#The Captain! I had to stretch for his shoulder and arm details like A Lot but I think he's still mostly recognizable? Maybe?

[uniquexusposts]

A one-day friend - O. Piastri

Summary: Y/n and Oscar sit next to each other on a flight and get to know each other. Note: I know Oscar probably flies business or first class, but for the story he doesn't.

A small smile curved on Y/n her mouth when she looked out of the airplane window. She was leaving Europa behind. After a month of travelling through Germany, France, Switzerland and Italy, it was time to go home. Y/n was glad she finally could go home, but this trip made her realise how much she wanted to move to Europe, being free and away from home.

It was sunny outside, there were no clouds. Usually, Y/n flew on the worse times: in the night and in the bad weather. This was one of the first times she was able to have a look at the tiny countries. While looking at the view she got, her mind stopped working - in the right way. She finally cleared her mind. There was nothing she was thinking of. It was like meditating.

The entertainment system of the airplane was insanely good. There were a lot of films Y/n was planning on seeing but didn't have the chance to because...reasons. She was glad she had the time and was being able to watch the films now.

When the first film came to an end, Y/n planned on catching up with work. Her fingers touched the touch screen to look up the flight details. She tightened her jaw when her airplane neighbour was touching her arm. I get it, we don't have much space, but you are in my aura right now. Before she knew it, the head of her neighbour was softly falling on her shoulder. Y/n gently moved her head to see what exactly was going on. The man was asleep. Great. She closed her eyes and sighed, annoyed. 

There was an option to wake him up, but Y/n didn't want to. Maybe something was going on with him, and perhaps this was the first moment he could sleep? Or maybe he had anxiety? Or he just broke up? Or he was just tired? Y/n opened her eyes and looked at the screen again. She was being kind and let him sleep. Four more hours to go and a fantastic entertainment system. The option work wasn't an option anymore.

"Good evening, this is your captain speaking. In less than 20 minutes we will be arriving at Dubai International Airport. It is currently 21:45 and 30º degree celsius. On behalf of Emirates and the crew, thank you for flying Emirates, and hopefully, we will see you soon again," the captain spoke after a few hours.

Y/n stretched her legs and breathed deeply but gently in. The man was still sleeping with his head on her shoulder. It gave her two thoughts: he was a stranger, this was odd, and it wasn't as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. The cabin crew were walking through the plane to get all the garbage and inform the people to straighten their seats. The friendly steward asked if Y/n could wake up her partner. What partner?

She did what she was being asked and nudged the side of the man with her elbow. The man looked up, and his eyes widened. "We are about to land," she awkwardly smiled and pressed her lips into a thin line.

"Oh," he mumbled and looked confused around. "Thank you. And I'm sorry," he apologised. "Have I been asleep for the whole flight?"

"Yup."

"I'm sorry," the man said again.

Y/n looked at him. "It's alright," she told him. The look in her eyes was warm and friendly. The man felt sorry he might have made her flight uncomfortable. "They...erm...gave me the snacks. So..." She gave the man the two cups of water and some crackers.

"Right, thanks."

Maybe the best part of this flight was for the man, he was the one who got his sleep. Y/n, on the other hand... Sitting at the window seat is fantastic because you can look outside, but when having strangers next to you who are asleep...not ideal. Especially when you need to go to the bathroom. For those six hours, it was slightly subtle. But for the next flight, it would be hell. Why am I so helpful to people?

The plane landed safely and smoothly at Dubai International Airport. It was already dark and warm, but that didn't matter to Y/n. She needed to go to her transfer flight on the other side of the massive airport. There were two hours left to the next departure. Y/n was glad she could finally walk and stretch her legs properly. It was late in the evening, so there weren't many people around the airport anymore. She didn't mind, within 30 min she was at the right gate. It gave her the time to look around at the duty-free stores. It was the same as the airports in Europe, so there weren't many new things to see.

Even though it wasn't new, Y/n found a manner to almost miss her flight. And you know when you are a national embarrassment when they have you call your name through the speakers of the airport. But she wasn't the only one, more people were invited. Y/n made her way to the gate and showed her ticket.

"You are right on time, Miss Y/l/n," the Qantas Airline employee said.

Y/n politely smiled and walked towards the airplane. Fourteen more hours to and we are reaching the next destination: Melbourne. She ran her hand through her hair and stepped into the aircraft. The friendly crew welcomed Y/n and guided her to her seat.

"Thanks," Y/n thanked the woman and smiled.

Window seat, again.

She looked at the people who were sitting next to her. A woman and a man, but one of them was the man who slept next to her on the flight to Dubai. Her eyes widened, and she parted her lips. They both stood up to let Y/n take place on her own seat.

"Well, this is awkward," the man said and looked at Y/n. Y/n fastened her seatbelt and made herself comfortable for how comfortable an economy seat could be. "Next time, just wake me up."

What are the coincidences this is actually happening?

"I will," Y/n shortly said.

"I'm Oscar," the man introduced himself and stuck out his hand.

"Y/n." She grabbed his hand and softly squeezed in it.

"Nice to meet you, Y/n."

He was polite. "Nice to meet you too, Oscar." 

--

"This is actually the first time I have seen this film," Oscar said when 'Bohemian Rhapsody' ended.

Y/n raised her eyebrows and looked surprised at him. "You serious?" Oscar slowly nodded. "You seriously have something missed during those years. I'm glad I made you watch it."

The fourteen-hour flight was surprisingly good and fun. Oscar was a kind man, after all. They talked a bit and watched a few films together. Y/n wasn't able to sleep, she couldn't sleep on the plane, and Oscar already had his sleep from the previous flight.

Oscar smirked. "You got me," he said and stretched his arms above his head. "Four more hours to go." Y/n took a deep breath and nodded. "I'm going for a walk. Maybe you should go too."

He was right; having a walk through the plane - it probably wasn't more than 150 metres if you walked to the back of the plane and back, but it was a walk to stretch the legs on this long flight. Oscar asked the unknown woman, who was sitting on his other side if she could stand up. Oscar and Y/n got up and walked to the back of the plane.

"This is just so awkward," Y/n said. "All those people who are looking at you, yikes."

Oscar smirked and looked behind him at Y/n. "You must do something for it, Y/n."

When they arrived at the back of the plane, Y/n had no idea what she saw. There was a small bar, there were bowls filled with fruit and biscuits. She looked at Oscar, and a happy smile grew on her lips.

"See, the back of the planes are the best. Not many people know this, but this is for us, the economy section. This is another reason why you should go for a walk in the plan: drinks and food," he told her and grabbed an apple and a biscuit.

"Wow, what an invention. Brilliant," Y/n spoke and grabbed an apple as well. It felt good to walk around. Sitting on an airplane seat for several hours was awful; the little space, the many people in your aura and not being able to stretch your legs as you want to. "I will keep this in my mind. I seriously had no idea this actually was on a plane."

"Perks of a frequent flyer," he winked.

"I am too," she smirked. "But I had no idea."

"Oh."

The last four hours went by, and they landed safely on the Australian ground again. Y/n was glad she wasn't alone after all. Flying with someone on your side is a lot better than flying alone. They had talked a lot about regular stuff, like politics, the news and that kind of stuff. They left the plane and walked both towards the exit of the airport.

Y/n read the signs on the board and looked around. "I have to go to my next flight," she mentioned Oscar and stopped walking. His smile softened and looked disappointed at her. It was almost sad to see him like that like he hoped Y/n would go to Melbourne as well. "So..."

"Where do you have to go?" He asked curiously.

"Sydney," she answered and pressed her lips into a thin line. "Thanks for the great company, it absolutely made it all better," she smiled.

He nodded and gave her a small smile, he surely was disappointed to leave her behind. "Give me your phone." He had to deal with this situation quickly, as the intercom called for the flight was about to board to Sydney. Y/n squeezed her eyebrows together and grabbed her phone out of her pocket. "I really enjoyed this flight, I wish every flight was just as joyful as this one. Text me when you are home, okay?"

Is this his smooth way for asking my number? To keep in touch with me? "I will."

Y/n put her phone back in her pocket and gave him a warm but exhausted smile. An hour and thirty more hours to go, and she was home. People from their flight passed them, some were annoyed, some were happy to arrive at their home base.

"I really have to go," she said and slowly walked away. "Thanks again!"

Oscar parted his lips and knew he needed to say something. "You can 'accidentally' miss your flight so I can take you out on a coffee!"

Y/n looked at him and lowered her eyebrows while a cheeky smile curved on her lips. "Safe trip home, Oscar," she chuckled.

"It was worth a shot," Oscar said loudly and pointed at her. It made her laugh. "Have a good flight, Y/n!" He showed one of his best smiles and winked.

Y/n bit her lip and turned around while she walked away. A small smile played on her lips. It was just a friend on the plane. Sometimes you have friends for a short time because you are in the same situation. This is a situation like that. But this oddly felt more than just a friend.

No Y/n, just a one day-friend, great company on the flight, maybe a little bit too much coincidence, but a one day-friend.

Her eyes fell on the dark airport. There were lights of a landing plane, the runway and...and the ugly self-reflection of herself in the windows. A sigh left her mouth, and she went to the gate of her last flight.

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ zoro, sanji, ace, law & "casual" relationships

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤroronoa zoro, sanji vinsmoke, portgas d. ace, trafalgar d. law

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, gn! reader, sfw, slightly suggestive, we all yearners here, nothing new, little bit of angst, fwb's and/or lack of labels

from vyon. my intention was to have reader upset on the dynamics of their relationship but i can't see any of the op boys/men loving casually (apart from a couple sluts... shanks.. jokes :p), their love runs so deep, it governs their every move soooo :3 sorry if that was what you were expecting, but i was also expecting that until i started writin for zo and the rest jus followed; i wanted to add lufs, but i feel like if he loved you, he'd make it known and apparent, he leaves no room to doubt when he loves

zoro, unsurprisingly, doesn't indulge in casual relationships. nothing in his life has ever been casual for him, not his swords, not his captain, not his crew, and it certainly won't be you that he'll ever feel casual about. it starts small, it starts stupid, it's a stroke of impulsivity and that's his downfall. the swordsman dwells on the immediate here and now often. though of course, zoro has long–term plans with his life, but a lot of the details between his current now and the promised future are blurred, unclear— which allows him enough space and flexibility to adapt to any new situations that he's thrown into. he's diligent and stubborn, but smart enough to know that it's necessary not to be so rigid and headstrong.

when you become casual, it's like something in him has been satisfied, a ruining ache that'd had settled below the scars he'd first received from mihawk stops hurting. your hands smoothed over his skin, your large smile thrown over your shoulder with the sun melting over your features, your warmth so sticky and humid when you sneak into his hammock— he warns you that he's sweaty from training but it doesn't deter you, telling him that you're also sweating from running around with your captain all day. you'll both just have to take a shower later, you tell him and zoro naturally imagines himself trailing after you into the bathroom with no incentive. it all becomes so natural that luffy, nami, chopper, everyone begins looking for you when it's zoro they want. admittedly, there's still a dull sting where the ache used to lay sometimes. when your head nods down, your body stretched out on top of his, and you press your lips so slow, so sweet against his own that he thinks the next words to leave your lips when you pull away will be a confession. a declaration that might make his own promise to become the best swordsman pale in comparison. but old wounds scar, and those scars hurt when you press down on them because they're so deep.

that's why zoro still feels the ache sometimes when your entire weight presses him down, rendering him immobile— him, a swordsman, immobile. he's allowed your marks onto his back, there's so much softness in how he touches you and yet. there's still nothing tangible.

sanji wouldn't settle for a casual relationship unless it's the only thing he could get and unfortunately, it's the only thing he thinks he'd be capable of having with you. no matter how tall, how gentlemanly, how sweet, generous, attractive sanji was, there's something inherent in him that makes the thought of having you promised to his heart incomprehensible. without that tangible promise, there's nothing there for him to inevitably destory; no heart of yours left in the care of a vinsmoke and he believes it to be for the best.

despite how his heart lurches whenever you sneak up on him in the kitchen, despite your footsteps already so familiar to his heart that it immediately accompanies the dull beating that sounds in his ribs as you draw yourself closer and closer, wrapping your arms around him and leaning yourself onto him. despite how it's like you trust him as your weight falls onto him, despite how you relax as his arm reaches back awkwardly just to accommodate you, laying on your waist. despite the domesticity you offered as a lingering kiss on his cheek and ask him what he's making. despite it all.

he knows he wants something more— robin learns he wants something more when she becomes a witness to the decision to allow his fist to fall on the face of creep that had followed you all the way back to the sunny, but it's knowledge that'll always be foreign to you. it's haunting still, as you hold his hands in yours and dab a cotton soaked in antiseptics on his knuckles. his fingers tighten around yours when you finish, drawing away to put the first aid kit back and he pulls you back. just for a moment, whilst the skin of his hands are raw and bloody and weak enough not to hurt your heart if you ever decided to hand it over.

ace thinks himself capable of keeping things casual, foolish really when he pauses long enough to remember that his entire being was moulded from love. though it helps that he's such a notorious pirate, from such a notorious crew; it helps him pack up with excuses of having things he needed to do, people he needed to see, and people to avoid. he doesn’t stick around one place for too long, an enigmatic and mysterious enough man to make a decent night to tell friends about. he's content with that, whitebeard either doesn't know or doesn’t care, and his crew can't complain since he doesn't ever bring them on board. (though marco sometimes makes him go through very specific check ups that he gets teased for. even then, the trail of hearts he leaves behind is fairly scarce despite how his crew paints him out to be.)

that's why it's surprising for his crew to see him come back to the docked moby dick on an island under whitebeard's protection with someone trailing behind him. some of them hang from the guard rails, watching with interest as he spreads his arms towards his father's ship with a proud smile that only grows to look like it's tearing through his skin as your eyes widen in amazement. he hangs around the dock with you for a while longer, talking your ear off it seems as his fellow pirates swap places watching their commander. when the sun begins setting, ace is waving goodbye to you with a smile that's promising his return and immediately gets teased when he shoots himself up in a pillar of fire to get onto the ship. (the pirates ignore the way he looks over his shoulder to see if you've seen it.)

though surprising, they think they've seen the last of the unlucky soul ace has bought close to the moby dick until they're two days worth of sailing away from that island and he's scrunching his nose up at a sheet of paper, humming and making loud, annoying noises until someone else cuts in and asks what he's reading. a letter, he states. who's sending his ass letters? they wonder. the letters persist. a few months later, they're rounding back to that island because there'd been trouble there. whitebeard thinks it's lucky that ace was off on his own business when he'd gotten the news but when he makes it to the island, there are flickers of flames so vibrant and tamed that could only belong to his son. it takes a while for things to calm down, but ace is holding someone close to his chest as he pushes through the rooms of the moby dick, shouting for marco.

whilst marco is watching over you, whitebeard has to order ace away from your side to talk to him. it's customary for whitebeard pirates to introduce their lovers to their father, he tells ace. ace's face scrunches up, a flicker of regret. it's nothing like that.

law is a realist, a man of science, only convinced by facts and straightforward reasoning. love has neither facts nor straightforward reasoning; it's not something he can study to understand better, he has nothing to cut open, to observe in different conditions under a microscope. the body's desires, on the other hand, is easily explained by science. even then, law isn't one really to have desires often. they're unlikely and rare, but they happen sometimes and he rations that it's simple biology to wake up with his pants uncomfortably tight.

knowing you well enough, law's no stranger to the fact that you're not someone that can be easily swayed enough to the delusions of love after a few nights together— you're smart. though the first time is a simple accident. days, weeks, months of being stuck in the polar tang around his crew with no space or privacy to take care of himself, it only takes a couple lingering touches and a misguided conversation for law to reach out. after, you both come to an agreement that'll simply help you both let off some steam. it's easy, it's simple, until it isn't and law finds out that he was a stranger to himself and he finds that he is someone that is easily swayed by delusion. he rationalises it as a physical attraction.

then, you are separated. he misses his crew of course, and when the thought hones in, detailing out the features of you that he'd missed, he rationalises and he rationalises. luckily, with the arrival of the strawhats and their reckless captain, law has barely any time alone with any thoughts that aren't doubts about teaming up with them and more and more plans to counteract the ones that had been messed up. somehow, magically, luckily, it all works out. for the first time in a while, his mind is quiet. he doesn’t think of you or the strawhats. his mind strays further back to a certain love that'd left him starved, crawling in the shadow of the words that'd been governing him for a long time.

and of course, because nothing in his life ever goes his way, he's shook awake, forced to face his raw and unadulterated feelings with no way to rationalise. don't try to find a reason for someone's love, whilst poetic and helpful in another context, law finds many reasons why he loves you and none of them belong to the categories: fact or straightforward reasoning. he dreads returning to you and having to force his love back under those two genres.

[tunastime]

A Moment Called Forever

waves my hands about! this is the first chapter (ish) of the docsuma SEN fic for my au I created for Stretching Endless Night!! it is. eventual docsuma! but I wanted to go into detail about who xisuma and his crew were before the Prometheus, before tango met jimmy, and before ethubs had their near fatal mission :3 so here it is! yaay!!

Xisuma pilots a ship known as the HSS Moonrise. His career begins--and nearly ends--with the crew and missions aboard during the first five years of his captain's career. Doc, the right hand to a captain far too young to be piloting, rebuilds himself from the ground up alongside the crew of a ship that's become family. At the same time, he watches his captain grow and change and root himself firmly into his life. Or: Doc and Xisuma watch their lives change and reflect each other. Or: how the Prometheus station came to be, and how its Admiral, alongside his captains, help it blossom. (2414 words)

Stationed ELMSC-14, stardate 2204.60. Deployed: Cpt. Xisuma V. LtCmd. Doc M., LtCmd. Cleo Z., Lt. Slip G., Lt. Mumbo J., Lt. Tango T. Stationed: Lt. Biffa T.

Conditions: visibility, 50km, clear, winds NW 2km. Communications established. Radar operational. Pinging team leader.

Xisuma shuts the screen on his visor, blocking out the binary suns and washing the world in shade and orange grids. Elm is devoid of surface life, long since uninhabited by the companies that had mined underground. In front of him stretches orange-red sand and large, smooth cliffs. It reminds him a lot of pictures of Earth—deserts and mesas with the sun high ahead of them. Tango’s voice crackles to life, then smoothes out as he speaks.

“So what’re we lookin’ for, X?”

X turns his head, glancing back at Tango a pace behind him. To Tango’s left is Mumbo, with a bag slung across his chest, much like Xisuma. Tango hefts the core sampler further up onto his back—likely less from the weight and more to keep balanced. 

“Anything,” Xisuma answers truthfully. “Like you both know, this place was abandoned ages ago. Anything we can find to either prove it’s worth using or prove it’s good to leave is good for HASA.”

Mumbo sighs. 

“Wow,” he says. “Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen soil this orange before.”

“I’ve never seen soil,” Tango jokes, voice dipping as he elbows Mumbo. Mumbo snorts, shoving him sideways.

“We get it, robo-man.”

Tango scoffs—or makes a noise that sounds just like it.

“Android! First of all!” he huffs. Xisuma sees him fold his arms when he glances back. “Anyway—the red comes from enriched iron deposits in the sediment. Partially magnesium as well.”

Below his visor, Xisuma grins.

“Says the man who’s never seen soils,” he pipes up. Mumbo laughs.

“Just because I’ve never seen ‘em doesn’t mean I didn’t learn everything I know from skimming Biff’s books,” Tango says. 

“You’ve got a point,” X says. He hears Tango agree with him, something that crackles into obscurity as Cleo’s voice rings clear through the communicator.

“Xisuma,” she says.

“Go ahead,”

“Hey—” Cleo starts. “We’ve not found anything over here yet, and we’re about a kilometer or so from the first dig point. Should we keep going?”

“Affirmative, Cleo,” Xisuma says. “You all can keep going—we’re about 800 meters from ours, so we’ll stop here before we move onto the next one.”

Tango jogs to walk at his side, pulling up his projection of Elm’s surface. Laid out in a flat grid, Xisuma can see their current point, a small blip on the screen, and the location they’re trying to reach, a larger, solid shape behind the next crest. He leans into Tango’s space to glance at the map, and Tango bumps their shoulders together. Leaning back, smile on his face, Xisuma says:

“I want to get at least two done each today before we get back to the ship. That only leaves three total for tomorrow, and it’s more than likely we’ll be able to extrapolate one from orbit.”

“Heard,” Cleo says. “We’ll let you know if we find anything interesting, yeah?”

“Please do!” X chirps. “That’s the whole point of us being out here.”

Doc’s voice breaks through the communicator as he laughs. 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he says. X snorts, shaking his head.

“Be safe out there, you lot—” he laughs. “Cleo, Slip, Doc—”

“Why me?” Doc cuts through. 

“Accident prone,” Tango supplies. 

Xisuma laughs, waving his hand. 

“Okay, okay,” he says, trying to quell the conversation. “Let us know if you find anything of note, or if we can help you at all after our two digs. We’ve got about 3 kilometers total today, so we may have a little less further to go than you.”

“Will do, Captain,” Cleo says. “Thanks, X.”

“Sure thing.”

Xisuma hums to himself, amused, as Cleo’s transmission ends. The three, Tango, Xisuma, Mumbo, walk in a line along the orange rock and sand, following the path of the map and Tango’s guidance. Tango steps ahead of Xisuma, curled over the map, shoulders hunched as he walks. He walks with the surety of someone who can see nearly everything around him, without interference or blindspots. He follows the bob of Tango’s head, caught in the yellow shimmer of his overlay as they walk. They make it up a rise and partway down into a valley. The sand kicks up behind them, swirling and settling as they go. Their bootprints in the rock and dirt are obscured as soon as they’re made.

The valley sits in a low between two other large faces, though the area itself is raised high above the ground. The rocky plateau dips and curves, creating large holes in the rock, smooth hills, and flat rises. If Xisuma were to walk a kilometer out to the west, he could see where the cliff face drops into the depression below, a sunken crater from mining operations in the years prior.

After a few minutes, Tango slows to pause, turning to look back at the two behind him. Though Xisuma can barely see his bright, neon eyes from behind the visor, he can tell when he meets eyes with both of them, nodding. Xisuma tilts his head.

“Here?” he asks.

Tango nods.

“Looks like it from our map, here,” he says, holding it out for X to look at. The blip of red against the screen is right over their geographical point for their first dig. Xisuma nods, then, unclipping his data pad from his hip and beginning to note down their surroundings.

“I’ll start field conditions while you two start the sample,” he says. “You remember what we’re looking for?”

“How could I forget?” Tango pipes up, patting his helmet with his glove. Xisuma snorts. He’s not sure it picks up through their linked comms, but he’s sure the shake of his head gets his notion across.

“Let Mumbo help you, alright?” he says. Tango shoots him a thumbs up. 

Mumbo unhooks the drill machine from Tango’s bag, setting the chunky piece of equipment into the dirt. The two begin the process of setting up the sample drill together, lifting the bulky box to release the feet, straightening it to level. Xisuma turns away from them, staring out across the orange sand and yellow sky, still instinctively shielding his face from the binary suns. He can see across the valley and to another crest, the wide slopes bright orange and gold in the early day light. From behind his visor, Xisuma smiles, laughing to himself.

The conditions are clear, low wind, cold. It’s not a planet that ever housed life on the surface, so the frigid conditions aren’t an issue. X is certain something likely could survive, human, humanoid, or otherwise, but nothing ever did that anyone saw. He was hopeful that it remained that way, though no scan of the surface and ten feet under gave anything away. He marks down what he could classify the soil as by sight, but the soil tests would have to confirm what he knew once they got back to the ship. When he turns back to Mumbo and Tango, Tango is crouched by the core-sampler, watching it dig into the sand and rock, and Mumbo is sitting against a rock, staring at the orange sky. He makes his way back over, setting the data pad back on his hip.

“Workin’ fine?” he asks.

Mumbo nods, giving him a thumbs up.

“Working great,” he says. “Looks like it’ll be about fifteen minutes until we get a complete sample, and we can start analysis while we’re hiking to the next point.”

X nods.

“Tango,” he asks. Tango’s head perks up. “Where is the next data point?”

“Good question,” Tango starts. He unlatches his communicator, pulling up the map projection. “It looks like about a kilometer. To the northeast, so we might meet Cleo, Doc, and Slip on the way, if they haven’t reached their second waypoint. Theirs is due north of ours.”

Xisuma nods.

“About a thirty minute walk?” he asks. Tango nods. 

“Just about.”

“Fantastic.”

For a long moment, Xisuma watches the core-sampler rotate slowly. He watches the percentages rise and fall as Tango starts to talk about what he expects the composition of the soil will be. Mumbo pipes up at some point, adding to the bidding, though the two quickly lapse into chatter about the next project they might receive. Where Mumbo specialized in many of the ship’s electronic components, Tango had quickly caught on, in their nearly two and a half, if not three, years together, to how the major functions of the ship worked. He could make repairs quicker than the rest of the team, especially in orbit. There was more EVA time recorded by Tango than any other member of the crew—with no need for oxygen, and with sun exposure being his only real worry, Tango could work quickly outside in minimal conditions. In fact, if Xisuma hadn’t been worried about wind and UV damage, Tango probably wouldn’t have donned a suit for this mission. But he did, and he stood looking small against the orange sand.

As the drill lifts the sample into one of its chambers, Tango begins the shutdown process. He and Mumbo lift the legs into the machine, boxing it together and reattaching the carrying strap. Dusting off the surface, Tango slings it over one shoulder, resettling it on his back.

“Alright,” Xisuma says cheerily. “Are you all ready?”

There’s a beat between when Xisuma finishes speaking and when Tango goes to answer. In that beat, no more than a second, there’s a high-pitched ringing in Xisuma’s ears. He squeezes his eyes shut. And in the less-than-a-second afterward, the air and ground wobbles, and something, not even two kilometers away, explodes. 

Xisuma ducks on instinct, stumbling as the sound and air hits him. He hears Mumbo’s voice through the communicator—what he thinks is Mumbo’s, because he doesn’t hear anything else until the ringing fades and he rights himself. He whips around, trying to find the source of the explosion, searching for anything, really, to make things make sense, to place a face to the sound, sharp and still stinging his ears. He sees a plume of sand and smoke in the distance. The back of his mouth suddenly feels very, very dry.

“Tango—” he shouts. “Mumbo, are you two—”

“Fine!” Mumbo says. “Tango’s fine, too—”

“‘M right here, what—”

“An explosion?” Xisuma manages. “I dunno—”

Xisuma chokes on his next breath as he tries to force the words out. His hand comes to his wrist, fiddling with his communicator.

“That wasn’t that far—” Tango starts.

“Cleo,” Xisuma starts, paging his lieutenant. “Cleo, Doc, Slip, are you three all alright?”

“Xisuma—” Cleo says, words crackling. The crackling never fades, though, like she’s caught in static. Her words come choppy through the haze. “Something just—we hit something—”

“Cleo, what happened?”

“I don’t know,” Cleo manages. Her voice is wobbily. “Something we dug up—my vision’s busted, I-I can’t find Slip and Doc—”

Xisuma freezes. Very quickly, all of his joints go cold, down to his wrist and fingertips. He swallows hard, forcing down the heartbeat in his throat and pulling in a breath of oxygen too sharp and too cold.

“Tango,” he starts, voice leveling. Static surfaces and fades in his visor, the remnant of heat and dust washing over them as he tastes the tang of filtered air in his mouth. “Comm Biffa and tell him to bring the ship as close as he can to the second extraction point—” he turns, facing the two of them. “It has a bigger trauma kit on board. If someone’s suit got damaged it’s not gonna last long.”

“Okay,” Tango manages, taking a step back. Xisuma watches him fiddle with the transponder on his wrist before he sees his name blink from his HUD as he switches channels.

“Mumbo how far is their extraction point from here?” Xisuma asks, recalling the projection of the map of their portion of Elm. He can see the faint blip of Cleo’s transponder across the terrain.

“It’s—maybe a few kilometers. It’s not far? I think—I think it’s not far. I—” Mumbo stutters. “Yeah. Why?”

“Biffa won’t make it in time—” Xisuma says, tightening the straps for his bag, the data pad at his side. He brings up the overlay for both the extraction points and the dig locations. “I mean—he can get to you, but I need someone on board who knows how to set up the trauma kit, and that’s you, Mumbo. And I need someone to make sure we don’t damage the sample.”

“Do you think you’ll make it in time?” Mumbo asks.

“I—I have to, don’t I? I need you and Tango to stay here.”

“Woah—” Tango starts. “Captain, I—that’s a huge risk—”

“Tango,” Xisuma starts. “Lieutenant, I need someone with Mumbo, you’re the only one who can co-navigate with Biffa out of the two of you, and I need Mumbo in medical. And someone has to fetch the sample. Can I trust you to do that, Tango?”

“Yes—yessir.”

“Good—what’s Biffa’s ETA?”

“He—with takeoff sequence, he’ll be able to make it here in 35 minutes.”

“That’s good,” Xisuma manages. “That’s all we can ask for—we can work with that, can’t we?”

He laughs. It’s thin and weak, but Mumbo lets out a heh in response that washes over his nerves like a salve. He swallows, trying to get the dry feeling out of his mouth. He turns toward the plume of smoke for a moment, eyes flicking back to the group.

“X,” Tango says. “Be careful.”

Right. Okay. Xisuma shudders out a sigh. It’s more of a whistle, really, through the helmet. He does it because he thinks he can feel bile rising in his throat, and he’d really not like to get sick with no way of cleaning anything out.Something small in his abdomen curls up, tight and heavy. In that same moment, he sets his jaw. His vision is clouded with the heavy orange overlay, cutting through the rise of smoke that’s just started to cloud his vision. Turning back to Tango, he nods firmly.

“Tango—”

“I have comm until you get back,” Tango says, nodding back at him.

“Yes—” Xisuma starts. “Good luck. Good luck.” 

Stepping backward, Xisuma feels a cold rush through his body. Then he turns, fully, toward the smoke.

[ms-oswald]

homesick | chapter three

author's note: new chapter! i finally see the light at the end of that tunnel, fjdsklghfjdks. This is another long one (34 pages), cause apparently i don't know how to make things short. Also, timelines here are different than the show/books - details at the bottom, post-chapter to avoid spoilers-ish :3 to whoever is reading, hope you like it! thank you to @persephones-journey for helping me out ❤️ banner credits to @arcielee lots of love & stay safe 💕

     “Finan, look.” The man in question had his attention given to a sickly Uhtred until a familiar voice pulled him away. 

“I’m here.” The comfort in her tone made his heart drop, though, she caught it just in time. 

“Kára?” A quiet sigh of relief left him at the sight of her, warmth settling in the pit of his stomach. 

A coy smile covered her cold lips, her eyes taking him in. “Well, if it isn’t the captain of the Irish sea...” 

To his feet, he ran to her and quickly pulled her in his arms. “What are ya doing here?” He felt her wrap her own around him, pressing tightly. He lingered for a moment, simply inhaling her scent, the cold mist of winter infused in her hair. 

“This dance again?” He could hear the light chuckle in her chords and pulled away, matching her with his own soft snigger. She placed her hand on his cheek, head slightly inclining sideways. “It is good to see you.” 

“It’s good to see ya too.”  

A sheepish smile dimpled her cheeks, an innate gesture shadowing the sound of his voice. He turned his head into her touch, kissing the heel of her palm, and closed his eyes for a second as he breathed in, simply enjoying her presence right next to him after been apart for too long. 

A slight frown shaped above his brow as he noticed her new hairdo.  

“Ya cut your hair...” He ran his fingers through, following the new length as they fell to her shoulders. She placed her hand over his, her grin dissipating slightly.  

“Involuntary, unfortunately.” She then ruffled his own do as she perched herself on the tip of her toes. “Yours has grown.” She grabbed his cloak, tugging him closer as her sense for the dramatics slipped down her tongue playfully. “Thank the gods.”  

Another low chuckle escaped him, taken by the way her smile stretched once more.  

