#Which is ironic because half the time if they don’t pass a certain amount of ��unrealisticnsss” then they go over my head and I take them

[caffeiiine]

I should stop saying violent things as reactions it’s going to make people worry

[wolves-against-the-world]

Witchfinders

Jay started from a shivering half doze when their target finally appeared. May slapped his arm several times, making empty fwhoop-fwhoop-whoop sounds on his winter jacket.

"Told you!" She hissed triumphantly.

"Great," Jay said between chattering teeth. They’d first noticed him about two hours ago. Well, May had, because May was a psychic, something she never ceased to mention she hated.

"It's not like I picked this", she always said. "Do you know how fucking inconvenient it is to always see people's negative feelings and whatever lurks around without being able to do anything about it? If that was what I wanted, I'd have become a tabloid writer."

Jay wasn’t certain she was not exaggerating - psychic abilities were genetically recessive, and you needed a lot of luck to get more than a few psychics in any lineage.

She was admittedly a keen observer though, which had made her entire family fairly successful spiritualists until that sort of thing became embarrassing instead of impressive.

Jay looked at his radar and found the screen infuriatingly empty. He already regretted spending the exorbitant amount of money (about 70 pounds) on something this useless. The seller - a sturdy old woman who had been well known for being the only reputable psychic in the country, ironically because she didn't like the spotlight - had assured him it could detect latent magic. So far it had only been useful for detecting cellphones, microwaves, and one time, memorably, a minor radiation leak at a cancer clinic.

May was staring at something a bit away, which was impressive since there was very little to warrant more than a passing glance. To one side, there were the houses in their neighborhood that hadn't changed in about as long as they could remember, if one discounted the pressure wash of several house fronts that had made plaster drop on unsuspecting people for a week. To the left was a fence restricting access to the train tracks out of town, or into town, depending on your perspective. Current demographic surveys suggested the former.

May was staring down the street, her jaw set in the way it was when she was very certain of something. Now, very certain of something didn't mean she was right, not even in the supernatural realm.

"Absolutely not," he said.

"Why not??" Her voice carried the indignation of her entire heritage.

"Because last time you did this, we got laughed out of a theater AND a restraining order! You weren't even right! We need a better plan than just going up to random people and hoping for the best!"

“Then make a better one.”

They stared at one another.

Jay scowled. “Fine, then go up to a possibly magical human that might just zap us out of existence.”

"Oh don’t be stupid. He’s not a witch, I just think he's carrying some sort of magical item."

"You don't even know that's a he, how can you tell what he's - what they're wearing under those layers? Could be a tall woman, for all we know. And besides-" He had meant to bring up the frankly nerve-wracking cold, and was pleased to have found a logical place to slot the topic into. "It's cold as balls, we should go home and - wait-"

May gave him the sort of look that typically made people's toenails roll up, dampened slightly by its path over her shoulder. She left Jay to catch up with her as she strode down the street, catching up and then holding the pace of the figure she'd locked in on. May, full name Mayflower Justicia Borden, was very tall and the sort of person that was remarked on by being remarkable against her will. She hadn't spoken for most of her school life, until she realized people picked on you for things that were out of your control anyway, and from then on made it everyone else's problem.

"Excuse me, Sir, sorry to bother you-"

The personshaped black spot turned slightly and for a second she thought "fuck, it's a woman after all, she's gonna be mad" until the figure pulled off a pair of headphones and turned to reveal, indeed, a man, if the beard was any indication.

"What?"

The tone wasn't unfriendly per se.. but the man didn’t have a very welcoming face. If that was by accident of birth or a choice was to be seen.

"Right, sorry Sir, this is going to sound very odd-"

"So sorry about that, we're uh-" Jay came to a rather undignified halt with one hand holding onto a street light lest he turn his last step into a sledding trip.

The man stopped walking and observed them. He was in his mid-60s, tall, but not remarkably so, handsome but not remarkably so, with a long-ish, square-ish face and brown-ish skin. The only thing not -ish about him were his eyes, which were too blue to be anything but contact lenses. Jay felt acutely seen, in a way he hadn't felt since May's grandmother had read his future and been right all the damn time, too.

The difference to Mrs Borden was that this man wasn't trying to hide the cold calculation in his face. He'd picked the contacts well. It turned the gaze from smoldering to arctic, sending a physical shiver down Jay's spine.

"It's not very polite to follow strangers," the man pointed out. His voice reflected the same control, not using a syllable more than necessary.

Well, shit. Jay already saw another policeman call his parents to ask what the hell he was up to, and why he couldn't do this in his university town instead. "Uhm."

Even May seemed taken aback, visibly calculating how far they'd been away, then decided it didn't matter. "So sorry to bother you, Sir. Do you happen to be carrying a magical item?"

The stranger didn't even blink.

"If you're trying to rob me or sell something, that's an odd way of going about it," he said. His expression remained flat, which would have been funny if Jay hadn't been shitting his pants for a reason he couldn't pinpoint. Somewhere in his brain an instinct so old it preceded upright walking woke from a coma to scream "DANGER DANGER DANGER GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE". But Jay also had anxiety, so that was really not out of the ordinary.

"What, no!" Jay stammered. "We're, uh, we're paranormal investigators. She's a psychic!" He gestured to May, who nodded with all the dignity she could muster.

"Didn't know psychics used knives these days.”

May shifted uncomfortably, revealing a switchblade knife. A pink one.

"Where'd you even get that?" Jay hissed. "Aren't those illegal?"

May ignored him, easing her grip on the knife but not putting it away. "Going up to strangers can be dangerous."

"Undoubtedly," said the stranger.

"As my, uh, colleague said, I'm a psychic. You're carrying something with a strong magical aura, we just wanna make sure you're safe. And, uh, maybe take a look at it. For research."

"And I'm sure you're not just trying to sell your services." His calm tone stood in stark contrast to his words. Well, at least he didn't yell at them like the last five people.

"Absolutely not!", May assured. "We're volunteers. No money involved. Uh, unless we're doing like. An exorcism."

Finally, the man showed a physical response: he lifted an eyebrow.

"Right, uh, could you, like, warrant a guess what it might be?"

The man pondered this for a moment. "No." He cut May off when she wanted to speak. "Mind walking with me for a bit?"

May had already said yes before Jay could tell her how stupid an idea this was, so they walked. The stranger introduced himself as Zachary. When Jay asked where they were walking, Zachary told him an address that was vaguely familiar. He still spoke mostly in single sentences, but it was enough to reveal an American accent. Maybe they'd gotten lucky. Americans believed all sorts of shit.

Zachary told them he'd just gone grocery shopping, since his cousin wanted to make dinner. Even though the bag looked like a pimple about to burst, he carried it easily in one gloved hand. As they walked along the empty and depressingly gray street, May filled him in on their work, emphasizing their good intentions and downplaying how little they'd actually accomplished so far. She omitted the radiation incident, which was probably their biggest success, though in a different way than they'd hoped for. To his credit, Zachary didn't remark upon their names, which raised Jay's opinion of him substantially.

May described and then quizzed their new friend on various magical artifacts he could have come in the possession of, but save for a notebook bought in a second hand shop, he denied knowledge of all.

Maybe, Jay thought, they were being set up. Maybe the guy was wearing a microphone and camera, stuff like that was so small these days, shit, he could just use his phone for all they knew. They'd be laughing stocks for all the internet to see. Or maybe he was a psychic himself, or even a witch, fully aware of his item's traits and just entertaining himself. Staking out the competition.

The closest coven they had identified was in Sheffield, a circle of old ladies who used their abilities to enhance their healing potions and alcoholic beverages. Didn't mean there couldn't be others, more hidden ones, doing scary things.

Jay tried to get May's attention, but she was deep into explaining the intricacies of aura reading. They'd made their way from the train tracks to the square in a needlessly complex route. Maybe he was one of those guys. A manly man who didn't ask for directions. Or he was just enjoying the walk.

"So you can see everyone's aura?" Zachary asked. His voice was still the eery drone of pack ice moving, but there was a lighter note of curiosity now.

May paused longer than was necessary or comfortable.

"Mostly. Non-magical people don't know how to hide their aura, let alone that they have one. If it's gone the person is either dead, magical or, like, really introverted. The colors often give me a hint of someone's personality and the movement can indicate emotions. They get very bright when someone is using magic. It's not an exact science unfortunately, experience mostly. My grandmother was really good at it in the end."

"Fascinating." Zachary looked around and turned into a side street instead of returning to the road following the train tracks. "How about my aura, then?"

"I thought you didn't like people selling you things?"

"I don't like buying the cat in the bag. I'm sure my cousin wouldn't mind hosting you for dinner, though."

"That's really not nece-"

"Sure," Jay said, thinking with his growling, frozen stomach instead of his brain. The trip back home would take a minimum of thirty minutes walking. He'd also finally matched the address to the town's only pub (and B&B and event location). They were safer among people than out here, completely alone.

May gave him a searing look, but Jay was used to that.

"Look at that, we're already there." Jay decided to ignore how ominous that sounded.

Indeed there was the front of the pub, painted black and reading something incomprehensible followed by "goat" and the words "founded in 1367". How true that was had been up for debate since the pub opened.

"How are you liking Britain so far?" Jay asked conversationally. "Lotsa old buildings here compared to home."

If there was a physical reaction, Jay didn't notice.

"The weather could be improved upon."

"Yeah," Jay said unimaginatively.

The door moved disappointingly silently. Jay’s face began to itch in the sudden warmth and he hurried to take off his coat before he cooked to death. He'd been in the pub once and now found it no less unpleasant but all in all no different than any other several century old pub. The room was almost entirely made of wood, the woodworm probably doing more work than the actual struts by this point, blackened by smoke and maybe tar.

"Welcome back," someone purred.

Jay flinched, nearly flinging his coat at the figure. The woman gave them a smile, wholly unimpressed by the reaction and decidedly closer than social convention dictated.

She was stunning, simply put, though too short to make it as a model. Dark hair flowed over a shiny turquoise top, and tight black leather pants showed about anything anyone wanted to see. Around her hips hung a belt made of silver medallions.

"You've brought guests, how lovely."

While Jay was still working on rebooting his brain, he was dragged away from the door and the woman's hypnotic gaze. They were met by a short, middle-aged man on the verge of fat with a kind, round face. He greeted them warmly and hugged Zachary, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Corner of the mouth. Maybe.

Jay was still puzzling about that gesture in the context of the man's priest collar when the next revelation hit: It was quiet.

Not in the way of a forest near a predator, but in the way a theater is quiet waiting for the performance to begin. He could tell May was thinking the same. There were about a dozen people in the room, all of which were looking at them.

"Nice to meet you," May said stiffly. "Is the pub not open tonight?"

"We rented it out for a few days," the priest said in a very much not American or British accent. "We're doing a...reunion of sorts. Our friends came from all over the place, you see." He smiled. It was a very nice smile. He seemed like a nice, reasonable person, Jay thought. Hardly a witch of any kind. They hated churches, they'd never survive all the time it took to become a priest, even if it was a pretty good diversion.

"My name is Mayflower," May said, shocking Jay and probably all her ancestors. "I'm a psychic. Zachary is carrying a magical item and we want to make sure you're all being safe."

"We're not trying to sell anything," Jay added hastily. In a much smaller voice he added: "Though he said something about dinner."

Jay was aware he missed a lot of things in life. His brain just had different priorities than other people. He did not miss the sudden interest of the people at the back table, a short man with almost implausible golden curls and a duo of women with heights firmly outside the average in both directions.

"A magical item?" The priest did not seem too alarmed. "That is indeed something worth investigating. Come and sit with us then, we'll have dinner soon."

