you, and lowers his blade down so that the flat side of the tip barely touches your forehead. He removes it and places it again, but lower, cold and weighty on the pillows of your parted lips. 

He removes the blade and presses it lower still, at the dip in your clavicle, and begins to gently drag it down. As the blade slides down your chest, the chilling touch of the metal makes your pussy clench in anticipation. He slides the entire length between the mounds of your breasts, letting the tip trail down to your belly button, and as soon as the tip is about to reach your clit, he picks up the blade. He rotates it tip-side up, so that the hilt is to the ground. He takes the knob of the tang and presses it on your clit, moving in small circles against your bud. The king moves the shaft of the handle down until he’s teasing your entrance with it. 

He adds pressure, toying with inserting it into your eager slit. You buck your hips up and throw them in circles, desperately trying to get more friction against the hilt of his sword.

“Do you want something, dove?” the king asks nonchalantly, though his eyes betray him.

“Please, Your Majesty,” you whine, “please fuck me.”

“Hmmm,” he teases, “should I?”

“Please,” you whisper, on the verge of tears. It’s been an entire week. Even though you tried your hardest to push him out of your mind, your nightly dreams betrayed you. 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says, tossing his sword onto the grass to your left and pulling himself out of the top of his shorts. He runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the drops of precum that bead there. He rubs his length up your folds, taking the slick that’s there, before pressing into you. 

He doesn't allow you time to adjust to the stretch before he’s thrusting hard into you, but he knows by now that you like your pleasure with a drop of pain.

You buck your hips up into him to meet his thrusts, and reach up to touch his chest. A thin coat of sweat forms under your hand, and you slowly trace your hand down his torso until it meets his cock. He feels better than your dreams depicted, but you want more.

You use the last bit of your strength to sit up and push him down onto his back. The change in position pushes him deeper into you, and you grind hard onto him. 

“I think I like when your confidence is boosted, little one..” he says, “But don’t think you’re going to get away with that.”

He grabs your arms and pulls you down onto him, locking you in by wrapping his arms around your back. He pushes his hips up and begins snapping them up into you relentlessly. He moves his arms from securing your back to palming your ass cheeks, spreading them slightly to bring the shock of cool air.

He allows you to sit up, and you support your weight with your knees so that he can continue his pace. It’s not a difficult task, since you have grown in strength. The new angle has him hitting your most sensitive spot, and in seconds, you’re hurtling toward your climax. He reaches up and hooks one of his thumbs into your mouth, and that alone has you tumbling over the edge.

It’s not long before he finishes as well, spilling his seed inside of you. You collapse on top of him, having spent every ounce of energy you have. 

You both lay there for a moment, just holding each other. Taking in every detail you can about this moment. His parted lips, how his chest is still rising and falling as he catches his breath, the soft waves of his long, golden hair, how the muscles of his arm flex as he gently rubs your back. 

In the arms of your king, the only man in the world who isn’t permitted to love you, you feel at home.

Like a ton of bricks, you remember that you shouldn’t allow yourself this feeling, so you pull away from him. The last time you allowed yourself this luxury, it could have cost you your life. He slips out of you, and his seed begins to spill out as you stand. You go to retrieve your clothes, grabbing the cloth that was used to wrap your armor and using it to clean yourself. 

“We should go back,” you say, glancing back at him. His brows are slightly furrowed, and his face drops as you speak. 

“Yeah,” he says, focused on the ground and picking at some of the strands of long grass that poke at his arms. Distracting himself.

You turn back around so that he can’t see that your eyes are filling with tears.

 “Yeah.”

[beckydoesthings]

various fics of hxl that i adore reading! this list is quite lengthy, but feel free to message me if you have any questions!

*will continue to be updated. also, if i mistagged you, i apologize, i do not know how to tumblr*

Love Is a Rebellious Bird

E | 134k | @100percentsassy and gloria_andrews

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

i think this tickled every bone of my musical self and also made me cry (are you seeing a theme here??) one of the first fics i fell in love with and one i keep coming back to.