He leaned, hovering closely above her lips. “If this was an offense, I could find the perpetrator and kill him.”  

A light giggled trembled beneath her chest, her teeth nibbling her bottom lip. “Mhmm.” She bumped her nose with his, glancing downwards to the pink of his skin before looking back up to him, sticking herself to his hues as she teased more. “Does that mean you have decided to join me once this madness ends?” 

Their moment burst, interrupted by the sound of Osferth clearing his throat.  

Kára rolled her eyes as she pivoted her attention to the tent, noting a weak Uhtred still lying down; it would be a lie to herself if she wasn’t enjoying this a little bit.  

She shifted back to Finan, patting his cheek. “Come on, let’s get you all back to Dunholm. Ragnar is waiting.” She then leaned near again, whispering to him. “We can catch up later.” 

He huffed a smile and placed his arm around her shoulders as he pulled her in, placing a soft kiss to her temple. 

     Reaching Dunholm the next day, the boys were on edge, the atmosphere slightly tense as they walked through the gates. 

Kára dismounted her horse, its reins given to the stable boy as she turned to Finan. 

She grabbed his hand, her finger slipping through his meticulously as she eyed him – a hint of mischief glimmering. “How about I help you take your mind off things, hmm?” 

She sensed his hesitation, her hazels furrowing.  

“I can’t now... I need to make sure Uhtred is-” 

She exhaled sharply, letting go of him as she pulled back. “You need rest too, Finan. You look like shit.”  

He could see she had grown annoyed, her playful demeanor vanishing under his words; as much as he wanted to find himself back in her arms, back in the comfort of her warmth, he felt obliged to remain as his lord’s second in command, watching over him. 

He saw her jaw ticked as she took another step away. She was giving up. “You know where to find me if you ever decide to get your head out of his arse.”  

“Kára-” She had started walking away when he called her, forcing her to a halt as she turned back to him.  

“It’s fine. We’re good.” Her hands were in the air, in retreat, before pivoting back and leaving him. 

He cursed under his breath as she disappeared out of his sight. He then turned on his feet, finding Osferth slightly fidgeting in front of him. “What, baby monk?” He sighed, exasperation trembling at his fingertips. 

The young man stood straight, calm. “Go to her.” He nodded towards where Kára had left. “I’ll watch over Lord Uhtred.” The Irishman stilled, his eyes cast downward, indecisive. Osferth persisted, his soft tone pushing encouragement to his friend. “We’re safe here, Finan. We’ll be fine. Go.” 

Finan nodded, running his hand down his face.  

He dropped a breath as he patted the monk’s shoulder, silently thanking him, before leaving. 

His heart palpitated within the confines of his chest, anxious to find her and clear the air; he hated how quickly she slipped away from his grasp, how swiftly she turned her back on him – as if her presence was but trickery. 

He stopped in his tracks at the sound of her laughter. He looked to his left, his eyes settling on a small group of men huddled around a table in the main hall with Kára standing at the edge, a smile glowing across her face as they boasted of their next journey. 

When she quickly glanced up, she caught him and stared at him, holding his gaze.  

“Took him long enough.” She mumbled under her breath.  

One of her men had heard her, the warrior quickly following her line of sight before tilting his head to her again. He then fell back into the conversation with the others while playfully calling out his captain, his hand smacking her backside.  

Kára squealed, her focus shifting to the table as she was pulled down to sit on her friend’s lap; a lighthearted jest she never took seriously, a gesture lacking substance behind its purpose. 

The seafarers roared around, shaking the earth beneath their feet in excitement – and for all passersby to see with curious eyes. 

At such scenery, Finan felt an ache coil within his chest, a light twinge simmering as it pulsated right across his heart. 

He lingered still, watching Kára with a yearning digging into his lungs. 

He exhaled a heavy breath and swallowed down his annoyance before eventually walking off, leaving her be. 

And by the time she had lifted her head again, he was gone. She quietly sighed, a part of her disappointed he hadn’t come through the doors to interrupt. 

Nibbling the inside of her cheek, she tried holding back, her annoyance grappling with fervency at her bones.  She knew she lost when she caved in, excusing herself from her friends before making her way out and towards her room. 

She quietly walked in, closing the door behind her just as Finan stood up from the hearth, a fire ignited. 

He tensed, his rings digging into the creases of his palms as his eyes settled on her. 

Breath struggling unexpectedly, she swallowed her dry throat as her own gaze reached him.  

The strain evident between both bodies, they remained apart – something Finan dreaded.  

He needed her closer. 

She could see he wanted to speak, the way he was fidgeting, toying with the silver on his fingers. 

She quickly averted her eyes from him and stepped away from the door, making her way to her table and dropping her map across the surface. She kept quiet, her ears focusing on the sound of his boots as he drew himself nearer. 

“I’m sorry…” 

She heard the hint of sorrow in his tone; it was faint, yet she sensed the way he held it dearly. 

She stilled, waiting to see if he had any more to say. 

Silence imbued into his movements as his hands snaked towards her stomach, pulling her to his chest. He sought her neck, placing soft caress. 

 She remained unmoving, resisting to his touch – to the way he held her firmly, fearing she could easily slip away. 

She closed her eyes, taking in the strength of his arms, her raised skin to his lips; she burned under his strokes, a stuttered breath catching her off-guard as her knees weakened. 

She turned in his embrace with the moment suddenly lost as she met his hues; he felt a sting to his cheek, the motion of her strike resonating in the room. 

“We don’t see each other for six years and that is how ya greet me?”  

He dismissed the faint discomfort as he reached for her, thumb tracing over her pink skin before pulling her in.  

“You deserved it.” She mumbled between their lips as he stole another kiss, growing hungry – the sweet taste of her tongue, a delight he’s deeply missed.  

She placed her hand to his chest, gently pushing him and forcing them to part.  

He caught on and reluctantly stopped as he exhaled a heavy breath. 

He then looked to her, unable to fully break away as he still held onto her waist, fingers digging into the leather of her armor. “I’m sorry. There's just… a lot has happened and everyone is on edge-” 

Exasperation weighed heavy across her features. She rolled her eyes to his plea, leaning back against the table. His arms slipped away, falling by the sides of his body as he sighed, his heart breaking. 

“Kára, don’t be like that, please-” 

“Like what?” Anger simmered beneath her hazels, its golden glow brightening her standing. “Uhtred almost got you killed! You are in exile because of him!” 

He took a step back, running his hand down his face as his own choler slowly soaked up the air.  

She ignored his apparent agitation, her arms crossed over her chest as she remained staring at him. “He will be your death, Finan. Do you really want to die for the likes of him?”  

He shifted his eyes back to her, his answer swiftly slipping out with no regrets. “Yes.” 

She furrowed her brows, the breath stuck to her throat. “You’re mad.” The lilt thickened across her tongue, overwhelmed by his pride – his advocating for a man choking on a snake. 

Finan huffed, unrelenting. “Like you wouldn’t die for Ragnar?” 

“Ragnar is not a hot-headed prick.” She held herself onto the table, fingers pressed firmly on the edge and turned away from him, the ache in her chest deepening. “You are a blind fool, Irishman.” 

“And ya are naive.”  

She shook her head with her gaze shifting upwards. “Unbelievable.” She muttered under her breath, disheartened. 

She finally pivoted back to him, the short moment of silent abruptly cut off. 

“What will it take for you to finally leave him? A man you’ve never even swore an oath to? A pretender?” 

He tumbled onto the pieces of his torn heart, his hues struck by the way she was looking back at him with torment, tortured by his allegiance. “And what will it take for you to stay?” He had not realized the weight his words carried, too preoccupied by his steps guiding him near her, the burden shifting to his movements instead.  

He refrained from touching her, not wanting to feel the way she would pull away from him – to purposely cut ties with him.  

He saw how annoyed she had become, knowing his inquiry was the source of additional aggravation. She pushed herself standing straight and patted his cheek. “You couldn't handle all of me.”  

“Thinking so highly of yourself, aren't ya?” 

The mockery was tainted, frustration at the hem of their exchange. They were fighting for naught, what was meant to be a long-awaited reunion – a moment he had prayed to come to pass, had been destroyed by unexpected friction, creating strain in between them. 

“I’m a fucking god, Finan.” 

She swallowed the hurt as she spoke, though its colors hid behind the cold gaze she threw at him.  

She then pulled herself from him and reached for her door before slamming it on her way out, leaving him to crumble with breathy profanities violently shaking the air around him.  

     They spent the rest of the day apart, each in their corner as they kept themselves busy. 

Stolen glances were shared as avoidance became shadow at their feet; a bitter taste stroked her senses, Kára unable to shake off her irritation and disdain. 

Once the sun set and the feast rolled in the great hall, they remained at a distance with Finan sharing a table with Sihtric and Osferth, Uhtred still recovering from his injuries. 

The ale flowed continuously, feeding the Danes as they grew rowdy.  

Kára sat amongst Brida, Ragnar and some of her men, her body to their presence though her gaze kept wandering – silently searching for him. 

She was pulled back and forth between the cheers at the table and her own curiosity prickling the corners of her eyes to every sip of ale she would take; her intentions hiding behind her cup. 

As the night went on – as the drinks and the meals filled plates and palettes, Kára had grown tiresome of the robust noise filling her ears. 

She quietly excused herself as she took her cup and walked outside, letting the winter breath reach her lungs with calm. 

She wandered around the court with no preset destination, the simple need to empty her mind the mere focus in her steps; the ale resting in her mug emptied soon enough, its essence warming her up and loosening her sense of reality. 

From the corner of her eyes, she noticed a shadow to her left. Pivoting, she saw the figure sitting on a stool as it faced the horses, finding comfort in the stables. 

The thick cloak covered him, hiding his face from her view – but even then, she knew who it was. 

She walked closer, slanting against one of the wooden supports that held the roof. “Talking to horses now?” 

Without looking away, he took a sip from his drink and rested his head against the wall behind him.  

“Not talkin’. Listening.” 

The gruffness in his voice, the way his accent seemed to have thickened under his inebriated state had sent shivers down her spine. She shook the feeling away, chugging down the last bit of her cup. “And what are they saying then?” 

Finan had not needed to peer to his right, knowing Kára was standing a couple of feet away, from the moment she had arrived; a sliver of hope had lodged itself in the pit of his stomach, warmed by the heavy nightcap he took. “That I was an arse this morning.” 

“Just this morning? They are being generous.” 

He had prayed his answer would somehow diffuse the tension that strung them both; instead, it was the way her words held derision that left him defeated.   

“I won't apologize for my loyalty.” 

“I haven’t asked you to. I admire your loyalty. It’s who you are giving it to that is frustrating. He doesn’t deserve it.” 

He sighed as he got up to his feet, slowly turning to face her. “I believe he does.” 

“Then you’re an idiot.” 

They were at a standstill, simply staring at each other as Dunholm rumbled in the distance. 

“Is that all you think of me?” She heard the hurt in his voice, his body almost small as he was draped in his coat, hiding himself from the cold. The way his eyes were fixated on her, waiting for an answer – still hoping some jest would come to light, to dissipate the stress that wore itself thick between them. 

She bit her inner cheek, shifting her hues to her horse before turning back to him. “Sometimes.” Her somber response had done nothing but create a bittersweet taste on his tongue, the swallow into his throat burning. 

He nodded as he took it in, playing with his rings while his gaze fell to them, unfocused. 

She watched him, body trembling. “Can you at least understand my side of it?” 

“Why, when you don't even understand mine?” 

He rendered her speechless, her voice stuck as the depth of his brown eyes bore into her own, anger slithering around the streams, on edge – ready to break free. 

He stepped forward, nearing her as he faced the court. “Why does it have to be your side?”  

She tilted her head to her right, tears cornering her irises – a divulging threat. “Why does it have to be yours?”  

Intoxication shadowed both bodies as they parted ways with Finan returning to the ruckus in the great hall.  

The loss massed upon his shoulders, he let himself drown under the ale, its taste tearing him away from his night. 

Kára stilled, facing an empty wall as the quiet whines of the cavalry tickled her ears.  

Caving under the pressure, a sob escaped her, the sound muffled over her hands as she brought them to her mouth, shaking. 

She heard voices approaching – drunken men who were singing and bolstering their surroundings. She quickly wiped her tears away and hid next to her horse, leaning against him as to hide herself from unwanted attention. 

She settled for a moment, waiting until the commotion had passed before pulling away. 

She took another breath, calming the nerves shaking her bones and walked away; she needed to get out or her skin, to push away the self-distress that tugged at her insides, weighing her down to her knees. 

She knocked on his door before entering his room.  

She then gently closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she met his eyes; concerned etched across his features. She only gave him a small smile, her eyes red from tears.  

“Will Brida mind if I share your bed tonight?”  

Ragnar watched her, noting the dim tone in her voice and the puffed cheeks she wore beneath her tired gaze. 

“She won’t. She’ll still join us if you decide to stay.” He got up to his feet and walked towards her. He lifted her head by her chin, catching the shimmer across her hazels. “Are you alright?” 

She nodded quietly, biting down her tongue. 

She held his wrist and let her hand slid down his arm until she grasped him by his shoulder and pulled him to her before quickly catching his lips with her own.  

Without hesitation, Ragnar followed as he tugged her closer and kissed her back, the slip of his tongue tasting the ale she had been drinking. He then lifted her up, her legs instinctively winding around him as he made his way to his bed.  

He lied her down gently without letting her go and slowly lowered his form atop hers, his hips comfortable between her thighs. 

She reached for him, fingers digging into his cheeks as she fell into a haze – reality forgotten within the depths of her mind while its shadow remained overhead, oscillating; it was the pressure of his body that awoke her, the way he held her – the way his hips pressed firmly to her that left her stuttering, sucking in a breath as she broke away. 

“S-top. Please-”  

To the sound of her struggled tongue, he pulled back and she quickly jumped to her feet, grabbing her cloak and walking out of the door without looking back. 

As silence suddenly fell upon him, Ragnar stood still – confused.  

He exhaled a short breath and turned away, removing his shirt as he prepared to rest for the night. 

The clothe hitting the bed, he was soon met with Kára once again marching into his room. 

Pivoting towards the entrance, he met her with an arched brow, curious, before finding himself catching her in his arms with her own wrapped over his neck. 

He met her lips – a sense of urgency in her gesture as she carried on until she was left breathless. With a slight crease above his brow, he gently pulled away, finding her eyes. “There are other ways to let out your frustrations.” 

Her hands slid down his arm as she spoke, a little jest slipping gracefully. “Well, I have thought of maiming Cnut.” 

“Kára.” The warning tone was soft, falling into step with her tone.  

She chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes as she pressed her palms on his chest. Her head was slightly inclined, her gaze focused on his. “I’m here instead, aren’t I?” The lowered voice had seemed hesitant - a sliver just as quickly vanishing as it had appeared. 

Towering over her, he lifted her head further up by her chin with his fingertips grazing her skin as they retraced down her jawline. He held her gently, thumb caressing her cheeks and leaned closer until his lips softly brushed hers before firmly pressing them. 

The gesture was tender – careful, as if waiting to see her reaction. 

She quietly bumped her nose with his and shifted her gaze to him, catching a faint glimmer lighting his eyes.  

She kissed him once more her fingers pressed against his chest. All the while, Ragnar walked backwards, silently leading her to his bed as he grabbed her hips.  

Muscles wrapped around her, he lifted her up. She followed him, holding on as they remained in their heated caress, an unspoken desire seeping between them, rooting itself firmly where vines climbed fiercely.  

He sat down, placing her astride his lap as his fingers slipped underneath her shift, stroking her cold skin – they sought shelter as they grasped her flesh, desperate for familiar softness. A muffled moan escaped her, shivers running their course to the way they trailed down her sides, teasing – playful, yet gentle as they calmed her nerves. 

He took his time, lips covering her own and trailing down her neck, warming her up until patience trickled down, dissipating into the hefty air around them. 

She closed her eyes, losing herself in the roughness of his touch. She was disconnecting from her surrounding as her focus was dedicated to what stood beneath her. She pulled away from his kiss, palms to his chest and pushed him back, lying him down on his bed. 

He held her gaze, her nails trailing under his navel towards his trousers. She tugged at the hem with haste, her breathing growing heavier. Ragnar watched her quietly, hands to her hips with sparked excitement flashing across his green eyes. 

She cursed under her breath, stifling her own smirk as her hand slipped under his pants; he groaned, her retaliation in all its glory as she tenderly teased him. 

Profanity slipping down his tongue, he hurriedly sat up, startling her as he wrapped his right arm around her waist, firmly tugging her closer; a little somersault to her stance, she leaned against him – her anchor in his unpredictable movement. 

His other hand rested upon her jaw, lulling her closer as he whispered sweet nothings fanning across her skin, the tip of his nose tickling her neck. 

His hips freed from clothing, he then sunk her onto his lap, the motion purposefully slow. Her head fell back in pleasure, the overwhelmingly sweet rush thrumming violently within her bloodstream and vibrating down her core where her mind became but a vengeful fog, sweeping any traces of sanity into the void – dust under carpet. 

The softest moan escaped her lungs, her grip onto his shoulders tightening as she took a moment to adjust, her body revisiting an old acquaintance. 

His gaze remained on her, taking in the way her jaw slacked and her eyes closed – the way she was surrendering to carnal pleasure, completely enraptured by his presence consoling her between her thighs. 

He then crashed her lips onto hers, swallowing her attempted breath as his hands trailed down her figure before resting on her cheeks, ignoring the shift she still wore, and pushing her closer with her covered chest rasping against his own.  

She started rolling her hips, the thrusts deep – needy. A smirk graced the corner of his mouth, his colored eyes unwavering as they intently observed her chasing for unadulterated rapture, unapologetic as she took control, claiming his body with avidity.  

His hands roamed her form, greedy in their conquest as they squeezed every inch of her. He roughly pulled the fabric of her shift downwards, exposing her cleavage and pressed his mouth against her birthmark before he shifted and nipped at her breasts, her lungs expanding heavily under his strokes. 

Caressing her vigorously, he could hear the curses slipping down her tongue as her head tilted back, her pace faltering to the way he was pleasuring her; he grabbed her hips, aiding in her motion as he hastened her movements, a groan leaving his lungs. 

Her mind raced as they drowned her with illusions, the way she was cared for – touched, wanted, desired. She focused on the sensations, endless as they covered her wantonly; she tried to stick to her lies, her chest buried beneath anguish while her body disconnected, the heaviness between her legs throbbing with abandon. 

He noticed the tears in the corners of her eyes as she fell apart, her body convulsing under euphoric bliss. He wound his arm around her, stroking her flushed cheek as he slanted her head to him, catching the glisten gaze of her hazels. 

“Kára?”  

She quickly put her hand over his mouth, shaking her head in a silent request to stop him; they stilled, time suspended as he frowned, concerned. He wiped her tears and gently kissed her before softly whispering as he pulled away the hand to his mouth. “Look at me.”  

She listened, rubbing her eyes before catching his greens observing her. 

“What do you need?”  

She sensed the worry in his tone, pulling her further against her pain. “I-I don’t know.” She shook her head anew, reality slowly creeping back into her bones. “I-I’m sorry. This is a mistake-” She rapidly got off of him, and fixed her shift before running her fingers through her hair, a quiet sob escaping her. 

Ragnar remained seated, fixing himself while watching her slowly breakdown. It left him heartbroken. 

He then got up and walked towards her, carefully pulling her in an embrace as he placed a kiss to the crown of her head.  

A calm exhale slowed her down. She leaned against him, softly apologizing. “I didn’t mean for this to go as far as it did- I didn’t mean to lead you on.” 

“You didn’t.” He reassured her with a small smile stretching into his cheek. He then stroked her hair, continuing. “Is this about the Irishman?” 

Kára scoffed, a faint smirk appearing. “Am I that obvious?” 

He chuckled in response, ruffling her locks playfully before breaking away. “Why don’t you unwind a bit. Take a bath with me.” 

She glanced towards the tub that stood behind him, placed on a small pedestal as flames held its water warm.  

She bit her lip, the offer tempting as she felt the trickle tickling between her legs.  

She stretched the pink of her skin and started undressing, passing her chemise over her head and tossing it on the bed.  

Ragnar stopped her before she could reach the tub, holding her wrist. 

Without a word, she turned to face him and watched as he took her in; some new scars had appeared – ones he had never seen before. They were small yet held him in worry.  

He tilted her way and sweetly kissed her, his fingertips traveling down timidly. She basked in his caress, reminiscing of the way her body would respond to his touch – her skin raising, welcoming an old admirer.  

“Better?” He mumbled under his breath, the kind smile sparkling in his eyes.  

“Yes.” She matched his grin, ease washing over her. 

He let a low chuckle rumble passed him as she climbed into the tub, submerging herself under water. She held in her breath for a shorten moment before resurfacing, and leaned on one side of it as she threaded her fingers through her hair, pushing away her wet strands. 

All the while he watched her as he undressed as well, letting his trousers fall around his ankles. 

He joined her as he slipped in, taking his seat on the opposite end and settling comfortably. She lifted her legs, placing them on the rim by her right side, her feet dangling over the edge lazily. 

“What’s on your mind?” He placed his palm atop her leg, mindlessly caressing her. 

She inclined her head back, resting it against the edge as she looked up, a tired chuckle out her lips. 

“Where do you want me to start?” 

She slid until the surface reached her neck, pondering over what to say. 

He ended up taking the first step, noting how miserable Finan had been looking. 

She groaned, hands to her face as to hide from him.  

Ragnar let a chuckle slip, finding amusement in her response.  

“He says you were fighting, but not what it was about.” 

Her hands fell into the water, arching her brows in surprise. “You spoke with him?” 

“Briefly.” 

She sighed, tilting her head back once again. 

“Do you love him?” 

He leaned towards her, his left hand stilled on her knee as he looked to her. 

“I don’t love him. I care for him. There is a difference.” She stated as a matter of fact, pushing down the way her heart leaped, thudding against her lungs. 

“Is there?” He wore a smirk as he patted her leg, teasing her.  

She rolled her eyes, catching her inner cheek between her teeth.  

“Ragnar, please. I just don’t like the company he keeps…” 

He nodded, the realization of her strained relationship with her friend hitting him. “You mean my brother.” He took a moment, his thoughts on the matter rapid. “Is that what you fought about?” 

She saw the faint hurt coloring his hues; she pulled her legs into the water as she brought her knees to her chest. “I’m sorry. I just feel wary about him.” 

He continued, his curiosity pricking him. “Why do you care where his loyalty lies? You barely see the man.” 

“Because it will get himself killed.” She inhaled sharply, the saddened tone striking down every spilled letter. “I don’t want that for him. He’s suffered enough.”  

He only sighed, slowly understanding her concerns of the man in question. 

He let it go, wanting to shift the focus back to their main subject. 

“You have feelings for him then. Finan.” 

She looked away, her eyes glancing over the hearth, brewing guilt slowly seeping amongst the rivulets coating her skin. 

“I’m sorry about tonight… I shouldn’t have-” 

“There is nothing to be sorry about. I’ve missed you, Kára, my favorite seafarer.” He interrupted, giving her the comfort she unknowingly needed. 

The softest of smile dimpled into her cheeks. “I’ve missed you too…” 

He tugged her legs, stretching them onto the rim again. He then kissed her calf, his gaze on her while she still wore her grin, the couple reminiscing. 

“I have never seen you this upset about a man before.” 

She widened her smile, her head tilted as she played along, the lighter air sweeping away the heavy off her chest.  

“Bold of you to forget I was never upset with you.” She teased, flicking water his way. 

“Me? I never made you upset.” He shadowed her tone, falling into step with the banter. 

“My mind must be playing tricks on me then.” 

A chuckle slipping passed him, he squeezed her leg before pulling her towards him. 

She followed the current, shifting nearer until he felt her breath fanned across his lips. 

He brushed the tip of his nose to hers and tilted until he softly pressed his lips against hers. 

The caress was tender, seeped in nostalgia as if the world had turned backwards on its axis, the past visiting. 

She stole another peck as he stroked her cheek. Her forehead rested on his, their moment of tranquility serene. 

“We had fun together, didn’t we?” She pulled her lip between her teeth, taking in the way he stared at her, the green of his eyes a mirror to her own, its flecks harmonizing. 

He grabbed her right thigh, his forearm snaking underneath the water, and pivoted her until she laid her back on his chest, his hands rubbing her waist and up her chest, soft in his brushes. 

She placed her head on his shoulder, her grin ever-present as he spoke into her ear, his words making her flutter, reflecting on their past – on how well they used to fit together, every piece of each other intertwined, endless. 

“You’re tickling me! Stop-” He pushed her into a fit of laughter, her waters swishing within the confines of the bath as her body ran away from him, his own chuckle rumbling under his chest.  

She then turned around, seated between his parted legs as she bent her limbs to her chest.  

The air calming down once more, she rested her chin on her knees, the unavoidable smile remaining.  

They held eye contact, his gaze softening. “Do you ever think about our time in Irland?”  

“I do.” Memories hovered in the back of her mind, her younger years by his side but a flash recreated in their present as it unraveled within the specs of her irises. “And so does my father. He keeps asking about you.”  

Ragnar let out another snigger, remembering the pride the man had felt when his daughter was betrothed to the eldest son of Ragnar the Fearless.  

The smirk washed away from her lips, guilt settling back.  

“Did you ever hate me for leaving you? For annulling our betrothal?” 

He did not need to ponder over her inquiry, his truth naturally slipping, though a slight furrow creased above his brow, wondering if she had been carrying unnecessary remorse for all these years. “I never did, Kára.” The look in her eyes showed uncertainty. “I was heartbroken, but I understood… We wanted different things.” 

A quiet breath slipped past her lips, the ache she held in her chest slowly dissipating. 

“I still adore you.” She stated, her tone relishing of old memories, her own heart having never fully let go of him. She remained fond of him over the years, their friendship rooted through dirt and stone. 

“I do too.” He stroked her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her. He placed his forehead to hers, the tip of his nose a feather over her own. “Maybe in a new life, we’ll have another chance.” 

She smiled, and inclined once more, a soft slip of her lips upon his.  

They slowly pivoted subject as they walked further down their past, recounting every banter and battle they had lived through; time seemed to have stopped as they basked in recollections, rejoicing. 

Reaching their present, Ragnar became curious about her trips, always enjoying the way she would come back for him with her arms plenty of treasures and a blissful aura enveloping her.  

Their talks were gently interrupted as Brida walked through, unphased by the scene displayed in front of her. 

“What’s going on?” She locked the door behind her and turned towards the couple. 

“She’s had a meltdown.” Ragnar spoke casually as he leaned back against the edge of the tub, his arms resting over the rim.  

“The Irishman?”  

Kára rolled her eyes, a slight chuckle leaving her as she eyed both of them. “I’m guessing my misery amuses you?” 

“Just a little bit.” Brida teased as she smirked while making her way towards the bed.  

They had an unspoken bond – both women unthreatened by the denominator that brought them together; Brida had never been bothered by how close Kára and Ragnar still were. She had her chance to be with him and had instead decided to leave her life in Irland behind for her adventures across the seas.  

Brida trusted Ragnar. She understood the heartbreak he suffered when they met again, but knew as well he had made the effort to move on and be with her instead.  

Both women respected one another, as warriors and as friends. 

Kára got up, the water rapidly leaving only its traces across her shivering form as she stepped out, quickly drying herself before getting dressed.  

Ragnar had remained in the tub, ignoring the slight decreased heat that forced the steam to vanish into the air. He glanced towards Kára, attempting to remember the marks on her back before shifting his gaze to his wife, a faint smile covering his bearded cheeks.  

“You don't want to stay the night?”  

Kára had bid them goodnight as she made her way to the door when Brida inquired. 

She smiled to the woman, politely declining. “Another time perhaps.” She playfully winked before disappearing on the other side, the winter breeze cradling her. 

She quickened her steps back to her room, ignoring the remaining bodies that were still awake.  

The closer she got, she noticed a figure waiting as it sat next to her entrance, its cloak covering his face; Finan had been waiting for her in the cold, cup in hand.  

She stopped, flustered as her breath hitched, hiding at the bottom of her lungs. 

She then inhaled deeply, and slowly continued down her short path. 

Hearing footsteps coming his way, he turned to his right and quickly jumped to his feet as he saw Kára approach him; he ignored the spill of his drink down the deserted snow, his heart trembling against his chest. 

She closed in the distance between them as she finally stood at the entrance. 

She held his gaze, noting the disheveled state he had seemed to fall under; she could smell the ale laced in his breath, silently begrudging her about the ache he tried to drown. 

“I’m sorry about earlier.” There was a heaviness in his voice, a grunted roughness itching the back of his throat. “About how we left things- I-I do understand your worries, Love. It’s just complicated.” He stumbled over his words, anxious. 

She was left speechless, the anger she had felt against him vanishing into the flecks of snow; she carefully approached him and wrapped her arms around his neck, taking him by surprise. 

He dropped his cup and quickly embraced her, hiding his face in her neck as his fingers dug into her body. 

She held in her tears, swallowing her regret, and broke away after the minute had dropped. 

He was reluctant but silently followed. 

She then reached for her entrance, walking into her room. She gave him one last glance before closing the door, no words said between them. 

He lingered, his mind hazy – his thoughts churning and wondering if he had held her in his arms just a few moments ago. He could still feel the phantom of her presence, faint, against his chest, pushing him to think he imagined it right. 

Yet, he remained discouraged and walked away, desperate for a night’s rest. 

His intake of ale had left him drowsy the next morning, a headache paralyzing his mood. It had gotten stronger when he walked into the hall, his eyes catching the way Kára was smiling as she was conversing with Ragnar and some of her men. 

It was the way the Dane had casually placed his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in, lips pressed to her forehead, or the way she lied against him, listening intently to words that were shared within the small herd. 

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he took a seat, finding Sihtric and Osferth secluded in a corner. 

It was finding out she had spent the night with Ragnar that further tore him down, the boys secretly whispering such revelation to his ear; the ache residing in his chest, deepened, excavating jealousy, its strain glimmering across his eyes.  

     She was lying on her stomach, her body partially covered with furs as she watched the flames of her hearth, its bright colors bringing her comfort; she dipped further into the mattress, her fingers digging into the pillow that rested under her chin as his lips caressed the length of her spine. She sighed in content, eyes closed as shivers shook her to the feel of his jeweled covered fingers stroking her lovingly. 

He was sitting behind her, gazing upon her exposed back while slowly tugging away the covers that coated her cheeks and thighs.  

He silently retraced marks that laid upon her, old battle scars she earned from her voyages.  

He stared at each of them, sudden realization of her mortality striking him under his fingertips; the possibility they wouldn’t see each other without ever knowing why haunted him.   

He caught sight of a freshly healed wound. With a feathered touch, he retraced its shape and felt her tensed. He stopped, having sensed her uneasiness. 

Still sore, she held in her breath, a quick reminder of her near demise blinding her.  

He soothed her, hovering over it as he softly pressed his lips, the sweetest of kiss warming it. She unwound, resting her head on her pillow while he went back to his ministrations, addicted to the feel of her skin underneath his touch. 

The creaking sound of burning wood filled the air in spaces, giving him the chance to speak, his curiosity getting the better of him. 

“How did you get that?” 

She took a moment before answering, tilting her head to her left as to catch him from the corner of her eyes. 

“On my last journey... I was coming to someone’s defense and got caught in the crossfire.” She exhaled, bending her arm as it anchored her cheek, her eyes shifting back towards the fire. “I almost ended up gutted like a fish.” The nonchalant tone in her voice ached him, her calmness nerve-wracking.  

He paused, his breath burning into his lungs as he held onto it as the mere thought of having almost lost her upsetting him. 

Silence joined them once again, its roots growing as comfort seeped itself, a third wheel to their camaraderie.  

He leaned over anew, placing his forehead on the middle of her back and breathed her in before letting his lips tickle her, pressed carefully over her scar.  

She held in her smile, biting down the inside of her cheek at the way the strokes of his skin left ghost marks across her flesh – every single one of them, an intuitive beam dimpling across her cheeks. 