May looked around, scanning everyone, but not coming up with an excuse. They went to sit at a table near the front, where the woman in blue had already taken a seat, one leg in knee-high boots lazily draped over the edge. She unwrapped a piece of blue bubble gum and tossed it into her mouth.

"My friends, this is Eliza. She has an interest in the occult herself." He was interrupted by an enormous man with alarmingly ginger hair throwing himself into one of the seats. "You shoulda told me there's stuff going on. What's that about magical items?"

"These are our guests Mayflower and..." He looked at Jay. "Jayden?"

Jay just shrugged, too taken up by May trying to break his hand. He didn't want to draw back so obviously but she pinched his finger really hard and -

Ah.

Jay shot a stealthy look towards the priest. His radar was vibrating in his pocket. Both men were wearing a silver sigil in the form of a pendant and a brooch. They looked different than Eliza's, the wolf head combined with some sort of pointy cross, but unmistakably related.

Jay considered if they had in fact not stumbled into a witch coven but some weird nationalist fraternity. Not fraternity, specifically, considering there were several women, but some sort of... Cult? They were all different ages, too, the woman, Eliza, looking no older than 25 and the priest being in his 50s at minimum.

"Really cool, uh, pendant you got," Jay said before his brain could tell him this would get them killed. "You into, what's the name again, that fantasy show where people die all the time?"

"Didn't like the ending much, but the books are good," Eliza said in that way too sultry voice. The big man made a face between distaste and amusement. He leaned onto his elbows, resting his chin on one large but surprisingly delicate hand. A lot of things about him were paradoxically delicate, from his pale, freckled skin to a face looking surprisingly young despite the visible lines around his eyes and mouth. His hair was the color of wildfire, curls pulled into a ponytail that left bangs spilling over the side of his face.

"Sooooooo, what kinda psychics are you?" he asked. "Telling the future? Making potions? Kinda hard to find proper witches these days."

"You've met proper witches?"

Eliza loudly popped her bubblegum.

"I just said they're hard to find, didn't I?", said Red.

"I'm not a witch," May said stiffly. "I read auras and magical signatures." Not for the first time, Jay wished desperately he could see what she saw. What were these people's auras like? Were they dangerous? Upset? Laughing at them?

"Yours is blue," May said in the tone of voice she used when making shit up on the spot. "Light blue, a bit silvery. Like a tuna."

Red didn't seem offended by the comparison. "Neat. How about Sasha?"

"Who?"

"Zachary, sorry."

"It's grey," May said without even turning around. "It's a pretty rare color, but it means he's a very controlled and logical person."

Red nodded enthusiastically. "He is! How about me?"

"You're curious," Jay said. "Silver and blue are the colors of the sky and sea, you like to travel, can't be in one place for too long. You're also not really into pointless workouts, but like to apply yourself."

May had meant to kick his leg, but had thought better of it. Jay felt vindicated.

"That's something every half-baked carnival psychic could tell you," Eliza huffed. She swung her legs off the table, heels thumping the wooden floor. "Tell me something secret."

There was a long pause.

May knitted her brow, then held out her hand. "Okay."

Eliza observed her, still chewing her bubblegum. Then she placed her manicured hand in May's. Her nail polish was bright blue. "Knock yourself out."

The moments May sat there seemed to draw into eternity. Eliza kept the vague expression of distaste, while Red was leaning forward in obvious interest.

Jay tried to get an overview of the room in case things got ugly. Zachary was speaking with a tall man behind the bar he hadn't noticed before. Under the beanie he'd taken off, Zachary had shoulder-long brown hair with a white streak at the front. He hadn't seemed the type for that trend. The other man had waist-long black hair, a goatee, and wore sunglasses inside.

The table in the back was silently sipping on their drinks, clearly trying to listen in. The priest - if he was one - had disappeared.

The tiny bell over the door rang and then took a nosedive, hitting someone with a muffled thud. "Aw man," the someone said.

"There you are!" The priest was back, somehow. It was quite disconcerting.

The newcomer was a lanky youth, looking to be barely out of secondary school. His pale cheeks were flushed from the cold, a thick scarf wrapped around about everything above the belt.

"My apologies, this place wasn't too easy to find. Are we still on schedule?"

Under the thick jacket, the youth was wearing a white shirt and black bow with matching suspenders, meaning he was either a nerd or a waiter. Hired help meant paperwork, meant questions asked if someone disappeared. Jay relaxed a bit.

He really was being too paranoid. The worst thing that had happened on any investigation was being forced to drink bad tea and being laughed at. And the radiation exposure. That was pretty bad.

Still. Nothing supernaturally bad had happened.

He liked May a lot but her abilities were nothing to brag about. They were just two kids who liked to dig into things most people didn't take seriously.

The young man hung up his coat and immediately began sorting things behind the counter, finally removing the man with the sunglasses. Coming around the corner, the man revealed an arm covered in Nordic occult tattoos. Enthusiast, witch, or fascist? Impossible to tell by looking.

"You're a con artist," May said suddenly.

Jay turned back to the table. Eliza had raised one very accurately formed eyebrow. "Takes one to know one I suppose."

May didn't take the bait. "You're from Scandinavia, liv

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. II

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 10k

➵ warnings : none really, swearing, mainly fluffy and funny interactions, some angst! :o 

➵ a/n: and i’m back with chapter two! i really wanted to say thank you for the love and support i received on the first part of maybe i do, it was astounding!! i’m so grateful so many people loved the story and asked to be tagged (all at the bottom <3), it made me feel so motivated to write. if you would also like to be tagged please message me. your feedback is always appreciated! 

chapter two : “on my pillow, can’t get me tired” 

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  || masterlist

Taehyung didn’t remember sleeping anywhere near you last night. 

He remembered that even though you willingly agreed to share the same bed, he still opted for caution and slept with the most space between you two as possible.

Though when his eyes fluttered open the next morning, eyeballs burning from the light that bled into the suite, the first thing he realized was that he was not on his side of the bed from last night. 

No, he had somehow gravitated towards the center, and as if almost on cue, your slight movement and the sound of your breathing alerted him of your nearby presence. 

Peering down at you, Taehyung caught sight of your sleepy head turned towards him and lying on his arm, his other thrown over your torso with you unsuspectingly nuzzled into his side.

Taehyung’s eyes shot open, acknowledging he had succumbed to his habit of hugging something to sleep during the course of the night and he internally panicked. He began retracting his arms slowly, just about drawing himself from you until alarms rang in his head at the sight of you stirring in your sleep. 

Taehyung took the golden opportunity to sit up in a flash, having to physically shake his head to rid the image of your tranquil, sleeping face from his brain, crushing the thought that it was kind of cute.

He found himself chanting the same denial from last night, he couldn’t be thinking of such complicated things concerning you when he knew the second he’d step foot inside his home, there’d be a mountain of paperwork ready for him; even more on his work desk.

He had to be thinking about his job, not you.  

Even if Taehyung was married now, it wouldn’t lessen the amount of work that plagued his life nor make it any less demanding. If anything, his life would be harder now considering the fact that he had another priority to add to his list, another aspect of his life he had to split his attention between. 

He didn’t necessarily hate the idea, just found himself needing to work harder than he already was. 

Taehyung sighed heavily at the thought and swung his legs off the bed, rubbing his tired eyes. He took a moment to look back at you, thinking if he observed you a second time he’d be able to piece together how the hell you two ended up in that position, that close. 

By evidence of the forgotten blanket half-thrown off you, he could see you were the tossing-and-turning type, maybe the only explanation for your proximity considering he was the same. 

He also noticed you slept all curled up, like you were cold and the only warmth you knew was snuggling yourself.

Cute.

There it was again, cute. 

Why does that word even exist? 

Taehyung discarded the notion altogether and stood to his feet, stretching out his stiff muscles. He made for the bathroom eagerly to begin his day, though not without fixing at least some of the blanket back onto you. 

“You don’t have a driver?” 

“Not for everywhere I go. I have two hands, I can drive myself.” Taehyung made it a statement to jazz hands at you, showcasing the perfectly capable limbs he was gifted with.

“That’s.. nice, actually. I always see asshole CEO’s getting other people to drive them around.” You relayed as you trailed behind Taehyung, letting him lead you towards the front of the hotel where dozens of expensive cars lined the curb side.

You had no clue which luxury vehicle belonged to Taehyung because quite frankly, he could probably afford every car your eyes caught sight of. It wasn’t until he approached a certain one and retrieved his keys from the valet that your jaw completely dropped, floored.

“This is your car?” You gawked, the sleek design, crispness of its shape and nearly sparkling gloss completely sweeping you off your feet.

“Yeah, think someone like me can’t get a car like this?” Taehyung cocked an eyebrow, gesturing towards himself.   

“It’s just-wow. Mercedes CLS?” You inquired without really looking at him, inspecting the car instead as you admired its every curve. Safe to say, you were beyond in love with it. Even if you were always more of a minimalist and preferred the average product, there was just something gorgeous about luxury cars that appealed to you.

“Yeah, actually it is.” Taehyung looked at you impressed, momentarily reminded of just how different you were compared to any other woman he’s chanced upon. 

How many of them knew car models?

Taehyung was intrigued by the fact before speaking with one of the hotel workers, confirming if they had loaded his car with both your luggage and some wedding sentiments your parents insisted you keep. 

Once receiving affirmation Taehyung made towards your side of the car and pulled the door open. He flashed you a tight-lipped smile as he gestured for you to hop in, drawing you out of your stupor. You thanked him warmly before sliding into your seat. 

He let you scramble in comfortably before shutting the door and walking to his side, positioning himself in and clicking on his seatbelt. He watched as your expression lit up once occupying the car, face beaming with excitement as you touched and drank in at the high-end features the vehicle had to offer. Taehyung found himself smiling before he licked his lips and straightened his face, igniting the engine and beginning the smooth drive. 

It was easy to settle the debate on where you both would be living. Taehyung was an enormously rich CEO who lived in an expensive, massive home while you lived in a measly apartment. You knew it was useless to live separately, even more useless to have him live with you. And so you agreed without protest to pack your things and relocate, begin your move into the house you’d share with him for a lifetime. 

The car ride remained quite silent, you mindlessly bopping your head to whatever mainstream song played on the radio, while Taehyung tapped his fingers against the steering wheel or his lap. 

You found your eyes wandering to his slender fingers wrapped around the wheel every so often, sometimes venturing to the other one he placed against his thigh. You began reprimanding yourself once you realized with all the staring, observing and ogling, you most certainly had a thing for his hands already. 

Fuck. 

They were just so big, bigger than what you’ve seen of the average man and it didn’t help that they looked crafted to perfection. 

There was just something about the veins that decorated them, his palm large in size as his fingers seemed deft turning and working the steering wheel. His little accessories like a ring or two, bracelets and his watch did absolutely nothing to deter your interest either.

It only increased once you realized he looked good driving, really good. You knew men had this common attractiveness to them when they drove, watching them all focused and effortlessly working the car somehow sexy; but watching Taehyung drive was another experience entirely. 

He looked insanely hot, and you felt like throwing yourself out your window for even thinking such a thing. It was another case of you ogling him without realizing until his deep voice suddenly fished you out of your thoughts, questioning. “Did you like the wedding?” 

“Huh?” 

“The wedding, did you like it?” Taehyung repeated, glancing at you. 

“Does it really matter if I did?” You asked, this one phrase seeming to perfectly sum up the misfortune of your life, provoking an ironic laugh even. 

“I think it does. A bride should always enjoy her wedding.” 