Collision

E | 226k | @tequiladimples

Mythology/Fairytale!AU in which Louis is a dainty fairy with a temper who wants to be intimidating and Harry hurts people. Naturally, they hate each other.

(Featuring Liam, the big and not-so-bad wolf who’s got a thing for humans, Zayn, a human with supernaturally good looks, and Niall, the cupid who just wants his job to be easier.)

the world building in this one is insanity - so much good mythology mixed in and it made me screech with joy. i think i can firmly say that i did not expect where the plot went, but that made the story so much better.

Flour and Chocolate

M | 145k | @danosphere91

It was nice, for a bakery he supposed.

Then he approached the display cabinet.

And the foreboding slammed into him. Because every product had letters next to it. Letters. GF, DF, V, O, VGN.

What. The. Fuck?

Lifting his eyes to the chalkboard menu spread across the back wall Louis felt physically ill. ‘Gluten-free’, ‘organic’, ‘vegan’, ‘paleo’, ‘dair-…’ Wait, what the fuck was a paleo? He had entered some hipster-trash establishment and it was more than time to get out.

OR

Louis is a single dad and Harry works at the newly opened bakery down the street.

the miscommunication in this fic is SO REAL and makes for a good read. the rest of the flour and chocolate series is also fantastic. i thoroughly enjoyed both the ziam and ed/niall arcs that bring the whole story together.

run away home

E | 106k | @hattalove

Louis stands, in the middle of a clearing with his hands in his pockets, and stares. This boy—God, this gorgeous, gorgeous boy. He seems so clumsy, confused at the best of times, but there’s a wisdom about him as he speaks, a maturity that belies his age.

Louis is hopelessly, wildly attracted to him.

or, louis is a successful jockey down on his luck, struggling to get his life back on track after an injury. harry has a horse, a house fit for a prince, and a broken heart.

it takes them a while to figure out that they need each other.

this makes my inner horse girl extraordinarily happy - even if i don’t know anything about horse racing. louis’ story in this is beautiful and makes the whole piece worth a read.

waiting for the tides to meet

E | 60k | @nauticalleeds

Louis lets out a deep breath, thinking about Harry’s soulmate. Thinking about how Harry’s soulmate is probably as beautiful as Harry, some person that Louis cannot compare to, and how the universe has chosen them to be Harry’s. Fuck the universe. “Fuck you,” he calls out to the universe. He’s aware of how crazy he sounds.

Maybe he is crazy, with how he’s falling for Harry. And fuck that, too.

Soulmate AU. Everyone is born with heterochromia — one eye is their own eye colour, while the other is the colour of their soulmate's. It's only when they meet their soulmate for the first time that their own eyes match properly. After a hazy night at a frat party, Louis wakes up to blue eyes and the shocking realization that he had met his soulmate, without any sober recollection. Seven years pass where Louis comes to terms with the fact that he'll never know who his soulmate is. Then one fated summer, a beautiful green-eyed photographer arrives at Louis' workplace, with promises of endless laughter and a familiar feeling in Louis' heart.

Featuring a lovely cup of OT5, a road trip down the coast, and a scene where Harry eats a whole head of lettuce. Don't ask why.

gorgeous soulmate AU that gives me summer cruising vibes. worth the read for the lettuce scene alone (i kid, i kid)

Do Not Go Gentle

E | 70k | @afirethatcannotdie

“This is all a game to you, isn’t it? Well, it’s not for me. This is a real life or death situation,” Louis says, spitting the words at him. “And I just don’t think you’re cut out for it.”

For a moment, they stare at each other in complete silence. Harry can feel his blood thrumming between his ears, can see Louis glaring at him, feels red-hot anger. And then all he feels, oppressively and desperately, is lust.

Suddenly Louis is surging up to him to press his lips against Harry’s. Harry walks the two of them backwards, pressing Louis back against the door. Louis oomphs in surprise and brings his hands under Harry’s scrub top, scratching at his lower back.

“Lock — oh — lock the… fucking door,” Louis mutters.