He continued his path, kissing downwards until he reached her backside. A small smirk stretched into the corner of his mouth as he teased her, playfully nibbling her bare skin. She giggled, bending her right knee in an attempt to use her leg to swap him away. 

Bumping it into his shoulder, he swiftly caught her ankle and pulled it further towards him without letting go.  

She felt the pressure of his lips at the start of her calf. He continued, kissing her leg until he was once again hovering over her cheeks, giving them a light smack – mischievous in his movements. 

A faint moan died at the back of her throat as his calloused palms stroked her intently, retracing her spine to her backside. He gave her another squeeze before he slipped sideways, reaching for her hips; fingers embracing her, he tugged her his way, silently pulling her to her knees. 

She turned her head to her left as he leaned closer, the tip of his nose brushing hers before he kissed her temple with an embrace, his arms tightened around her breasts and waist. He closed his eyes, resting on her as he trailed down her form and passed her navel. He groaned into her ear, his lilt heavy with want. 

“Part ya knees for me, Love.” 

She smiled at his demand, unmoving. “I am a captain, Irishman. I don’t take orders, I give them.” 

Reconciliation was abrupt with Kára unable to settle in the previous night. She had seen the way the strain of Uhtred’s condition wrestled heavily on him; it had broken her heart, forgetting for a moment the strain the elder man had placed between the couple.  

She had gone to find him that night, the ale heavy in their breaths as she pulled him into an unexpected embrace.  

Her previous intentions – sharing another night with Ragnar had been forgotten, the feel of Finan pressed against her with such yearning lulling her into a haze, the urge rapidly taking over her.  

They spent the night in her bed, remedying through tender and fervid strokes, letting go of all frustrations. 

“Do ya take requests?” He rubbed his nose further behind her ear, his voice gruff – low. 

“I could...” She was trailing away from her thoughts, his touch palpitating. 

“Then, can ya please part your legs for me and let me pleasure ya?” His beard reddened her skin as he strengthened his hold around her, minimizing any distance separating them. 

The days that broke them apart had felt endless. He was desperate to make up for loss times, not knowing when it would be their last day together again.  

“Hmm, so tempting… so polite.” She mumbled as she stretched her arm behind her back, reaching for him. 

A stuttered breath fanned across her neck as her fingers daintily toyed with him, while she followed his request, splitting her thighs apart for him. 

He cursed as he teased her, his fingertips stroking her pearl slowly. He caught her earlobe between his teeth before whispering against her ear, the tone hefty with desire. 

“Do the other men ya bed give orders?” His senses intoxicated as he spoke, the words slipped down his tongue carelessly.  

“They know better than to think they have such power-” Head lying on his shoulder, she was unable to complete her thought, her chest heaving as she moaned, his dexterous motion consuming.  

“Do they please ya, mo mhuirnin? Are they braving your waters like I can?” He continued, unrelenting as the sound of her voice in complete submission aroused him further. “Do ya wish it were me instead? Filling ya, pleasing ya-“ He grazed his teeth against her neck, earning himself another moan from her tongue. “Tasting ya?” 

She faltered in her strokes as he brought her closer to the edge, his profanities covered in a wanton voice, leaving her to beg for him, vowing his name across her tongue. 

A lower grunt rumbled beneath his chest as he stopped. The abruptness made her whine before she swiftly found herself lying down on her arms, her backside bent as her breasts grazed the furs beneath her. He moved as he sat up from the bed with one knee to the mattress while the other found its footing on the ground. He grabbed her hips, the new angle overwhelming as he thrust into her – vigorous in his step. 

Her knuckles whitened, her fingers carved into the sheets as he left her breathless, her body burning under his hungry thrust. It was the way he held her – rough, yet he remained faintly gentle, as if she was made of precious jewel withstanding the pressure under his calloused touch. 

He mumbled lustfully under his breath, his words and promises tearing her up. She closed her eyes, the friction between their joint hips titillating; her voice sang into the thickened air, delightfully as she let go, body blissed out. 

She felt his hand at the small of her back as his pace quickened. A heavy groan trickled passed his lips with his head falling back as he became powerless by the strength of the sudden tremors draping over him, throbbing as he remained inside her. 

He pulled her back, making her sit on her knees as they both fell into their afterglow, lungs depleted and euphoric. 

She leaned her head on his shoulder while he shared the softest kisses along her lips, cheeks and neck while still holding her in his arms. 

He brushed his nose across her skin, taking a deep breath, still feeling her body pulsating through him; a delight he’s learned to cherish. 

“How was that for taking orders?” He mumbled against her ear, the hint of tease making her chuckle. 

“You should try commanding a ship.” 

He smirked, its effect reverberating down his tongue. “I’d rather command you.” His hands traipsed down her waist to her hips, giving her a light squeeze as he continued. “Your arse up like that, begging for me… taking me so well.” 

She shuddered under the tone of his words, heat coiling once again in the pit of her stomach. 

She closed her eyes, a gasp tickling her lips. “Fuck, Finan-”  

He held her firmly as he started moving her, the languid motion rutting – teasing. They remained flushed, every inch of her upper body carved into him, art in the making. 

Promises slipped passed him, his mother tongue generous and making her tear up anew.  

Every syllable etched across her skin, sowed into her veins. A pining burned deep into the marrow of his core to the lustful way he would whisper ‘I could do this all day with you. Never let ya go if it meant being buried inside you like this’. 

To how he venerated her, in complete submission to her presence, breathing further with tender compliments to such ‘Ya are so beautiful. My enchanting seafarer… I missed ya- I need ya.’ Inducing her further into a state of elation, his pleading uncontrollable. ‘I need ya like this. Bare- naked with me, sharing ya bed with me. Pleasuring ya.’ 

He quickened his thrusts, aiding in her chase for release as she grew overwhelmed to his sweet nothings, her body writhing underneath the weight of his words – desire embedded, laced between every letter he cried through. 

He wiped her tears away and kissed her as they fell into pleasure once more, quivering against his touch. 

She was catching her breath as his hands rubbed her body continuously, his palms carving her waist down her hips to her stomach and chest before he rested around her throat. 

He breathed her in, taking a moment before speaking again; he did not let her go, unwilling to part.  

“Do you know when you are leaving yet?”  

“No…” Her tone was gentle – pensive as she took the way he was pressed against her, how his caresses were needy. “Ragnar asked me to stay for a little bit.” 

He bit down his tongue, swallowing the lump of jealousy that lodged itself in his throat.  

He took another breath, calming his nerves, not wanting to ruin their moment. 

“Was that an order or a request?” He rubbed his nose behind her ear, inhaling her scent as he tightened his arms around her, attempting to push away the ache shadowed in the pit of his stomach. 

She chuckled, unaware of the faint tension residing in his back. “If I tell you, I lose all of my mysterious charm.” 

He smiled against her cheek, relaxed, the amusement in her voice a breath of fresh air. “That would be dangerous.” 

A light giggle tickling her lips, she titled her head sideways, catching his hues; a sense of calm washed over her as she looked at him, the golden specks in her eyes struck by the depth of his gaze.  

He leaned down, sweetly catching her lips with his own, the gesture instinctual.  

She then slowly broke away from his embrace, essences lovingly coated between her thighs as she pivoted, lying on her back with her head facing the hearth, the fire still warm. 

Finan quietly watched her as she tossed her hair upwards, the locks hovering over the edge of her bed, her naked body glistening – inviting. 

He climbed back onto the bed and crawled towards her until he fell next to her, bringing the sheets to cover them both. 

“Do ya know where you are headed after?” Settling next to her, he started retracing the birthmark she wore on her chest, his fingertips purposely straying as they teased the swell of her breasts right in the middle. 

“Some of my men want to go back to Norway, see their families. We’ll head there and stay while we gather supplies for our next journey.”  

He listened to her response, his mind drifting to words he wanted to speak but knew better than to interject; to simply ask her if she could stay here instead until her group was ready to come back. 

He kept his inquiry to himself, dipping in regret. 

She turned to face him, propping herself on her elbow with her head to her hand as she looked at him, her fingers finding his necklace.  

She remained quiet, contemplative, as the outside world seeped slowly back into her mind, the repercussions of Uhtred’s alliance to his brother weighing heavily on her shoulders. 

“Do you think Uhtred will ever seek forgiveness from the king?” She spoke with wariness laced in her words. She let go of his crucifix and moved to sit astride him as she climbed atop him with her hands by the sides of his head, looking down at him. 

She smiled – a mere gentle tug from the corner of his lips as he sat up, his arms wrapped around her and holding her close. She laid her own on his shoulders, listening to him. “Are ya worried?”  

She bit her bottom lip, glancing away from him. He could see the concern traced across her features, leaving him troubled. 

“I don’t want him to give Ragnar false hope...” She tilted back to him, her nails lazily grazing his beard as she held his gaze. “He’s missing his brother, Finan. He wants him back on his side and I am scared that things will turn for the worse if the king ever calls back for Uhtred.” 

She sighed as she pulled away from him, falling back to her previous spot next to him. She was looking up to the ceiling, fidgeting. “I don’t trust him... I can’t, I’m sorry.” 

He lied back down, shifting to hover above her. He caressed her cheek, earning the sight of her hazels as she leaned towards him. He knew of her disquietude, and it broke his heart. But he was also hoping she wouldn’t stray away from him again because of it.  

“Do ya trust me?” 

“You wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She gently tugged at his beard, pulling him nearer until she felt his breath ghosting over her. She brushed his nose before softly reaching him for a kiss, and muttered between their lips. “I’m just looking out for Ragnar...”  

He pushed away the anguish that roamed within him. “I know.” 

He lingered as he pressed his lips to hers once more, and brushed strands of her hair away, stroking her cheek.  

Breaking away, she let her fingertips stay across the pink of his skin, unable to meet his gaze as she furrowed her brow. “Do you trust me?” 

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.” She watched him smirk, his arms snaking beneath her as he settled above. She chuckled in response and shook her head, playfully patting his cheek. 

He pressed his body firmer atop hers, letting her caress him as she found herself unable to stop touching him; the violent urge to feel him under her fingers, to reassure herself and ease the discomfort in her chest with his presence, comforting between the cradle of her hips. 

She pushed him closer, lugging one leg around him as her hands traveled from the muscles of his arms up to his hair and down his beard, her brushes feathers across his face.  

They remained in a heavy silence as he closed his eyes, taking in the timid motions of her wrists. He then leaned closer, kissing her forehead before nestling in her neck, nipping at her skin while she threaded his hair from the back of his neck, tugging him for a kiss. 

She sighed against his lips, feeling him caress her underneath the covers until they were interrupted with a heavy knock on her door just as he had made his way to her thigh. 

Annoyance rolled down her tongue as she groaned, her head falling back. 

She quickly moved from under him, reaching for the boot that stood at the foot of the bed and threw it across the room, loudly thudding against her entrance with a curse slipping loudly at the intruder. “Occupied!” 

The bed boomed in laughter, Finan’s voice shaking her as he followed her line of sight. 

“Do ya think it was Ragnar?” He shifted his eyes back to her, just as quickly falling back into her neck as he continued. “Did ya call him to warm ya bed and steal you away from me?” 

Though his tone was playful, his words meant to be trivial, she could not find the same amusement he wore. 

“Still with the jealously? Really? Like you haven’t bedded other women?!” She pushed him away as she slipped from the bed, violently grabbing the bedsheets to cover herself while standing at the edge, frustration quickly seeping down her skin. “And why should it matter who I have in my bed? I am not your wife, Finan!” 

The sudden dizziness grasped him, overwhelming him with the abrupt change they fell into; he quickly sat up, sliding to sit at the edge of the bed while finding furs to cover his lap. He reached out for her, taking her hand as he spilled his apology. 

“I-I am sorry.” He kissed the back of her dorsal side, regretful over his words. “You are right.” 

She stilled for a moment, taking a breath, before sitting next to him. 

“I need to know you understand what we-” 

He quickly interrupted her, still holding her hand as he turned to face her. “I do. I promise.” He leaned towards her and calmed her, the soft press of his lips to hers attempting to convey his sincerity. “I’m sorry... I did not mean anything by it.” 

He gently pulled her to bed, finding back his place by her side. They stayed quiet for the minute that passed, simply settling back as he pushed strands of her hair behind her ear, his thumb stroking her cheek. 

Her anger slowly dissipated the longer she stared at him; she could see the regret shivering across the streams of his eyes, carving a breath of anguish into her lungs. She swallowed the heaviness in her throat, shaking away the somber moment. 

He still held her gaze, her cheeks reddening as she looked away.  

“You are staring.” 

“Ya are beautiful...” 

She tilted her head back to him, unable to hide her smile. “So I keep hearing.” She pulled herself closer, whispering closely. “My darling Irishman...” They swiftly spilled passed her teeth, his native tongue drenched in seduction as she softly spoke them. 

It caught him off guard as he let them echo in his ears, shivers running down his spine.  

His reaction was soon interrupted, another knock to their door breaking them away.  

Finan turned around and grabbed another discarded boot he found and launched it across the room – repeating her earlier movements. 

He turned back to find her laughing, his own beam stretched into his cheeks. He then caught her in his arms and crashed his lips to her while stifling her giggles. He moved to lie on top of her, hands roaming down her body while settling between her legs once again.  

He teasingly rolled his hips and watched as she broke away, a soft gasp escaping her with her head falling back. 

She noted the smirk appearing and quickly placed her hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter.  

“You have to stop tempting me Irishman. There is just so much a woman can take-” He discontinued her sentence as he teasingly slid into her; the motion left her breathless as she gripped the furs, a strangled moan lodged in her throat. 

He whispered in her ear, amusement apparent in his tone. “I thought ya were the woman who could take me? Storming through the seas, and all that.” He nipped her earlobe, and pulled away. 

She caught the mischievous glimmer in his eyes as he looked down to her. 

“You bastard.”  

She fell into a light fit of laughter; her earlier worries washed away as he pulled her comfortably into ecstasy. 

     “We are divided, it seems.” 

Ragnar was addressing his men, anticipation heavy underneath the night sky. 

Kára stood on the sideline by Brida’s side as she watched her friend rumbling across his introductions, a smile to her face.  

She followed his steps as he introduced Uhtred’s men, his arm placed around Finan as he stepped closer. She shook her head to his words, bringing back into her mind the scene she was welcomed with in the great hall earlier this morning – Finan and Ragnar arm wrestling with a small crowd surrounding them.  

“Boys, play nice.” She marched down, joining them, her presence causing distraction as she grabbed a cup of ale for herself. “Unless you want a good spanking. Disciplining you like children.” 

“I wouldn’t mind the spanking.” Ragnar winked her way while still battling Finan, the other man rolling his eyes. He caught the soft chuckle she breathed and scoffed, meeting her gaze. “How about I spank ya instead, mo mhuirnin?” 

“Mhmm, tempting offers from both of you.” 

She bit her bottom lip as she watched Ragnar riling up the crowd while they grabbed onto the rope, ready for their banter to play out.  

They were hiding from the crowd, men filling up the court as laughter shook the grounds, readying for a night filled with competitive games. 

He had pulled her away, hiding in the stable while intoxicated, the ale flowing continuously from his cup to his lips. He held her against the wall, breathing her in as he caught her lips with his own, the strokes of his tongue famished.  

His hand slid down, unlacing her trousers before they hid under the fabric, reaching for her; she broke away from his kiss, a quiet moan slipping into the cold air between them as he toyed with her, the movements languid – teasing. 

He pressed himself firmer against her, whispering drunkenly in her ear as she listened, enraptured by the pleasure building in the pit of her stomach.  

The soft promises he slipped passed his teeth, the way the gruffness of his voice held every syllable to heart despite his state – unraveling as he advocated how much he needed her, how he hated to think of her in the arms of another man. 

How he didn’t fault her for bedding Ragnar, that he blamed himself for pushing her to him. 

His words tumbled over one after the other, drunken confessions stirring angst in her chest. 

“And I promise ya, Kára- that one day I will get on that ship with ya so we can be together. I will see the world with ya. All of it.” 

His last vow rendered her breathless; she could only recover by the way he pulled her back into his ministrations, the dexterous caress of his fingers pushing her over the edge. 

She tried not to take his promises to heart, knowing he would forget them after a night’s sleep. 

She did not have the courage to revisit such hazy subjects either. 

“Ragnar!”  

The ring of the bell pulled him out of his brother’s embrace as he turned to look up, his guard calling for him hastily. 

“It is the watchman.” 

Kára stood taller, pulling herself to her feet as she watched the gates open. 

Men placed their spears and swords by the wall as the entranced closed. 

Kára picked up her weapon as she followed Brida to the rampart, Finan running closely behind with Uhtred. 

Looking over the dark horizon, a small army of men approached Dunholm, torches in hand. 

“It is Haesten and Bloodhair… Neither are fond of me.” 

She rolled her eyes, unsurprised by his revelation. She kept her thoughts to herself, interrupted by Cnut’s snide remark. 

“You can’t refuse them, Ragnar.”  

Kára listened as Brida turned to him, her stance still quiet as she observed the men in front of her, sword in her hand. 

“You leave your swords at the gate. You have our respect.” As Ragnar consented to their presence inside his walls, Finan turned to Kára, reaching out for her hand as the others left the ramparts, welcoming the new group. 

“You alright?” She noted the slight concern upon his brow, worrying her. 

He brought her wrist to his lips, reassuring her there was no need to worry. 

“Come on, let’s go eat.” She gave him a soft smile as she cupped his cheeks, leaning in for a gentle kiss. 

She tugged him down the stairs, soberly making their way to the hall and joining the others as she took her seat by his side. 

The atmosphere relaxed as dinner stretched across the men’s plates and drinks continued to fill their bellies. 

She shared her meal with Finan, encased in domestic bliss until the abrupt opening of the doors caught her attention; Bloodhair had walked in agitated, driving his dagger into Ragnar’s table. 

She shifted her attention to what was happening and watched as Ragnar slowly got up to hit feet, his eyes on his guest. 

“Now is not the time. My answer is no.”  

The men locked eyes for a moment until Bloodhair hung his head. He then abruptly straightened up and marched away, the room watching him go. 

“What’s happened?” Finan inquired in a low tone, his voice for her ears alone. She tilted her head back to him, pulling away from Ragnar. 

“I’m not sure… but it can’t be good.” 

She shook away the discomfort, falling back into her plate. 

The hours dropped, the night moving on as men started speaking of war, sitting around the small fire in the center of the hall, keeping them warm. 

Kára had remained seated to Finan’s left with his arm placed on the tables surface as it bent around her, listening while Haesten incurred roars from men, promising to take over Mercia and Wessex. 

Her ears to the conversation shared she couldn’t help but stifle a giggle, the disruption between the warriors amusing her. Finan turned to see her biting down her cheek, leaving him to mimic her response as he leaned towards her, hiding his lips into her hair, and softly pressed to her skin making her shiver. 

Ragnar caught the silent interaction, a faint breath of a grin flashing across his eyes as he sipped down his ale. 

He then got up, pouring himself another fill of ale as his eyes remained towards both men arguing. He was about to speak up, interrupt the childish banter when Kára jumped in, tired herself of hearing such irrelevant arguments.  

“Enough with the shit talk. Before we know it, you two will be comparing your cock sizes and trust me, nobody will want to see that.” They turned to her, irritated by her interference, attempting to stand tall as to dismiss her. “Just fight it out.”  

She shrugged, her nonchalance gathering laughter from the men around her – Finan included as he held a chuckle.  

Bloodhair approached her, as if to challenge her crude remarks; his vexation rising by the step. 

She matched his stature as she got up on her feet. He towered over her, as if to intimidate. 

“You would like that.” He spoke her way, ignoring the rest of the room while coaxing provocation.  

Ragnar swallowed the last sip of his mug, before placing it curtly onto the table while Finan subtly reached for his dagger, ready to defend her; her own men were on edge, her second in command closely following the exchange with an amused smirk across his face.  

He knew Kára could defend herself, yet he still remained prepared.  

“To see my cock.” He mocked her, grabbing his groin as he leaned towards her, staring as she remained unphased by his theatrics. “I bet you have never seen one as large as mine.” The low tone in his voice deafened the space, a herd on their feet. 

Bloodhair threw a glance towards Ragnar – taunting him, as he heard the growl of angry men coming his way, both him and Finan trying to hold themselves back.  

The knife he held was digging into his palm, Finan’s anger shaking him down to his foot against the floor.  

Uhtred rolled his eyes, taking notice of the short standstill that was displayed in front of him; Brida mimicked and leaned back against the edge of the table, watching. 

Sigurd shifted back to Kára, waiting for a reaction. She slipped her head slightly sideways as she snorted. “Can’t see what is not there.” 

“See? Even she knows you have no cock!” 

Haesten burst into laughter, heavy pat on the other man’s shoulder as the hall joined in jest. 

Bloodhair remained on Kára, his annoyance carved deeper into his features, unable to simply diffuse and walk away.  

He took one further step her way, his height taller as he quickly grasped her armor. 

In a violent frenzy, Finan rapidly jumped to his feet, pushing the man away as he stood between them, dagger comfortably settled in his hand, wrists crossed at the front of him. 

“Ya don’t want to do that.” He threatened, his eyes darkened and glaring at the Dane. 

Kára ignored the sliver of a thumped she felt within the confines of her chest, the flutter quickly dissipating as she met the intruder’s gaze. 

“The daughter of a Chief can’t defend herself it seems.” He mocked, his eyes looking for support as he turned around. 

She rolled her eyes, approaching him as her shoulder pressed against Finan’s back. “She can, she just doesn’t care enough about your bullshit to bother.”  

She spoke, unbothered by his attempt at an insult. 

“That’s enough.” Ragnar's voice broke through gathering the hall’s attention as he made his way to Bloodhair. He gently pushed him away before turning back to the couple.  

“You can sit down, Irishman.” He held the other man’s gaze for a moment before Finan quickly glanced to Sigurd. He then took back his seat, his knife still attached to his palm. 

Ragnar turned to Kára, an amused smirk forming across his lips. “And you, stop taunting him.” He playfully ruffled her hair, leaving her to slip a soft giggle before she sighed a dramatic response. “You are no fun.” 

He shook his head as she winked, and took to her place as she sat back down next to Finan. He quickly placed his left arm around her once again, his elbow resting atop the table’s surface. 

The conversation continued, Uhtred taking the reins; “There can only be one leader.” Ragnar echoed his brother’s earlier statement as he poured himself another drink. 

“It must be you, Ragnar.” Uhtred responded calmly, his eyes peering over the firepit in front of him.  

Everyone turned to him, the man in question taken aback. 

“Why? Because he is your brother?” Bloodhair pushed back, on the fence of such a thought. 

The young man turned to his brother, holding each other’s gaze as he responded back to the other Dane. “Because Ragnar’s the only man each of us will trust.” He then shifted his eyes back to Sigurd. “The only man.” 

His words hung in the air, bringing about a moment of silence as the new guests stared at Uhtred. 

It was shortly interrupted by Cnut, a hint of a smirk appearing across his face. 

“Do you not trust me, Dane Slayer?” 

Kára scoffed under her breath, though her reaction caught Ragnar’s attention as he quickly glanced her way; Finan stifled his own smirk, hiding in her hair as he softly kissed her temple. 

Despite being kin to her friend, she did not find him trustworthy. She saw the way envy covered him, leaving her wary. 

Ragnar had carried on, slowly riling up the men as he laid down promises of wealth and glory, readying up the great Danish army. 

“My sword is my brother’s, no doubt.” Uhtred swore without holding back, a promise that left his brother smiling.  

Ragnar then looked around the room. “Then it is settled. The kingdom of Wessex will surrender.” He then stood up as the warriors started beating the tables, drums vibrating underneath their boots. 

Kára smiled, the infectious cheering reeling her in as she raised her mug to Ragnar, a passing look between them. 

Finan pulled away, turning to Osferth and Sihtric who sat quietly on the other side of their table. 

“We cannot go against the men of Wessex.” Osferth whispered discreetly to his friend. 

Finan was slightly agitated as he leaned closer, talking back to the young monk. “Be quiet, now.” 

Unrelenting, he continued. “They’re our people. Finan, our friends.” 

“Osferth, be quiet.” He insisted pressing sharply on his word as to convey the order.  

She quietly listened into the conversation, her heart grasping her throat as she swallowed her ale. 

She then moved her head to her right, noting the grave face Uhtred still wore before she looked towards Finan as he turned back around; he caught her eyes and could see the tension clearly conveyed across her features.  

She sighed and finished the rest of her drink before promptly placing her mug on the table, its impact covered by the roars of men, before slipping away from everyone. 

He jumped to his feet and followed her, quickly catching up as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back towards him. 

They stood in the darkness, only the light from the hall paving the way, the yard empty. 

He stroked her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers, attempting to follow her breathing, both bodies seeking calm. 

Even though Uhtred had given his sword to Ragnar, the discomfort she felt remained, unconvinced of his loyalty; Finan could feel her insecurity still. 

She did not want to fight about it again. Despite being on opposite sides, she needed him. 

He gently kissed her before slowly pulling away, meeting her gaze. 

“Can we call it a night and just go to bed?” She muttered, a saddened tint scratching her chords. He nodded, his lips moving to her forehead before he wound his arm around her shoulder, both marching back to her room – their escape of the inevitable. 

     Uhtred was quietly sharpening his sword with meticulous motion spread across the blade, his attention presiding over his favored weapon. 

His men kept busy as they remained distant from the yard, secluding themselves under a hut. 

His focus soon snapped, the sound of soft giggles and low mumbles gearing him away from his task; he spied from the corner of his eyes the way Finan and Kára had immersed themselves into one another, ignorant of what surrounded them as they fell into private jests. 

She was tempting him, tugging at the hem of his trousers while promising sweet ecstasy between the walls of her room. Her voice was low, a whisper, as she breathed against him. He was responding in kind, his palms cradling her neck as he brushed her jaw and her lips. 

He stole kisses, sliding the pink of his skin over her own as he begged for a taste across his tongue. 

They were deep into their own embrace, the eyes of the public irrelevant to their moment. 

Uhtred took notice of the way Finan had seemed relaxed – happier even. A faint smile crossed him, hiding to himself as he returned to his sword. 

They were interrupted as Beocca approached from across the yard, seeking Uhtred for a word and in turn disrupting the small conclave gathered around the hut. 

“Finan.” He shifted his attention to the priest as he stopped in his tracks. 

Changing stance, he placed his arm around Kára and pulled her against him as he greeted the other man. 

“Father Beocca. It’s good to see you.” 

The Saxon man turned to her; she simply waved her greeting, a coy smile covering her cheeks before wrapping her own arms around Finan’s waist. 

The priest continued, acknowledging Osferth and then Sihtric before taking a seat. 

Kára pursed her lips into pout as she turned to Finan; her signal to leave the men be, a somber air seeming to have joined Beocca. 

He softly kissed her and then once again atop her head as she slipped away from his grasp. 

“Come and find me later, hmm? We have unfinished business.” She bit her bottom lip, teasing him further. “You don’t want to have me start without you.” He groaned making her laugh as she left, ignoring Beocca’s disapproving gaze. 

As the priest went to sit by Uhtred’s side, Finan kept his eyes on Kára, his grin dimpling into his cheeks until it eventually dissipated. 

It was the sight of one of her men approaching her as he casually threw his arm around her that left a sour taste at the back of his throat, where the whispers to her ear and the smile she shared pulled at his insides. 

He tried to shove passed the slight irritation grazing his skin, knowing all too well he had no right to feel this way. 

He picked up his resting mug from the table and chugged down his ale, trying to swallow any discomfort along with the bitter liquid. 

They spent the rest of the day apart, Kára having disappeared for most of it; unknown to what she was doing, Finan was left sulking, agitated by further development carried over from the previous day. 

By nightfall, tension had risen once again – its figure lurking in the shadow, haunting the couple. 

It had darkened the room once more when Finan stared at the light exchange she was having with Ragnar, their physical closeness still bothering him – infuriating her. 

“I don’t owe you anything, Finan! I bed who I want when I want. I can easily walk out and find someone else.”  

“Then why am I here? Go to Ragnar again, or whoever else to bed ya if you are so desperate to get away from me- Fuck, I bet even Bloodhair wouldn’t object to humping ya-” 

She cut him off, the violent blow stinging his cheek and leaving him speechless. 

The silence was deafening, their raised voice drowning out against the walls around them, thumping loudly between their ears. 

She took a quiet breath, calming down as she pushed passed her tears, ignoring the slight discomfort resting in her palm. 

“I don’t belong to you. Understand that.” She took a step back, needing air, his presence turning suffocating. “You can’t keep controlling me like this. You told me you understood what we were supposed to mean to each other…” She ran her fingers through her hair, grasping at her neck for a moment before letting go, her arms dropping by her body. 

Though tethered to the way he made her feel, her anger and irritation were blinding her, provoking emotions she hadn’t felt in a long time. 

‘Yes, but things change...’  

He had thought to himself, knowing that muttering this very proclamation would incur more damage; his unresponsive behavior had pushed her to continue, the twinge embedded into her chest spiraling deeper into resentment. 

“You told me you didn’t fault me for spending the other night with Ragnar… Did you lie about that?” Though she had asked a simple question, she did not wait for his answer; her heart beating loudly against her chest, its vibration burned beneath her breast bone. “Because I was miserable. He was helping a friend. Which is also what we are to each other. Friends.”  

She pressed on the last of her word, its syllables scarring him as they echoed in his mind.  

Their argument was cut short as they heard a knock coming from her door.  

She sighed, giving up and turned her back to him, reaching her entrance. 

Finan saw half a body peeking through, recognizing her second in command as he quickly glanced his way before leaning towards Kára. 

He couldn’t decipher the shared words, his mind unfocused to the content with his hues stuck to the way a hand subtly rested on her hip. 

“I’ll see you out.” He heard her mutter as she nodded. 

The stranger disappeared as Kára picked up her coat before turning back to Finan, her feet leading her to the exit. 

She swallowed the heaviness residing in her throat, her fingers gripping tightly onto the door. “If you can’t do this then let’s not…” She held his gaze for a short moment, enough to see the muffled shock flashing across his eyes.  

She left with a quiet exhale passing her lips, the door gently closing behind her and leaving him to solitude. 

He could hear the way his heart was breaking, the way his choler turned on itself as it bore claws, marking every inch of him; he hated himself for carrying such stubbornness, yet he was hurt for the way she couldn’t seem to hold on, bringing him grief. 

They tumbled downwards, the events leading to yet another exile forcing them apart; reluctantly, Uhtred deceived his brother and suffered the consequences as he battled Bloodhair for survival. 

Kára had been by Ragnar and Brida’s side when the spiral twisted further, watching the estrange brother argue with Aethelwold, the life of the princess in apparent danger. 

The slithering snake caused further harm, tension rising between the men as Uhtred found himself the center of their attention, his loyalty to Ragnar coming in to question. 

“No bond, you say?” He stood facing Uhtred. “Then who am I?”  

Kára exhaled in defeat, her friend’s voice rising as he continued arguing with his brother. Her heart ached knowing what she had suspected was unraveling in front of her. 

She turned her head, hearing Finan and the others walk in, a deafening thick silence accompanying them. 

They locked eyes as Uhtred’s decision rung in their ears. 

“I will be leaving.” 

She could feel her gaze blurring, the corners of her hazels prickling her with tears. 

She looked away from him as Ragnar publicly disowned his brother, the name Ragnarson no long part of his identity. 

The yard was heavy with boots and cries as the square was formed for a duel to the death. 

Falling to a disadvantage, Finan aided his lord as he stole back the sword that was taken away, calling Uhtred to catch his weapon and bringing him back to his feet. 

Kára slithered her way to him, quickly taking hold of his wrist as she pulled him back from the crowd until they reached seclusion, hiding away in the stables. 

He had not registered the forced that pushed him away, his mind still reeling over the duel unraveling in the yard, the men cheering for the defeat of the Dane Slayer. 