“Well, I didn’t.” You deadpanned, your expression turning frustrated having to remember that one of, if not the most special night of your life had just been robbed of you, thrown to the wolves while you were only left to accept the sad fact. 

“C’mon, you didn’t enjoy a single thing?” Taehyung didn’t mean to flash back to the kiss you two shared, though found himself doing exactly so. 

You didn’t enjoy that? he questioned in his head. 

“Not really, I just imagined having more choice in the wedding.” You answered honestly, trying not to sulk so much. “It’s not you, I just... thought I’d be able to decide things at my own wedding. I’m grateful your parents did so much, but I didn’t really get to choose anything.” You grew more solemn as your gaze fixated on nothing, watching the world pass you by through the car window. 

“My favourite flowers weren’t even there.” You said only despondently to yourself, shoulders drooping, though Taehyung didn’t miss it. 

“You don’t like roses?”

Your eyes flashed towards him with furrowed eyebrows, surprised he heard your comment. You straightened up before shrugging back a response. “I like peonies.” 

Taehyung looked at your side profile as you turned away, finding the conversation turning more sorrowful than he liked. He allowed some silence to linger as you leaned your chin against your palm, boringly watching the bustling streets.  

He decided to change the subject.

“So you don’t think I’m an asshole, huh?” 

“What?”

“You said you always see ‘asshole CEO’s’ getting people to drive them around. But I don’t, so I’m not an asshole to you?” Taehyung halved his attention between you and the road, glancing in your direction with one hand working the steering wheel.

You thought the question over, “No, you’re not an asshole.” You said simply, distracted by the thoughts that previously occupied your mind. 

“I see.” Taehyung pursed his lips. Another beat of silence passed through the downcast air before Taehyung perked up again.

“Is it just the driving? Or do you have other criteria?” Taehyung asked inquisitively, leaning back into his seat as he observed you. 

You could detect from the corner of your eyes the way his stance drew attention to his legs, thighs broad as he sat. “I guess there is.” 

“Like what?”

You didn’t really know why Taehyung was so curious. You thought it was common knowledge what the stereotypical asshole CEO was like; they were nearly all jerks with horrible one-percenter mentalities and treated people like gravel.  

You scoffed a bit. “They’re usually so full of themselves. They act like they own the place all the time, which makes sense at their own companies but not everywhere else. It’s like the position gets to their heads. Even the way they talk is condescending, belittling, or straight up rude to anyone not on their level. It wouldn’t kill to be nice.” You revealed almost too eagerly, avoiding eye contact with Taehyung as you viewed the traffic on the road ahead, remembering he was a CEO himself. 

Long story short, you’ve had your fair share of experiences meeting them as you grew up during the beginnings of your father’s company. They were quick to skew your opinion ever since you watched the way they treated your father all due to having a start-up, for simply being small in name or reputation. They acted like he was less than, some even daring to behave as though his company would simply never make it. 

It always boiled your blood, left an extremely distasteful image of CEOs and the business world in your head. 

And you were certain it all sucked after that. 

“Understandable.” Taehyung nodded agreeably. “But you think I don’t fit any of that?” He rested a hand against his thigh, sitting laxed as he spread his legs apart further. This time it was definitely hard to miss the way they appeared, all laid out and long as your eyes drank him in, following up his thighs all the way to his-

“You don’t. I thought maybe since you’re super successful you’d be full of yourself. But you’re not, really.” You snapped yourself out of whatever the hell you were doing, trying to refocus on the conversation.

“Ah, seems like a stepping stone.” 

“Stepping stone? Towards what?”

“Towards you not hating me.” His voice came out with a more solemn timbre than you expected, his jaw tightening for a mere second. 

Taehyung only thought such a thing because even if he decided you didn’t harbour negative feelings towards him, there was no way of him determining whether that was true or not without your real input. 

“I don’t hate you, Taehyung. I don’t.. think I can.” You claimed with poignancy, his statement causing you to reflect on your own feelings about him. 

You don’t hate Taehyung, you couldn’t because he did absolutely nothing wrong in this situation. He was dragged in just like you were. You only despised the unfairness of the arrangement, not him. 

There wasn’t much to hate about him.  

“So you’re saying you like me then, aren’t you?” Taehyung suddenly teased light-heartedly, all smug as his amused eyes flickered to you. 

“Shut up, I never said that.” You turned away, scandalized by his remark. 

“I’m kidding. But, why do you think you can’t hate me? I pretty much.. ruined your life.” Taehyung internally felt his chest tighten at the words, remembering the exact thoughts from where he stood no less than 24 hours ago, seconds from lawfully marrying you. 

“And I didn’t ruin yours?” This time you turned your gaze towards Taehyung, meaningfully. Your eyes instinctively communicated your emotions as they locked with his for a moment, Taehyung all attentive. 

“I took away from you just as much you took away from me. We both ruined each other’s lives, there’s no use in blaming each other. That’s why I can’t hate you.” You finalized, crossing your arms and opting to watch the passing buildings through your window again. 

Taehyung absorbed your sudden confession with reason, realizing that in a sense, you two were partners in this unfortunate case. Even if your matrimony constituted a forced partnership neither of you liked, there seemed to be a natural comradery in having to deal with the aftermath of that forced partnership. 

Trying to accept it. 

“I don’t think I can hate you, either.” Taehyung admitted, ending the more miserable part of the conversation as you fell silent. You thought he was done until he decided to bother you again. 

“I think you’re still saying you like me, though.” 

You turned to him half-appalled before pointing towards the road, eyes narrowed. “Just drive us home, will you?” 

Taehyung laughed at the moment and pressed down on the accelerator, internally grinning at the fact you never said no to his statement. 

“This is your house?” You found yourself gawking again at something that belonged to Taehyung, stepping inside a luxury home you’ve only ever dreamed of living in. Sure, you lived with your parents until you were 18, though your father was still starting out with his company for most of those years, not exactly owning anything too luxurious until after you permanently moved out.

So as you stood trying to prop your heels off yourself, your jaw dropped at the sheer elegance and high-status look to the interior of Taehyung’s home. You had already done enough gawking at the exterior, but being inside and processing the fact that you were now to inhabit this home for the rest of your life sent another wave of shock. 

You immediately observed Taehyung was the type who decorated his home with only the finest, his taste easily identifiable. Aesthetic, lavish, charming. He seemed like a man of utter simplicity though his home said otherwise, showcasing an artistic, exquisite feel you never really expected from him. 

“When will you stop saying that?” He titled his head and smiled through a laugh, removing his shoes and slipping into his indoor slippers. 

“Right, sorry.” You were still struggling for normalcy, somehow forgetting almost every hour Taehyung’s wealth and only registering it once you saw something that indicated it. 

Taehyung sauntered inside and took a deep breath, enjoying the feel of his abode. He enjoyed nothing more than being home, in the comfort of his own space. Especially for someone who worked so busily, he found pleasure in doing the bare minimum at home. Relishing in the feeling right now, he pressed his lips together in a smile before glancing back at your struggling figure, catching sight of your size. 

His eyebrows shot up to the sky. “Woah, you’re short.” 

“Huh?” 

“I think I’ve only ever seen you in heels.” Taehyung informed. “Now that you’re not wearing them you’re a lot shorter than I thought. You’re tiny.” He pointed out as he eyed you from head to toe, processing the amount of height you lost simply from removing your shoes. 

“I mean, that’s kind of what heels do, you know, they add height.” You deadpanned, stating the obvious for him. 

“Sorry, it’s just..” Kind of cute, he thought, though fought for another response. “I could probably throw you.” 

Nice save. 

“Excuse me? It’s not my fault you’re so tall.” You scowled at him. “Besides, you’re all height and no muscle, you probably can’t even carry me.” 

“Wanna see me try?” Taehyung was already coming towards you with his arms held out and you sputtered immediately, “No, no, no.” you held your hands up defensively. “Let’s just start the house tour, yeah?” you offered a smile for compromise. 

“That’s what I thought.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes coyly and turned on his heel, signaling you to follow him. 

What you realized strolling through the home as Taehyung discussed its details was that it emphatically represented him like an open book. Even if Taehyung was predominantly unreadable and seemed to always hide a mystery behind his eyes, you could see nearly all of him reflected in his home. 

You often found valuable trinkets or sentiments scattered around the house. It seemed like he cherished a lot of things in his life, namely memories or people. It would also be hard to miss the exquisite selection of paintings and embellishments he draped the walls with, all harbouring their own charm and adding to the overall artistic feel of his home. 

There were famous works consisting of Vincent Van Gogh all the way to local Korean artists you’ve never heard of, though admired their work. 

It seemed as though he selected the paintings himself. 

Another large aspect you couldn’t miss were the many photos he kept, calling to question whether they were of his own work. 

“Did you take these?” You approached a shelf in one of his grand hallways on the second floor, hand brushing the wooden frame of a captured photo; six men including Taehyung himself posing comfortably, like they were extremely close, backdrop reflecting what seemed to be a trip.  

“I took all of them.” He stated casually, hands tucked into his pockets as he eyed the shelf along with you. 

“All?” 

He simply nodded and didn’t elaborate further as he watched you admire the photos, yourself impressed by his adeptness for photography. 

“You’re really good.” You complimented absentmindedly, enjoying the other photos of not only people but scenery, empty streets, candid shots from what looked to be his own little adventures. 

“Thanks.” Was all Taehyung could manage, trying to mask the sheer gratitude he felt hearing the first ever person to admire his work; something that wasn’t related to being a CEO or a businessman. 

He also felt slightly embarrassed you’d seen a small part of him he usually hid.

Taehyung continued walking down the hallway until he reached the end, revealing what you could tell was the largest room in the house. You were thrown off by just how unnecessarily large it was. It seriously reminded you of an extravagant hotel suite, more like the grandest one among them. 

“This is our room.” Taehyung introduced, gesturing towards its interior. 

“Our?” 

Taehyung nodded “I should’ve told you earlier but I wanted us to sleep in the same room. If we slept apart our marriage wouldn’t look convincing to my two housekeepers. I trust them but I don’t want any information about us getting out to the public, not over my dead body.” Taehyung stated in earnest as he relayed the information, wandering further into the room. 

“You really care that much about publicity?” you genuinely questioned. 

Taehyung scoffed. “Not me, I couldn’t care less about what people think.” He denied instantly, almost laughably. “It’s my father. He hates bad press, especially concerning our family or the company.” 

“I thought bad press is still press, so it’s good.” You suggested as you followed him further into the room, admiring that though large, his room held a sense of comfort to it. Quite frankly, all of his home felt rather welcoming and cozy, surprising of a CEO who ran such a monstrously successful company.

“My father doesn’t think so. Kim Enterprises has always been generational, each of our CEO positions strictly kept within the family. Our name is our brand and pride, it alone accounts for at least half of our success. We’re extremely well-known for our high status, it’s just plain fact in the upper social circles of Korea. We can’t afford to taint our name with petty things like bad press or corruption, our reputation is too valuable.” Taehyung stated this all nonchalantly as he adjusted his suit jacket in his mirror, like it was something he’s grown accustomed to and has known all his life. 

You found your opinion impeding his words.  

“So you can never just, escape this life? As long as you’re a Kim you’re bound to this company?” You found the concept wildly restrictive, clearly shackling down any person that would run the business and you felt a disagreeing shiver shoot through your spine. 

“Of course, why would you want anything else?” Taehyung tiled his head to the side, eyeing you in genuine questioning and your entire being was trying to bite back the desire to correct him, tell him there’s so much more to life than just some company your family owns. Though you opted for changing the subject instead, unwilling to step on his toes and dictate his life when you knew next to nothing about it. 

It wasn’t your place. 