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

okay i’ve watched maybe 3 episodes of Gray’s Anatomy, but i feel like this encompasses the vibe of the show: medical stuff with a hefty dose of angst and sexual tension

Falling For Me Won’t Be A Mistake

M | 58k | @all-these-larrythings

Harry is married to his job and so overworked that he doesn't know how to stop. All it takes is a forced Hawaiian get-a-away, the warm tropical breeze of the island, and the most beautiful, elusive man he's ever seen to make him remember what living is like outside of work. Well, that, and the little souvenir he accidentally takes home with him.

one of my favorite mpreg fics so if that’s not your cup of tea, then don’t read it. i love surgeon harry with a vengeance, but honestly Gems and Niall are iconic in this one.

Watching the World Fall

E | 11k | @crazyupsetter why won’t it let me tag :(

This segment has been going on long enough that Louis knows what’s coming before James starts in on it, trying to sell him on something he knows that Louis wouldn’t normally be buying. But there’s four cameras surrounding him, and an audience watching him expectantly, so if Louis wants to continue convincing people that he’s doing just fine, he’s going to have to go along with it.

“We have a whole host of single men backstage waiting to meet you, Louis,” James tells him. “We want to help you find love tonight, on Late Late Live Tinder. Is this okay? Do you want to play?”

It actually kind of makes sense that his first date after the break-up is going to be just as public as said break-up. Something like coming full circle.

“Alright, James,” Louis agrees, hopping down off his stool.

“Okay, come down to the stage,” James says. Louis can’t even tell whether the excitement in his voice is genuine or not. “Right now, come on down!”

i have a soft spot the size of Antarctica for Late Late AU fics (we stan James Corden) and for exes to lovers so this checks all the boxes.

autumn leaves

E | 27k | @suspendrs

“Brave?” Harry frowns, caught off guard. “No, not particularly.”

“You seem brave,” Louis decides, pushing off the wall and stepping on the butt of his cigarette. “You are strong, and you are not mean. That’s good,” he assures, touching Harry’s arm gently.

“Thank you, but that’s not true,” Harry smiles ruefully. “I’m really not anything special.”

Or, Harry is an American soldier in France during World War II, and Louis is a French waiter that doesn't mean to fall in love with him.

love love french AUs and while this one isn’t sunshine and rainbows, it’s a beautiful yet heart wrenching piece. warning for period typical homophobia

caught up in your love affair

NR | 8k | @disgruntledkittenface

“And the corgis took to you straightaway,” Harry remarks.

“That’s true,” Louis chuckles.

 “I’ve spent the last 29 years being barked at,” Harry deadpans, jerking his hand toward Louis, “this one walks in, absolutely nothing.”

Louis outright giggles at that, saying, “They were just lying on my feet during tea.”

“Wagging tails,” Harry says, shaking his head.

“It’s because they don’t understand flirting,” Louis tells him, “you can’t charm them the way you do everyone else.”

Royal AU. Prince Harry announces his engagement to Louis Tomlinson in an interview with longtime friend and BBC host Nick Grimshaw. Inspired by Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.

just. 8k of royal fluff. that’s literally it and i adore it so much.

Apples Always Fall (As I Do For You)

M | 54k | @rainbowsandgucci

”Due to unforeseen circumstances, help is needed here at the orchard for the impending apple season. Looking for someone able to start within the next week or two at the most, is willing to do whatever miscellaneous tasks are needed, such as picking & packing apples, running the cash register, and other handywork that may need to be done. Must be good with customers, and able to lift up to 50lbs. Help will be needed until at the least the end of October. Please contact the number found on this page, or come out to the orchard and ask for Harry. All the love xx” --- Louis is staying at his Aunt's farm in a small town in Minnesota for four months. To deal with the boredom that sets in a week into his stay, he starts working at the local apple orchard, owned by twenty six year old Harry Styles. Louis quickly finds himself falling in love with the orchard, and he finds a family in Harry's friends Niall, Liam, and Zayn. He also starts to fall in love with Harry. Falling in love with him turns out to be the easy part.

i never thought i would enjoy an apple orchard fic?? but it’s so good?? farmer harry makes me laugh to think about, but the heartbreak in this fic is so. real.