“Finan.” 

She breathed his name, a shimmer flashing across her eyes as he turned his attention to her, the sound of the hurt coating her chords shaking him. 

“Ragnar is angry but he won’t let Bloodhair kill him. You must gather your men and leave. Fast.”  

Remorse draped over his shoulders, anguish burning a hole through her. “I’m sorry-” 

“It’s not your fault.” She took a breath, the air trembling within her chest. She placed a hand to his cheek as she continued, attempting to bring slight humor. “Just- please be safe. Do not get yourself killed or I will be angry.” 

He huffed a chuckle, a saddened smile mirroring her own. 

He could see the way fear strangled her colored eyes, the concern furrowing her brows; all the arguments and bitterness they had experienced since his arrival vanished – utterly irrelevant under new circumstances.  

He leaned towards her, gingerly kissing her with the press of his lips to her own raising her skin in angst. 

She held on, fingers clasping at the buckle of his cloak. Her knuckles whitened, unable to let go even though she had no choice but to do so. 

He spoke softly, breath fanning across the pink of her skin as they brushed together. “I promise I’ll be safe.” 

She tried to calm herself as she breathed him in, pushing down the lump in her throat. 

She tugged him once again, sharing a lasting goodbye caress to the sound of Ragnar breaking the square.  

Finan felt a hand placed on his shoulder, the boys interrupting them. He dug his fingers further into her waist, a slight shove his way, reluctant to break away.  

“Go. And be careful, please.” She pleaded, stealing kisses as he eventually pulled away, the reins of his horse handed to him as he climbed on. 

They locked eyes as he left, the group marching towards the gates. 

She hid in the shadows, aggravation in her chest hefty – unbearable. 

As the gates closed, a betrayed Ragnar agitated, he turned his back to the entrance and saw how Kára retreated herself, quickly running and hiding in her room. 

His anger fueled his steps as he marched in her direction, ignoring his surroundings. He violently shut the door, startling her. 

“Crying because your hump buddy is gone?” His words were hasty, hateful. 

She frowned, hurt by his insult. “Ragnar-” 

He approached her, standing tall as his eyes remained on her, fury covering his greens. 

“Who are you loyal to?” He was loud, voice booming as he trembled, his fists tightly wrapped around the handle of his sword. 

She stood in disbelief, watching the way his severe stance left her feeling small and overwhelmed. “My loyalty is to you. Always. You know this.” 

“Do you swear it.” 

She did not hesitate, taking a step forward of her own. 

“Yes. Ragnar. You have my sword. You always did.” She tilted her head up to him, gaze unwavering. “Don’t let your anger blind you.” She pressed on her words, echoing his exasperation.  

“So then, when the time comes, if I strike him down in battle, will you kill me for it? Will you want revenge for taking the life of your hump boy?” 

She struck him across the cheek, the strain burning her palm. He remained sideways as he listened to her response, fingers rubbing the sting away. 

“I will mourn him- as a friend, and move on.”  

She shook behind her words, her irises glimmering from tears. 

Turning to her, he saw the lie flashing across them; the weight of her grief would be heavier than what she uttered. 

He still loved her, his sentiments held closely to his heart. He sighed, letting go of this subject matter as he knew he took it too far and could only blame himself for taking out his anger on her. She was one of the very few people he could still count on and regretted ever questioning her loyalty. 

He ran his hand down his face, another exhale calming him down. “And your men?” He softly inquired. 

She crossed her arms over her chest, her stare glancing downwards before lifting it back up to him. “I promised them a journey back to their home. To see their families. I will not have them shed blood for a cause that doesn’t belong to them nor interest them.”  Her reasoning, to the ears of others, could be seen as ridicule, but she did not care – they were no fighters and neither held any ties to this land. 

She wasn’t going to jeopardize their lives for a place they did not care about. 

Ragnar nodded, respecting the care she had put in her decision. 

He caressed her cheek, the tender eyes returning as they lingered upon her own. 

She sighed, softly pressing her lips to the heel of his palm before pulling away; she still held his hand, squeezing it. 

She swallowed her dry throat, his hurt breaking her heart. 

“I’m sorry about Uhtred… I wish I was wrong about him.” 

He sighed, defeated. 

“Me too.” 

     The mock battle came to a halt, the wooden sword laying a top Osferth’s chest as they stood outside the gates of Saltwic. 

Their moment was cut short, a horse coming into view from a distance; Finan frowned, catching sight of the intruders. 

“Osferth.” He tilted the monk’s head with the wooden staff towards where he was looking. “Fetch Uhtred. Tell him we have a guest. A woman.”  

The young man furrowed his brow, an air of curiosity traipsing along his features. “How can you tell it’s a woman?”  

Finan shifted his gaze to him, incredulous to such response. “You have to ask?” Osferth, still perplexed, turned to look at his friend without a word; Finan shook his head and swiftly tapped the weapon against him. “Fetch Uhtred.” 

The monk followed the order, his steps quick as he ran back inside while Finan remained on the outskirts. 

He then noticed a second horse coming out of hiding from behind its leader as it took its place to her right; his heart stopped, recognizing the second intruder. 

A slight ache ran its course through his chest, unsettled and wringing. 

It had been but a couple of months since they parted – the betrayal between kin tearing them apart. 

Uhtred and his men approached the women on horseback and eventually stopped as he dismounted. 

“I knew you’d be with your princess.” Brida spoke up finally, fury tethered to tone, scorching the back of her throat.  

Uhtred ignored her words, stepping closer with both women staying atop their horses. “Something has happened?” 

“You left him.” Kára’s voice resonated around them, her own hatred towards the man standing in front of her blinding her to everyone else.  

“Ragnar?” 

“He waited for you. For all these years, he waited- and waited for you to come home. And when you did- in a matter of days you were gone. It took you days to betray him. Again.” She kept her eyes on him, rage ablaze in her irises as every word she dropped trembled the earth beneath her horse’s hooves. “You should have left the Saxon bitch to die.” She muttered angrily, spitting her insults without a care. 

Uhtred only sighed, agitated almost. “Where is he? I will go to him!” 

Grief stricken, Brida shouted. “He’s dead! Ragnar is dead!”  

The words floated amongst the cold air, sticking into the wind as they ferociously echoed. 

Uhtred stared at her, in disbelief, as she dismounted; Kára remained behind, tears crippling the corners of her eyes. 

Brida approached him head on, yelling still. “He doesn’t feast in Valhalla. Instead, he lies under a pile of stone at a lake near Loidis!” She closed in the distance and stood face-to-face, grabbing him as she shoved him closer. “There was no honor in his death. None.”  

Speechless, Uhtred could only watch as grief hollowed out into her chest, his own sorrow quietly breaking his heart.  

“He will spend eternity in the cold of Niflheim, because of you, Uhtred of Bebbanburg.” 

He inhaled sharply, the winter infiltrating itself underneath his leather, causing shivers to run amuck.  

“You chose her.” Brida was shaking, tears running down her reddened cheeks. “You chose Alfred and you left him.” She then pulled a knife to his throat, the blade grazing him. 

“No, Sihtric.” 

To the sound of his voice, Kára turned her attention to Finan, finding himself holding out his arm to stop the young Dane from intervening between their respective friends. 

Pulling back, he caught her staring and lingered. Even from his distance, he could see the heartbreak wavering in her eyes, her hazels cold and mourning. 

He was fidgeting on his seat, despair slowly crawling out from the pit of his stomach, vines tied to his bones, strings for control.  

“I should kill you… but I want you to live with the pain of his death.”  

Every syllable Brida spilled – a translucent blade carving inches of his body, inside and out; she lingered with her knife, stilled, as it hovered over Uhtred’s neck, her threats haunting his ears. 

She eventually pulled away, her arm dropping, and turned away as she marched back to her horse.  

Both parties went their separate ways, Finan watching her go as Uhtred left him, turning towards Saltwic. 

Bones stiffening – he climbed back on his horse, overwhelmed by her quiet leave; he needed to speak with her, anguish churning painfully beneath his lungs.  

He called for her, the quickened steps of the single cavalry shaking the snow from its rest. 

She closed her eyes, slowly stopping as a sigh escaped her lungs. She swallowed the lump in her throat and turned to her friend. “I’ll catch up with you.” 

Brida nodded curtly and continued as Kára turned around, watching Finan coming to a halt and descending. 

“Finan, now is not the time-” 

“I am sorry about Ragnar.” 

Silence settled, dust to the ground. For a moment, she held her breath to his words as she looked away, holding back her tears. 

“Thank you.” She shifted her gaze back to him, unmoving. “I have to go. I don’t want to leave Brida alone.” 

He took a short step forward, his plea to its knees. “Stay.” 

“What?” 

A staggered breath fell past his tongue, struggling to keep himself straight. 

“Stay with me.” 

She huffed, annoyance surfacing slowly, its grip tightening around her throat. “To do what? You know my feelings about Uhtred- about the way I want to live my life. Why would I stay?” 

He sensed the frustration in her voice, leaving him with a tremor while unwavering to his quest. 

“Kára-” 

Her knuckles whitened, the leather of her horse’s reins digging into her palm.  

She was suffocating. 

“No. Stop it- just stop!”  

She jumped to her feet, meeting him halfway. “I lost my friend, Finan.” He approached her quietly as she tumbled over her words, her grief striking her down with every flick of her tongue.  

“I loved him. I had spent years of my life by his side, being everything to him like he was everything to me.” 

She did not care for the tears she was shedding, her mind retracing past memories as they evoked a longing as deep as the seas she fared across. “I am not turning my back on him for the brother that betrayed him and abandoned him!” Her knees weakened, finding herself grasping at his cloak, her thoughts racing as her eyes followed, unfocused over the fabric of his coat before finding him again.  

“And I told you!” He held back the shudder from her blows, her fists harshly hitting him over his chest. “I warned you!” She continued with her altercations, her final blow pushing her away from him. She held back a sob, exasperation at her feet, her arms stretched wide. “And look where it has brought us.” Dropped by the sides of her body, she moved closer once again, her fingers digging into his chest. “Ragnar is dead and it is because of your lord, and his damn loyalty to a crown that doesn't even respect him.” 

He grabbed her wrist, her outburst straining the broken pieces of his heart as they pierced through, the cold slithering through in a frenzy.  

“Then what are you going to do now? Serve Bloodhair? Cnut?! You are not safe-” 

She pushed him away as she forced him to let go, taking back control of her limb. “Do not act as if I don't know how to protect myself.” She exhaled, a hefty sigh that fumed into the crisp air around her. “I do not care if you say he is a good man. He is the reason Ragnar is dead and I can’t trust-” Another shaky breath left her, the lump she held a threat to tears. “I can’t, Finan. So please, just let this go.” 

She saw the hurt flash across his dark hues, its effect sharpening the edges of her torn heart. She ignored the sentiment, forcing them to blow in the wind, as she focused on her grief – the main reason she stayed instead of running back onto the water. 

“Brida is waiting for me. I have to go.” She turned her back on him as his shoulders fell, defeated. 

“Don’t leave. We can figure this out.” He took one more step towards her, catching the reins in his hand as to stop her from running away. “I’m worried- I am just looking out for ya.” 

She frowned, knowing what was coming to be a blow to his chest – she needed her escape. 

“I haven’t asked you to do that, so don’t. Soon enough I’ll be gone… And I won’t be coming back.”  

She grabbed the leather strap, tugging it away from him. He pulled back as the horse slightly fidgeted.  

He kept her eyes on her, harrowed. “So, that’s it then? Am I not enough for ya to come back anymore?” 

She swallowed her breath, letting it burned her under her armor. “No.” Her response was calm – irritably so to his ears. “Whatever we were, I don’t want to see you anymore. We’re done.”  

She held his gaze, the golden flecks in her irises frozen as they latched onto her words, sculpted within his own hues for memory. “Wait, please. Don’t-” 

She shifted away, turning back and slowly picked up her pace as Finan called for her continuously – drowning under disbelief. “Kára- Kára!” 

He cursed under his breath, helplessness thrumming against his breastbone, the ache – the anguish unbearable as he watched her disappear into the woods, the cover of snow leaving traces of her presence behind – irrefutable that this moment was his new reality. 

--------

xoxo

about the timeline, apparently 10 years passed between the Dunholm visit and Ragnar's death???? Not in this au. Just a few months should be enough lol okay so i iled. it's not a decade lol mixed up my stuff 😂

taglist: @gemini-mama @iamfandomnerd @ladyinred2248 @gco95 @errruvande

[sednonamoris]

vienna waits for you

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: After a one-off meeting with a young Lieutenant Price, you assume you'll never meet again. A mission in Vienna proves you wrong.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, description of knife wounds, lots of blood, strong language, excessive dog puns, pre-relationship, pre-slowburn

Word count: 3,027

A/N: A little prequel action for hellhound (cross-posted to AO3)!! Thank you thank you thank you to the people who love this series as much as I do - your enthusiasm and joy has written this series just as much as I have 🩷

—

Ever since Belfast they’ve called you Hound.

Ever since Price, really. Hellhound, he had said, but it got shortened quick enough. One less syllable to trip through as they tease you.

Dog’s dinner again, eh, Hound? in the mess hall. 

Well sure, every dog has its day, when you make top marks in training.

Pretty as a speckled pup, you are, cooed mockingly on a rare night spent out of fatigues drinking with the lads just off base.

One of the newer recruits even tried whistling at you during a sparring match. He ended up in the med bay for that one, while you were reprimanded by Command yet again. 

In the dog house, your squadmates titter as you march out of your captain’s office with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and anger itching beneath your skin.

The teasing is fine. You like it, even, making your fair share of awful puns just to get a laugh out of the boys. What you can’t shake is the feeling of discontent with your superior officers. You joined up with the Irish Armed Forces at eighteen to do something. When they sent you up the ranks to the ARW just a few years later it was supposed to matter more. Save the good guys when you could, take down the bad ones when you couldn’t. ACTION had been promised by every recruitment poster in big bold letters. And yet, it seems like every time you take some all they do is give out to you.

You’re not good for much more than taking orders and pulling triggers, you know, but still it feels like something’s missing. Like you could do more if they’d just let you.

— 

Weeks later you get your chance: another team-up with the SAS. When it’s announced to the regiment you’re the first one geared up and ready to go.

For a silly, self-indulgent moment you let yourself wonder if Lieutenant Price will be there, too.

—

Between the SAS and ARW, a burgeoning terror cell has been tracked to Vienna. It’s being run by Wesley Martin, an English expat coming off a dishonourable discharge from MI6. Rather than fading quietly into obscurity, he’s taken the opportunity to sell out his country’s secrets and incite insurrection not just against them, but most of Europe as well. He staged an attack on Irish soil months ago, but the trail had gone cold - until now. England was the one to find him again, and Austria’s task force has offered its support, working out negotiations between the three nations as to who gets to make the arrest and on exactly what counts and which soil he will be tried. If the whispers up the chain of command are true, Ireland gets dibs on cuffing him. 

But that’s all above your pay grade. You’d just like to nab the prick.

When your boots hit the tarmac you have a stretch and breathe deep. It was a cramped plane ride with your squadmates. Jacks had snored on your shoulder the whole way, and Murph wouldn’t shut up about his latest shag, who apparently gave him quite a memorable experience in a pub stall over leave. He’d spared no detail. Lieutenant Doyle, of course, was the one who kept egging him on; even a glare from Captain Guiney hadn’t been enough to stop him from asking what color her knickers were. He produced a rather spectacular lacy red thong from one of his pockets in answer. 

Chatter cuts as you make your way over to where the SAS team stands in formation. 

“Pint short as usual, Guinness,” Captain MacMillan’s thick brogue snarks. “You’re late.” 

“They are early,” a less amused Austrian woman corrects. Anna Ebner, if it’s the same person who coordinated and shared all the intel reports.

“Only by Paddy standards, which is to say none at all.”

Ebner rolls her eyes. 

“Je-sus,” Guiney says in greeting, “how’d I get stuck working with you cunts?” His wide grin and open arms counteract the words. 

A series of warm handshakes are exchanged, but then it’s right to business.

 Ebner informs the group that Austria has opted to sideline its men with the promise of support only if things go very, very wrong. They’ll be on comms for the whole operation. That leaves two mixed-company teams to infiltrate the safehouse apartment; one from the front and one from the back. Once the ground floor is secured, Alpha Team will head upstairs while Bravo covers the cellar and makes sure no one gets in or out of the building. 

Team assignments are handed out with efficiency before everyone piles into the vans. Most of your squadron ends up with Alpha, headed by Guiney. You and Jacks are the only ARW soldiers on Bravo, which will be led by MacMillan and his lieutenant. 

“Looks like we’re top dogs today, Hound,” Murph crows, elbowing you in the ribs before heading over to join the others with Alpha.

You grin and flip him off while Jacks tells the lot of them to go fuck themselves, and turn to find Lieutenant John Price looking right at you. Your eyes go wide and your spine snaps straight.

“Hound, is it?” Barely-there amusement curls at the edge of his mouth.

“It is, yeah.” There should probably be a sir attached to that, but you’re too caught up in the starstruck realization that he remembers you to care.

It’s a stroke of luck that he doesn’t seem to mind. Just hums at the back of his throat with a twinkle in his eye before nodding his head toward the van behind him. “With me.”

—

It’s tight quarters inside the vans, so many soldiers pressed knee to knee. Price is seated across from you. At your side, Jacks is shooting shit with the other Brits in your temporary squad. Already he’s insulted the Queen - your favourite pastime, usually - but you ignore him in favor of quietly observing Price, who in turn is quietly observing you. 

He hasn’t changed much in the months since your last meeting.

His face is clean-shaven with an ever-present threat of stubble. The rest of his hair is tucked beneath a dark beanie that either hides a buzz cut or a seriously impressive cowlick - it’s hard to say which would suit him more. His broad frame fills his tactical suit, and the stars in your eyes make him seem that much broader. But it’s his eyes that strike you the most. Clear-cut, no-nonsense blue that sees straight to the heart of you.

What has he found there, you wonder?

In Price it feels like you’ve found the answer to a question that’s been difficult to put to words. He’s so sure. Sure of himself, of his team, of his mission. Every doubt you house is a certainty in him - it’s no wonder they’ve already named him a lieutenant while you can barely keep your rank as sergeant. 

“They didn’t court marshal you, then,” he breaches the silence between you.  

“Not for lack of trying.” Your smile is crooked and self-deprecating. “I’m fairly certain ‘loose cannon’ is at the top of my file in red ink.” 

He huffs a laugh. “Better than ‘temper management issues’.”

“Oh, please,” you say. “Yours has got to be something like ‘hero’ or ‘patriot’. Maybe ‘golden boy’. I bet the recruitment campaigns can’t get enough of you.” 

“They tried to get me to pose for a commercial,” he admits.

“Yeah?”

“Told them to sod off.”

You cackle. “Too right!” 

The rest of the van ride is spent trading quips back and forth, bantering like you’ve known each other for ages and not just from a one-off meeting months ago. In the time that’s lapsed between then and now you’ve imagined working beside him plenty— more than you should have, being honest. It should be impossible for the man to live up to the myth you’ve manufactured in your mind.

Somehow he exceeds it. 

Somehow you’re not surprised.

—

The muffled sound of Bravo team breaching the cellar door is the only thing that breaks the midnight silence of Vienna’s neighborhoods. Combat boots creak down wooden steps, guns at the ready and night vision gear engaged. Captain Macmillan leads the charge, sweeping the space with practiced authority. 

“Clear,” he announces. His voice is too-loud and rough in the cramped space. 

Though no targets are on this level, a wealth of information seems to be. There’s not an ounce of modern technology to be seen, but every inch of unfinished wall is covered in the paper trail three respective countries have been chasing in vain for months. 

“Seems like your man is starting to lose the plot, eh?” Jacks says with his crooked smile, gesturing to documents pinned on corkboards and clipped across strings that hang from the low ceilings. 

Your mouth snaps shut on your reply at MacMillan’s warning to keep quiet, but disagreement is plain across your features. Martin is paranoid, certainly, but you wouldn’t call him crazy. Though this organization system is beyond you, it makes sense in theory; Who better than a former MI6 operative can appreciate how insecure cyber storage is, even with encryptions in place? 

Paper maps cover one of the walls wholly, marked up in unfamiliar code you’re sure some poor interns will have a field day with. Whatever his next moves are, they must be hidden there. Many of the hanging sheets read like weapons orders, others like mercenary pay stubs, all in a myriad of languages. Everything else is too much text to be anything but a manifesto. You snag one of the sheets for yourself and read a few cursory lines of down with the status quo and death to the Other - nothing that hasn’t been done before.

With a nod from his captain, Price starts barking orders. Everything must be taken down and packed away; this kind of evidence is every operation’s dream. You all set about the work as quietly as you can in case things still aren’t clear inside. MacMillan radios Guiney for a sitrep off to the side before he joins in. 

In all of a second it isn’t necessary.

Shouting sounds from inside, then gunfire.

You hear the tinkling of broken glass and the impact of a body hitting the ground and the thunk, thunk of a flashbang falling down cellar stairs before it goes off. Harsh, blinding white overwhelms your senses and forces your eyes to close in a painful squeeze. There’s a ringing in your ears that feels like it’s coming from everywhere. Someone screams. You tear your night vision gear off in a blind panic and blink sightlessly at the chaos.

Fuck.

Fuck!

There’s a dark shape at the foot of the stairwell going up, and before you register what your body is doing you can feel yourself lurch after them. You’re not even sure if you have your gun.

You stagger outside to see Price giving chase to someone who can only be Wesley Martin - him or one of his close associates. Doesn’t matter now. You join in hot pursuit, the thick soles of your boots pounding across Vienna’s pavement. Your lungs burn and your vision is still blurred but you can’t afford to slow down. Price is still several metres ahead. 

Without breaking stride he takes aim with his gun and nails Martin squarely in the back. The crack of the shot echoes sharp in the night and lays him flat out in the street. Price continues his sprint, only slowing a few steps out from the body.

Except it isn’t just a body; he’s still alive. You see him move - he must be wearing kevlar - but before you can shout a warning he whips his body around and takes Price out at the legs. Moonlight flashes off the wicked threat of his unsheathed knife. He shoves the blade up hard into Price’s ribs and slashes a wide arc through his belly. You swear it’s happening in slow motion, like those nightmares where you run and run and run but your legs won’t move.

“Get off him, you bastard!” you shout. Martin’s head turns to see you come barrelling at him. He smiles. The knife drips blood. Price gasps and stumbles backward where he’s shoved aside, fingers clutching desperately at the wound. 

Your hands feel for the familiar weight of your gun only to find it gone. You must have lost it in the confusion. Martin could easily kill Price now - it’s what you would do, if the situation was reversed - but instead he takes your momentary distraction as a chance to take off again.

It’s his mistake. 

You’re close enough and determined enough now that it takes only a few strides to overtake him, and while you don’t have your gun you sure as shit have a knife. The collision happens all at once and in fragments. Your body against his. Your knife in his neck. The scalding spray of blood as you pull it out. The sluice of flesh as you drive it back in. You’re not sure when you stop stabbing, but it’s long after he stops twitching.

His body is limp and strange beneath you. You roll off and stagger to your feet only to retch in the street beside it. Bile bites the back of your throat and you wipe at your mouth with a grimace. Your hands are shaking. Command is going to fucking kill you.

Sirens sound in the distance, now, but the only thing that breaks your thousand yard stare from the man you just killed is the sound of Price’s labored breathing a few metres away. 

You blink and all of the sudden you’re knelt in front of him. It takes a moment for him to register that you’ve come back; his eyes stare unseeing, clouded with pain.

“You killed ‘im,” he slurs. “K-I-bloody-A.” 

“That’s not important right now,” you snap. “Focus on staying alive. One breath at a time, yeah?” You move his hands from the wound to assess the situation and nearly retch again. Martin stabbed clean through the kevlar, and now his guts are threatening to spill into the street. “Did you radio anyone?” 

He just blinks up at you, dumb with shock and bloodloss. 

You curse.

With one hand you fish around for the meager med supplies you keep on you, and with the other you call in for help. The radio is sticky with blood. You’re not sure whose. Price has gone so pale. Blood leaks at the corner of his mouth. His teeth are stained red. 

You’re only a block over from whatever remains of your squadron but it might as well be miles. They say they’re on the way, but there are so many wounded already. Looking at Price, you know it won’t be fast enough, anyway. You only have a disinfectant wipe, a needle, and surgical thread. Sutures have never been your strong suit, but if it’s not you and it’s not here and now then it’s lights out. You’ll just have to make do.

“No bloody dying,” you warn. “This is gonna hurt.” 

You lay Price back carefully, carefully, and smear the alcohol wipe around the edge of the wound. It stings - it must - but he only sucks a sharp breath in without complain. Pinching the skin together, hands slick with blood that isn’t yours, you poise the needle over him.

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

He stares up at you with the most lucidity he’s managed since being stabbed. Clear-cut. No-nonsense. So very blue. “Ready.”

—

Your stitch job is crooked and atrocious, but the hospital staff inform you later that it saves his life.

“Be a hell of a scar,” Price laughs from the sterile white of his hospital bed. The sound wheezes out of him. You can tell it hurts, but he seems in good spirits.

So good, in fact, that he’s managed once again to talk you out of a court marshal. He didn’t let up until he’d convinced Command that Wesley Martin had to be put down. That there was no salvaging the mission otherwise and that your actions saved not just his life, but the lives of many. Once those interns deciphered the rest of his plans they were quick to agree. Now you’re all done up in your service dress for an award ceremony later this afternoon. You wanted Price there, but the hospital staff wouldn’t release him from their clutches. A visit just before will have to suffice.

“Something to remember me by,” you say. 

There’s something fond and familiar in his eyes that makes your throat hurt. “I would be hard-pressed to forget someone like you, Hound.”  

“Running with the big dogs, now,” you grin. He rolls his eyes at the pun. “Next time I kill a target I’m not supposed to I bet they promote me.” 

“I don’t doubt it. You do good work.”

“So do you, Lieutenant.”

There’s more you want to say, questions you want to ask him, but they all die in your throat the longer you look at him lying there. Even battered and beaten he’s still so sure. Certainty stinging in the creases of his eyes. Sunshine slatted past hospital window blinds. Dated rock music filtering grainy through the radio one of his lads must’ve brought in. Half-wilted flowers at his bedside. Sitting upright in an uncomfortable bed wrapped in starchy white sheets he is every inch the soldier you’ll never be.

“If you’re ever in England again…” he starts. Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised he’s offering, but you are. A delighted smile lights your face. 

“I’m never in England if I can help it,” you say honestly. He laughs. “But give us a call if you hop the channel, yeah?”

“I will do,” he says.

It’s silly to think you’ll actually meet again. Truly, why would you? But it feels like he means it. Like you’re dogs of war, set on intersecting paths to hell.

Somehow, some way, the two of you are always going to find each other.

Somehow, some way, you don’t think you mind.

[nabibeans]

Pride Month Special: coming out internationally.

Summary: Ateez have their first international fan sign, towards the end Hongjoong decides to share a personal detail about himself, the rest of the members follow suite.

~🏳️‍🌈~

Hongjoong was nervous; hands sweating as he fidgeted with them, his eyes glancing around the faces in the room. Seonghwa had noticed, though he couldn’t offer comfort other, not in the way he needed right now. Once the group was lined up properly the members glanced at their captain, his hands shaking as he gripped the mic. “Hello everyone, I uhm..it’s time for us to finish. And before we give our last message I wanted to say something.” His hands shook harder, heart hammering in his chest, nausea was beginning to swirl in his stomach, creeping slowly up his throat. “I..it’s pride month you know? Where we celebrate all queer identities. And I know there must be some of you that are queer and celebrate…but…” the bile rose into his throat, a gag making its way out. “I uhm…I…” , “Hongjoong-“ Hongjoong shoved the microphone into Seonghwa’s hands, just in time to run out the exit door. As soon as he made it over to the trash can he was heaving up his breakfast, why couldn’t he just say it? Why couldn’t he tell atiny!? A manager had come out to check on him, the man looked worried. “You okay kid? You don’t have to do this if you’re not feeling comfortable.” Hongjoong wiped his mouth, turning and sighing. “I’m nervous, I’ve never told anyone. Besides, I’m..in a relationship as well.”

The manager nodded, humming as he offered the boy a piece of gum. “Here, for your breath.” Hongjoong popped the gun into his mouth, cringing as the fruity taste mixed with the lingering vomit taste in his mouth. “Are you happy in your relationship?” Hongjoong nodded, “yes, I’m very happy in my relationship.” The manager patted his shoulder, “then go tell the world who you are kid. Tell them you’re in a happy relationship, show your fans the real you.” Hongjoong smiled, nodding. “I will, I just need a minute. I just threw up.” The manager nodded, “take your time.” Hongjoong sat on the floor, taking his phone out of his pocket. Turning it on his eyes softened as he ran a thumb over the lockscreen; a photo of himself and his boyfriend was there, they were laid in bed, kissing each other sweetly. Hongjoong’s arm was stretched out, clearly taking the selfie while his boyfriend had an arm around him. “You make me so happy.” Taking a deep breath he stood again, nausea crept back up as he opened the door, swallowing it down he stepped inside.

All eyes were on him; everyone looked at him as he walked back to his position beside Seonghwa. “I apologize for my absence. It seems I may have pushed it too hard.” Hongjoong ran a hand through his messy hair, then took the microphone again. “Anyway, as I was saying…I know there are a lot of atiny that are queer identifying and honestly…I think you guys, my atiny. Should know that…” he looked to his members, all of them nodding with smiles. “You should know that…that I’m gay. I like boys.” Hongjoong held his breath, waiting for anyone to reply. His heartbeat sped up again, suddenly there was a voice, “ah shit! I knew he was fruity!” The members erupted in laughter, and soon Hongjoong followed suit. “Fruity? I suppose I am.” Seonghwa turned to him with a smile, mouthing a ‘good job’ to him. Hongjoong smiled giving a thumbs up another voice came, “Hongjoong oppa, do you have a boyfriend?” Hongjoong smiled, then nodded. “ I do. I have a boyfriend.” Seonghwa held out his hand for the mic, the captain happily handed it over. “Hello atiny, as you know I’m Seonghwa! But..I’m also bisexual, and..” he wrapped his arm around Hongjoong’s waist, hugging the smaller male to his chest. Hongjoong looked up at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “and I’m Hongjoong’s boyfriend.” The crowd screamed , a few yelling that they knew it, others that they saw it coming. Yunho took the mic next, “hello I’m Yunho! I’m bisexual too!” Then Yeosang, “I’m Yeosang! And I’m queer, I prefer not to label my sexuality.” Hongjoong had tears in his eyes, hiding his face in Seonghwa’s chest. “I’m San! I’m bisexual like Seonghwa hyung.” , “I’m Mingi and I’m pansexual.” Wooyoung excitedly snatched the mic. “I’m Wooyoung! I’m gay! Just like captain.” The members watched as Jongho took the mic, arching a brow before shrugging. “I’m Jongho, and I’m asexual. But..I’ll make and exception for Yeosang.” Yeosang blushed hiding his face, his boyfriend definitely had a way with his words. Hongjoong smiled proudly, his queer little family had publicly came out just to support him.

“Thank you so much!” He smiled from Seonghwa’s arms. Pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s cheek, “ah come on! That’s not a real kiss!” A fan called. The others started chanting along, “kiss kiss kiss kiss kiss..” Hongjoong turned to look at the managers who only shrugged then gave the thumbs up. “Better make it a good one.” He teased. Seonghwa smiled and shook his head, “don’t I always?” Tilting Hongjoong’s head up he captured his boyfriend’s lips in a kiss, the smaller male wrapping his arms around him as atiny cheered loudly. “Sadly, we do have to go now, but thank you for your support!” Hongjoong handed the mic back to the staff, taking his boyfriend’s hand as they left the fansign. Once they were out of earshot the small leader spoke up, “you guys didn’t have to come out just to support me! Especially you telling them you’re my boyfriend!” He slapped Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I like being your boyfriend thank you!” San smiled happily as they walked. “It’s okay captain! Next time I’ll tell them about Wooyoung and I.” San and Wooyoung held hands as they walked, smiling proudly. “You guys realize, you just came out as the first openly queer group right?” Their makeup noona spoke. The boys all nodded, they were proud of that fact.