“Woah, you have a balcony?!” You exclaimed with a simper, eyes flickering towards the curtains that revealed two ajar French doors leading to an open space.

You made towards it excitedly and stopped just in the middle of the platform, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air.

“It’s my favourite part of the house.” You didn’t even realize Taehyung followed you until his towering figure stood directly behind you, feeling his proximity permeate through your body. 

You swallowed. 

“Why don’t you look at the view?” Taehyung cocked his head towards the railing of the balcony, though you didn’t move a step. 

You weren’t about to tell Taehyung you’re terribly afraid of heights.

“I-I can see from here. Wow, looks beautiful.” You perked up superficially, trying to throw him off and changing the subject again. “By the way, what’s our closet situation gonna look like?” 

“Ah, let me show you.” Taehyung strided back into the room towards the sliding double doors you spotted earlier. He almost theatrically glided both dark wooden panels open and your jaw dropped for the 47th time today. 

You were welcomed by a ridiculously large walk-in closet, enough to be renovated into its own bedroom. You simply couldn’t normalize its size, especially after registering every suit, tie, watch or accessory Taehyung stored in the gracious space. 

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how much money lied in here. 

“Oh my God.” Was all you could manage, meandering in sparingly as you viewed each and every expensive piece he owned in the room, no doubt of the highest quality designers, finest of men’s fashion. 

“You don’t have to worry about unpacking and moving in here, the housekeepers will do that for you.” Taehyung watched as you looked upon in awe, finding the way your eyes sparkled with emotion very similar to that of Bambi’s.  

“How will I fit-”

“I specifically made space for you, there’s enough.” Taehyung stated, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. He’d resolved a while ago he really would try to take this marriage seriously, victoriously achieve the work-life balance his father kept preaching. 

He saw giving up his closet space as the first step. 

It was indeed so because Taehyung thoroughly enjoyed fashion. He genuinely adored every suit, accessory and outfit in his collection, though if he wanted to reach this new goal of balance, successfully add you to his list of priorities, then he had to be willing to cut down. 

Even if that meant reallocating a third of his exorbitant wardrobe just for you, he’d try not to mind. 

“Are you sure? I could just use another room’s-” 

“I want to.” Taehyung finalized as his eyes turned unreadable from across the room, locking his gaze with yours and you were only left to look back impressed, his generosity unforeseen. 

“Thank you.” You voiced a little weak, still shy by the suffocating nature of his stare. 

“Don’t mention it.” He offered plainly, propping himself off the wall. He looked off to the side eyeing the empty pockets of space he left for you, until your voice called out to him.  

“Taehyung.”

“Hm?” He snapped his vision back to you. 

You wanted to ask him something, more so a favour and you were unsure how to word the request. “Um.. I didn’t want to ask so openly, but..” You found yourself beating around the bush, timid of what his response would be. 

“Go on.” 

“Um, so it seemed like there were a lot of empty rooms in this house, and I was just wondering if I could maybe.. transform one of them into an art studio for myself?” You winced at your own request. 

“I’m sorry, it’s just I had one at my old place and it really grew on me. I would get most of my work done in that room and gained a lot of inspiration from it. I have a lot of art supplies and designed often in that studio, so I need a home for all my supplies and it would suck getting rid of it all. I’m sorry it means I would have to steal one of your rooms in the house, if you don’t want me to then-” 

Taehyung couldn’t help but break out into a small grin as he watched you ramble on, shyly fidget with your fingers, so apprehensive of asking him for something and it reminded him why he was so eager to provide you with anything you wanted. 

You spent too long trying to do everything on your own, achieve everything on your own, relying solely on yourself. Taehyung could see this all as plain as day, quite enjoying of how he’s never really met someone like you, and wanted you to know you didn’t always have to be so independent.  

Especially with him. 

“Y/N.” He called out to you with the same honey-coloured tone from last night, stopping you. Your eyes flickered to his, awaiting his next sentence and Taehyung already found himself having a thing for your doe-eyes. 

Fuck. 

“Of course you can have a room. You can have anything in this house. It’s yours.” Taehyung stated with a degree of assurance, his eyes locking with yours in earnest. 

You both shared a look as your lips curved into a gracious smile, biting your lip to contain it. His stare wasn’t so much intimidating as it was merely.. calm. Gazing at you for the sole purpose of gazing, and you found some heat rushing to your face under his scrutiny. 

Taehyung seemed to realize he was staring and immediately cleared his throat, turning a little nervous as he began another conversation. “So um, I’m sorry to say this,” he began with unease, almost apprehensive and you didn’t know what he was so sorry about. “But I have work today.” 

You blinked. “What?” 

Taehyung internally winced at your reaction, hands finding his pockets. “I took some time off for the wedding, so now I have twice the amount of work left behind. I need to complete it.” He informed straightforwardly. 

“Our wedding was just yesterday, though, aren’t you tired?” You were only taken aback because you were slightly concerned for his wellbeing, wasn’t he tired from yesterday? You recalled him knocking out almost immediately upon hitting the pillow of your hotel bed last night, snoozing away. 

“Maybe, but I can’t afford to rest. I’ll only have more to complete if I do, so I won’t be spending anymore time with you today.” Taehyung relayed the information, readying himself for the even greater disappointing news he’d be passing on. 

“Actually, we won’t be able to go on our honeymoon, either.” Taehyung thought it was best to slip in all the bad news, growing more and more unrelaxed as he was unsure of how you’d react. 

Though what you said next had him nearly floored.

“Honeymoon? Taehyung, that’s the least of my concerns, you should at least rest a day before getting back to work. That’s not really healthy.” You chastised him as lightly as possible, still afraid to be stepping on his toes when you didn’t know his life. 

Taehyung was certain you’d hate having been stripped of a beautiful vacation where you could’ve relaxed in the sun and tropics of Cancun. Your father had mentioned to him you’ve always longed to visit the breath-taking city in Mexico, its clear waters and tropical air as a means to truly get away from your stifling life. 

So when he found you disregarding the trip altogether and instead focusing on him, more precisely his health, he was left damn well speechless. 

There you were again paying attention to the littlest things about him he didn’t care much for; he still had that bandage you offered him a month ago tucked into one of his pockets, not wanting to use the adhesive just yet. 

“I’ll be fine. I’m just sorry we can’t go on the vacation because of me, it would’ve been nice, you know?” Taehyung apologized, feeling genuinely guilty for having ruined the honeymoon. Even if you two weren’t going to travel as some lovey-dovey couple, you both simply could’ve enjoyed the time off.

“It’s okay, just, at least work from home today. Heading to the office would be too much.” You suggested for the sake of the fatigue you could discern on him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m gonna be home for the next few days since everyone thinks we’ll be on our honeymoon.” 

“Oh. That’s.. good.” You nodded faintly, half at the idea you two were even faking your honeymoon and half at the blasphemous energy he had to work after yesterday. 

The sleep from last night was nearly not enough to recharge from the antics of the wedding, having drained your batteries for the next few days. You were certain his were drained too; he was half the damn couple. 

“I should get going. I’ll send Mrs. Choi and Seo up with your things. They’re probably finished with lunch too, you should eat.” Taehyung advised as he stepped out of the walk-in closet, running a hand through his gorgeous hair and you couldn’t help but ogle at the sexy way his strands fell back on him. 

“Okay.” You voiced as you followed him out, watching him near the room’s door and just about to vacate the premise before you spoke up. “Taehyung.” 

He stopped in his tracks, peering back at you. “Yes?” 

“You should eat something, too.”

Taehyung half-smiled at you with a nod “Sure”, before stepping out of the room, leaving you alone. 

And you couldn’t help but kind of like the way he smiles. 

It was well into the evening now, bordering dinner time as you helped the last of your clothes into Taehyung’s closet, refusing to let the older housekeepers do all the work by themselves considering it was your own luggage. 

You also tried to occupy Taehyung’s room as scarcely as you could with your belongings, feeling odd about suddenly moving in with all your might and changing things around. It just didn’t feel appropriate, like you were invading his space and so you opted for scattering only your necessary items.

“That should be the last of it, Mrs. Choi.” You retrieved your last piece of clothing from the rather soft-spoken housekeeper, tucking the blazer away among the rest. You were satisfied to see not only your wardrobe neatly organized now, but fit just about right with Taehyung’s things. 

He was right about space, there was enough.

“Mrs. Kim, please rest. You didn't have to move a muscle at all for us.” Mrs. Choi remarked, genuinely concerned for you. 

“Yes, please, Mrs. Kim. We can finish up with the little things. I’ve just finished preparing dinner downstairs, you should eat.” Mrs. Seo chimed in as she entered the walk-in closet, gesturing towards the door. 

“Are you sure? I can-”

“Mrs. Kim, you’re very kind for offering your help, we’re very grateful you’ve done so. Though we are Mr. Kim’s housekeepers, we are meant to care for his home and his lovely wife. You need not worry about helping us.” Mrs. Choi stated with an earnest tone, speaking respectfully as she addressed you. 

You were going to protest again before you considered her words, registering that if you indeed helped them, it would technically negate the entire purpose of their work. 

You bit back your reply as a result, crafting a new one. 

“I see, I’m sorry, Mrs. Seo, Mrs. Choi. I’m just.. very used to doing things on my own,” you looked towards the ground. “I apologize.” You almost dipped for a bow until Mrs. Choi rapidly cautioned you, scrambling towards your figure. 

“Oh dear, Mrs. Kim! You do not need to bow to us, you’re Mr. Kim’s wife, you are the one who is bowed to.” 

“Yes, you do not need to apologize either, we appreciate your help, it was very sweet of you.” Mrs. Seo added with a warm smile, bowing to you instead. “Please go for dinner downstairs, I’ve also informed Mr. Kim for dinner, though I’m unsure if he has made his way down yet.” She added on, urging you towards the room's exit and you recognized it was probably better to listen to her. 

Even if all this high-class, status stuff had yet to sink in or make sense to you after being away for so long, you understood there was an eventual tolerance you had to build for it. Just as Mrs. Choi said, you’re Kim Taehyung’s wife now, and that came with a hell lot of status you hadn’t even scratched the surface of yet.

You could already tell it was going to be a pain in the ass. 

“I suppose I should. I’ll get going, then.” You smiled graciously at both women, appreciative of their kindness and began vacating the closet. You just about pulled the room door open before Mrs. Seo suddenly came to you.

“Oh! Mrs. Kim,” she halted you. “I was informed by Mr. Kim to provide this to you. He would have done so himself though he’s quite busy at the moment.” Mrs. Seo extended her hand and presented a pristine looking card, black and incredibly sleek in design. Your eyebrows furrowed until you noticed the telltale symbols, almost ominously minimal branding indicating a rare card only those with some of the highest networths in Korea could own. 

Your eyes widened in horror. 

The Black Card. 

“P-pardon?” You needed her to reiterate, there was no way Kim Taehyung was giving you a black card, the same card that was limitless on credit and only exclusively owned by the affluent one-percenters of society. 

“He’s informed me this belongs to you now, and that you’re to keep it in your possession.” Mrs. Seo elaborated, smiling through the mental whiplash you were currently experiencing.  

“Belongs to.. me? This is mine?” You were still having trouble processing, why would Taehyung be gifting you this? Who’s account was it even attached to? Was it yours and he’s decided to graciously pay all the expensive fees, or worse, was it joined with his own account? 

Don’t tell me it’s joined with his account.  

“Yes, Mrs. Kim. It’s yours.” Mrs. Seo held it out more outwardly, nudging it in your direction. 

Your mouth fell agape for another second before you mentally collected yourself, quickly grabbing the card and thanking her as you made your exit, marching through the house for Taehyung’s unbelievable ass. 