Mine Would Be You

E | 114k | @crinkle-eyed-boo

Louis blinks his eyes open, his eyelids fluttering as the room swims around him. He takes several gulps of beer once he confirms that he’s definitely not hallucinating, that the very first portrait Harry Styles ever painted of him is hanging on that wall.

Louis stares at the wall, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest as he realizes that there’s not just one painting of him, there’s five, the portraits lined up like they’re some sort of storyboard depicting the rise and fall of his deepest love. His greatest heartache. A pain that cut him so deep that he left the fucking country, severing all ties with his life in New York, now suddenly surrounding him as if he’d never left.

Fucking shit motherfucker fuck.

Louis returns to New York City five years after he left it – and the love of his life – behind. He didn't intend to see Harry again, but fate has a funny way of pulling them together, whether they like it or not. After making a begrudging truce, they both start to wonder: Would it be so bad if history repeated itself?

exes to lovers drama but make it extra sad. the fact that we see so many facets to this story just makes it all the more painful, yet beautiful. this fic also reminds me of how much i love one mister niall horan.

One for Luck

E | 96k | @leavingonatrain

The very first time Louis remembers hearing Harry Styles' deep, deep voice, he's just won gold at the World Equestrian Games and he's officially back on Great Britain's Olympic team. He's also three sheets to the wind, drunk on victory and champagne, and there's a gorgeous boy whispering in his ear. Life's grand.

(AU: Louis and Harry are professional riders on the British Olympic team.)

again, i know nothing about horses, but i like to pretend i do for the sake of this fic. it’s beautiful, it’s smutty what else could you ask for?

Nothing But You On My Mind

E | 83k | @absoloutenonsense

Louis Tomlinson is a PR manager hired to improve the image of royal bad-boy Prince Harry Styles. Unfortunately for him, that means being faced with the Prince's constant innuendos, incessant dirty jokes, and relentless flirting. Louis just wants to make it to Princess Gemma's coronation; once she's crowned Queen, his contract is up and he never has to see the Prince again.

i absolutely. definitely. sobbed tears at this fic. it’s just so beautifully painful to read. don’t want to spoil anything, but this is a must.

Adore You

M | 67k | @isthatyoularry

“We invited our new acquaintances from uptown. You’ve simply got to meet their oldest son!” said his mother with a flourish, and suddenly it became abundantly clear as to why his parents had so adamantly demanded he join them in Deansville for the entirety of the summer.

Against his wishes, Harry spends the holidays at his family’s summer estate, and is reluctantly pulled into a courtship he didn’t ask for. Harry doesn’t want to get married, but Louis does. They don’t fit, but then again they really, really do.

Vaguely set in the 1920’s. Headpieces, jazz, fashionable canes, and flapper dresses, and that.

i strongly relate to harry in this one! one of my favorite historical AUs and honestly i love the thought of louis in well fitting suits.

leave it to the breeze

E | 81k | @hattalove

Louis couldn’t be prouder of his bake, but there’s something—there’s something. Something about Harry Styles and the earnest way he measures, pours, mixes, scrapes. Something about the tip of his tongue poking out of his mouth as he knocks the air out of his batter.

or a great british bake off au in which louis cares about winning and winning only, harry is made of sunshine and rainbow sprinkles, and niall sticks his nose into other people's business. also featuring liam as louis's best friend-slash-concerned mother, and zayn as a macaron connoisseur.

i. love. the. great british baking show. baking + h&l is amazing. and another reminder as to why niall is the absolute best.

Paint The Sky With Stars

M | 62k | @icanhazzalou grrr let me tag

On 10 April 1912, Harry Styles boards the finest ship the world has ever seen. Still grieving the death of their mother, he and his sister are being sent to America to live with a callous uncle who cares more about his business connections than family. Harry prepares himself for a long, disappointing voyage alone in his stateroom.