Back at the dorms it was quiet; the eight boys had all eaten dinner as sat on the couch watching a movie. Hongjoong was curled up into Seonghwa, sometimes sneaking a quick kiss when they thought no one was paying attention. “Thank you for today.” He whispered, arms wrapping around his boyfriend. “You don’t need to thank me honey, it’s my job as your boyfriend.” Playing with Hongjoong’s hair the couple cuddled up on the couch, suddenly the lights flicked on. All eight men sat up turning to face the source, in the doorway stood their manager holding something in his hands. “You guys have no idea how proud the whole KQ family is of you. So..we all pitched in and got this.” The manager opened the material letting it flow, it was a large rainbow flag with Ateez’s logo across the front of it. “Oh my gosh it’s so cool!” Wooyoung was the first to run over, the rest followed behind. “Our own pride flag!?” San was excited. “For the first openly queer boy group.” The boys happily accepted the flag, “captain where should we hand it!?” Hongjoong thought for a moment. “How about above the trophy case?” The other members agreed, getting to work on hanging the flag. The manager left after bidding them a good night, leaving the eight alone again. Hongjoong yawned as he stood beside Seonghwa, “baby, let’s go to bed.” He whispered to his boyfriend. The blond nodded, taking his hand as they walked out of the living room to their shared room.

As soon as the door was closed Seonghwa grabbed his boyfriends waist, “come here you!” Hongjoong shrieked playfully as Seonghwa tickled his sides, pressing kisses all over his face. “Hey! You know I’m super ticklish!” The two stumbled back to their bed, their lips connecting in a kiss as soon as they hit the soft material. After a short make out session the two separated for air, “okay but for real, I’m tired.” Hongjoong removed his sweater tossing it to the floor, then shoved his pants off only leaving his tank top and boxers as he slipped underneath the blankets. “No pajamas?” Seonghwa asked. The boy shook his head, “not tonight babe. We’re off tomorrow.” Seonghwa nodded, removing his clothes as well before joining his boyfriend under the covers. The couple held each other in their arms, steady breaths filled the room as sleep slowly came. “I love you Seonghwa.” Hongjoong mumbled softly. Seonghwa smiled, watching his boyfriend drift off to sleep. “ I love you too, Hongjoong.”

// if this does well I’ll make a part 2 with ateez at a pride event

[thatblackravenclaw]

Make it up to you

Blog Details + My Library

Steve Rogers x fem!black!reader

word count: 1k

warning(s): cursing, oral (fem receiving), not proofread

.

.

I wonder if Tony knows these debriefings would be a lot more bearable if they weren’t so boring. Like, where’s the team spirit? Where’s the excitement of yet another successful mission? And here comes Steve’s ass. Every time it’s his turn to talk he always says something about me.

“Stardust?”

Told you.

“Yes, Captain?” A sarcastic smile upon my face.

“You need to pay more attention to your surroundings. That agent was right behind you, and you didn’t even know.” Bullshit!

I was completely aware of my surroundings and had the situation under control. I felt the guy’s presence and I was about to give him a surprise when Mr. Holier Than Thou decided to come and “save the day”.

“Yes sir.” I roll my eyes continue zoning out.

He blabs some more, doesn’t call anyone else out, and then we were finally dismissed after two and a half hours. I’ve never left a room so fast.

A hand lands on my shoulder. I raise my elbow to their face but stop an inch from it. I side eye and see Natasha.

“There’s my favorite spider.” I lower my arm and turn to face her with a genuine smile.

“You let him get to you.”

We start walking towards the bar in the common area.

“No,” stretching out the ‘o’, “I actually kept my comments to myself.”

“Yes, but you were shooting daggers at him for the rest of the meeting.” She sits down on the stool, and I go behind the counter. Vodka. Vodka. Where’s the Vodka?

“Staring at me during meeting, Romanoff? I knew you had a crush on me.” A smirk pulls at the corner of my mouth. I pour a shot for the both of us and right as I’m about to throw it back…

“Isn’t it a bit early to be drinking?”

I stare at him with the most irritated look I can conjure.

“And with that, I will be taking this,” I lift my shot up in the air, “To my room.”

I give him one last look before walking to the elevator. He’s such a pretentious dick. You would think that since he’s from the 40s that he would have more manners. Well, actually, I heard husbands used to abuse their wives, but no one talks about it much. They must keep up their All American Dream façade.

I need a distraction. As soon as I get to my room, I waste no time. I set the shot glass on the dresser and look around. Right now seems like a more perfect time than any to take down my braids. I mean it’s already 4 which means that I’ll most likely be doing this all night, but whatever. Tomorrow is my day off anyway.

I grab the remote to turn the tv on. Let’s have an 80s movie marathon. Maybe it’ll calm my nerves. 80s. What a great decade besides the racism, homophobia, and economic status. Let’s see, School Daze? I should be halfway through detangling by the time the movie is over.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

The fuck? I walk over and open my door. I roll my eyes and turn back around but leave the dorm open.

“Steven Grant Rogers. To what do I owe this pleasure?” My butt hits the bed and I look at him.

“You’re mad at me.” He closes the door behind him.

“Oh, no. No, no, no. I’m pissed at you. BIG difference. I don’t understand why you pick on me and it’s only me.” He walks up to me and gets down on his knees so that we’re in eye level of each other.

“I’m sorry babe,” He leans in and pecks me on the lips, “I just don’t want them to catch on to us.”

I kiss him back and widen my legs so he can get between them.

“Why can’t you do and also pick on other people? It’s starting to feel racially motivated.” He rolls his eyes and pulls me closer to him.

“You say that every time something doesn’t go your way.”

“Because it’s true!” I move out of his hold and lay in the middle of the bed.

“You’re being dramatic.” His hands creep up to the bottom of my suit.

“Wooooow so now we’re being openly racist.” My bottoms are off and he places a kiss on my clothed core.

“I’m sorry, doll. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?” Suggestiveness in his tone.

His kisses move down the inside of my thigh while he pulls my underwear down. I look down and embarrassingly enough there a wet patch.

“I can think of a few things.” I respond, almost breathless.

A kitten lick to my clit has my back arching. I grab ahold of the comforter below me and tighten with each pass through my folds.

“Oh, fuck,” My eyes shut up my hand reaches down to his hair.

His tongue slowly swirls around my bud while his index and middle finger stroke equally as slow. His free hand is around my thigh. The contact, no matter how miniscule, turns me on more. The second his tongue leaves my clit I feel a throb. I whine at the loss, but if finger quickly replaces his tongue as he cleans up the slick that has dripped out of me.

The pressure on my clit is just right as has me enclosing his head in my thighs.

“Faster,” a clear shakiness in my voice. His obliges. His cheek is laid on my thigh, breath fanning over my pussy as his finger picks up speed. A squelching noise is heard, but the pleasure is too overwhelming for me to be embarrassed.

I feel his position shift on the bed. I look down and see him focused on my clit when his eyes flicker up to me. He looks so submissive, and the sight alone makes the band snap and my orgasm washes over me. With a chaste kiss to my clit, he sits up rubs my thighs to calm the shaking.

“Am I forgiven?”

[legendofzoodles]

A couple nights ago to help me get to sleep I told myself the story of the pied piper in my head. But I kept adding little details to it and ended up staying up longer to write it down. I wanted to tell this story here but not have to insert LU into it, so instead Time is just gonna tell it to the chain and by extension you the reader.

Trigger warning: domestic violence is mentioned briefly below the cut, read at your own discretion 

~~~ 

The Piper of Krysa Hamlet

The fire crackled softly, flakes of amber and crimson danced around the carefully placed logs, rising slowly together into the night sky. Time watched the embers intently from his spot in the middle of the semi circle of somewhat sleepy heroes, eyes slowly rising to see the lonely field that stretched out beyond their camp at the edge of a vast forest. He was calm and more than ready to call it a night. 

...but couldn’t until the others decided to settle down. He tried to chune out the youngest hero nested snugly at his left side, who was talking loudly to Wars as he sat at the far end polishing his armour. Sitting beside Wind and sharing with him the sail cloth was Sky, who was being shown designs for wooden sword hilts by Four. They flicking through scores of paper leaving a mess that was dangerously close to the fire. On Time’s right hand side was Legend, Wild and Hyrule who were playing some sort of card game. 

They were a little restless. Almost a week had gone by without anything happening outside of hiking and stopping for breaks. The lack of action had been appreciated after the first day or so, as after they’d gained their ninth addition to the group over a fortnight ago they were constantly dealing with monsters and deadly situations. Yet as the calm carried on the heroes found themselves growing anxious for something to happen. A village of some kind would be nice, even a monster camp to get rid of or an ambush from the Shadow’s army was becoming sort after. 

The only one not making a fuss was the large grey wolf stationed at the other end next to Hyrule, he was lying down with his head casually turned towards the edge of the forest.

Time leaned back into the fallen log he and a few of the others were resting against. “Let’s cut the chatter now and settle down.”

“With all due respect old man, what’s the point?” the Captain responded, examining the shine on his shoulder guard. “Outside of walk through that field, we don’t have a plan.”

“A good night’s sleep is important regardless,” Time said with a sigh. “If you don’t like tomorrow’s agenda then use your time on first night watch to make a better plan.”

Warriors caught Time’s glare and after a couple seconds nodded before going back to inspecting his armour. “If you’re gonna make us go to sleep this early, then tell us a story as compensation for ruining our fun.”

The old man pulled a face and sat up to look at Warriors properly. “The Captain wants a bedtime story?”

“You can call it that if you want,” Warriors responded with a smirk. “It’s just that even though I’ve been travelling with you for almost a month now, I know next to nothing about you. I’m sure the others are interested too.”

A murmur of agreement swept across the group as the younger members looked at Time expectantly, the man in turn raising an eyebrow at their curiosity. 

“Sparkles over there is right,” Legend said, earning a scowl from Warriors. “It would be nice to get a little insight into your adventures.”

“That so?” Time said, stretching back. 

“Yeah!” Wind lightly tapped Time’s arm. “How about your first dungeon? You must have done lots of those. Or what about telling us about your toughest battle? Or the time you pulled the Master Sword-?”

“Alright, let me think a sec,” the old man interrupted, tapping the sailor’s forehead with the back of his hand. The resulting contact made a funny sound that earned a chuckle from the group. “For now, I’ll tell you a ‘true’ story I was told when I was travelling outside the kingdom.” 

“What were you doing?” asked Hyrule as he snuggled under his blanket. 

“That’s not important,” Time dismissed. “Now is everyone going to quieten down for the story?”

“How old were you at the time?” asked Wild, but he immediately regretted asking when Time didn’t respond and grows uneasy when the silence continues. Worried that speaking of age might have been an insult to the veteran, he was about to apologise when the silence was broken. 

Time said with calm ease, “Anyone who interrupts will be sleeping alone over there in the field. Understand? Good...

There’s an isolated settlement far beyond the borders of Hyrule- and also here- called Krysa Hamlet. I wouldn’t be too surprised if it doesn’t exist in the future eras or even now because when I visited years ago it was a miserable place. All decrepit and practically falling into ruin, there were rows of abandoned houses and unkempt gardens with overgrown ivy winding up broken swing sets and treehouses. Very unsettling. 

Upon arriving at there one evening, I got a pretty unwelcome reception. There weren’t many people about the small village square, but I received dirty looks from half of them and flat cursed at by the other half. To be honest I considered moving right through and spending the night in the wild- but I didn’t have any food left and didn’t feel like foraging. So I went to the local inn, booked a room, dropped off my stuff and headed down to the pub for bite to eat. 

The people there were still unfriendly, and despite my attempts to introduce myself, none of them were interested in talking to me. They got especially angry and even threatened to get violent when I talked of music, even though none of them knew what an ocarina was. Just when I had resigned myself to eating alone a really old man with a battered walking stick came hobbling over to my table. 

He asked the usual questions: what my name was, where I came from, where I was going and stuff like that. It was basic manners, but after getting the cold shoulder from literally the entire village, I eagerly answered his questions, though he said hardly anything about himself. 

I asked him why every person here seemed to hate me and he told me that they haven’t had an outsider come here in over a century and are just afraid. This intrigued me so I asked him to explain further and he told me this story:

Over 100 years ago Krysa was a large town, and while it was very much isolated being far removed from Hyrule, it was prosperous and thriving. Very much a merchant town, with thriving businesses and wealthy citizens. 

However, suddenly over the course of just 2 days the town was suddenly besieged by a plague of rats. Thousands and thousands of them crawled out of the sewer system and went out into the streets and buildings through toilets, chimneys and cracks in the wall. 

They were not only a nuisance, stealing food, spreading illness and leaving droppings everywhere but they were also dangerous. 

A stand out tragedy among the many horror stories about the beasts told the story of a young family. The husband was an alcoholic who abused his wife. One night during a particularly violent drunk episode, he exited the house and left his incapacitated wife and vulnerable baby with the rats. The next day the half eaten corpses of both the young woman and the child were discovered. That was enough for the local council and mayor to finally start looking outside the town for help. 

They had been taking action against the rats, every meeting held was centered around how to get rid of the rats, although nothing they came up with worked. Therefore, in response to that horrific incident and the new surge of public outrage they printed as many flyers as they could afford and sent them far out into the lands beyond. Each read: “1,000 crowns to the person or people who rid our town of the rat plague [...]”

The town’s leaders didn’t have much hope that help would come, and what little hope they had faded as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months. That was until one hot summer’s evening, when a stranger wandered into town. 

What an odd fellow he was! Unusually tall and thin, with narrow pointed shoes that padded delicately along the cobblestone, a hat that covered his eyes and an ornate music pipe dangling from his neck. 

He drifted through the streets, seemingly oblivious to the many rats that scampered around him as well as the stares and whispered of the townsfolk. Without needing directions he headed straight for the town hall and entered the mayor’s office, interrupting yet another pointless meeting. 

“How dare you burst in here unannounced!” the mayor cried, but his anger subsided when the stranger held up the flyer.

Everyone in the room gave the man a strange look, including the mayor, who stood up from his place at the head of the table to get a better look at him. They waited for the man to speak, but he said nothing, so the mayor cleared his throat and asked, “I see no specialist equipment and you appear to have come alone. How do you plan to get rid of the vermin?”

At this, the stranger lifted his head to meet the mayor’s eyes with his black beady unblinking ones. An unnaturally wide smile spread across his chalk-white face as he slowly lifted a long finger and tapped on the instrument that hung around his neck.

“I see, very well,” said the mayor unnerved. Shaking his head he waved the man out, deciding to accept his help. If he didn’t deliver, the council wouldn’t pay him. “We’ll pay you once the job is done.”

That night the townsfolk heard a melodic flute, beautiful sounds that were foreign yet entrancing. Maybe the music was laced with a charm or spell because from the houses, out of the sewers and through the streets came rats of Krysa. The people watched from their windows in awe as the rodents obediently followed the mysterious piper in an orderly line through the town, up the hills and presumably to the Morava river where they all drowned. 

The day after was filled with celebration, men tossed around great mugs of beer and women danced in the street, food was proudly displayed out in the streets now that there was no fear of it being stolen by vermin. Inside the mayor’s office the councilmen cheered, happy to be free of the burden that had haunted them for the longest time. 

However, when the piper stepped in to collect his reward the sobering reality dawned on them. Had the stranger truly gotten rid of every single rat? And only after a night’s work! It didn’t add up, and the council weren’t convinced that that the plague had truly been eradicated. 

“Come now friend, forget the 1,000 crowns,” the mayor said, “Take 50.”

They men expected the piper to quietly take the money and leave, imagine their surprise when the stranger opened his mouth and spoke. “I will be paid. You may keep your precious gold, but I will be paid.” 

His words were sharp and cold, leaving quite the impression on the greedy councilmen. Over the next few days they kept a look out for the piper, anxious that he would break into the bank and steal the town’s money. However, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months without any sort of appearance, they soon forgot about him. 

Before long was the sound of the piper heard again in the town. Now, on a cold winter night, out of houses and through the streets, came the children of Krysa. The people watched in horror as their children danced and clapped along to the hypnotic tune of the flute, obediently following the stranger through the town and up the hills.

One boy, being lame, couldn’t keep up with the others and stopped following along once he was too far back to hear the music. He stood freezing in his grubby night clothes watching his peers disappear over the horizon, in the direction of river Morava. Once they were all out of sight he hobbled back home in the empty darkness. The only one to return. 

In the days after, men organised search parties and women wailed in the streets, business came to a standstill as the people obsessed over finding the lost generation. Inside the mayor’s office the councilmen were fixated on work, churning out flyer after flyer and sending them far out into the lands beyond. Each read: “A fortune to you piper, if only you return to us our children.”

There was no immediate reply, and as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years the people gave up hope. The piper never returned, and they never saw their children again. 

It wasn’t until the old man had finished his story did I realise that the entire room had gone silent. He stood up and said, “This young man is not to be feared,” before painstakingly making his way out of the door. However, it didn’t do anything to change the people’s opinion of me, they only glanced briefly in my direction before going back to conversing in their groups. Everything about that place was so strange. 

I...hm...don’t think I’ll ever go back there again.” 

A small puff of wind escaped Time as he finished the story, coming back from the memories he hadn’t really thought about in years. It was a few moment before he remembered that he’d been talking to the rest of group and looked around to gauge their reactions. The faces of his young comrades ranged from disturbed in Legend’s case to downright terror in Wind’s case. 

Satisfied with this, Time reached over the log for his blanket and got himself comfortable, moving to the right a little in case Wind wanted space. “Goodnight all.”

There was a brief pause as the group all hesitantly turned to look at each other. After a few moments, Sky ventured in a voice barely above a whisper, “Was that really a true story?”

“There’s no way to know,” Legend whispered back. “That old guy was probably senile. And anyway that was over 100 years ago, the piper’s long dead by now.”

“What if he isn’t human?” Wind mumbled, retreating into the folds of the sail cloth. 

“Like a ghost or something?” Wild asked, scanning the forest edge. 

“Even if he exists and is still around, this old man said we’re far away from this Krysa place. Not that we have anything to worry about, well...sailor better watch out,” Legend smirked. “You too smithy.”

Four peaked out from his blanket and grumbled, “I’m not a kid.”

“Right I forgot, you’re so small it’s easy to-” Legend froze mid-sentence and snapped his head in the direction of the forest. “What was that?”

“What was what?!” hissed Sky, suddenly alert. He felt a sharp tug on his right and saw that Wind was bundling himself up in the rest of the sail cloth. 

Wild wasted no time in hopping over the log and going for his bow and arrow. “Yeah I heard it too.”

Legend, Hyrule, Four and Sky quickly followed after grabbing their swords, with Warriors rising slowly from his place, blade drawn. The six heroes cautiously moved closer to the forest edge listening intently for anything suspicious. A distinct twig snapping sound sent them all into stiff fighting stances.

Despite smothering himself in soft fabric Wind heard the noise and immediately joined the action. Heart racing he gathered the sail cloth around his head, vaulted over the log and seized the phantom sword. “Let’s go you flute playing fucker!” he yelled into the darkness, brandishing his sword while simultaneously covering his ears.

Up until now Time hadn’t been paying much attention to them, thinking that one or two were playing a prank to scare the others. But Wind’s brazen outcry forced him to open his eyes and address the situation. He stood up and turned behind to see the group pointing their weapons at Twilight, who’d just emerged from the forest behind them. He had his hands raised in an unthreatening manner, like he was about to calm a group of frightened animals. 

“Hey...it’s just me,” he said quietly, making his way out of the undergrowth. “Sorry I didn’t say anything while approaching, I assumed you guys were asleep.”

Surprised that Wolfie had been able to leave without anyone noticing, Time glanced over to where he had been resting and turned back only to see the group arguing amongst themselves. He crossed his arms and watched them bicker, deciding not to tell them any more stories for the foreseeable future. 

~~~

Thanks for reading!

Masterlist

9th place in the LU character design ranking

Character analysis posts:

Hero of the Sky, Hero of Time, Hero of Twilight, Hero of the Wild, Hero of Warriors

Parkour team - LU drabble

How each member of the chain laughs - LU headcanon

Story notes:

The name of the hamlet is literally just the Czech word for ‘rat’. I wanted to use the German word since the Pied Piper story is set in Hamlin a German town, but ‘ratte’ sounded too on the nose. Also I wanted the hamlet to have a different currency from Hyrule since it’s so removed from that kingdom. 

I hope my version of the Pied Piper story was scary/creepy enough to warrant the chain being all jumpy and going ape shit at the slightest forest noise. Yes, even Legend was scared. 

Speaking of the Pied Piper, I wanted to hint at the idea that there wasn’t really a person there, just an empty vessel for the entity in the flute to control (btw the ‘smile’ was the entity trying to human in a friendly way. It failed miserably, but hey it tried). Like how Majora puppeteered Skull kid. It’s why the story both fascinates and scares Time, it pokes at some buried childhood trauma for him.

This is set in Time’s era, maybe a couple weeks or so before he takes them to his home. Also, goes without saying but the wolfie thing is hush hush in this short story.  

Decide for yourself who the newest member I alluded to is, didn’t specify cuz it wasn’t too important.

Spoiler(?): The old guy who told Time the story was the surviving boy from the night the children went missing- if you believe that it actually happened.

[tommyspeakycap]

Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

19

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

[blouisparadise]

We frequently get asked what our members favorite fics are, so for today’s rec list, we asked each member of BLP to choose FIVE favorite fics for this list - no repeats allowed. Please keep in mind that this is not a complete list of our favorites - there are so many amazing BL fics out there that we all have a lot more than this! Still, we hope you enjoy. Happy reading!

1) Take Off Your Business Suit | Explicit | 3082 words

“Yes, let me get another chair.” Louis said, leaning up off of the desk. He stood up but before he could leave the office to get another chair, Harry was grabbing his hand.

The words that came out of Harry’s mouth made Louis’ knees weak and heart beat quicken. “Just sit on my lap.” Harry said. Whatever he said afterwards didn’t make it into Louis’ ears as he was moving quickly over to Harry and placing himself on Harry’s lap.

Louis would take anything Harry wanted to give him; hand touching, lap sitting, all of it. Louis hadn't realized he was holding his breath until it came out in a quiet sigh. “Okay so th-this one will be slightly different right?” He asked as he pointed at the sheet of paper in front of him.

2) Quietly Our Hearts Beat | Explicit | 7539 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis and Harry in the universe of ‘A Quiet Place’.

3) A Love Reaction | Explicit | 9968 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Louis’s staring up at him, head tilted slightly back, and his blue eyes are glassy, locked with Harry’s in an unblinking and gentle gaze. He looks ready to do whatever Harry says, to please him whatever way.

4) To Love Without Reason | Explicit | 8854 words

“Come on in, soldier,” Louis pats Harry’s chest and walks away, leaving Harry to follow behind.

Harry stands in the living room, looking around at Louis’ dwelling. Family pictures placed high on a shelf, certificates of Louis’ practice, and other trinkets that make Harry entirely too nostalgic.

“I have to warn you,” Louis says as he puts the kettle on, the water droplets from his hair trickling down the golden skin of his back. “The door jams if you lock it so you'll have to leave it ajar.”

Harry acknowledges with a soft hum, too entranced by Louis’ glistening skin to form a coherent reply.

5) No Good Unless It’s Real | Explicit | 17021 words

Louis is a very busy farmer who’s just trying to make it to his next nap and Harry’s the new hot vet that’s determined to infiltrate every area of his life.

6) A Springtime’s Wilt, An Autumn’s Bloom | Explicit | 20593 words

Harry is Louis' personal chauffeur, and although he hides his feelings for his boss behind a wall of rigid professionalism, Louis still manages to squeeze through the cracks.

7) Ready To Fall | Explicit | 21220 words

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

8) Written In The Stars (That’s You And Me) | Explicit | 22632 words

Louis pushes himself up on one elbow and stretches enough to just barely trace his fingertips over Harry’s jawline. Harry’s eyes drop to track his movements as he does it again. “D’you feel that?” he whispers.

To him, it feels like all of the universe’s magic lives just beneath his skin when he touches Harry with intent. It feels like something special. Louis watches Harry’s lips part and wants to touch that too. He almost does, but then Harry shakes his head. “Feel what?”

9) Middle Ground | Explicit | 23561 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

Harry moves to a new town for work where he meets the enigma that is Louis Tomlinson.

10) England Has My Bones | Explicit | 24087 words

The next time Harry thinks about calling, it’s 4.14 in the morning on a Parisian hotel balcony.

11) Like A Siren In The Night | Explicit | 24868 words

“There is an infestation in my home,” Louis hisses, righting himself quickly and pushing his way past Harry, heading directly for the kitchen. He’s rather haphazardly dressed himself, a coat thrown on over a loose flannel shirt and black pants, slippers on his feet.

Harry resists the urge to sigh, closing the door and trailing behind him slowly. “What kind of infestation?”

For all he knows, Louis is going to claim that there’s a ghost infestation. Harry has no idea what the end game is here – all he knows is that Louis has found at least three complaints a week to bring up since he’s been living on Harry’s property, and he’s been living here for six months.

It’s way too many fucking complaints, is what Harry is saying. Especially when most of them are ridiculous to start with.

12) Hold Onto This Heaven (Of Yours) | Explicit | 25213 words

An ode to being too young, too sad, and too in love.

13) The Devil’s In The Details | Explicit | 25372 words

He squeals when Harry smacks his bum as he bends over to pick up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder. Harry smiles smugly at him, bottom lip caught between his teeth. “When are you going to start calling me professor?” He asks.

“When you actually are one,” Louis says with his hand on the doorknob. He cocks his head to the side in curiosity. “Isn’t that how words work? You did study English, right?”

Louis’ quick to slip out the door before Harry can smack him again, his laugh echoing through the hallways as he makes his way to his next class with flushed cheeks and a bright smile.

14) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

15) You Fit In My Poems (Like A Perfect Rhyme) | Explicit | 27598 words

The one where Harry works in an old bookshop and Louis is the pretty stranger that ends up stranded there in the middle of a storm.

16) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding A/B/O fic.

17) Once Upon A Dream | Explicit | 33319 words | Sequel

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

18) Stuck On You | Explicit | 33983 words

Louis’ life revolves around his stickers. Harry’s life revolves around his job. The universe has decided their worlds should revolve around each other.

19) Coeur De Pirate | Explicit | 34207 words

He tilts his chin up as the Captain strides across the deck, his footfalls falling loudly against the planks. The crew watches them from afar.

Stepping into his space, the Captain wraps an arm around Louis’ waist and pulls him in. He lowers his head to breathe his words against Louis’ cheeks. “I won,” he whispers, “I’ve come to claim my prize.”

20) What This World Is About | Explicit | 34472 words

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

21) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

22) Before We Knew | Explicit | 39830 words

Louis has been skeptical of soulmates for years so it seems like fate when he finally bumps into the owner of the obnoxiously large signature printed onto his skin since age sixteen: Harry Styles, a human rights attorney who is firmly against soulmates.

23) The Space Between | Explicit | 39917 words

Harry Styles is the alpha rockstar who can’t sleep and doesn’t know why.

Louis Tomlinson is the omega PhD student who helps him figure it out.

24) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40580 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

25) Worth Dying For | Explicit | 44906 words

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

26) Tastes Like Summer, Smiles Like May | Explicit | 47519 words

A cold prince, an alpha with nothing left to lose and a kingdom with a secret.

27) Love’s Truest Language | Explicit | 48195 words

The first part was meant as a joke. He didn't really expect Harry to buy anything. It was just Louis’ way of softening the ‘get the fuck out’ blow.

“Where's your order forms, then?”

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him.

Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

28) Through The Wheatfields And The Coastlines | Explicit | 52855 words

The one where Louis needs inspiration, and a certain cowboy and his lamb are the perfect distraction.

29) Latibule | Mature | 54322 words

A Spirited Away AU of sorts where Louis just wants to heal and be left alone, only for all his plans to be destroyed by the hands of an infuriating British God.

30) Warming Up To You | Explicit | 56227 words

Prompt 111: Louis and Harry are strangers that somehow got stranded during a blizzard. They find themselves in an abandoned cabin and have to cuddle for warmth. Cuddling leads to much more.

31) Feeling Borrowed, Always Blue | Explicit | 68214 words

Louis has been dreaming of his wedding since he was young - he just never expected it to happen like this.

32) Curly Bun Man | Not Rated | 68597 words

I just paid for these Doritos but they're stuck in the vending machine and I know you've been waiting but I am not going to let you buy something until you help me. AU.

33) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76584 words | Sequel

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

34) Through Struggles, To The Stars | Explicit | 80582 words

Louis is a Starfleet captain trying to find his place in the universe. Harry is a prince just trying to do what's right.

35) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream.

That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

36) Where You Lay | Explicit | 86038 words

When Louis's upcoming heat threatens his success at his new dream job, he asks the best (and only) person he can think of to help him through it: his best mates' best mate, Harry Styles.  Harry reluctantly accepts, and together the two navigate a strange friends with benefits relationship that quickly turns complicated.

37) And Down The Long And Silent Street | Mature | 86090 words

Wherein Louis and Harry are on the opposite ends of the social ladder, but their paths still cross on the filthy streets Louis calls his home. The odds are staked against them from the beginning, and even more when Louis' past finally catches up with him.

38) Swim In The Smoke | Explicit | 101778 words

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

39) The Galaxy’s Edge | Explicit | 113921 words

Things never quite go as they are planned during a simple rescue job.

40) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Explicit | 126057 words | Sequel (WIP)

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[deluluass]

Then, the dam breaks.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; dacryphilia; mild infantilization

Kuroo's not a bad person. 

Not even by a long shot. "Bad" is willfully stretching out a leg, hidden like a predator among the bushes; hungry for an unknowing soul who's naively secured with their surroundings and the crack that resounds when face finally meets floor.

Or, murder! Murder is bad, he believes.  

No, Kuroo isn't capable of any of those things. He might seem like he has a mean streak about him. What, with his sharp tongue and that incorrigible self-satisfied smirk (according to Yaku) and his words that may or may not sting like a backhanded slap sometimes. But that's all in good humor. 

Well-deserved, too, when given to the right asshole. And if he does manage to get under the skin of the wrong person, Kuroo's not above offering an apology. 

And he means it. (Occasionally.)

There's no pleasure to be had, if anyone would ask. Because, again , he's not a bad guy. He's sly: he knows that much, though he wouldn't taunt someone into visible pain just for the thrill of it.

There's a method to all this. A purpose. Not a profound one, but a reason all the same. 

So he has to admit he's feeling kinda lost figuring out why, of all people, it just really had to be you. 

There wasn't much of an option to begin with.

Art clubs had already been full. The other ones, you weren't much interested in. And by the time you realized your homeroom teacher would stop at nothing to remind you that this year was your last chance to do something other than study and prepare for exams, for once— well, it had already been too late to reconsider joining those.

Then a flyer was handed out to you.

"V-volley," the boy trailed off. 

Try as you might but you couldn't recognize him. A feat, that, considering his blond mohawk that you could spot among a crowd of thousands. 

He seemed like he'd caught a nasty spell that prevented him from meeting anyone's eyes, even as you deliberately searched his face for any sign that he'd explain himself to you. Surely, he must have a lot to say after he'd outright ambushed you from entering the cafeteria. 

"You...want me to join?" 

You were on the verge of asking for more details, focusing on the black cat (though it didn't look like it) drawn on the center of the curiously damp paper, only to find out that you'd been conversing with an empty hallway. 

A soft grumble left you. 

"Weird," you concluded, barely a whisper. "Weird, weird, weird ."

You were the volleyball team's manager since then. 

"She's not much of a talker."