Taehyung could not be providing you with this card. It was irrational, simply had to have been a decision he made with at least two bottles of soju in him, right? You didn’t care what his reasoning would be, you were denying and returning this. There was no way in hell you’d accept this card, especially if he linked his own personal account to it. 

You tried loosely recalling where Taehyung mentioned his study, logically assuming he was working there. You inspected majority of the second floor, working your way through the halls until you finally caught sight of the familiar wooden doors with glass panels, slightly ajar, light bleeding through.

You made for the room quickly and stormed in without a care, attempting to steady your breathing from all the rushing around. You caught Taehyung completely off guard, having shredded his suit jacket to instead sport the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt, adorning black-rimmed, designer glasses. 

He looked 100x hotter than he should’ve. 

Taehyung suddenly propped up from the leaned-back position he’d assumed on his chair, expression caught by surprise. “Y/N?” He questioned, eyebrows furrowing. 

You held up the card and addressed him immediately. “Taehyung, what’s this? Why are you giving this to me?” You huffed, looking at him incredulously. 

“The card? For you to use..?” Taehyung responded cooperatively, confused as to why you seemed so frazzled. 

“But why, Taehyung? This is a black card, the annual fees on this are insane and I can’t pay-” 

“You’re not paying for them, I am.” Taehyung cut in, shutting the binder he was holding and placing it on his desk. 

“What? No, no way. If it’s my account then I should be the one-”

“It’s not your account, either, it’s mine.” Taehyung brought his elbows to his desk, hands clasped together in front of his lips. It was now he gave you that same intimidating stare he did back when you first met him, calculative and devoid of expression. 

It seemed he did this when he got serious. 

“Your account? But-Taehyung, this is your money, I can’t just have it. Please, take this back.” You stepped towards his desk to return the card eagerly, but Taehyung’s firm tone stopped you. 

“No, it’s yours. I gave it to you to keep.” His words held this underlying sense of authority, scratch that, dominance when he spoke seriously, resolute. You could instantly tell he possessed a natural sense of alpha male characteristics, enough that even though he wasn’t being harsh or looming, his words and the tone he coated them with held more power than you could manifest. 

You almost cowered, but remained adamant on returning the card. It was worse with the card attached to his account, you couldn’t just keep Taehyung’s money like it was your own, it simply wasn’t. Your money sat ordinarily in a separate account on a separate card, which you were happy enough to use. You weren’t going to mooch off of him, it went against every principle that made up your very being. 

“This is your money, Taehyung. I have no right to use it.” 

“You’re my wife. You have every right in the world to use it.” Taehyung countered with no emotion, or at least any you could discern, uncertain what was running through his mind with only his eyes as a guide towards the answer. 

And you knew his eyes didn’t tell. 

“Taehyung, this doesn’t feel right to me. This isn’t my money and I can’t use it.” You emphasized more strongly, drawing closer to his desk though halting your actions once he spoke again. 

“My money is your money, you can always use it.” You knew he was relaxed, appearing practically unbothered as he leaned onto his desk and eyed you. Though with the intense look in his eyes, his aura screaming for anyone within the vicinity to submit to him, he could easily seem frustrated with the situation, namely you. 

And it made you want to crawl into a hole.

“No, it isn’t. I’ve already intruded your home, taken your closet, your room and even an extra one just for myself. I will not take your money either. Please, take this back.” You held out the card more prominently, desperate to have him understand you.

Taehyung wasn’t necessarily frustrated by you, no, he was slightly pissed you kept referring to everything as just his and not yours, that he was the only one considering you two as a married couple now while you still viewed each other separately.

Did you not see him as your husband yet?

He also disliked the fact that you seemed scared of him, or unable to trust him like last night. He could see you fighting back the urge to cower away, genuinely upsetting him you still held a degree of fear and unsureness in your eyes. 

Why are you so afraid of me? 

“Y/N, everything isn’t just mine anymore, it’s yours, too. We’re a married couple, husband and wife. What’s mine is yours.” Taehyung tried to reason, loosening himself up more to seem less intimidating, more approachable.

“But money, Taehyung-it’s different. I didn’t even want to take my own father’s money, there’s no way I’ll take yours, please.” Pleading leaked into your tone as you lips started doing that thing where they just about pout, emphasizing their plushiness and Taehyung couldn’t help but notice it again. 

He started growing frustrated as he removed his glasses, placing them on his desk and pinching the bridge of his nose. It seemed like he was digesting the situation, searching for the best approach.

“Y/N, look. I know the kind of situation you had with your father, but I’m not him. Didn’t you hear what Mrs. Choi and Seo addressed you as?” 

You thought it over, unknowing of where he was taking this. “They.. called me Mrs. Kim.”

“Exactly. Even my last name is yours, everything I have is yours. I’m your husband, I’m always going to provide you with things from now on. That card is just one of many.” Taehyung offered his best explanation, making sure his tone wasn’t as serious to sidetrack any fear you still had.

“I understand. But this is a black card, Taehyung, and it’s your hard-earned money, not mine. It feels wrong even just having it.” You couldn’t fight your inner turmoil, you genuinely believed this to be wrong. After spending almost a decade trying to work for yourself, pay for yourself, seldom seeking the help of another, this just left a disagreeing feeling to churn in your stomach.

Taehyung sighed heavily before pushing his chair back, rising from his seat. He made his way over to you where you grew unintentionally defensive, retracting from him slightly as he neared you. He noticed it and pursed his lips, reaching out for your upper arms and taking them warmly, tenderly, waiting for your eyes to meet his before he spoke to you.

“Y/N, do you remember what I said before I kissed you yesterday?”

Your eyes widened having been reminded of the intimate moment, nodding at him innocently. Taehyung witnessed you trying to avoid eye contact and found himself softening. 

“I didn’t say that without reason. I meant it when I said I would take care of you. Your father is a different story, if you don’t want to use his money, I respect that. But I’m your husband, and I want to be a good one. I want to give you things.. do things for you simply because I want to.” Taehyung reasoned, gripping you lightly. “I want you to use my money, you’re allowed to use it.” He tried voicing with sincerity, earnestly, hoping he could change your mind.

He saw you still hesitating to accept the offer, however, deciding on a compromise.

“Look, you don’t have to use it all the time. You can still use your own card, but you can use mine here and there. Seriously, Y/N, using it won’t even make a dent on me. I’m the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company, use it at your discretion.” Taehyung could practically see your gears shifting, searching for your eyes as he wished you’d understand him. 

He saw this as a second step towards work-life balance, only feeling the responsibility and genuine desire to be the good husband in spite of the unfortunate nature of your marriage. He didn’t want any doubt concerning his ability to be a good husband, either.

After all, when Taehyung did something, he always did the best he possibly could.

“Okay, I guess you’re right. But I do have my own money, and I’ll be using that 100x more often than yours.” You relaxed and oddly let him hold you, looking down at the black card that rested in your hand and clutching it to your palm.

Taehyung realized he was still holding you and let go, retiring to fluff his hair instead. You caught a glimpse of his bicep underneath his rolled up sleeve as he did so, and you truly hated you chose a time like this to find him stunningly attractive.

“You should come downstairs, Mrs. Seo prepared dinner.” You ignored your thoughts.

“You go first, I’ll be down in a second.”

You nodded agreeably and turned away, leaving his study. You took a second look at the card in your hand, then glanced around the house as you strolled through it, trying to embed what Taehyung said into the crevices of your resistant thinking.

Everything I have is yours, you reiterated, registering that Taehyung had in fact grown accustomed to the idea of you two as a couple already. He’s accepted it, embraced it, even enforced it now with his earlier declarations and this black card. You automatically felt behind, like you were the tortoise in the race and needed to pick up your pace.

If Taehyung had already come to terms with your marriage, it was only a matter of time before you did as well. Marriage is a two-way street, and if you wanted to make this easier on both yourself and Taehyung, you would compromise with him, accept the true sense of partnership that entailed your status as husband and wife.

Thus was the exact mantra that played in your head as you fiddled with the card, remembering the way his big hands held you.

Warm.

It was night. 

You could say it was like any other ordinary night, though that would be a gargantuan lie. 

This night was the first time Taehyung and yourself were going to sleep in the same bed.

In your own home. 

The hotel suite left you both with your own space and privacy since it was a random, public room with no personality or attachment to it whatsoever, making it easier and comfortable to sleep with him.

So when you emerged from your walk-in closet in a thin camisole, loose pajama shorts and without a bra, you were cursing yourself. God damn you for needing to sleep in minimal clothing for comfort. You’d slept in a loose t-shirt and bottoms at the suite last night since it was a public room, and long story short, it left you tossing and turning more than you liked. 

You had no clue prior to arriving here that you’d be sharing a room with Taehyung. You’d expected to sleep in a different one, in the privacy of your own room where you could prance around as you wished and as a result packed your usual sleepwear. 

But now that you were left having to slumber with Taehyung, clothes on the more revealing side, there was no turning back. 

And what there was truly no turning back from, was when you opened the closet door and your eyes landed on Taehyung’s shirtless, wet self drying his hair after a shower. 

You immediately malfunctioned.

Your eyes fell to his bare back, ruffling his wet hair as his plaid pajama pants hung loosely at his hips. You immediately exclaimed and clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to shut yourself up. 

You did not expect at all for Taehyung to have such honey-coloured skin. It was like it naturally glowed, a healthy tone that made him appear all the more delectable. It certainly didn’t help that his shoulders were broader than you first observed, sincerely an other-worldly experience when he wasn’t wearing clothes. 

You also got an all-access view of his trap muscles, adding to the width of his shoulders overall and when Taehyung turned around to the sound of the closet door opening, gaze locking with yours, you could confirm his neck, chest and collarbones were indeed crafted to perfection.

Taehyung’s eyes widened momentarily drinking you in, not expecting your light sleepwear when just last night he witnessed you in a full pajama set. Not to mention, and he hated that he could tell, but you weren't wearing a bra. 

And the camisole did nothing to hide that. 

Taehyung straightened himself up realizing you two were practically gawking at each other, resting the towel around his neck as he cleared his throat. “That’s what you sleep in?” 

“That’s what you sleep in?” You retorted, arms over your chest. 

“Guys usually sleep shirtless, this is normal.” Taehyung gestured towards his own body and you had half a mind to floor yourself. It’s like Taehyung knew but also didn’t know he was hot, knew the effect he had on people though never grew cocky or proud enough to purposefully parade it around. 

And it frustrated you even more; he was fairly humble about being a sexy Greek God. 

“Girls sleep like this too, this is normal.” You copied him, looking off to the side. 

“I was kidding, I only sleep shirtless sometimes. Just get in bed.” Taehyung narrowed his eyes as he gestured towards the sheets, returning to his palace of a bathroom to toss his towel in the hamper and pull a t-shirt over his head. 

You wanted to move, feet just about ready to carry you but you never abandoned your spot. Instead, you pressed your lips into a thin line contemplating that sharing a bed with Taehyung, in clothes like this and in such proximity, all held a degree of intimacy you didn’t know you two shared yet. 

It’s only been a day. 

So when Taehyung returned to your unmoving figure, arms holding your chest and avoiding eye contact with him, he was quick to get the message. 

“Um.. if you really don’t want to sleep here, I can give you another room.” Taehyung offered, figuring himself this may be too soon. 

“No, it’s okay, that’d be kind of a hassle.” You waved him off. “Besides, your bed looks comfy.”

You were honestly trying to live up to your acceptance that Taehyung was the man you’d spend your life with now, so you’d better start getting use to him. You’d sleep next to him for numerous nights, spend endless days together and share a multitude of things; this would simply just be a first of many first times. 