Louis Tomlinson has borrowed and saved, and finally has enough to purchase a Third Class ticket to America. With all of his belongings in a single ruck sack, he boards the Titanic filled with hope for a brighter future. Never one to sit still, he can’t resist exploring the massive ship, and soon goes sneaking into First Class in a stolen steward’s uniform.

By a twist of fate, Louis finds himself in Harry’s stateroom, entranced by the most attractive man he’s ever laid eyes on. He keeps returning day after day, even if he doesn’t understand what it is about Harry that continues pulling him in. That’s all right; Louis has a week to figure it out, and Harry is plenty willing to help.

Except they don’t have a week. They have four days. Because on 15 April, their entire world will be turned upside down.

Or, the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

gorgeous historical fic that’s so accurate and painstakingly written. i keep coming back to it!

When It’s Late At Night

M | 25k | @all-these-larrythings

Louis has zero interest in an ex-boybander turned solo artist when his appearance on the show gets announced, but that's exactly who he gets stuck with when Harry Styles shows up at the Late Late show to promote the release of his debut album. For an entire fucking week.

Or

The Late Late prompt that we all need to get through this excruciatingly hard time.

remember when i said i love Late Late AUs? yeah. i love that louis gives absolutely zero shits in this fic until he gives all the shits.

Chasing Empty Spaces

E | 79k | @domestic-harry

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

gorgeous historical AU that goes through Harry’s struggle with his sexuality wonderfully. this one also made me cry.

Resist Everything Except Temptation

E | 100k | @domestic-harry

The lethargic sound of heels clicking against wood resonated across the sea. Footsteps descended the staircase, every assured step creating a menacing aura as it grew closer. Perspiration gathered along Louis’ palms as the rhythmic sound halted in front of him.

“Captain,” Malik greeted.

Louis watched out of his peripheral as Malik’s boots shuffled back a few steps. Sweat matted the hair along the nape of Louis’ neck as he waited for something to happen. He felt as if a sharp blade was twisting his gut as the silence became tangible. There was a metallic slide of a sword being pulled out of its sheath, the sound startling Louis out of his cocoon of sterile shock. His shoulders jumped as the tip of a blade flattened underneath his jaw. Louis’ distorted reflection stared back at him in the polished metal. Engraved rose petals twisted his appearance as they crawled up the length of the sword. The sword lifted and took Louis’ chin with it.

Standing in front of Louis was Captain Styles.

OR

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

love this pirate AU that’s got one badass gemma styles. also, harry as a super cool pirate in gorgeous clothes makes me super happy!

i’ll make this feel like home

E | 49k

Harry to groans himself and then takes a deep breath. “Okay, well. Here’s the thing. I peed on a stick.”

Louis isn’t able to get more than a shocked “What!” out before Harry’s steamrolling on.

“I peed on a stick and it says it’s positive, but you always prattle on about how it’s best to go to the doctor’s before you get excited, you know to confirm it because sometimes hormones are off or you have like a tumor or some shit and get false positives and what if I’m dying and-”

“You’re pregnant?!” Louis shouts out, stomach dropping as the words leave his mouth.

“Um, yeah… maybe.”

[the one where Louis' hopelessly in love with his best mate... who just happens to be pregnant with another man's baby.]

baby momma harry with hot mess!Louis is a recipe for disaster, but this one has plenty of fluff to make up for it.

Hands Clasped Tight

E | 44k | @afirethatcannotdie

“What am I looking at here?” Harry asks.

“This, my friends, is a ‘proof’ Instagram account, run by your students,” Liam announces.

“It’s got all this stuff about how the two of you are together,” Niall adds.

“I heard about that,” says one of the math teachers. “Confiscated a kid’s phone today when they were looking at it. I have to say, the evidence that you’re dating is pretty damning.”

“Really,” Louis says dryly. “Do you think being married for three years might have something to do with it?”

Or the one where Harry and Louis are high school teachers and their students have been playing matchmaker for over a year. Little do they know, Harry and Louis are already married.

love love teacher harry and louis that’s mostly funny fluff with a little angst. just a teeny amount. reminds me of my own experiences with meddling students haha.

*updated 2/16/21*