Lev hunched to his knees again, sounding very much like he's running out of breath.

It should've been Kuroo's cue to gently ( gently) tell him off, that Nekoma's ace would handle a minute of catching a ball with their face with much more tenacity than he does, or that Nekoma's ace shouldn't have to catch the ball with their face in the first place, period.

" Zoning out already, Ace? " he'd planned on jeering, but instead he followed the direction of the overgrown 10 year old's gaze. 

Someone was talking to you. 

Apologizing , was more like it, if the other student's incessant bowing until his torso fell from his body was any indication. You were outside of the gym, clipboard tucked under an arm, so it was impossible to catch a word you were saying.

Not that you were saying much. Or anything at all. You only nodded. And nodded again. And after what seemed like the world's loudest "I'm so sorry, senpai!",you immediately went back inside to refill the water bottles lined atop the bench. 

"Hey," Kenma sighed, the ball in his hand aimed for a toss. "Focus."

And the cycle of Lev being an utter disappointment to the blond setter continued. 

Kuroo let out a noncommittal hum, eyes never leaving you, trailing like a lost pup as you handed out water bottles to Nobuyuki and the others. 

"Not a talker, huh," he muttered to himself. 

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three, maybe? Kuroo could scarcely remember for how many days you'd been showing up to this sweaty pit to perform your duties. On the dot. Always. Without fail. 

What he does remember was the first day.

Chin up; head held high. You strutted into their lives as if you were leading an entire militia to battle and had no time to waste.  

He teased you for it when you'd already busied yourself with clean up duty a few minutes after your (short) ( extremely concise) introduction.

("Slow down there, general," he told you with a wry chuckle. He expected any reaction from you, really.)

(He just didn't expect you to actually slow down on your cleaning and pick up on the Coach's remaining paperwork right then and there, going through it like a forest fire.)

It would take him a few more days to realize that that's just how you are. 

Even when you rejected a tongue-tied Yamamoto when he tried to ask you out. For a meal. With the other boys, of course.

Even when you took a hurtling ball to your leg and lost your footing and had the whole team scrambling for a stretcher, only for you to stand on your good leg, tell everyone "I'm okay," and walk to the nurse's office on your own.

(Kuroo doesn't think he's seen someone limp with so much grace before.)

His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Water . Water was what he needed. 

Right. 

You didn't see him coming from across the court. You were sitting on the bench and your back was turned, scribbling on that clipboard propped on your lap, yet— like clockwork, your idle hand shot out to give him the last bottle to your left before he could even finish asking for one.

He felt his lips curve as he muttered his thanks around the lid.

"Say," Kuroo began.  

You were reading the things you wrote back to yourself. 

"Mind telling me what was that about?"

You paused. You blinked up at Kuroo. 

The attention hits him like a freight train. 

That clear as summer sky gaze, unclouded and bright. 

It's nuts how unreal it felt. How can something so elusive be now all on him. 

(Just for him.)

"Earlier," he added, licking his lips and feeling silly for the way his chest tightened. "Seemed kinda intense."

"He borrowed my notes," you said. Then back to the clipboard again. 

Kuroo made himself comfortable next to you, elbow propped on his knee as he rested his chin against an open palm.

"Got a test coming up?"

"Cram school. He's in the same class."

Of course .

"Of course," Kuroo grinned. "What happened? Heard the guy apologize to you like you were about to kill him."

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to find it as funny as he did. Pity. 

He sighed.

"Nothing too bad, I hope."  

The noise of ballpoint pen scratching against paper halted. 

From way at the back, Lev was prattling Kenma's ear off again. Kuroo guessed they were about to leave, walking away from the court, away from the gym and to god knows where. The whole team, too, for that matter.

Everyone seemed to have gone, diminished in that second. He couldn't hear them anymore, didn't bother to see if they're still there.

He was looking at you, after all. Really looking at you. Your grip on the pen was a tad severe, he thought; fingers determined to squeeze the ink out of the barrel. 

Your face betrayed nothing. Indeed, anyone could spare you a glance and immediately guess that this is just another empty chat between acquainted individuals, conversation just for the sake of it. 

Kuroo wasn't just anyone, though.

Chin up and head held high; as you'd always done. But Kuroo's close enough to see it now, unlike before: the gulps you take in between breaths; the falter in those eyes that only ever looked forward.

Chin up and head held high, but Kuroo sees now that the neck he could easily break with one hand is so tense it's essentially a string pulled too tight that's on the brink of snapping. 

Oh.

"Oh," Kuroo whispered.

Oh .

"He lost it didn't he?" Kuroo realized. "Your notes."

And it did snap.

"Just..!" You looked down and bunched your pants in your fist. "No. Of course not. It's nothing," you huffed, putting the ball pen's cap back on. 

You were leaving.

Kuroo stood up.

"You look upset, manager-san," he said softly, his larger frame blocking your attempts of escape. "It is bothering you, hm?"

"My notebook got-got ruined, sure," you said. "But juice stains aren't bothering me, Captain ."

There it is. You were meeting his gaze again. 

" Too late for that ," Kuroo thought. There's a stutter to your words when there had been none. 

Your arms are trembling and you look  uncomfortable. He should stop. He knows he should stop , but whatever it is he said is chipping away at that impenetrable wall and he doesn't get what's happening now but damn, damn if that tingle running down his spine doesn't feel so fucking good. 

"My bad," he chuckled. "Sorry."

He raised both his arms in a show of defeat. 

"I'm- it's fine," you said through gritted teeth. "If you would just— excuse me."

Kuroo shrugged a shoulder. 

"Sorry about your notes, still," he said. "Must've been important to you. We all know how much you take your studies very, very seriously." 

Kuroo smirked. "You shouldn't have let him have it then." 

That made you stop in your tracks. 

"What do you mean?" you sought, confusion breaking your voice into what sounds like the smallest it's ever been.

Kuroo felt his breath catch in his throat.

"He needed my help, though," you rushed. "I can't just turn people away." 

"Really?" Kuroo sniggered, eyebrows lifting in fascination. 

"Could've sworn you were good at it," he said; whispered it so lowly, you couldn't have heard it. But you did.

You heard him, all right. Loud and clear.

Because it was just like watching someone take a bullet to the heart. 

First, the disbelief. 

Skin, muscles, and ligaments weren't made to be broken like that. A person wasn't created to bleed to death. And when it happens, well, all one can ask is: how could someone hurt me like this? 

So you stand before him, immobile, disbelief written in those wide eyes, because how could he hurt me like this?

Then—

Then, the dam breaks.

Kuroo doesn't think that you know it; that you're gaping at him with tears streaming down your face; that you're falling apart and stripping yourself bare the more you try to temper those quivering lips with that cute little nibbling you do.  

Kuroo doesn't think you know it, too.

That no one has ever been as beautiful as you are, right in that very moment.

You're not a good person.

Not even by a long shot. "Good" is an open hand, warm and soft and prepared to accept anyone in need of it. It's many things, goodness, but it most certainly isn't a dismissive attitude towards a well-meaning person who only wants to get to know you.

You hadn't gone this far in your uneventful life ignorant of what people say behind your back. "Frigid" is one. "Indifferent" on a good day. "Bitch" when someone feels like being mean. 

It's not like you're mad or anything; not as if you'd built up some sort of resentment within you that now you've settled for being perpetually friendless. You have plans, is all. You just can't afford to be a constant helping hand when you've got so much to do.

So you take it. 

Be a sport about it, was what you've always been told. Stiff upper lip, as they say. You remain silent about it and you endure and maybe you shed a few tears later as you lie in bed and maybe you entertain the possibility that you'll never see the end of this loneliness. 

But that's neither here nor there.

The point is, this time shouldn't have been any different.

(But sometimes even the strongest walls can crumble. All it takes is one crack, then the rest would follow.)

It was a bad day. 

You woke up late. You messed up the tally in the first set of practice games. You forgot the homework you'd stayed up all night to do. 

And the person whom you've lended your notes to for the college entrance exams lost it. 

He lost it. Conveniently just a month before the actual thing. 

"I- It's nowhere to be found, senpai," he explained. "I tried looking for it everywhere but- but I.." (You don't remember the rest.)

It's fine, you told yourself. You're fine. You can do something about a little inconvenience like this. You always have.

But then Kuroo Tetsurou asked. 

He's an amazing captain; even someone like you who only had a rudimentary knowledge at volleyball could understand the level of skill it requires to do what he does on the court while still managing to reign in the polarizing characters in this team together. And like most people, Kuroo Tetsurou has never cared for you. 

That's what you'd always thought, concerning him. Even when there had been times when he'd let slip what he thought about you. ("You're so cold, manager-san," he pouted once after you'd refused to eat with Yamamoto and the others.)

So it blindsided you, to say the least. 

The way he looked at you, as if he's privy to your darkest secrets, like he's seen you at your lowest and somehow knows you more than you did. 

When he'd jabbed and poked at what you'd only later realize was already a festering wound. (" It is bothering you, hm?" he said.) And before you could think about telling him to stop, to please, please let it go, it had already happened.

(" Could've sworn you were good at it ," he said.) 

This isn't news to you. Besides, there have obviously been worse digs. 

But hearing it from people who think you're not listening and being told about it to your face are two vastly different things. 

(Maybe it's because deep inside you'd always hoped that not everyone disliked you. That even though you're not a good person, you're not entirely bad either.)

Right in front of you, swift and without warning, he spoke only the truth.

You just weren't prepared for how deep it could cut. 

"I have to go," you murmured.

It took you a few seconds to realize that you'd been crying. And when you did, you immediately wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, turning away from him and the others still engrossed in their drills.

You let your feet do the thinking, allowing it to take you wherever they wished to go ( not here. not here. anywhere but here ), finding it impossible to do so yourself when your vision is clouded with welling tears. 

You moved forward, never once looked back, until you ended up inside the stark darkness of the gym's forgotten neighbor. 

The shed has long been abandoned and had nothing but dust, a couple of furniture in disrepair, and the occasional bug to keep it company. It was good enough for you. You didn't need much anyway.

Except for silence. 

The breaths that you'd desperately tried to control shook like dried leaves hanging onto frail branches, much like your legs, eventually collapsing at the slightest gust of wind. 

All you needed was silence.

Crouched down, the feeling of bones reduced to jelly was a lot more palpable. And despite the pins and needles that you know would eventually appear like a vengeful mistress, you stubbornly pressed your knees closer to your damp face.

Stuttering inhales and short-lived exhales  soon enough filled the gnawing emptiness of the shed as you count back to the moment you'd started the day to when your classmate told you that he'd lost your notebook to when you'd been told of how much of a shitty person you are and you wonder how you would've changed your decisions and how could it have gotten to this point how could it go wrong like this what did I do what did I do wrong what went —

"There you are."

You clamped your mouth shut, clenched your teeth so hard to stop their chattering. How useless. 

The creaking noise of the door being closed— punctuated by the sound of the latch clicking, rendered that effort futile. 

Kuroo Tetsurou locked the door.   

"C-can you," you panted. "Can you please leave."

"I need some time alone," you said, every beat of your heart like the ticking clock of a time bomb. "Please." 

You waited for him to do as you'd told. Maybe what happened earlier was a mistake, a slip of tongue that hurt more than it should've, and he's here to apologize. Of course. That's it, isn't it? Why else would he be here?

"I- If you want to say something, we can- we can— later." 

It was as if the entire world had gone still. He said nothing; neither could you hear any hint of movement. You turned around.

"C-captain..!"

He was right there. 

Right in front of you, crouched and staring right back at you. His face a hair's breadth away from yours. 

Your legs shot upwards. 

"What are you- ah !" You hissed, feeling every cell in your body being incessantly pricked. Finding it impossible to stand on your own, your hands scrambled to get a hold of something, anything, maybe the almost dilapidated table behind you— only to be caught in between large, strong arms.

"Careful, now," he murmured against your neck. His scalding breath like frostbite, chilling you down to your bones until you were numbed from the pain.

He slithered a hand around your waist. With blood thundering to your ears, you bit back a shriek and pushed him away with all your might. But have you forgotten? Despite that indolent swagger of his, you've witnessed how this boy pushes himself to exertion for each match and beyond. What made you think you could win against him? 

And when you attempted to open your mouth and yell, he effortlessly covered it with a palm while hauling you towards the table. The thing rocked under your weight. It is amusing, what the fear of falling does to you. One moment you're thrashing your way out; the next, you're holding onto your tormentor for dear life.

"No one's gonna come for you." He shushed you like how one would when placating a rabid animal. "You really believe they would bother? With an attitude like that?"

Down, down, his hand sank to your thigh, kneading the aching flesh until all you could do was mewl out a hoarse, "S-stop. I beg y-you."

Because it's all that's left for you. No one's going to save you. Or maybe someone would. But, who? And would they, really? 

(Go on, then. Try. See for yourself.)

"Kuroo-san," you whimpered. " S-stop ."

(Would they even believe you? It's your word against his. Him . Their beloved captain.)

"Tetsurou," he only said, dipping his hand lower, wrapping your freezing legs around him. "Say it."

He's everywhere. Lips tracing your chin, teeth grazing your throat; all the while your weak, pathetic arms stayed on his shoulders, thinking he'd regain his senses because he has to. He has to. He's not a bad person. He wouldn't hurt you, not in that way. 

Even when rough palms are already caressing the sides of your breasts and you feel a bulge rutting against your stomach, hot and rock hard and large, his hands grabbing your ass to bring your crotch closer to his—

"Cap- Tetsurou!" You cried, trembling hands back on his chest as you sobbed and pleaded please, please, let me go, I won't say anything, I-I'll keep quiet .

He did stop. But he didn't let you go. (You're a stupid girl if you think he would). Instead, with a forefinger under your chin and a thumb on your lower lip, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze. 

And when your murky vision adjusted to the shadows, the heart that wanted to escape from your chest ceased its clamoring, arresting your breath with it.

The afternoon sun peeked through the crevices of the shed's wooden walls. Red-orange light revealed a pair of iris swallowed by blown pupils, only for it to pass and shroud him back into the darkness. 

"Say it again," he whispered, deep voice cracking. " Tetsurou . My name."

You tried to speak and protest once again but only a croaked snivel left you, your babbling becoming less coherent when he began planting soft kisses on both tear-streaked cheeks. 

"You've been all alone, haven't you? Keeping everything to yourself all this time."

He kissed your forehead and it was so tender you wanted to die. 

"My strong, brave girl," he breathed. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. I- I-"

You heard him chuckle as he pressed his forehead to yours, felt it crease on your skin. "I love you."

No. No, no, no . You shook your head and closed your eyes and prayed to anyone who's listening. 

"I love you," he repeated, strongly now, as if he only realized it this time around. 

And then he kissed you. Just a peck. And then he kissed you again, deepening it to probe a wet tongue into your mouth. And the hand sitting lax on your neck felt like a gun to your temple.   

You remained just as you were, like a plaything to do with as he pleased, as you felt calloused fingers creep inside your sweaty shirt.

"Such pretty tits," he grunted as he raised your bra over your breasts to brush your nipples, rolling and pinching and pulling them with his thumbs.

He muffled the noises you made with his own mouth still when he continued fondling you. You soon enough tasted the salt off of his palm when he left your lips to lick and pepper bites on your neck, on the valley and mounds of your breasts, sucking and lapping the stiff peaks until he was satisfied.

You tried counting, one to whatever. And when that did not work, you tried biting your own tongue to rid of the heat you fear would burst in your belly. 

All that went to waste when he reached inside your pants. 

"Not- not there!" you gasped, breaking your silence and wriggling out of his grasp.

He cooed. "You'll feel good. I promise."

After hooking long fingers over the hem of your panties, he briskly parted the hair and lips underneath to pull the thin cotton over the folds, over the throbbing nub trapped in the middle. 

"Your pussy's so wet, sweetheart," he sighed, the tip of his middle finger drawing light circles on your clothed clit. 

It was so lewd and dirty and the fact that your panties were soaked with slick was enough to burn you with shame.

"You like it, hm?" 

Perhaps you whimpered out a meek "no." You couldn't tell anymore, heaving out while he continued to toy with a sore nipple as he rubbed your slippery cunt, preying on your puffed out, swollen clit.  

"Feel what you do to me." He squeezed your wrist and forced your shivering hand on his crotch. "Take out my cock, baby," he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck.

"Tet-Tetsuro…san," you cried. "I can- I can't."

"Yes. Yes, you can ," he said, not halting the ministrations between your legs. "You're a big girl."

As if held by a string, he guided you, wrapped his hand around yours as he— as you stroked him, scorching and thick, up and down, just like that . 

"Good girl. My good little girl," he groaned, parting your panties to the side to tease your dripping hole. 

You wept harder, the inevitable only a few seconds away from you. A single finger, at first. And when he added a second one, you realized you preferred having a hand on your mouth than his lips on yours.

(Because then you wouldn't have to think of an excuse why you're suddenly swirling and brushing your tongue in time with his.) 

For a while there had been nothing but the sound of two wet lips pursing against each other (along with those embarrassing squelching noises). 

He treated you as if you were made of porcelain, your plush walls stroked oh so gently as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he ended the kiss and removed your hand from his cock, spit and pre-cum connecting you to him, he still handled you as if you would break at the drop of a hat.

That's why it snuck up on you, what happened, after he brought his mouth to your ear.

"Don't scream," he whispered. 

Then, he rammed his fingers in your mouth. 

You tasted yourself as he forced you on your back, slamming you down on the dirty table yet still carrying your weight all throughout, never letting go.

The bitter acceptance of it— that what began earlier can only conclude to this , did not prepare you for the feeling when he finally thrust himself into you.

They say it shouldn't hurt at first. If it does then he's doing it wrong. 

You hardly know if it's relief or horror that dawns on you when you realize how he stretched you out so easily, despite his size. Because, by all means, this should be wrong. This is wrong. 

"Gonna ruin you," he panted. "Gonna ruin you and— fuck put you back together myself."

He grinded his cock inside you deep and slow and when he hit that spot you couldn't control yourself from jackknifing so hard he had to hold you down. He does this mercilessly, pace growing more delirious until you're nothing but a choked and sputtering fool around his fingers.

"I won't ever leave you. I’m here," he cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your face as you bawled and shattered in his embrace. "I’m here ."

"So cry all you want."

[peachyyykid]

Deceivers Ch. 11 - Revenge

Word Count: 4089

Chapter 10 - Parting

Chapter 12 - Daytrip (nsfw)

Disclaimer! tw: y/n is having a panic attack

As someone who experienced panic attacks before, I realised that writing one invested me a lot emotionally. If a detailed description of a panic attack triggers you, you might want to skip that part. Also, everyone experiences them differently and coping mechanism differ as well. Just remember that all of these experiences are valid and that you are loved! :)

---

"Kid!"

You didn't question the urge to run into his arms, but you didn't expect him to catch you either. But he did, and as his non-metallic arm pulled you into his chest, you felt something you hadn't felt in a very long time: safety.

You clawed at his fur coat, muffling your sobs with the soft fabric.

"What did he do to you?", he whispered into your ear lowly, while his angry eyes never left Deku, who was scrambling around on the floor with his trousers undone.

"G-get off my ship, p-pirate scum", he stuttered, visibly scared of the huge pirate that just sent his door flying.

"I will", Kid snarled at him, "but you're joining us."

And with that he extended his metal arm by adding more and more random metal, grabbing Deku's throat. He tried to get away, but to no avail. Kid strengthened his grip and he let out a gargling sound, kicking his legs in the air.

The redhead spun Deku around and hurled him right through the empty doorframe towards his ship. Killer was waiting on the other side and knew exactly what to do. He caught the flying man (who was looking awfully pale) and slammed him down on the deck. You heard a faint scream in the distance, right after Deku's body hit the ship.

After making sure that Deku couldn't run away, Kid looked down at you, wiping away your tears with his rough fingers. He had let go of all the metal, but his eyes were still angry as he took in as much of your face as possible.

"Tell me what happened", he whispered in a commanding tone, and you sniffled before you spoke.

"W-we fought, and he said awful things to me, and then he tried to rape me and he... he had my parents killed. K-kid, he's responsible for all this. He killed my parents!"

You started sobbing desperately again and your knees felt weak. They gave in and you sunk towards the floor, but Kid picked you up. He pressed your trembling body against his and held you safely while he jumped aboard his own ship, the cold air cooling your tear-stained face.

Deku was trembling as well, but for different reasons. Killer was towering over him with his arms crossed and the rest of the crew was shooting him intense, blood-lusting glares. No one in this world would want to swap with him.

Kid landed and gently placed you on the deck. You slumped down to your knees immediately, staring into the distance with blurry eyes. The sun was setting already, painting the sky in beautiful red and orange hues. It would have been a wonderful start into a new life, but Deku took all that from you. Your body felt weak and lifeless, your arms hanging down your sides.

Kid kneeled down in front of your trembling frame and looked at Deku, who was sitting a few metres away from you. He was whimpering pathetically, looking for a possibility to flee, as if Killer would let him.

"Wire, take some men and ransack the ship. Then sink it", Kid commanded.

"Roger, Captain", Wire's calm voice answered, and he and most of the guys entered Deku's ship.

Then his face turned back to you. He gingerly took your jaw in his big hand and brushed your cheek with his thumb, just like he did in that one night.

"Look at me", his rough voice told you, and you obeyed.

Seeing your puffy eyes and your tear-stained face awakened something deep inside of him, and he wanted to destroy whatever was causing you this kind of pain. You looked at him like he was the only one who could make it all better, and he understood, his face absolutely serious.

"Angel. I want to hear it from you."

His amber eyes bored into yours. They were full of rage, but not because of you.

"Do you want me to kill him?"

Killing was wrong. No matter what kinds of horrible things someone had done, killing wasn't the answer. That's what a previous version of you would have said. But looking at Deku, you only saw a monster. A deceiving monster that had dared to take your life into his hands. You wanted to hurt him like he hurt you, he didn't deserve forgiveness.

Kid knew exactly that you couldn't do it yourself, so he had asked you if you wanted him to do it for you. And you really wanted it. There was not even a hint of compassion that you could spare for this man.

You looked at him, his eyes were pleading with you. Kid had asked you to make a decision. You could easily show mercy and say no. Deku mumbled apologies directed at you, rambling about how he shouldn't have overreacted and that he would treat you well as a mistress.

With empty eyes and the calmest expression on your face, you took in the satisfying sight of Deku shaking with fear.

"Yes."

It was merely a whisper, but everyone on the ship was silent. The only sound to be heard was Deku's pathetic whimpering. You didn't take your eyes off him, not even when Kid stood up slowly, revealing his full height again. The setting sun stretched his shadow, and it swallowed Deku's body whole.

Kid slipped off his coat and put it over your sunken shoulders without saying a word.

His shadow was coming closer to Deku with every heavy step he took, and he anxiously scrambled away from him, only to bump into Killer's legs. He was cornered between the two men, and he yelped in fear when Kid took the shiny knife out of his bandolier.

The knife fell, and Deku probably thought that Kid had dropped it by accident, because his eyes widened, and he opened his mouth when the knife didn't hit the ground. It hovered under his chin instead, the blade forcing him to look up at Kid.

"W-what kind of magic is that?", Deku screeched.

"It's a devil's fruit you moron", Killer mumbled and shook his head in dismay.

"I'm just making sure that you know who's the boss around here", Kid growled and pushed the blade a little further into Deku's skin, drawing a thin line of blood.

"I really wonder what she saw in you", he scoffed.

"P-please I will do anything... y-you can have the 15 million b-berry! You can have e-everything, just let me live!", Deku pleaded, trying to grab Kid's trousers. He looked up at him with doe eyes, in a futile attempt to gain his pity.

Kid bared his teeth and kicked off Deku's hands as if his futility was contagious, while an array of swords gathered behind his tall figure. They hovered in the air, framing Kid to make him look even more dangerous.

"You're not even worth listening to. Just by looking at your stupid face I can feel the wretchedness trying to rub off on me", Kid growled.

His signature smirk was back, and with a flick of his hand, all the sword's blades turned towards Deku. They made a clunking sound that filled the silent air and seeing their reflection in your glassy eyes gave Kid the final push.

With another flick of his hand, each and every of the swords sped towards Deku's trembling body, swallowing his cries for mercy.

He screamed in pain and desperately tried to protect his body, but there were just too many blades impaling him. They pinned him to the ground in an upright position, covering him in his own blood. His breathing became more and more shallow, and he looked at you with pain-filled eyes.

You watched the sight like in a trance. You felt inner peace for a split second, but then

nothing.

Nothing at all. It was gruesome to look at, but it didn't bother you the slightest.

With wheezing breaths, Deku's life ended in front of your eyes and your face didn't show any signs of remorse.

"Feed him to the fish", Kid growled and then blocked the space between you and Deku's body so you couldn't see him anymore.

You snapped out of your trance and realised what had just happened. It was good that you didn't see your ex-fiancé's dead body anymore because your stone-cold facade might have faltered.

Kid kneeled down in front of you again and you finally looked at his face. His frown was back, but his eyes were almost too soft for someone who just murdered a man without hesitation.

"Thank you", you mumbled flatly, but he didn't say anything.

"I'm going to take a bath", you added instead, sounding absent. Your body was there, but you felt like your soul was just hovering over it. The bath didn't actually matter, you just wanted to get away.

You tried to get up, but your legs were still too shaky. Kid was watching you for a few seconds, huffing at the fact that you couldn't take even a single step without tumbling over.

Suddenly, Kid flung you over his shoulders without a warning, ignoring your shriek.

He just scoffed and carried you to the cabin's bathroom, placing you in the empty bathtub. You raised an eyebrow at him when he sat down on the toilet, making no move to leave the room.

"I'm really thankful that you took revenge on my fiancé for me, but that doesn't mean you can watch me bath... naked...", you said quietly.

"There's no fiancé anymore. You're single and I saw your tits already", he smirked.

Although you couldn't deny that, it wasn't the best time to point it out and no excuse to creep on you in the bath.

"That's not the point."

"Then leave on your underwear, but I'm talking to you right here and now", he demanded with a growl, and you were too worn out to discuss and you knew that he wasn't really the patient type anyways.

Your gut didn't give you any warning signals either, so you just rolled your eyes and slipped of your shirt, shoes, and socks. The bra that Charlos had given you didn't cover anything and didn't give you any hold, so you had gotten rid of it immediately. Once your training had started, you made your own bra out of bandages from the infirmary, so this was what you were wearing at the moment.

Not ideal, but better than being naked.

You let the water run into the bathtub under Kid's watchful eyes, and when it was half full and after you put a nice foamy soap into it, you realised that you could have taken a bath later, after Kid was done talking to you. But it was too late for that now.

You watched the foam floating around on the surface for a second, thinking about the events of today with a frown.

"Where do you think you're going next?"

His question caught you of guard and you blinked some tears away that you couldn't really prevent from building up.

"I don't know. I need to see my brother."

What happened with Deku today absolutely destroyed your chance to be reunited with Tenmon and it became painfully clear to you right now.

"And where do you think you're staying until you find him?"

"I don't know", you said again.

He was quiet for a second and then displayed his signature smirk.

"If I promise you to help you find your brother, you will stay on the Victoria Punk as our doctor."

You shot him a sudden look and raised an eyebrow. Why did he offer you so much help out of the blue? Suspicion rose in you, and you narrowed your eyes.

He just scoffed in response.

"That's it, sweetheart. There's no catch. I will protect you until you find him, and you'll protect my crew in return."

You thought about his offer. If there was no catch, you could only win. And you had to be honest with yourself, there was no way you would even last a day in the New World on your own.

He held out his hand and you looked at it before you slowly put yours in his. Your hand was tiny compared to his, and you studied all the calluses and the roughness on them. It was obvious that he had worked hard with these hands, and it just added to the fascination that you already felt for him.

Suddenly, as soon as his hand enclosed yours, he pulled you towards him harshly. The water splashed against the edges of the tub and Kid's grip was strong around your hand. You let out a startled yelp and to your dismay, you felt your face redden.

His face was so close to yours now. It had become a familiar feeling to you, just like the smell of expensive rum, mint, and metal. He licked his lips and pulled you even closer. Your tits were pressed against his hard chest, and he placed his mouth next to your ear.

"We're gonna be a great team", he purred into your ear lowly, his breath tickling your neck.

You prayed that he didn't see that you had goosebumps all over your body. Your face felt so hot that you were sure you looked like a tomato and a tingling feeling spread from your chest to your stomach, to your crotch, and even into your thighs.

What the fuck is that?

Who were you kidding, you weren't stupid and not as innocent as Deku and your parents had wanted you to be. Just because you never experienced lust, didn't mean you wouldn't recognise the feeling if it ever came. You were sure that this was it, but why today and why with Kid?

He leaned back and your heart told you to pull him back, but the rational part of your brain interfered, so you just sat in the tub dumbfounded.

His smirk didn't falter, and something told you that he knew what an effect he just had on you. How embarrassing, you thought and slowly turned around, facing the wall.

He chuckled and finally left the room, and once the door was closed you took of the makeshift bra and let yourself slip under the water surface, mentally cursing yourself and Kid until you had to come up for air.

You stayed in the bathtub for as long as you could justify, to avoid Kid. You hoped that he was either not in his room, or already fast asleep. You dried yourself extra slowly and scolded yourself for not having asked Killer for another shirt.

You tried to put on the white button-down but as soon as the material touched your skin you had memories of Deku leaning over you and pinning you down flashing through your mind. You shuddered and bile rose up in your throat.

You looked at the shirt and felt new anger and sorrow in your heart. With gritted teeth and a frown, you pulled on the sleeves as hard as you could and ripped the shirts to shreds. Seeing the heap of white cotton pieces gave you a small feeling of victory. You couldn't let a dead Deku control you like that.

After putting the bandages around your chest again, you took a deep breath and slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

Kid's back was turned towards the room, and he was breathing steadily, probably meaning that he was sleeping. As quiet as possible, you made your way to his desk. There must have been a place where he stored his clothes, but the desk was really the only option in this room. Actually, thinking about it, you had never seen him with a shirt on.

You carefully pulled out one of the bigger drawers and to your surprise, you saw a few neatly folded shirts in there. All black.

I bet Killer folded these...

You grabbed the first one and couldn't resist taking it up to your face. It smelled as you expected: Fresh laundry and metal. It smelled comfortable.

You shook your head rapidly and slipped the shirt over your head. You looked absolutely lost in it, but it would do for sleeping.

On tiptoes, you neared the bed and slipped under the covers. You didn't feel the need to roll one of the blankets into a sausage anymore, and you looked at the ceiling wondering why. So many thoughts were ghosting around in your head...

Why do I trust him all of a sudden?

Just because he killed someone who did me wrong?

He didn't just do me wrong though, he literally had my parents killed.

But still, why would Kid kill him? There's no personal gain for him.

Why is he so keen on helping me lately?

What's in it for him?

Does he still hate me? He's still complicated, but it feels different.

He could have done unspeakable things to me the last week, but he didn't.

Don't even get me started on the other night... or today.

How he touched me. Like I'm precious.

I haven't felt precious in such a long time.

And why do I get butterflies when he touches me?

Why the fuck did I feel lust when he touched me tonight?

Oh my God, what on earth is wrong with me?

Your eyes widened almost comically when another thought hit you.

Do I like him?

You covered your face with your hands and tried not to scream into the quiet room. You gave yourself a small slap, but you couldn't deny that Kid was... interesting. He definitely was, but that didn't mean that you liked him.

Yes. Yes, that's the point. He's interesting, but that's it. It's just a very stressful time I'm going through. Of course I would feel fascinated by someone like him.

You sighed in content. You found an explanation that was fitting your narrative.

The mattress shifted abruptly, and your heart jumped, thinking that Kid was awake. But he had just turned around and his face seemed peaceful, the kind of peaceful look that one could only have while sleeping.

You couldn't turn your face away without studying his. You took in the sight of his sharp features and his fluffy, red hair. It fell on his forehead because it wasn't held up by his goggles, making him look a little younger. It was refreshing to see him without his furrowed brows.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a strand of his hair into your hand. You never touched it before, and it was just as soft as it looked.