So you paddled over to the bed and removed the covers to snuggle yourself in, the bed’s coolness sending a shiver through you before you hugged the blanket to yourself. Taehyung stood with a smile before crawling in himself, adjusting the covers to his liking. 

He felt at peace in a matter of seconds, the feeling of his own bed lulling him into a state of slumber already. He reached his arm out to shut off the lamp on his bedside table, leaving the room pitch dark and only his digital clock and balcony as a light source. 

You began to cower a bit in the darkness, thankful for the sheer curtains that allowed the moonlight to spill into the room. 

You felt another shiver run through your body when you shifted, realizing you were cold even under the sheets. You tried warming up on your own by shimmying the blanket around more comfortably, but it didn't do much. 

You were left lying on the bed trying to think warm thoughts, unintentionally breathing in the constant scent of Taehyung from his bed; his cologne, his aftershave, his body wash all filling your nostrils.

It was intoxicating, absolutely distracting and sleep began to slip your mind. It didn’t help that you were still cold too, moving around and turning onto your side where you now faced Taehyung. 

He seemed to have already dozed off, face tranquil as he slept soundlessly on his back. You couldn't help but admire his side-profile, the sparse moonlight illuminating his features. It was hard to not stretch your hand out and nearly run a touch along his cheek, like he was a rare work of art that naturally called for admiration.

You realized turning towards him that he radiated a wave of warmth from his body, remembering boys were pretty much furnaces while girls usually froze.

How wonderful it is to be a woman. 

You desired some of that heat and shuffled just a little closer to Taehyung, nearing the center of the bed. You discerned he was indeed warm and maneuvered slightly closer, just about stopping at the center of the bed. You fought back the urge to shimmy any closer, leaving a mindful gap between you two. 

You were seconds from catching a peace of mind until Taehyung unexpectedly spoke in the silence of the night, startling you. 

“You can come closer, I don’t bite.” The smirk in his voice was obvious, making you scrunch your nose and snap back at him. 

“Shut up, I’m not getting closer to you.” 

“You should, I’m really warm, and I can tell you’re cold.” There he was again teasing, his tone coy as he kept his eyes shut, unbothered. 

“Over my dead body.” You mocked him from earlier, turning away from him abruptly and pulling the covers over your head. 

Coffee was probably your favourite thing life had to offer. One of the couple things you’d fight someone over; coffee and your independence, if you wanted to be specific. 

So it made you genuinely happy Taehyung had such a wide selection of coffee to choose from, ranging from all kinds of beans to instant coffee, cappuccinos, lattes, mochas, you name it. It took no time for you to craft a cup to your liking, shuffle into a seat on the island and begin picking at the breakfast the housekeepers had whipped up earlier this morning. 

You’d woken up early today keeping in mind the day you had planned. You decided this to be another move-in day as part of your studio setup project you’ve entertained for the last week. The granted time off due to your odd honeymoon farce with Taehyung proved to actually come in handy, thankfully. 

It had been another peaceful morning for you, having woken up with sunlight gracing the walls, certain you could hear birds chirping as if you were in a Disney film and little mice would come out to start sewing the gown you’d wear as a princess. 

It had been a peaceful morning indeed, but when you stretched out to loosen your stiff muscles, the chaos that met you was anything but peaceful. Even if it’s occurred at least 5 times now, you kept forgetting that you shared a bed with someone else now, and that said someone had somehow always founds a way to gravitate towards you during the night, even daringly cast an arm over you sometimes. 

It left you in a state of panic registering that Taehyung’s, dare you say warm and cozy body would be just behind you, his chest mere centimeters from your back. You would stay still for some time, calculating the optimal way to remove yourself from his hold until he eventually stirred enough to loosen his grip, darting right out of bed. 

Other times, he’d wake earlier than you and you wondered what would cross his mind once he registered your oddly proximal bodies. 

Did it ever bother him?

Nonetheless, it brought a mischievous smile to your face thinking about the fact that Taehyung had such a perfectly human habit like cuddling. He was always so serious, so put together and a near machine at everything he did, seeming as though he wouldn’t give anything romantic the time of day. 

But it was hard to forget the fluffy feeling that blossomed in your chest when you would sense his proximity, maybe inviting a liking to it. You had always slept alone, only yourself and the darkness to keep you company in your lonely bed, in your lonely home. 

So sleeping next to someone, namely Kim Taehyung left an impression on you you couldn’t quite shake. It was difficult to erase the image of his calm, sleeping face after the handful of times witnessing it. Long eyelashes delicately pressed to the skin under his eyes, lips plush as he seemed to naturally pout in his sleep. The sunlight only accentuated his honey-coloured skin, adding a glow to his features that made him appear prettier than he already was. 

It was nice to think you’d wake up to that every morning. 

You found your mind still playing around with the idea until you snapped yourself out of it, questioning why the hell you always ventured off whenever you thought about him. 

Weird. 

You were scolding yourself until your eyes caught Taehyung strolling into the kitchen with his phone in is hand. He’d foregone a jacket today, black shirt sleeves folded to mid-forearm paired with black slacks.  

You were normal until you almost spat your coffee seeing he wasn’t wearing a tie but instead had the first few buttons of his shirt open, revealing a generous view of his neck and the beginnings of his chest. 

Fucking hell.

You were staring stupidly until Taehyung peeked up at you, smiling “Morning.” 

“M-morning.” you stuttered.

He seemed unsuspecting as he returned his attention to his phone, proceeding to the kitchen counter and retrieving a cup to fix himself a drink. He appeared to be reading something conscientiously on his device, never taking his eyes off and you quickly became bored, ready to use the weapon you’d acquired. 

“So.. you’re a cuddler, huh?”

Taehyung nearly dropped his cup.  

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“You’re a cuddler when you sleep. Cute.” You rested your chin in your palm, playful smile on your face. 

“I think you’re mistaken, I am not a cuddler. And I’m not cute.” Taehyung denied as he only focused on the cup, his back to you. You then watched him reach for his selection of tea and purposefully evade the coffee, your eyes lighting up with mischief.  

“Wait, you’re a cuddler and you drink tea instead of coffee? Very cute.” You pulled on his leg, chuckling as you brought your mug to your lips

This was going to be fun.

“Shut up, I don’t like the taste and tea is healthier.” Taehyung practically sneered back, harshly ripping the packet of his tea bag.

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you’re a cuddler.” You sipped on your coffee, unbothered as you swung your legs back and fourth. 

“Doesn’t take away from the fact that you like it.” 

You nearly spat your drink. 

“What?” 

“I remember a certain someone that shuffles closer to me for warmth, no?” Taehyung snapped back as he returned to his phone and popped his tea into the microwave, his shoulders high to the sky. You could imagine his smug face proud of his remark while searching for your own, realizing that Taehyung was damn good at arguing and you’d really have to upgrade your comeback game to counter him. 

He was unfortunately your match.

“Even if I were one, which I’m not, It’s not like I’m committing a crime.” Taehyung suddenly finalized with a snippy tone, and you realized you may have hurt his ego. 

Men. 

“I never said it was a bad thing.” You commented under your breath and looked away, popping a raspberry into your mouth. 

Taehyung bit back a smirk as he retrieved his cup of tea, taking a sip as he returned to his phone and took a seat across from you. He began compiling his plate of breakfast as he worked his device, typing away with one hand as if he was drafting the Magna Carta. 

You became bored again.

“Why do you have so much coffee if you don’t like it?” You genuinely felt like inquiring, if he didn’t like the taste why would he have so much? 

“For my housekeepers, they drink it.” He took a sip of his tea, all attention on his phone. 

You nodded understandingly. “Why do you have two housekeepers, by the way? Isn’t one enough?” 

“So they can keep each other company.” He answered absentmindedly, eyes still glued to his phone as he bit a piece of his toast. You really hated that he wasn’t actively interacting with you because it only left room to stare at him, and that was never any good.  

He looked illegally attractive with the unbuttoned part of his shirt, your mind profusely bugging out over the exposed bit of his chest. You were reminded of the full view from last night, and began pondering how long you’d survive having to see that for the rest of your life. 

“O-oh, that’s nice.” You stuttered back a reply, squashing your previous thought.

You were actually quite impressed by the kindness Taehyung showed behind that decision, noticing he had these small moments where he was caring, considerate, all hidden behind his unreadable face and seriousness when it came to business. 

It was quite interesting. 

You were mindlessly eating until Taehyung spoke up, eyes flickering towards you. “What are you going to do today?” 

You swallowed your fruit. “I was planning on moving more stuff in again, start finishing my studio setup. Thank you again for the room, by the way.” You expressed your gratitude once more, forking some eggs into your mouth. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

“What are you doing today?” you echoed his question, taking another swig of coffee.

“I’m working again. If you need anything I’ll be in my study.” Taehyung sent you a half-smile before snatching up his plate, bringing his phone to his ear as he stepped out of the kitchen. 

You sighed heavily only being left to think about your day, which would be majorly spent unpacking and arranging things. You had a plethora of art supplies, design tools and canvases to set up in your studio, leaving you constantly thinking of how to even begin. 

It would be a mission alone to sort through everything you had left, knowing you didn’t exactly label out of sheer laziness and would have to individually unbox and organize everything . 

It was this exact task that took up most of your day, time having slipped by in the blink of an eye. It wasn’t easy when you had to be rummaging through your belongings and situating them where you thought appropriate, also trying to envision a new look for your studio. 

You hadn’t realized 3 hours had passed until the ring of the front doorbell caused you to check your phone, curious as to who would be visiting your home in the middle of the day. You assumed it be one of the housekeepers and abandoned your work, cascading down the staircase and striding towards the grand entrance. 

You drew towards the monitor Taehyung had showed you just yesterday, explaining it to be your home security system. Taehyung detailed it had a camera for your front porch that detected movement and the doorbell alike, so you peered at the monitor to see the stranger outside your home. 

Your eyebrows furrowed registering a woman, her back turned towards the door as she fidgeted nervously with her purse in her hand. 

Sheer curiosity took you over and you paddled towards the door, unlocking it. You wore a smile on your face as you swung the door open, though it was immediately wiped off taking in the last person on earth you ever wanted to see. 

“Mother?”

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[blossomingimagines]

Fall Again

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff 

Word Count: 3,856

Summary:

Notes: I hope this what you were looking for.

Warnings: Depressive thoughts and talks of dying.

The faint sound of buzzing filled your ears as the man sitting before you droned on and on. His words are meaningless beyond the first sentence. ‘The tests came back positive, I’m sorry, you have cancer.’ Words that had instantly filled you with a certain hollowness you had never expected. As if your entire being tried to comprehend the words. As your mind tried to wrap itself around the idea that you were dying. Causing everything else to simply fade away into a static background. Simple white-noise to your predestined existence. Even still bits and pieces slice through like knives. Cutting you open to the world that you would never experience in the same way again. Leaving you exposed and bleeding without any semblance of protection. 

The sound of the hospital filtered through your ears. Shuffling of feet and the distant voices of doctors and nurses speaking to one another. An overabundance of cheer and hope floating through the halls like air, but you could now detect the underlying sense of despair. The darkness that festered beneath the light pretenses of the spotless halls. A feeling that only seemed to come to the dying. The beautiful lies become a painful truth. You simply stared straight ahead at all the degrees hanging proudly on the wall. All mocking you, because no matter how many awards your doctor may have-- nothing could ever truly cure you. Nothing could stop your body from tearing itself apart. Nothing could stop the suffering you were going to experience. His words mean nothing more to you than the mindless chatter you hear on the subway. 

‘I believe we caught it early, which is a good sign.’