It was also the first time that you could look at him without him noticing. There was no smirk, no angry eyes or frown.

He didn't look like a pirate anymore, just like a young man. He almost looked vulnerable, and you realised that he must have seen a lot. You wondered about his motivations to become a pirate and if all the things he had experienced left marks on him, inside and outside.

Like you said, he was fascinating.

You watched him breathing calmly, the blanket raising and lowering in a steady pace. It hit you like a brick.

"You saved me so many times", you whispered so quietly that he couldn't wake up from it.

You were right when you thought that killing Deku had no personal gain for him. He could have taken his ship and his belongings anyways, but he made sure that you decided Deku's fate and then acted accordingly.

It was a twisted sense of justice, but you had to admit that you didn't care.

It had been another hard day that left you absolutely drained. The knowledge about the circumstances of your parent's death scooched in between the thoughts about Kid and became prevalent.

You never got to say goodbye and they died without knowing what had happened to you. They never got the chance to see Deku's real face. You regretted not telling them about the conversation in the garden back then, maybe everything would be okay right now. Deku's words were ringing in your ears.

You chose to disrespect me that night, so I made you pay.

Yes, your parents wouldn't have backed out of the marriage deal. Deku had them wrapped around his fingers. He had buttered them up completely to make sure that anything you would say about him would fall on deaf ears.

You tried to steady your breathing when you felt hot tears forming in the corners of your eyes. The insufferable feeling of guilt washed over your whole body. Throughout your childhood you had learned how to speak to a future husband, and if you hadn't decided to throw all that courtesy stuff overboard at some point, your parents would still be alive. Of course, your life with Deku would have been horrible, but at least your family could have been happy.

Screw you for becoming your own person with your own wishes and morals.

Deep down you knew that it wasn't your fault, but the guilt felt so strong. It was crushing you, causing you to question every decision you ever made.

Suddenly, your heartbeat was picking up. It happened so rapidly that you were scared it would rip your chest open, so you clutched at your shirt and pressed your hand down. But feeling your speeding heartbeat like this made it even worse. It made your chest hurt like someone had punched you. It tightened and it was becoming gradually harder to breathe, a lump of suppressed tears forming in your throat. Your body felt hot, and you couldn't move, only shake. Your eyes darted around frantically and breathing felt more like choking. You wanted to get up, get fresh air or a glass of water to calm you down, but you were losing control over your body. Wheezing breaths mixed with the sound of quiet sobbing, while your vision blurred. Every cell in your body was screaming for help. You tried to get at least some air into your lungs, but it felt like they had shrivelled up.

You weren't in the right headspace to think anything of Kid opening his eyes suddenly, now looking at your shaking body while you still fought for air, your sobbing and whimpering filling the room. He let out a low growl and moved his hand towards you.

You tensed up immediately but surprisingly, his touch didn't scare you at all. As soon as he saw that you didn't flinch, he grabbed the small of your back and pulled you into his chest, enclosing your trembling body with both of his arms.

"Breathe with me", was all he said.

Your chest was flush against his and you could feel how he inhaled and exhaled slowly, in a steady pace. His heartbeat was calm, and you tried to concentrate on his breathing, mentally counting the intervals between each breath.

After a few more ragged breaths, your heartbeat synchronised with his and you followed his breathing pattern. You were still shaking a little, but the scariest part was overcome. Soon, the sobbing died down as well.

With each inhale and exhale you got calmer, and soon you felt like you were in control of your own body again. Hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around Kid's body as a silent thank you.

He stiffened but didn't push you away. He expected you to let go at some point, but you didn't. You didn't want to. You experienced the same feeling as earlier this evening when he held you after saving you from Deku. It was a comfortable feeling of absolute safety, like nothing in this world could do you any harm.

You wanted more of this feeling, so you kicked off your blanket and went under his instead, entangling your legs with his. He let out a breath he had been holding and snuck his other arm around your head to place his hand on it, brushing your hair with his thumb.

There was no empty space between the two of you, but at this very moment this was exactly what you needed. You forgot about all the pain and guilt in his embrace and enjoyed the comfortable feeling of warmth and safety.

It didn't take him long to fall asleep again, and you followed soon after.

Memories of the last week rushed through your mind and you realised that being here wasn't all that bad.

[alloftheimaginesblog]

Life Without Colour (PART FIVE)

Soulmate AU: Your vision is in black and white until you meet your soulmate. You and your boyfriend, Steve Rogers, aren’t each others soulmates but you love each other. He introduces you to his friends, the Avengers, and a very odd thing happens.

Characters: Steve Rogers x Plus Size Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Plus Size Female Reader

Note: ignore that i don’t even question bucky being able to get through security at the airport, i couldn’t think of how he would be able to get through the airport security bc of his metal arm so i’ve skipped that detail completely. i hope it doesn’t detract from the story! 

this is nearly 6000 words!

Taglist:  @domainoflostsouls​  forgetthisbull  handon-h-art  yourspecialcrush  giulsgotmusic  mrsbarnes-rogers  luosymekawa  linzeyzarcone  forgetthisbull   calamityreads  talgra   marina-darling  btsforlif  lamoursansfin  classic1985  lovesicksofi  fandomsfallnomore  thebivirgin  classygladiatorcupcake

PART ONE

PART TWO

PART THREE

PART FOUR

PART FIVE

PART SIX

Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to hours. You had long since stopped trying to figure out what state you were in and where you were headed. Bucky had been driving non-stop aside from two bathroom breaks at a small gas station in the middle of nowhere. You had stopped crying a long time ago, too drained and too tired to continue. You felt horrendous. You hated this, you absolutely hated this but you had no choice in the matter. The car had been silent for the whole way aside from the quiet chatter on the radio. Bucky hadn’t wanted to speak in fear of upsetting you further. He had been driving you out of state to go to an airport that would be a little harder to find. It had been Fury’s idea, to go to an airport that Hydra wouldn’t look for straight away. It gave you a little more time to get away without being watched.

You took a break from watching the blur of trees and roads to glance at the clock on the dashboard; 13:42. You hadn’t eaten yet, barely had anything to drink either and you knew that you weren’t far away from a dehydration migraine. As if on cue, your stomach rumbled loudly. Bucky, without speaking, reached behind his car seat and produced a rucksack and dumped it on your lap with a, “Here. There’s water and some snacks in there. We’ll get a proper meal when we’re at the airport.”

You dug through the bag, producing two bottles of water. You opened one and offered it to Bucky, he accepted with a nod, draining half before handing it back to you. You offered him a muffin but he shook his head. You dropped the bag to between your feet and began to have your water and muffin. It helped curb the hunger, at least for a while, and you felt a lot better once you had something in your stomach. After a while, you sank back into your seat with a yawn.

Bucky glanced over at you, “We’ve still got a few hours to drive, you can sleep if you want.” You looked at him and he gave you a small smile, “It’s okay. I’ll wake you up when we’re there.”

You thanked him quietly before closing your eyes. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep and your soft snores filled the car. Bucky looked at you for a couple of seconds, smiling to himself. Man, it’s gonna be a long few weeks.

It only felt like you’d closed your eyes for a few minutes when Bucky was saying your name, gently shaking your shoulder. Groggily, you opened your eyes to meet his blue eyes and it almost gave you a fright seeing them. Sometimes it still surprised you to see colour and especially when Bucky was around... colour seemed to be brighter and those deeper blue eyes seemed so bright in person.

“We’re here,” he said, pulling back quickly, not wanting to upset you by being too close. Bucky was very careful of boundaries, he always had been but especially after the Winter Soldier incidents. He knew what it felt like to not want to be touched or have your personal space invaded so he was always careful to not overstep.

“You’ve got the fake passports and stuff, don’t you?” You asked him, yawning and stretching in your seat.

He nodded and told you that they’re in his bag. In order to help the process of becoming anonymous, Fury had fake IDs and fake passports made for the two of you. They’d even gone so far as to create two new backstories for the pair of you just in case anyone ever questioned the pair of you. You and Bucky got out of the car, your legs ached from having sat in the car for hours upon hours. It was dark outside now, you didn’t know the time. Bucky grabbed the bags out of the car and handed you the two passports to hold. As you walked into the airport, you flicked to it. Miss Jane Smith and Mr John Smith. Two very common and obvious fake names but you hoped that it wouldn’t be picked up.

The check in process was much easier than you anticipated, the passports passed the ID checks and soon, the two of you were through security and heading for the food outlet. Bucky had told you to keep your head down for most of the time and to avoid direct eye contact with cameras. The airport was relatively quiet which was good in the sense you didn’t have to worry about people around you noticing Bucky. Bucky led you to a small café which was quiet and the two of you sat at the back. Everything was kind of passing in a blur and it only seemed like a few seconds until Bucky was back with your food.

You began to eat in silence and it was then you realised where you were going, “Estonia?” You asked quietly, making sure to not be overhead.

Bucky nodded as he took a bite of his burger, “Managed to find a secluded house, already furnished. The owner agreed to let us stay for a discounted price as well.”

“I’ve never been,” you shrugged, taking a bite of your food, “Where are we right now?”

“Pittsburg,” he said, glancing around the café to make sure no one was taking notice of the pair of you, “Steve thought it would be a good idea to leave from an airport a few hours away from New York. Hydra and Rumlow would check New York airports first once they realise you’re out of town.”

You smiled sadly as you looked down to your food. Leave it to Steve to think of everything. Bucky told you that the flight would be leaving in an hour and it would be a long ass flight but it was okay because you were exhausted and you could absolutely sleep for a good portion of the flight anyway.  

You sighed, “When can I take this stupid disguise off? I’m so uncomfortable!”

Bucky studied you carefully, “When we’re in the safe house.”

“Do I look stupid? I feel stupid.”

“You look... different. Not bad just different,” he paused before speaking again, “I prefer you as you are though, without the wig, contacts and flashy clothes. I think you look much better when you’re being yourself.”

You didn’t know how to respond to that with anything other than a nod. It felt foreign and wrong to receive a compliment from him, even though it was a genuine, friendly compliment, it felt wrong. The two of you didn’t say much after that.

After eating, you and Bucky went to get some plane snacks. You grabbed some water and some treats, you also wandered to the book section and picked up a book. As you were walking to the books, you saw a little boy and girl pass wearing matching Captain America t-shirts. Your breath caught in your throat as you watched them pass. It seemed to hit you in that moment that this was real and this was truly happening.

“(y/n)?” Bucky asked appearing behind you.

You turned to him, “Sorry... I just can’t believe this is happening.” 

Bucky nodded before gesturing to the check out, “Let’s get this all checked out and then hopefully we’ll be able to go to our departure gate.” He didn’t really know how to help you without overstepping or potentially upsetting you. He didn’t want you to get upset in public so he thought that he could keep you distracted and that would help ease your worries. It helped, having him there to guide you and distract you from possible sad thoughts helped a lot actually.

You found your airplane seats quick, the two of you were bang smack in the middle and you were both in a two seater section. Bucky let you go in first, saying that he preferred not to look out of the window when taking a flight. You sunk into it, keeping your head down and wrapping your arms around yourself to get warmer. As Bucky sat beside you, tapping his foot and his hand on the armrest impatiently, you looked at him curiously, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, “Just... not a big fan of flying.”

You pulled out the magazines which were in the pocket of the chair in front of you and handed him them, “I find that reading the safety procedures always helps. Also reading the magazine where you can just check out the meal deals and the perfume deals help a bit.”

Bucky took them off of you and began to flick through them. In the meantime, you closed your eyes. As the plane began to move, Bucky tensed beside you and you opened your eyes to look at him, his hands were clenched around the arms of the chair, jaw clenched too.

“Hey, show me that,” you said, sitting up straighter and pointing to the magazine. He looked at you and then handed it to you. Bucky had been helping you out by distracting you from being sad, the least you could do is distract him from being anxious. You leaned over, probably a little closer than you would’ve felt comfortable with in normal circumstances. Bucky stiffened as he smelled your perfume when you came closer. You took no notice of the closeness.

“Look at that!” You said, pointing to the menu that they were offering that night on the flight, “What would you have?” Bucky shrugged and you rolled your eyes, “C’mon. I’d have the chicken curry and the cheese and ham panini and then I would absolutely have the tiramisu afterwards. What about you?” You held it closer to him for him to study.

“Uh... I mean, I suppose the lasagne sounds nice. The breaded mushrooms too, I like those. Never had tiramisu but it sounds nice enough so I’d give that a go too.”

“No way,” you said shaking your head, “I would order the tiramisu and you would order the chocolate and raspberry mousse and we’d share them both.”

Bucky snorted slightly, “Sure thing, whatever you want.”

You flicked through more of the pages, “Ooooh,” you said noticing the deals on the perfumes, “I love airplane and airport deals. I only ever buy my perfume from duty free, honestly. No point in buying it full price anywhere else.”

“I still find it crazy that there’s a shop on an airplane.”

You nodded, “I mean, it’s pretty weird but I’m not complaining about the deals. Some of the stuff you can buy is so bizarre though. I was on this flight once, going on holiday with my family when I was younger, and they were selling t-shirts with a picture of the airplane we were in on them saying ‘I rode in this plane and all I got was this lousy t-shirt’.”

“That sounds like it’s a total dad shirt,” Bucky laughed slightly. He looked a lot younger when he smiled. He was always so stony and serious but when he smiled or laughed, it knocked years off him. He was already a handsome man but when he smiled, he was just... wow.

You burst out laughing as he said it, “My dad did buy it and he wore it so proudly!”

Bucky laughed with you, finding his nerves easing up as he spoke to you. He hadn’t had a chance to talk to you about anything other than the fact you were soulmates so it felt rather nice to talk to you on another level. It was still prettty strange but it was nice. Steve always told him that you were easy to get along with so he wasn’t too surprised. As you continued to chat, you gasped audibly when you came to the ‘collectibles and merchandise’ page, “There it is!” 

“No way!” Bucky grinned as he looked down at the picture of the t-shirt exactly like the one you described, “Oh, god, it’s hideous.” The two of you lapsed into laughter again, talking and looking at it before Bucky happened to glance out of the window, “We’re in the air?”

You looked out, “Yeah, we took off about fifteen minutes ago actually.” Bucky breathed out an impressed laughter, “My distraction technique always works. Keep the mind occupied on something else like the ugliest t-shirts in the world.”

Bucky smiled, “Thank you and thanks to the ugliest t-shirt ever-” it was then that a man wearing the exact t-shirt you had been slating got up from the seat in front of you and shot you a dirty look as he walked past, “Oh, shit.” It was hard to keep your laughter in but somehow you both managed it.

As you calmed down, Bucky sighed, “No, really, thank you for that.”

You smiled as you handed him the magazines back and sunk back into your seat, “And now, I sleep.”

When you woke up a few hours later, you found yourself to be sitting alone with no Bucky Barnes in sight. You looked up to see a flight attendant coming down the aisle, “Excuse me,” you said with a smile, “do you know where the man sitting next to me went?”

She smiled, the same warm smile that every flight attendant has, “Yes, your husband is in the queue for the toilet, he should be back in a few minutes.”

You nodded, she went to leave when you caught her again, “Sorry, can you do me a favour?”

When Bucky came back, he was pleasantly surprised to see you sitting awake, smiling at him, “Good sleep?” You nodded,  “Don’t worry, you didn’t snore... too loud.” 

Your cheeks burned as he teased you, “Shove it, Barnes,” you scoffed, “I bought us a present.”

He frowned, “A present?”

You grinned as you held up two t-shirts, the exact same one that you both said was the ugliest shirt in the world, “No way!” He laughed, clapping his gloved hands together, “Oh my god, they’re worse in person.”

You laughed as you handed him his, “You’re so welcome. I will make us wear these at some point by the way, don’t think you’re getting out of it.” You’d never seen Bucky smile so wide with pure joy radiating from him. It was nice to see; it made you feel a lot better about the situation that was happening. You and Bucky hadn’t broached the subject of being the other’s soulmates, you actually really didn’t want to have that conversation anytime soon, but it was nice to know that at least you got on a little bit.

The fact that the pair of you were laughing so soon felt wrong. It felt like you were betraying Steve for merely getting along but it was nice. You were scared of what was going to happen and Bucky had been anxious about flying so the pair of you had nothing to do but talk to each other. Sure, it wasn’t a particularly interesting conversation but it was something. It was still a little awkward and a little weird at times but you could look past that for a few minutes to just appreciate the fact that Bucky was doing this.

Soon, you were curled back into your plane seat, your own jacket draped across you, “Thanks,” you said quietly as sleep began to take over,  “for doing this for Steve. I know that it’s not ideal and I know you probably don’t want to be stuck with me for weeks. I appreciate it, Bucky.”

Bucky nodded and didn’t say anything. I’m not doing it for only Steve, I’m doing it for you too. He watched you for a moment longer before closing his own eyes and resting into his own seat.

The rest of the flight went by in a blur, you slept some more, read your book and ate some food. It wasn’t long before it was time to land and Bucky could not have been more happy than in the moment the wheels of the plane landed on the runway. The airport was a relatively quiet which meant that security and getting your bags was a lot faster than anticipated.

Soon, you were waiting with Bucky in line to get a rental car. To your surprise, when it was your turn to speak to the receptionist, Bucky slid a wad of cash over the counter, “I want a car to keep and I want it off book.”

The receptionist, who was a middle aged man with salt and pepper hair, eyed Bucky with narrow eyes and Bucky stared right back at him. You glanced between the two men wondering who would give up the staring contest first. After a pregnant pause, the receptionist shrugged and dug around in the drawer next to him before pulling out a car key, “Grey sedan in Lot C, registration plate ends with RUS. It’s old and a little worse for wear but for this price, best I can do.” He glanced from left to right before sliding the keys across the table. Apparently he seemed to accept the bribe. You raised your eyebrows, looking between the man and Bucky.

Bucky thanked him with a nod before taking the keys and picked up his and one of your bags before walking away with you in tow, “Wait,” you said quietly, rushing to keep up with him, “You just bought a car?!”

Bucky nodded, “We needed a car. This one will do for a while, keeps us off of the radar for a while.”

Finding the car was easy, the hard part was trying to keep up with Bucky. He took long, quick strides that were hard to keep up with. The car was parked alone in Lot C. It was a little old, with some dents and scratches in the doors from previous bumps and accidents and some of the paint had chipped but aside from that, it seemed to be fine. Bucky loaded the bags in the trunk before getting into the driver’s seat. You settled into your seat and Bucky said that it would be a forty minute drive but could do it in half the time if the road’s were quiet. Then, you both set off.

You couldn’t stop staring out of the window, looking at every single detail of Estonia. It seemed like a dream that you’d be waking up from any second now. Your hands fidgeted with your jacket sleeves as you stared out to the vast unknown. What would become of you and your relationship, you had no idea. You didn’t know what was going to happen and you had absolutely no clue where you would be going. A wave of uneasiness crashed over you as you tried to swallow down the nausea. 

The drive seemed to simultaneously be the longest and shortest drive ever. Seconds felt like years and minutes felt like nanoseconds. You just wanted things to go back to how they were two months ago when things were easy and simple and life was without colour. You glanced over at Bucky, wishing that it had been anyone besides him that was your soulmate. Bucky was a decent enough guy from the short time you’d been with him, I mean, he was willing to take you to a safe house for god knows how long after meeting each other less than three times so obviously he was a good guy but... even if you and Bucky ended up friends, ended up falling in love... nothing could ever happen. You just couldn’t do that to Steve. 

Oh, Steve. 

You wondered what he would be doing just now. He would probably be in the gym with Sam, boxing his feelings and emotions about the whole situation out. That’s what he usually did when things were tense or when he was stressed, he would go to the gym and work out for hours. Sam would usually go with him, being his comic relief to make things less stressful for him. You had never been so thankful for Sam Wilson than in that moment of realisation. You had been so focused on what this meant for you and how this would affect you that you’d practically overlooked your boyfriend’s feelings.

Steve would be blaming your kidnapping on himself, even though it wasn’t his fault that Hydra were dickheads. He would be devastated that he’d had to send you off with your soulmate, knowing fine well that you could easily come back home in love with Bucky. It had been so hard for Steve to make that decision but it had to be done. He wished that he could’ve came with you but it was his mess to clean up and he couldn’t just let his friends do it. He wasn’t that selfish even though he wished he could have been. Steve would rely on Sam pretty heavily over the coming weeks. Sam had been such a good friend to Steve in the few years they’d known each other. Sam understood Steve, they shared the same values and same morals and that was something you liked about Sam. Sam wasn’t afraid to stand up and fight for what was right. You knew that Steve would be in good hands with Sam at his side.

Little did you know, Bucky was thinking of Steve Rogers too as he drove. It was surreal that he was driving with you, through Estonia, to a safe house where you’d be for weeks, potentially months. It scared Bucky, honestly. He liked you, not in a romantic way (yet), but he had heard all about you from Steve. All of those months that Bucky was in Wakanda, Steve called every week to check on him. Every week, Steve would talk about you. He remembered the things he would say about you. ‘She’s great, Buck. She’s got this smile, this really wide smile that I’ve only seen a handful of people have in my life. You know the one I mean. That genuinely happy, makes you smile when you see it smile.’, ‘You gotta meet her, Bucky. She’s everything I’ve been looking for and even though we’re not soulmates, we are.’, ‘It’s crazy. After Peggy, I never thought I’d fall in love again but (y/n) came into my life when I needed her most. Every day, I wake up thankful for her. My god, you have to meet her. You two will get on so well. She keeps my on my toes and is hilarious.’

Bucky glanced at you, a familiar pang of guilt shooting through him. You were his best friend’s girl and he could never do anything to pursue you because he cared about Steve too much. Steve was the one person who had given him a chance and had stuck by him through everything. Steve deserved you, Bucky didn’t.

It wasn’t long before Bucky pulled into a driveway. You looked around, realising that you were deep in the woods. It was an off road cabin that seemed to be pretty far from civilisation, “This is it.” Bucky cut the engine before getting out of the car. You stayed put, staring at the cabin in front of you. From the outside, it looked a little run down but very liveable. It was made with a dark oak wood which blended in well with the trees. Passers by would have to do a double take at first because of how well it blended in.

You got out of the car, grabbing the rucksack that had been by your feet. Bucky appeared beside you, carrying all of his and your bags, “Ready?”

You didn’t look at him, eyes stuck on the cabin in front of you. This was it. This was your future. You were unusually terrified as you stared at it. As soon as you stepped into that cabin, your future would change forever. Everything would change. Life as you knew it with Steve would completely change as soon as you walked into that cabin. With your heart beating fast, you took a breath and nodded, following him up the stony path and to the front door. He unlocked it and swung the door open before disappearing inside. You hesitated at the front door, staring at the line on the floor to mark the cabin’s entrance.

“I love you, Steve,” you whispered before stepping into the cabin and closing the door behind you.

The cabin had an old musty smell to it, the smell of emptiness. Clearly, no one had lived here for a long time. The décor was simple and pretty outdated but it was nice. Bucky had flicked the lights on throughout the cabin and was checking each room just to double check. You wandered through each room. The living room was simple with a couple of recliners and a small couch with a small TV on an old coffee table. You’d be surprised if the TV still worked with a thick layer of dust coating it. There was a large fireplace in the middle of the side wall which would be nice on a cold night. The kitchen was nice with everything that the pair of you would need to get started in the wooden cupboards and on shelves. It had a small table in the corner of the room, looking out of the window. Bucky told you that tomorrow, he would go get some shopping and food supplies until then you had the water and a few more snacks.

Next, you ventured into the bedrooms. Yours and Bucky’s separate bedrooms were adjacent to each other. Bucky had dropped his bags in the slightly smaller room. You went to object but the look on his face told you not to even bother. Bucky’s room was smaller yet still spacious enough for a double bed and a wardrobe. Your room was pretty much the same though as well as a wardrobe you had the chest of drawers as well. The shared bathroom was beside your room and it was... well, it was just an outdated bathroom. And that was it.

The cabin wasn’t particularly big or luxurious but it was much than you had expected. You seriously were expecting to sleep on the floor on a bug infested hotel but Bucky had done pretty good. You’d long since abandoned your disguise, feeling much better when looking like yourself. As you wandered around again, checking cupboards, finding extra duvets and pillows in the wardrobe in your room, you remembered something important. You dug around in your bags until you found it; a picture frame. Bucky knocked on your bedroom door. You turned to him, “You don’t need to knock,” you said.

“Come so I can show you something.”

You followed him into the living room as you held the picture frame in your hands. He stopped in front of a painting on the wall moving the painting to reveal a safe, “Oh, wow,” you said surprised.

“I got this safe installed and I’m putting this gun inside it, okay?” He told you, taking a gun from his back pocket. You jumped slightly, not expecting him to wield a weapon in front of you, “This is for emergencies, got it? I’ll teach you how to use it but for now, I’m locking it up in here, okay?”

“I don’t want to use a gun-”

“Neither do I,” Bucky said, cutting over you, “but I have to at least show you how to use it just in case, okay? The code is 0407-”

“Steve’s birthday.”

Bucky faltered before nodding and continuing, “Yeah, Steve’s birthday. Type that in,” he typed it in, “and it’ll unlock.” He dropped the gun inside of it before closing it over, “Re-type the code and it locks. Got it?”

You nodded.

“I always have at least one weapon on me at all times, okay? I have my gun and I have my knife. I’m only putting this here and showing you just in case, okay? We’ll probably never have to use it but it’s just in case something happens, just so I know that if I can’t get to you, you can have some way to protect yourself.”

Again, you nodded. Bucky eyed you carefully, making sure that you were okay with this. You didn’t really know how to feel about it. You weren’t surprised that he had weapons but it scared you the thought of you having to use them. Hopefully it would never come to that though. He could see the toll this was taking on you and you’d barely been gone a day. He was about to ask what you had in your hands when you wandered over to the fireplace and put the photo atop. It was a photo that you had once upon a time hated. It was you and Steve laughing as you posed for a picture in front of your Christmas tree. Nat had taken it on Christmas Eve. You wore a dress that hugged your curves a little too tightly for your liking but Steve had loved to see you in that dress. He always said the colour complimented your complexion so well and now that you could actually see colour, you could see where he was coming from. You loved that picture now, you remembered the night fondly where he twirled you around, telling you how beautiful you were every other minute. So yeah, you could see your protruding stomach and your bigger arms but you loved it. You smiled as you looked at Steve’s smile, heart soaring as you looked at him. Steve could make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. With him, you truly believed it. Your weight never defined your worth, you defined it.

Almost instantly, Bucky lunged for it, grabbing it and almost tumbling into you,  “What the fuck?!” You hissed, leaping backwards. You hadn’t expected the dark haired super soldier to lunge from across the room, almost knocking you off of your feet to grab the picture frame down.

Bucky released a sharp breath, “The window,” he said gruffly. He pulled the curtains shut quickly, “We can’t put any photos up.”

“Why the fuck not?!”

He rolled his eyes, Steve had warned him that you could be stubborn, “In case we’re being watched. If someone’s tailing us, they might look through the window and have our identities confirmed if we put photos up.”

You rolled your eyes, “If someone’s tailing us then I’m pretty sure that they know our identities already. Give me it back.”

“Fine but you’re not putting it there,” Bucky said.

You glared at him as a bubble of anger boiled in your stomach, “My god, how am I meant to stay here with you for weeks if you’re such an arse over a photo?!”

“Yeah?” Bucky scoffed, “I didn’t have to come here, (y/n). I came because Steve asked. I came for you.”

You were breathing heavy as you glared at each other, “Yeah well maybe I don’t want you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be here!”

“Keep the stupid picture.” You turned on your heel and stormed into your bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you. You knew that you weren’t angry at Bucky, you knew that the two of you were tired and hungry. You knew that you were a flurry of emotions from having your life flipped upside down. You knew that Bucky was looking out for your safety but you were pissed and he was the only person near you so he would have to deal with it. 

Bucky sighed heavily as he fell onto the couch, pursing his lips and pinching the bridge of his nose. Yeah, Steve, she’s fucking brilliant. 

It was hours later when you rolled over with a huff. Sleep wasn’t coming easily. You were still too pissed off and because you were still so pissed off, you were only getting more annoyed. You knew that if the anger faded, you’d probably end up crying and you didn’t know which was worse so you just stayed angry. You wished that Bucky would’ve just been able to talk to you normally instead of treating you like a child. You would’ve absolutely understood the picture fiasco had he not leapt over the table and yanked it like a dog stealing someone’s dinner from the table. 

You sat up in bed. Usually, if you couldn’t sleep you’d watch TV or go on your phone but you didn’t feel up for watching the tiny TV in the living room and you obviously didn’t have a phone so you couldn’t do much than think. You’d need to see if there was a cheap CD player and CDs in town so that you could at least have some background noise. The cabin was eerily quiet at night. It was a different surrounding in a different country and everything just felt a little uneasy. You were used to New York where the hustle and bustle was part of every day life but the woods was so quiet aside from the rustling trees... it would take some getting used to.

With a huff, you grabbed your dressing gown from the bag on the floor and made your way into the kitchen. You grabbed a glass and filled it with water before taking a long drink. You didn’t know why you wandered into the living room but you found yourself venturing in and it was then you noticed, in the dim light from the moon, you saw a note and the picture of you and Steve that sat on the coffee table in front of the TV. You picked up the note.

I’m sorry about freaking out over the picture, it’s been a long day. Steve warned me you were stubborn but I wasn’t prepared, I guess. Let’s not put it on the fire place until we’re absolutely sure that no one’s tracking us. Until then, it can go here where it’s not facing a window. Hope that’s okay. It is a lovely picture of you and Steve... Again, sorry. - Bucky

You smiled slightly as you read it before slipping the note into your dressing gown pocket and going back to bed. So Bucky Barnes was decent after all.

[yourmcu]

Emotional Support Mode

Pairings: Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary:

in which the reader is the loner, antisocial daughter of Tony Stark and the other Avengers including her father never acknowledge her presence (they thought some sort of interaction made you uncomfortable) so she becomes friends with Friday instead - Tony probs finds out and it’s gonna be all cute n fluffie once he realizes -

Word count: 2,243

a/n: hi just wanted to write fluffy tony :)) also I used they/them for friday’s pronouns

Warnings: angst n fluff, friday’s a bit more advanced (not like they aren’t already but) bc they could almost act like a literal human here.

read it on ao3!

You arrive back at the Avengers facility, shoulders slumped and just tired in general since you have a lot of homework and projects to do from school, most of them due by the end of the week. You also have exams later in the week.

“Hey, Fri,” you huff as you make your way to the elevator.

“Welcome home, Y/N. Where do you want to go?”

Yes, you're very close with the A.I that they started calling you by your first name. “To my room - and uh, will you remind me to read two chapters in my history book after I’m done with all my homework? I also have this project, I just need some measurements later, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure thing.”

“Thank you.”

It’s going to be a long night, you sigh heavily just thinking about it. Now you’re probably wondering, ‘you live with the Avengers! Why don’t you ask Tony and Bruce for help? Maybe Steve and Bucky for your History test?’

Yeah, well... you barely talk to any real person you live with. Maybe it’s you, you always thought you're making the team uncomfortable. You don’t even talk to your own father often which is kind of depressing on your part.

You love them, they’re like your extended family, but it just isn’t working out. Maybe they just don’t like you. Up to this day you still wonder why Tony took you in when you were just a baby (you were a mistake from one of his one night stands) - he had the choice not to.

“I’m assuming you zoned out again. You have arrived to your room five minutes ago.” Friday announces.

“Y-yeah sorry,” you shuffle out of the elevator and swiftly head to your bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“I also asked if I should inform Mr. Stark that you have arrived home.”

“No, no thanks. He’s busy and... probably wouldn’t care anyway,” You mutter the last part as you pile the books you need on your desk. “Can you put my study playlist on, please?”

----

“What time is it, Friday?”

“7PM. I was about to remind you to take a break.”