‘You’re going to have to start radiation immediately.’

‘If we don’t get ahead of this thing… I’m afraid there’s not much else we can do.’

Turning, you finally meet the warm gaze of the man that was trying to save your life. Your mouth opens in hopes that your brain just knew what to say. That a few simple words would stop the spinning of the room. That your entire world would make sense again. 

Nothing came out. 

You simply stared at the man, with your mouth slightly open, as silence settled over the two of you. An oppressive silence that spoke more than either of you ever could. Brown eyes staring into yours with compassion and understanding. Lowering your head, you could feel the way your body seemed to wilt. Your shoulders slumping as you canted forward. Normally graceful hands, fumbling to get a grip on your knees. Anything to keep you anchored. To keep your thoughts on the current moment. On what was happening right now. You didn’t want them to stray to your future. To what you knew was coming for you. 

You didn’t want to think about the fact that you were dying. That you would be dead sooner than you ever thought possible. 

You had always known that with the life you lived you more than likely wouldn’t live to see your elder years. But you had always thought you would at least go out on your terms. Either a fire-fight where you were protecting your team or protecting innocent life. You had never thought that the true enemy all along was your own body. That it had been biding its time to finally land a crippling strike-- God did it land one. 

Closing your eyes, you try to stem the oncoming tears. You hated to cry in public when you were near strangers. You hated to look weak to people that didn’t know you. To people that would judge with their own preconceived notions. Nothing was going to stop the onslaught, however. Not as images of the ones you loved came flashing across your mind. 

Tony’s snarky voice filtering through your ears as if he was in the room with you. His teasing tone filling you with warmth. He always knew how to make you forget all your troubles. 

Steve’s warm smile as he looked up at you over the newspaper. His blue eyes crinkling with happiness as he offered you a mug of coffee. Having learned how you liked it long ago.

Bruce’s calming presence as he sat beside you as you read. A companionable warmth shared between the two of you.

Thor’s booming laugh as you told him a joke that you had heard. Easy conversation passing between you both as you shared joke after joke-- as well as ale, of course. 

Clint’s grin as you cooked together. His shoulder bumping into yours with the ease of someone who had done it a hundred times over. 

Vision’s practical words always seemed to make you chuckle. As you always found his no-nonsense ways both endearing and amusing. 

Then Natasha and Wanda appeared and the choked feeling in your throat only grew. Their green eyes sparkling with all the love in the world. Wanda’s open grin filling you with the same amount of warmth as Natasha’s half-smile. The laughter that so easily flowed between the three of you. Your body naturally wedged between them both as you tried to get as close as possible-- though that never seemed to be close enough. 

Clenching your hands, you try to ignore the way your heart broke all over again. Try to ignore the fact that not only your heart was going to be broken by the end of the day. That the two women that held your heart had already lost too much. And now… they may lose you too. 

A simple fact that caused a choked sob to escape your mouth. You want nothing more than to go to a time where this was the simple case of the flu. When the only reason you had gone to the doctor was because of worried green eyes tracking you wherever you went. Even when you had done everything to reassure them that you were fine. Their worry, their fear, had been the tipping point. 

“How long?”

It took you a moment to realize you had been the one that spoke. As the voice that had broken through the silence sounded nothing like your own. It was weak… feeble… everything you strived not to be. And even as the question hung between the two of you, you weren’t sure you wanted an answer. You weren’t even sure what had caused you to ask in the first place. 

You weren’t sure about a lot of things anymore. 

“With what we’ve seen? I’m afraid that if you don’t start treatment as soon as possible you’ll be dead within a few months.” The words only cause your stomach to drop even more. “However, I am confident that we caught it early enough. That, with the treatment, you may be able to make a full recovery.” 

A sardonic smile twists your mouth. “And if I don’t? I’ll end up dying as something I’m not, right? A shell of who I used to be.” 

“Yes,” he agrees softly. “But would you rather take the chance of living? Or succumb to your body’s wishes of death?” 

His words echo like a mantra as you make your way back towards the Tower. Your eyes are taking in the landscape of New York City. The bustling of life that always permeated the streets. Whether it’s children pulling their parents excitedly to the next store or a businessman that was rushing to his next meeting-- New York City never seized in its constant state of motion. No matter what happened amid its confines nothing ever seemed to disturb that simple fact.

If you were to die tomorrow nothing would truly change. The shops would still open in the early recesses of the morning. Taxis and other means of transportation would still rush through the streets looking for passengers. There would still be the distant wails of ambulances on their way to the hospital. Life would go on as it always had. The world wouldn’t stand still simply because you were no longer in it. Even if yours had the moment you had heard the news. 

Pressing your lips into a thin line, you stand and follow the line of people that were getting off. Your feet touching the rough pavement of the sidewalk with a hollow thud. With your hands stuffed into the pockets of your coat, you make your way through the throngs of people. Ignoring some of the looks you received once people recognized who you were. You weren’t in the mood to socialize. You also weren’t in the mood to dismiss the people that looked up to you. You knew what it was like to be dismissed by the people who you used to idolize-- your own personal heroes. You didn’t want that to ever happen to anyone that felt the same way towards you. 

So, you just kept your head down and plowed through the bustling streets of New York. Towards the beckoning light of Avengers Tower. The great A situated on its side a beacon for home and safety. The dull echoing of your footsteps on the marble floor of the lobby as you bypass security. Your mind somewhere else entirely as you make your way up towards the communal floor of the Tower. Only the soft sound of the elevator pulled you out of your reverie. Announcing that you had arrived at your destination. 

Following the faint sounds of voices, your body follows the well-worn path to the kitchen. Taking in everything as you near the entrance-- trying to remember everything as it was before the fallout that you knew was about to happen. From the faint crack along the sidewall of the living room that had appeared when Thor had ‘tripped’ while playing Nerf Wars. To the many pictures that lined the walls-- from amusing candid's to group pictures from intimate affairs. The happiness that suffused the walls of the Tower was always present. 

You hated that you were about to taint it with the same underlying sense of darkness that the hospital held. Hated that your own body has betrayed you. 

You stop, just at the precipice of the room, and smile at what you see inside. Natasha at the counter cutting various vegetables while Clint stole as many as he could manage before she noticed. Steve at the stove as he continued on with a conversation with Bruce. Tony sitting at the island with a StarkPad in his hands-- no doubt tinkering with more ideas for the next Iron Man suit. Wanda and Vision were standing side-by-side as Wanda taught the android how to properly set the table. Laughter flowing between them all. It was a serene moment that you didn’t want to break. That you wanted to capture and live in forever, but all good things must come to an end eventually. 

It seems like this one had to the moment Vision noticed you standing at the doorway. His bright smile is an indicator that he was glad to see you. 

“I wasn’t aware you had returned. If I had I would have greeted you like I normally do, Y/N.” 

At the mention of your name, and Vision’s voice, the team turns and greets you with varying responses-- mostly cheers and grins. At their sudden attention, you take another step into the room. Offering a small smile towards Vision. Hoping that it would show that you didn’t mind he wasn’t waiting for you once you had returned. As you weren’t expecting to have lessons tonight either way. 

“It’s all right, Vis.” You shrug. “I wasn’t expecting you to.”

At your words, Vision’s eyes narrow ever-so-slightly as he detected the underlying stress that you were trying to hide. Something you knew he was about to comment on before Tony interrupted with a question directed towards the android. You never wanted to kiss a man more. 

Knowing that you needed to get some air, but not wanting to be rude, you turn towards Steve. “When will dinner be ready, Cap?” 

“Another thirty minutes,” he admits with a rueful smile. “It would have been finished sooner if Thor hadn’t eaten all the final touches for the meal. He’s out getting them right now.”

You flash a smile at him. “That’s all right, Steve. I think I’m going to go up and get changed. I feel a little grubby in these clothes.” 

He simply smiles back at you. Taking that as a sign to make a quick exit, you’re half-way out of the door before Bruce’s soft voice halts you. 

“So what did the doctor say?”

You shoot him a confused look over your shoulder. Trying to desperately appear neutral as all the attention of the room, once again, shifted towards you. 

“What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you go to the doctor today, má lásko?” Wanda steps from around the counter. A worried frown began to make its presence known on her beautiful face. The same expression that was starting to appear on Natasha’s. Something that you didn’t want at all. Your mind screeches at you to fix the situation you had suddenly found yourself in. You couldn’t tell them all right now. You could barely wrap your mind around it. You didn’t know if you could handle dealing with them trying to as well. 

“I have the flu,” you offer with a weak smile and a shrug. “A few days of rest and I should be as right as rain.” You turn your gaze towards Natasha and Wanda. Your eyes noticeably softening as you did so. “I told you there was nothing to worry about.” 

At your words, the team seemed to relax. The tense atmosphere, that you hadn’t even been aware of before now, dissipating as they all turned back to what they were doing. Sighing, softly, you quickly make your way out of the kitchen and up the stairs towards your room. 

Trying to ignore the feeling of two green gazes following you as you did so. 

The bright lights of New York City shone like the millions of stars that hung above it. Shimmering in the oncoming darkness that the night brought. The buildings, and the people, standing strong against the presence that many tried to avoid. Standing just beside the large window that made up a wall of your room, you could clearly see the nightcrawlers coming out down below. A completely different society awakening as the sun disappears behind the horizon. 

Having changed into fresh clothes, you felt slightly rejuvenated. As if the clothes you had been wearing were bars to a cell. Locking you in with the truth that you were trying desperately to come to terms with. Being out of them brought a small semblance of peace, of stability, that you had been searching for. The simple act allows your mind enough time to get its bearings once more. It may not have been the ground-breaking epiphany you were searching for but it was enough. For now. 

“Dorogoy?” A soft voice whispers from the entrance of the room. Your eyes slipping shut as the knowledge of their presence seeped into you. They have given you enough time to prepare yourself. You were a fool to think that they wouldn’t have noticed that something was wrong.

Turning, you meet their gazes with a tired smile. “Nat. Wanda. Is something the matter?” 

Your question causes both their eyes to flash. Whether it be in a warning or something else, you weren’t entirely sure. 

“I believe you have the answer to that question, Y/N,” Wanda says, her brow furrowing in concern. “We know that something is bothering you but we can’t help you if you don’t tell us what that is.” 

“We’re concerned,” Natasha admits, her voice uncharacteristically soft. Her green eyes shimmering with suppressed emotion as she stares at you. “What did the doctor really say to you?” 

A defeated feeling wells itself up in your chest. You know that you couldn’t lie to them. You had never been able to lie to them. Slumping forward, you move over to your bed and sit. A sigh escaping your mouth as they followed suit. Natasha settling on your right as Wanda settled on your left. Their hands immediately clasping yours in gentle, yet strong, holds. 

Your jaw clenches as you try to work up the courage to speak. Try to put the words you didn’t want to be true out there. To make them materialize as a reality instead of the nightmare you wished they were. 

“I have cancer.” 

The events that followed went by too fast for you to truly react. Natasha’s hands tightened around yours with a stricken look painting itself across her face. Wanda stood with fury written across her face, green eyes flashing red as she tried to control her powers, though you knew none of that fury was directed towards you. At least not yet. 

A soft hand on your cheek pulls your attention away from Wanda’s pacing. Your eyes taking in the pained expression on Natasha’s face. An almost desperate edge underlying it made you sick to your stomach. A quality that only resonated itself within her voice. Tears already forming in her emerald green orbs as reality came crashing down around you all. “They caught it early, right? There’s still a chance for you to beat it? Please tell me there’s still a chance. Tell us there’s still a chance to save you. That we won’t lose you.” 