You get up from your chair and stretch, halfway through the last of your homework which is a two page essay. “You’re too kind, thanks pal,” when you walk out your room to head to the kitchen and grab a snack, the lounge is empty, kitchen empty,

“The team’s on a mission? I thought they had the whole week off,” you say before gulping down a water bottle.

“I checked the security footage: they left about an hour ago. Captain Rogers was talking about getting dinner.”

You put the bottle down. “Oh,” you try to mask your disappointment. This isn’t your first time being alone, they always left you here when they had a mission of course but... well, it’s not like they want you around them. “I’ll - I’ll just make myself something later, then. Not a big deal. I have to study anyway.”

Another hour later, the Avengers are back. They're all conversing happily as they pile in the lounge. Peter's rambling about upgrades for the Spiderman suit while Tony's typing away in his phone, nodding at everything he says. Everyone else is arguing about the TV channels and talking about the new restaurant they ate at.

Rhodey shifts, looking around. “Why do I feel like we forgot something?”

Natasha looks at him, waiting for him to go on.

“I assure you, I brought Mjolnir with me this time.” Thor butts in.

“No not that, what time does Y/N get home from school?” No one answers. It’s not like any of them know. It's natural that Rhodey would be worried about his goddaughter (even if they rarely talk). He turns his head to his best friend who’s now walking away with Peter, an arm around his shoulder. “Tony, where’s Y/N?”

He doesn’t hear since he has his full attention on his protégé.

“I’ll start making this tomorrow, I guess. I still have to buy materials.” You mumble to yourself, but you hope Friday's listening to everything you say just to make you feel less lonely. You swipe the hologram of the blueprint away and place the thick books in front of you.

“I would like to recommend a suitable study plan.” they state.

You rub your eyes, sighing, “I’m already halfway, I would’ve considered it earlier though.”

“This is only a recommendation, feel free to ignore it.”

You push yourself away from the desk and mutter a “go on,”, fiddling with your pen.

“Asking Mr. Rogers and Mr. Barnes would give you more details for your History examination, since the pair were originally from that time period. The same goes for Mr. Banner for your Science examination, I believe he has seven Ph.D’s, you may also approach Vision for the same topic. Mr. Stark has all the necessary materials for your project in his lab. Would you like me to-”

If only it were that easy. It should be easy, the thought alone makes you really nervous. “No, I - I appreciate the recommendation, Friday, but - I think I can do this on my own.”

“But you’re tired and it is almost midnight. I would help you myself but you specifically told me not to.”

They’re not wrong. Your eyes are starting to droop and you barely understand anything you're reading. You're also fighting back tears - why is talking to your family so hard?

“I can sense sadness. Would you like me to activate emotional support mode?”

“Yeah, okay. That sounds great right about now.”

----

“Crap. Guess we lost track of time again, kid,” Tony wipes his hands with a rag while he looks at the time on his computer. “You better get home. I’ll send May a text for keeping you this late.”

“Okay, thank you Mr. Stark. I’m just gonna use my suit-”

“No. Happy will drive you.”

Peter knew better than to argue and insist so he just nods and smiles sheepishly. A minute later Happy came ‘round to take him home.

Tony turns back around. “Friday, make a new project for me please, I’m adding minor upgrades to the Spiderman suit.”

“Not now, boss.”

Oh. He did not expect that. “Excuse me?”

“Y/N is currently opening up. I would like to give her my full, undivided attention. Please come back after fifteen minutes or so.”

Tony doesn’t exactly know how to feel about that. He never sees her outside her room anymore that he kinda forgot she existed tonight - oh fuck, they didn’t bring her to dinner with them.

“Well,” he exhales. “What is she saying?”

“That would be an invasion of privacy.”

“I’m her father-”

“Are you, sir?” Friday’s clever remark makes him stop abruptly.

It’s pretty clear that he’s been a shit father. Not only does he ignore you all the time but he treats Peter way better than his own flesh and blood. The Avengers on the other hand, they were nice people, but just didn’t understand so they try their best to get out of your way.

You were afraid of rejection, afraid to interact, because you had no idea what everyone thought of you. Did they like you? Did you make them uncomfortable? Did they want you around? What about Tony, did he really want a daughter in his life? Because you noticed he’d be better off with a son, yeah, like Peter goddamn Parker.

Tony sighs, walking out of his lab and heads to the mini bar to grab a drink. He needs to think: there's absolutely nothing wrong about you, he just didn’t do his job right, you thought he didn’t care, you thought nobody did. Even Friday is turning against him, doing a better job of comforting and being there for you.

“God, I’m such an asshole,” he mutters to himself, rubbing his forehead. He drinks his last shot and heads to the kitchen. “She still awake?” He calls out.

“She is.” Friday has a bitter tone.

He's hesitant to ask again, feeling really bad for not knowing this simple question - “what’s her favorite beverage?”

----

“How do you feel?”

You sniffle. “Well y’know, better than before. I should probably go to sleep. Thanks, Fri.”

“You’re welcome. Also, Mr. Stark is outside your door.”

“W-what?” You put away your books and straighten up, rubbing your damp eyes. “You’re serious? Okay, uh, let him in?” It's more of a question.

“Alright.”

You turn to face your desk as Tony enters the room, holding two steaming mugs. He sits at the end of your bed, just right next to the chair you're sitting on. “Hi,” he gives you a small smile and hands you a mug.

What’s the occasion?

“What’s this?” You ask quietly before taking the mug from his hands. Tony's being gentle and soft, it's odd but you’re not complaining.

“Green tea with honey. I... I thought I saw you make that stuff once.” He says, not mentioning the fact that Friday told him that.

“Oh, well, yeah,” you take a small sip. He added a bit too much honey but other than that it was good. “I thought you preferred coffee, though,”

Tony shrugs, his eyes glistening when he looks at you. “Wouldn’t hurt to try something new.”

“Did - did you want something, Dad?” You always found yourself awkward, couldn’t even make conversation with someone for long, always wanted to get straight to the point so it could be over with.

He looks like he wants to say something but he just averts his gaze to you, his hands, the floor, then suddenly he leans in and hugs you. Your feel your heart swell and body warm up, it’s a new sensation for you after all, you rarely get hugs from people. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “For everything. I’m such a bad dad, I don’t deserve you. I even forgot you when we went out to dinner.”

“You don’t have to be sorry for anything. I had loads of stuff to do earlier anyway, so, but yeah I was just - I just overreact, I’m sensitive. I don’t blame you and the others for not liking me, I know there’s nothing like-able about me, I’m not like Peter-” You ramble, tears now leaving your eyes again.

“Sweetheart, don’t say that,” Tony says as he pulls you closer to him, head resting against his chest while he rubs your back comfortably. “Y/N Stark, you are smart, brilliant - I was just an ass for not acknowledging that.”

“I know you’re just saying that to-”

“Oh, but I’m not,” he now places his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look at him. “Tell me who built their first engine when they were eight?”

You blush, “Dad-”

“No, come on, I wanna hear it.”

“I did.”

“Yes you did. And who made a completely functioning robot at their middle school science fair that blew all the teacher’s minds?”

You’re trying to hide a smile, recalling the memory,  “I did.”

“And who,” Tony gets up and walks to the bulky looking thing that you covered with a sheet, pulling it off, “is currently building a computer from scratch?”

“Dad! That’s still a work in progress,” he messily places the sheet back and chuckles.

“My point is, you’re a clever and talented girl, Y/N. Don’t bring yourself down. And you don’t have to be shy around your family, those idiots have been dying to get to know you but since you don’t talk much... they don’t want to force it. We love you,” he says. “I hope you forgive me ‘cause I really wanna make it up to you. I’m not calling Peter in for a few weeks.” Tony sits down beside you again.

You couldn’t believe he’d do that for you. “You don’t have to, if you need him for something then-”

“-then you could help me instead, if you’re up for it.”

“I’m really sorry for being such a lonely freak,” you yawn, getting back into Tony’s open arms. “I love you.”

Tony tucks you in and lies down beside you, “I love you tons, kiddo.”

You snuggle into his chest, feeling his steady breathing while he rests his chin above your head.

----

It's morning. The Avengers are gathered at your open bedroom door.

“Are you getting all of this, Friday?”

“Yes, Ms. Romanoff.”

“Steve turn that shuttering sound down!” Natasha hisses at the super soldier who's doing his task, taking pictures.

Steve almost drops the phone and has Bruce fix the volume for him.

They’re all watching you and Tony cuddle together, still fast asleep.

“Do we have to stay here until they wake up?”

“Unless you have a great way of waking them up, yes. Now shut up.”

“If you think about it we definitely look creepy right now.” Sam comments.

“It’s their fault for having the door wide open all night!” Clint says.

Tony's actually awake the whole time, listening to them bickering. “You have three seconds to get the hell out of here before I make all of you polish my suits.” With that, the team races down the hall, pushing each other to get away first like literal children.

[diegos-butt]

Unnoticed chapter six

Summary: Kat & Sy telling their friends that they’re dating. and just them being together.

Captain Daniel Syverson x Kathy Davis (plus size/curvy/thick OFC)

Warnings: uhm okay, insinuation of sex and oral (f receiving), some thoughts, slight attempted winking and uhm, that's it i guess!

Wordcount: 3.8k

A/N: so sorry it took me so long to write this chapter!! i really hope i didn't dissapoint with this one. it took me a while to get back in the mood to writhe for these two, but i'm not tired of them at all oh my. hope you enjoy! xx

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four / chapter five

•••

The days after our first date went by quickly. But the days were different, so different. Whenever he could, Sy spend his time at my place. So, we ate together, we fell asleep together, we woke up together and yes; we did things together. Naughty things you might say. Never in my life I had felt so desired because it was impossible for Sy to keep his hands of me.

“Sy! Are you home?” I yelled as I walked through my front door. No response, I guessed Sy was being held up at work. After kicking my shoes off and placing my purse on the table in the hallway, I made my way to the kitchen to pour myself a glass of lemonade. My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it to see who it was.

Will be there in an hour darlin’

I smiled at my phone, even though Sy hated texting, I had managed to make him text me simple stuff like when he would be home. It had taken a few days, but after six days, it was Thursday now, he finally took his time to text me.

Since Sy wouldn’t be here for at least an hour, I had some time to myself. Quickly I changed into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt of Sy and curled up on the sofa with the book I was reading. Soon my eyelids started to feel heavy, and before I knew it, I fell asleep.

I had no idea how much later it was, but when I woke up, I smelled something delicious. With a groan I stretched out, and when I opened my eyes Sy stood in the kitchen, cooking. In the last few days, it had become clear I was quite a mess in the kitchen, I had managed to ruin soup, so Sy took over the responsibility of cooking dinner.

He glanced over his shoulder and gave me one of his lopsided smiles. “Hi darlin’,” Sy said and turned around to the stove again. I lifted myself up from the sofa and while I approached Sy, I took a moment to admire his back. Might need to dig my nails into that later tonight.

“Hi,” I whispered once I was behind him. I rested my chin on his shoulder and looked at what he was cooking. He was making pasta and I hummed in approval. I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. The hand Sy didn’t need for cooking wrapped around mine.

“Did ya have a nice nap?” He brought one of my hands to his lips and pressed a kiss on it.

“It was good, but I rather use you as my pillow, or blanket,” I smiled.

“Yeah, that became clear the last nights. Ya know ya cling to me like a koala bear all night?” he chuckled.

“I’m not responsible for what I do in the middle of the night,” I stated. “Besides, you haven’t complained once.” I unwrapped myself from him and grabbed plates and utensils. Sy shook his head and placed the pasta on the table.

Since I was hungry from my nap and Sy, well Sy is always hungry, we started eating immediately. While we ate, I thought about our friends. Brianna had fished all week for details about our date, and because I was so happy, I told her everything about it. However, I did not tell her everything. I hadn’t told her Sy and I were a couple now, I wanted to keep that piece of information for myself for a few days. But today Brianna had been pushing me a lot. She knew Sy had come over a lot this week, and she was convinced there was more to tell. I tried to brush it off, but I knew I couldn’t keep doing that for much longer. Besides, I actually wanted to let everyone know I was the one Sy wanted. That he wanted to be with me.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Sy pulled me out of my thoughts.

“I think we should tell them.”

“Tell who?”

“You know, our friends. Oh god what would Tim say?” I suddenly realized. I hadn’t seen my brother all week, and I hadn’t thought about his reaction at all.

“Don’t worry about him darlin’, it’ll be fine,” Sy said. “Why don’t we tell ‘em tomorrow? At the pub?”

“Okay,” I smiled. Then I remembered I hadn’t seen Holly that week, she would be in shock. A happy shock, but still. I bet she wants to know every detail about what happens in the bedroom, or on the sofa, or in the bathroom..

“So, how do ya wanna tell ‘em?” Sy asked. He stood up and started to clear the table.

“Hmm, why don’t we just show up together and let them figure it out?” I suggested. I grabbed my own plate and placed it in the sink. Sy was now standing next to me, and I could see by the grin on his face he disagreed.

“Nah, why don’t I arrive a little later, so I can greet you like this.” While he spoke, his hands had found their way to my hips, and he pulled me close. For a moment his lips ghosted over mine before he finally kissed me.

After breaking the kiss because he took all my breath away, I rolled my eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

While we did the dishes, we discussed the way we would tell them. As predicted, we did not agree. We were both stubborn and not willing to give in. But we will see who is the most stubborn.

“Guess we will see tomorrow how it goes,” Sy laughed and swatted my bum.

“Whatever,” I said and rolled my eyes once more, but a smile formed on my face. “Wait! We didn’t even had dessert!” I suddenly realized.

“Don’t worry love, my dessert is right here,” Sy growled and sank down to his knees while he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of my sweatpants. This man is going to be my death.

It was Friday, 5pm, and I was still staring at my computer. Brianna had left quite some time ago, while I had to stay for a meeting with a potential client. Luckily, the meeting went well and now I was finishing up the report.

After I was done, I glanced at the clock on the wall. If I go home now, I might be able to change before going to the pub. Quickly, I shut down my computer, grabbed my purse, closed off the office and drove home.

Moments later I stood in front of my closet, deciding what to wear. I knew Sy loved seeing me in sundresses, but I wasn’t in the mood to wear one of those, so I opted for my favourite pair of jeans with a graphic tee. Sorry Sy, but comfort comes first today. I touched up my make-up and made my hair look presentable again. Once more I looked at the clock. Shit it is already 5.30pm. Sy better be waiting for me there.

Rapidly I ran out of the door and walked to the pub. Sy and I had agreed I would walk there, since it was closer to my house than to his, so we could go home together in one car.

As I came closer to the pub, I started to get more anxious. What if Tim would hate it? What if they think we won’t last? No won’t think that right? They better not embarrass me though. And tell them about the crush I had on him since forever.

Before I could get into my head way too much, I walked onto the parking lot and immediately say Sy’s truck was already there. The fucker. I shook my head and made my way to the entrance.

Once I pushed the door open and walked inside, my eye fell on our table straight away. Sy was already looking at me, with one of the biggest grins I had ever seen. Suddenly feeling a bit shy, I averted my gaze and looked everywhere but at Sy when I walked over.

“Hey! You finally made it! We have been here for more than 20 minutes!” Holly started ranting while she stood up to hug me.

“Yeah, sorry, I had a late meeting,” I apologized and looked around for an empty seat after saying hi to everyone. Obviously, the only empty seat was next to Sy. I shuffled over to him, and I could just feel his gaze on me. Why am I so nervous now?! What’s the worst that could happen?

“Ya aren’t even gonna properly say hi darlin’?” Sy asked and stood up. Oh god. He placed one hand on the small of my back and pulled me flush while his other hand grabbed my chin to make me meet his gaze. Before I could think about it, Sy firmly pressed his lips on mine while my hands sneaked around his neck. While we deepened the kiss for a moment, I could hear loud cheering around us. That’s way too loud to just be our table.

Sy and I parted, and he gave me a wink, well, he tried too. But it made me laugh and suddenly my nerves where gone. Sy grabbed my hand and squeezed a few times before he pulled me down to sit next to him. When I finally sat down, I looked around and saw everyone inside looking at us. They were smiling and clapping. Oh lord, was the whole town shipping us or something?

“Hang on! What is going on here?” Holly screamed as predicted. The whole table started laughing, me and Sy included.

“Seriously Holly? Why did you think they were both not here last week?” Benjamin asked. In the meanwhile, Sy had rested his arm on the back of my chair, and scooted me even closer.

“Wait, they were actually on a date? You guys weren’t joking around?” Holly said surprised. “Oh guys! I’m so happy for you! But Kathy, you and I are gonna have a talk soon because there are some things I need to know.” She eyed Sy up and down, lingering on a certain part.

“Holly!” I exclaimed. After that, Sy and I underwent a crossfire of questions and we tried to answer them all. During dinner I looked over at Tim, a little afraid of his reaction, but when I looked at him, he gave me a reassuring smile and I knew all was well.

“Don’t worry about Tim darlin’, he practically begged me to marry ya already,” Sy whispered in my ear.

“He did what?!” With open mouth I looked at Sy. Look, that might be a bit too soon but someday..

Sy just chuckled, and the rest of the night went by fast. Before I knew it, we were back at my place, in bed ready to go to sleep.

I felt happy, I had talked with Tim before we left, and he reassured me he was happy for me. I was glad about that, because if Sy wouldn’t get tired of me anytime soon, he would be spending more and more time with my family and he would need an ally in my lovely, but crazy family.

“Sy,” I said while I toyed with Sy chest hair.

“Hmm.”

“I don’t think I have ever been this happy,” I said softly.

“Me too love,” Sy said and he pressed a kiss to my temple. He wrapped his arms around me, and within seconds I fell asleep.

After that Friday everything had changed. I spend most of my free time with Kat, I practically moved in with her in the past days. After work I went to her place; we ate together, we watched tv together, I showed her every corner of the bedroom, we fell asleep together, and we woke up together. At first, I was a bit afraid we were spending too much time together, but I quickly learned that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t get tired of her, and I loved the little things like arguing with her because she was so quick and witty with her comments.

Besides that, I finally didn’t have to keep my hands to myself. I finally could lay my hands on every part of her body, and I made sure to do it.

“You thinking about your girl again Sy?” Shane teased. “You were zoned out there dude. You really are in love.” I shook my head. Me and the guys were currently at work at the house on Fox Avenue.

“Shut up man,” I said and continued working. The house we were renovating was finally getting somewhere, and I was seriously considering buying it. But I knew it might be too soon for Kat. Maybe we should get public with our relationship first. And try to date for more than a month.

While the guys knew Kat and I went on a date, I hadn’t told them we were a couple. I had a feeling Kat wanted to keep that to ourselves for a little while, and although I couldn’t wait to show her off, I respected, and understood it.

I looked at my watch, and figured Kat would be home by now. I sighed; I knew it would be stuck here for at least another hour. It happened a few days ago, that I was home quite some time later than her, and she pointed out she had texted and called me to ask if I was still coming over. Since I wasn’t a big fan of cell phones, mine was on silent and I didn’t saw the messages until she said it.

I chuckled and fished my phone out of my pocket. Quickly I composed a text, letting her know I would be there in an hour.

Luckily, I got to her place within the hour. I looked through the window, and saw she was sound asleep on the sofa. With the spare key she gave me some time ago, I opened the door and went inside. I had the spare key for a few years now, never used it, it never felt right until now.

Kat had a book in her hands that was almost falling on the floor. I walked over to her, released the book out of her grip and carefully placed a blanket over her. I smiled at the sight, while Kat would never admit it, she looked really cute asleep. Always grabbing something, like my shirt, or in this case, her hands immediately grabbed the blanket.

My stomach grumbled, letting me know it was time for dinner. A task I had assigned to myself. Kat had tried to cook dinner for me on Saturday, but she managed to ruin the soup we were supposed to eat. On Monday I had no idea what she was even trying to make, so I intervened quickly and made sure we had at least something to eat. Today, on Thursday, I was glad she hadn’t started on dinner, so I could make something.

The pasta was almost done when I heard Kat wake up. She let out a groan and stretched out before she opened her eyes and looked at me. “Hi darlin’,” I said.

Kat stood up and walked over to me. She rested her chin on my shoulder and gave a hum of approval when she saw I was making pasta. “Hi,” she whispered and pressed a kiss to my shoulder while she wrapped her arms around my waist.

“Did ya have a nice nap?” I asked and brought one of her hands to my face to press a kiss on it.

“It was good, but I rather use you as my pillow, or blanket,” she answered. Cheeky one.

“Yeah, that became clear the last nights. Ya know ya cling to me like a koala bear all night?” I chuckled. Last night when I woke up, she literally hung on my back like a backpack.

“I’m not responsible for what I do in the middle of the night,” Kat said. “Besides, you haven’t complained once.” I shook my head and laughed. She was right, I was absolutely not complaining. Kat removed herself from my waist and decked the table. I placed the pasta on the table, and I guessed we were both hungry, because we both started eating straight away.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I asked once I saw the absent look in her eyes.

“I think we should tell them,” Kat stated.

“Tell who?”

“You know, our friends. Oh god what would Tim say?” she said while a look of horror formed on her face.

“Don’t worry about him darlin’, it’ll be fine,” I assured her. “Why don’t we tell ‘em tomorrow? At the pub?” I had actually talked to Tim, and he was more than happy for us. While he didn’t even know we were already together, he had teased me when I was going to propose. I told him to slow down because I wanted to enjoy what we had for now. Gonna take her out on some more dates first. And give her some more sleepless nights.

“Okay,” she smiled.

“So, how do ya wanna tell ‘em?” I asked as I stood up to clear the table.

“Hmm, why don’t we just show up together and let them figure it out?” Kat suggested. She showed up next to me at the sink and placed her own plate in it.

My hands grabbed her hips and I pulled her against me. “Nah, why don’t I arrive a little later, so I can greet you like this.” She closed her eyes, and my lips ghosted over hers for a moment before I finally kissed her.

After breaking the kiss, Kat rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

While we did the dishes, we discussed the way we would tell them. As predicted, we did not agree. We were both stubborn and not willing to give in. But we will see who is the most stubborn.

“Guess we will see tomorrow how it goes,” I laughed and couldn’t resist slapping her ass. The way it jiggles when I did, could never tire me. But those sweatpants need to go darlin’.

“Whatever,” Kat said and rolled her eyes again. “Wait! We didn’t even had dessert!” she suddenly realized.

“Don’t worry love, my dessert is right here.” I went down on my knees in front of her, and hooked my thumbs in the waistband of her sweatpants. This is my favourite dessert of all time darlin’.

For a change, me and the guys finished work early, providing me the chance to arrive at the pub before Kat. I knew she would be late because she had meeting. So, here I was, waiting for her to show up while I was already there with everyone else.

The small talk at the table was nice, and I was glad for once no one asked me about Kat. I glanced at my watch, and guessed she would show up soon. Like she was reading my mind, the doors of the pub opened, and Kat walked inside. That’s a nice pair of jeans there darlin’, showing off that full behind of yours. I looked at her, and couldn’t help the grin that formed on my face. Kat saw me, but immediately looked away, like she became shy all of a sudden.

“Hey! You finally made it! We have been here for more than 20 minutes!” Holly started ranting while she stood up to hug Kat.

“Yeah, sorry, I had a late meeting,” Kat apologized and looked around. She was obviously looking for an empty seat, and I had made sure the only empty seat would be next to me. She made her way towards me, and I knew this was my chance.

“Ya aren’t even gonna properly say hi darlin’?” I asked and stood up. With the hand I placed on the small of her back I pulled her close to me while I grabbed her chin with the other. Not giving her a chance to think about it, I kissed her. I also might have just really wanted to kiss her, and she allowed me to deepen the kiss, so I knew she wanted to kiss me just as badly.

Around us people started cheering, and the cheering was way too loud to come just from our table. Once we parted, I noticed the whole pub was cheering, but I didn’t want to put Kat in an even more awkward position, so I ignored it.

Seeing a slightly nervous look on her face, I gave her a quick wink. I knew she would lighten up at those failed attempts, and indeed, she laughed and looked more relaxed. Grabbing her hand, I pulled her down with me, so she sat next to me.

“Hang on! What is going on here?” Holly screamed. It baffled me how that girl could be so blind sometimes. The whole table started laughing, including me and Kat.

“Seriously Holly? Why did you think they were both not here last week?” Benjamin asked. I rested my arm on the back of Kat’s chair and scooted her closer to me.

“Wait, they were actually on a date? You guys weren’t joking around?” Holly said surprised. “Oh guys! I’m so happy for you! But Kathy, you and I are gonna have a talk soon because there are some things I need to know.” She shamelessly eyed me up and down, lingering on a certain part.

“Holly!” Kat yelled but the rest started asking questions, and we tried to answer all of them while we ate dinner. I noticed Kat exchanging a look with Tim, and I chuckled to myself. She had been so worried about his reaction.

“Don’t worry about Tim darlin’, he practically begged me to marry ya already,” I whispered in her ear.

“He did what?!” With open mouth she looked at me. Not yet love, don’t worry.

The rest of the night went by quickly. Soon I was driving us home, and helped an almost asleep Kat inside. We went straight to bed, to give her her daily dose of cuddles.

In that moment I felt happy, finally being with her felt so good. Her body against mine, her touch, it all made me happy.

Her fingers ran through my chest hair, and I could tell by her breath she was close to falling asleep.

“Sy,” she suddenly said with a sleepy voice.

“Hmm.”

“I don’t think I have ever been this happy,” she said softly.

“Me too love,” I said and pressed a kiss to her temple. I wrapped my arms around her, and within seconds Kat was asleep. Smiling at her, I pressed another kiss on her forehead and I fell asleep soon after.

•••

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[jimlingss]

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One]   Taehyung should be fucking you.   It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus.    The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it.   Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you.   “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.”   “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.”   “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar.   You suppose it was your fault to begin with.   All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive.    The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind.   “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?”   It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere.   “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!”   There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs.   The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter.    Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed.   “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old.    “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword.   You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort.   “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!”   You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you.   “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.”   He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.”   Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!”   There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel.   Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.”   She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs.   Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!”    “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.”   It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims.   “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.”   The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt.   “Not too bad, right?”    Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt.   “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.”   “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?”   “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.”   But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch.    And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?”   You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.”   “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.”   You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”   “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.”   You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand.   “Is that...even sanitary?!”    You can’t imagine how many people have used it.   “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.”   “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.”   Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?”   “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.”   Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here.   “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well.   When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate.   “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period.   “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another.   “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.”   “Damn straight.”   The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.”   You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?”   “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.”   She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs.   Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.”   “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation.   “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.”   “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.”   “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.”   Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.”   It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night.   The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious.   It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide.   “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!”   Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.”   “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks.   After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet.   It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling.   The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it.   Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?”   “Mhmh...”    You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket.   “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?”   “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?”   “About half an hour?”   Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth.   “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.”   You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush.    In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember.   And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband.   Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?”   “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.”   He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.”   You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.”   A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.”   “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.”   “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.”   After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two]   Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows.   “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting.   “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.”   “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.”   “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—”   “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him.    It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible.   Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics.   “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!”   “Don’t you trust me?”   You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?”   The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do.   There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses.   You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun.   Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.”   You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions.    “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.”   “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been.   But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too.   “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.”   What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard.   “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.”   You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy.   “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.”   Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.”   You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt.   The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times.   “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo.   “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?”   “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?”   Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.”   “We’re going on a hike?!”   “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation.   The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join.   Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline.    No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group.   Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?”   “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are.    “I can carry you if you want.”   “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs.    You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac.   “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again.   “Isn’t this better?”   “Aren’t you tired?”   “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.”   You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall.    There, you’re finally on set on your feet again.   You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.”   He grins and downs it.   Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts.   “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient.   “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.”   “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.”   “I can take it for you.”   “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing.   A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?”   Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.”   She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.”   Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.”   The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?”   “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.”    It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish.   “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.”   Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?”   You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.”   “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone.   “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.”   His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.”   “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents.   “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.”   Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.”   She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.”   “T-two weeks?” you sputter.   Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.”   Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman.   It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood.   “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.”   “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.”   Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.”   “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously.   Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?”   “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.”   She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…”   But his voice drowns out.   You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you.   The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt.    “What’s wrong?”   You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?”   “You’ve just been quiet.”   “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?”   His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”   “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.”   “That’s not true.”   “We forget to buy food all the time.”   “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins.   You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.”   “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.”   “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.”   You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.”   “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.”   “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile.   Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.”   You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it.   It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.”   It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub.   “Is it warm?”   Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled.   “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?”   “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink.   “What are you doing?”   “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties.   After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver.   “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!”   Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and—   “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac.   “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?”   “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.”   You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?”   “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air.   You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude.    You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge.   Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat.   “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek.   “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder.   He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.”   “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule.   “Let them hear.”   He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness.    Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try.    Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”    “Yeah, and I know you like it.”   He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach.   “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?”   “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.”   “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control.   The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist.    Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?”   You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it.    “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.”   “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.”   A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices.   “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.”   “What?”   “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed.   He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?”   “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.”   “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.”   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.”   “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff.    Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance.   You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully.   “How was it?”   “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.   “No.”   “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.”   “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?”   “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.”   You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg.   Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?”   “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.”   “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?”   “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room.   Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles.    With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction.   “Okay. Ready?”   “Uh-huh.”   The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.”   “Now what?”   “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble.   “T-Taehyung!”   “Good?”   “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote.   He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.”   Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard.   It clatters to the ground.   “Oh shit.”   “Taehyung!”   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.”   He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma.   You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy.   The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons.   “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.”   “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.”   Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.”   He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him.    When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat.   He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.”   “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck.   “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.”   It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing.   He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm.   “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.”   He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.”   Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three]   There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all.   “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil.   “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table.    Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you.   You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do.   But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!”   You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.”   Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?”   Taehyung grins. “Probably.”   “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?”   “Sure.”   You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself.    It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you.    Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot.   But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge.   “Remember Bali?”   “When you lost your passport?”   “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.”   “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.”   He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”   You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?”   “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”   You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.”   “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.”   “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?”   “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.”   “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?”   None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.”   “You and I both know that’s not true.”   “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water.   There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠—   “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has.   “What?”    “Wanna take a dip?”   Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?”   “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does.   “God, it’s so cold!”    The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you.   “It’s freezing, Taehyung!”   “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?”   You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.”   “Why?”   “You know I can’t swim.”   His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.”   Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.”   “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”   You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.”   “You only like me?”   “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.”   Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff.   You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore.   “Who would?”   “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.”   “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you.   The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds.   “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat.   After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again.   You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock.   He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four]   Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before.   He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone.   But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you.   Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls.   “Morning.”   You sheepishly grin. “Morning.”    “What time did you get up?”   “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.”   “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun.   The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over.   “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.”   But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering.   Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin.   “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.”   He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile.   As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy.   //   The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks.   “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…”   “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.”   What.   Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.”   “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice.   “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.”   “What were you talking about?”   “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.”   “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.”   “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand.   “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”   You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.”   The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.”   As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?”   “Yeah. It was nice.”   Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly.    As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.”   “Second...partner?”    “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.”   “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away.   “Do you want an open relationship too?”   “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.”   He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?”   “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?”   “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.”    Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife.   “Are you jealous?”   “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.”   “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins.   “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.”   //   Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner.   “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.”   You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—”   “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.”   You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.”   Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.”   “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?”   It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees.   The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off.   But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists.   You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too.   He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round.   You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five]   The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry.   “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”   “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.”   “Yes, I really loved it.”   “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.”   You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures.    “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.”   “So soon?”   Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands.   Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes.   Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats.   “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.”   He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours.   The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue]   This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous.   “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes.   “Are you divorcing me?”   “No.”   “Did you lose your job?”   “No.”   His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.”   “Yea— wait. What?”   Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?”   He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion.   “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.”   He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks.    It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face.   “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs.   “I sure am.”   He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?”   You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.”   He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.”   Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement.   “We can always go back for the next kid.”   “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile.   You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.