Tears flow unbidden down your cheeks at her desperate pleas. At the faint sound of Wanda kneeling before you and pressing her forehead against your knees. The trembling you could clearly feel as her hands clasped onto your only available one. The tears you could already feel seeping through your leggings. You want nothing more than to take their pain away. To tell them that this was some horribly fucked up joke that Tony put you up to but you couldn’t. You couldn’t and that hurt you more than any bullet ever has. 

Your throat clenches around the words that try to escape your mouth. As you try to choke out the words through your despair. “Yes.” Natasha’s eyes lighten at your words and Wanda’s head raises from its position on your knees. “The doctor says that they caught it early but I’ll have to begin treatment right away.” 

“That’s good though, right?” Wanda murmurs, settling back onto her feet. Her wide eyes filled with so much hope. “You’ll just begin treatment and everything will be okay.”

At their expectant looks, you lower your gaze towards your lap. Your heart thudding against your chest as you tried to formulate what you wanted to say. But how could you tell the two people that made your life worth living that you weren’t going to have treatment? That you were letting everything rest and have the universe take its destined course. 

Your silence seemed to be all the answer Natasha needed, however. Her words filled with thinly-veiled fury. “You’re not going to go forward with the treatment.” 

“No.”

The silence that follows your feeble answer was even more oppressive than the one in the hospital. Both Natasha’s and Wanda’s hands tightening around yours as they processed your answer. Both their emotions heightening as each second ticked by. Swirling around the three of you like a vortex. Having them both stand suddenly pulls you out of your reverie. Your head snapping up to watch them both pace. Agitation is clear in each graceful movement of their bodies. 

Whipping around, Wanda snarls at you. “Why don’t you want treatment? It could save your life, Y/N.”

“And it could also make me a husk of who I am,” you cry, standing up from your bed. “We don’t know if the treatment will work and I refuse to die as something I’m not.”

“We don’t know that it will fail, Y/N.” Natasha cries back, equally as outraged as you were. “We don’t know what the future will hold. Except for the simple fact that you will die if you refuse treatment. It’s just a maybe right now.” 

Wanda steps forward with an anguished look on her face. “Please don’t sign your life away because of something you don’t even know will be the end result. Don’t make this into a certainty.” 

“Even if I do start treatment I will be completely useless to the team,” you hiss. “Who knows how long I’ll have to fight this until it goes into remission. I don’t want to be a burden on any of you.”

Natasha takes your face into her hands, her thumbs gently rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. “Do you think they will care, Y/N? Do you think they won’t jump for joy when they find out that you’ve decided to fight? That they won’t be there for you every step of the way?”

“We’re a family, Y/N,” Wanda murmurs with a loving look shining in her eyes. “Family doesn’t let family fight their demons by themselves. You’re more to us, to them, than just a teammate. Nat and I love you with everything that we are. And you know the boys love you like a sister. They wouldn’t want you to just give up.”

“Yeah,” Natasha chuckles. “And I’m pretty sure you’re Vision’s surrogate mother.”

You laugh softly at her gentle teasing. Feeling warmth blossom in your chest for the first time since you had stepped foot in the hospital. “What about if I get too sick to take care of myself like I used to?” 

“We’ll be there, dorogoy,” Natasha whispers, one hand falling from your cheek as Wanda’s took its place. “When you fall we’ll always be there to pick you back up. Just like we know you’ll always be there for us.” 

Your eyes slip shut as the feeling of complete warmth and safety settles over you. Your world is finally beginning to make sense once more. Everything came back into focus as you were surrounded by Natasha and Wanda. The two people that knew how to set your heart on fire with emotions you never knew you could feel. 

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’ll begin treatment.” 

You didn’t have to open your eyes to know that they were smiling. Nor did you have to, to know that they were leading you towards the large bed. Easily pulling into the center with their bodies snugly pressed into both sides. Your nose nuzzling into Wanda’s neck as Natasha pressed herself firmly into your back. Both of their arms holding you in their warm embrace. 

All other thoughts slipping from your mind as you succumbed to the dark recesses of sleep. The only things that mattered were the two women that were holding you like you were the most valuable thing in the world to them. Their warmth better than anything a blanket could ever provide. The feeling of completeness overwhelming you as the darkness finally took hold. 

Your last thoughts being of the two women who would always be there to pick you back up again. 

No matter how many times you may fall.

[breathlessmorro]

*emerging from the depths of hiatus to get a sip of that destiNY* oo how about college AU shenanigans? i'm not good at prompts sorry >.<

You ask - you shall receive!

Synopsis - For years, Morro has been forced to put up with Kai's annoying antics in class, leaving him with a bad permanent record and even worse temper. However, things aren't exactly how they appear.

College Isn't Easy, They Said.

Morro grinded his teeth together as he fought to keep quiet, diligently taking his notes and trying to remember what his professor was saying. His handwriting may have been more harsh than it usually was, but at least he was managing to stay calm and collected. Already, he had half of Professor Chen's lecture condensed into clear and concise notes that could make a PowerPoint Presentation beam with pride. Not as easy a task as it might seem with the idiot next to him. 

Kai Smith - as always - had his earbuds in and was completely ignoring the lesson. Not that the earbuds did much to silence the irritatingly loud and obnoxious music blaring from the mini-speakers. In fact, Morro often wondered if Kai had such a big listening problem because of the volume in the first place. The aggressive tempo of drums and guitar were grating on Morro's nerves every single day, and he had to fight to keep his cool. He wasn't even sure why Kai was taking a psychology class in the first place when his major wasn't even related to it. It seemed Kai's presence served no purpose other than to annoy; and annoy it did. 

Things had been like this for years now. Morro would find out he had a class with Kai, and of course was forced to sit next to him. Showing even an ounce of distaste meant that Kai would take it as an invitation to try and distract Morro in any way possible. Whether it be tapping a pencil, playing footsie, or like now, listening to deafening metal music that he didn't even like, Kai was determined to get Morro in trouble. He took every single opportunity to try and make him look bad. The amount of times where he succeeded didn't matter, only that Morro's hatred for the smug grin that followed worsened with every passing day. 

This year, Morro had sworn it wasn't going to happen. Freshmen in college did not shout at their classmates in the middle of a lecture, and Morro couldn't afford to look bad in front of the faculty here. Not while his father was the dean of the university. 

So once again, he gathered his steely resolve, and brought his attention back to Chen's lecture about Elemental Envy, a condition where a person became obsessed with elemental powers to the point of violence. An ironic subject for him to teach about, Morro had once thought. Though any logical thinking had left him once he'd seen Kai make a beeline for him that morning. It had of course returned with the lecture regarding jealousy over a certain elemental ability leading some to aggression. 

Sensing that Morro was gaining some moral high ground, Kai decided that right then was an appropriate moment to lean over and whisper to him. 

"Sound like someone we know?" he snickered, causing Morro to shoot a nasty glare at him before turning back to his notes.

Clearly unsatisfied with the reaction, he tried again. 

"C'mon, that was funny." Morro didn't think it was. "Lighten up."

Morro felt his eyebrow twitch. He was fairly certain that meant he was stressed. 

He counted the seconds of sweet and glorious silence before he could hear Kai scoot closer again. Without the earbud in his ear, the music was slightly louder than before. Not that it was catching Chen's attention yet of course. 

He made it five seconds even. "Think there's some kind of green ninja envy?"

Oh. Low blow. 

"You're one to talk," Morro hissed at him, keeping his eyes firmly on his notes. It wasn't lashing out if it was just one statement, he reasoned with himself. "You were obsessed at one point too."

He quickly cursed himself for humoring Kai's jab once he saw the beaming grin across his face. On a good day, that kind of comment would have ticked Kai off to where he would be the one to cause a disturbance, but it seemed Kai came to class armed with patience today. A rare feat. Morro vaguely considered congratulating him. 

Shrugging nonchalantly, Kai leaned back in his seat. "At least I didn't bully my own cousin." Of course, this argument again. 

"Can't you leave it alone?" Morro bit back, glancing in Kai's direction before looking back to his notes. "That was in high school. I don't even-"

"What was that, Morro?" Ah shit. "Do you have something you want to share?"

Chen's high-pitched voice was tolerable when it wasn't directed at anyone specific, but the way Chen's said someone's name made it a thousand times more irritating. Seriously, did he just hate his students or something? Why even become a professor? 

Meeting his eyes, Morro shook his head, leaning back into his seat. "No, sorry," he answered. "Just thinking out loud."

Chen raised a brow at the excuse. Clearly he hadn't bought it. Especially not when Kai had already scooted back into his own seat, pretending to be writing his own notes. 

What a guy. 

"Well keep the thinking to a minimum. Others would like peace and quiet."

No fucking shit, Morro thought to himself as he nodded. One Chen's back was turned, he glared at Kai again, before looking to see how many notes he'd missed. 

Seriously, this couldn't be allowed to go on much longer. Morro had to change classes. 

***

"Seriously?! There's no other -"

"If you want to stay in psychology, that is the only available class."

"But he's -"

"In the same study program as you are."

"Ugh!" Morro slumped in his seat, covering his face with his hands. He'd thought complaining to Wu would be enough to convince him to get out of the class, but apparently none of Chen's other periods had room for another elemental master. The Elemental Study Program was created for elemental masters across Ninjago who wished to learn more about their abilities. It offered an advanced learning course for those enlisted, and also kept them in classes together. Which meant there was also a limit on how many were placed in a class to, "keep other students safe." As if they were a threat. The program had become a lot less separate from other students once When had taken over, but there was still a lot to be improved on. 

Wu gave Morro a sympathetic look before clearing his throat. "I understand why you have your reservations about Kai, but surely he's not distracting you too much." Morro pulled his hands away from his eyes to see Wu typing something on his computer. Leaning over the desk to see what it was, he narrowed his brows when he noticed his grade book being pulled up on the monitor. "Your grades are as excellent as ever."

Morro huffed as he sat back in his seat, crossing his arms and blowing a strand of hair from his face. "My permanent record isn't," he grumbled. "Any shot I have at a future job could be completely erased once people hear about how, 'disruptive,' and, 'disrespectful,' I am in a formal setting. You don't understand how frustrating it is to have a professor automatically hate you when you haven't even done anything wrong yet."

"You're right, I don't." Wu set his elbows down on the desk, resting his chin on his hands and gazing over Morro thoughtfully. "But have you ever considered asking Kai why he likes to antagonize you?"

"I think it's obvious," Morro scoffed. He averted his eyes from Wu and uncrossed his arms, swallowing hard when he spoke again. "It's because of how I treated Lloyd in high school. I know it wasn't right, but I stopped, didn't I? And I apologized. But Kai just wants to get me in trouble."

Wu hummed, a consideration sound before setting his hands down. "Well if Lloyd has already forgiven, why would Kai continue to seek you out?"

"I don't know, probably because he hates me?"

"Now don't jump to conclusions," Wu chuckled, shaking his fondly at Morro's pout. "How about you ask him yourself? I know your next class isn't for a few hours. Surely you could track him down and confront him."

Morro thought it over. Sure, confronting Kai would give Morro the chance he needed to speak his mind without reprimand, but it could also mean making things worse between them. Morro's relationship with Lloyd was rocky enough as it was, and that was mostly because of how he and Kai were always at each other's throats. He didn't need to make it worse. Then again, he could also find a way to get Kai to stop for good, and his permanent record could have a chance to recover. 

He groaned, dropping his head against the back of the chair before meeting Wu's gaze again. "Fine," he sighed. "I'll try to talk to him. But," he narrowed his eyes at Wu and pointed at him, "don't think it's gonna magically fix things. He's stubborn and an ass."

"That's two things you have in common already." Wu smiled at him. "Now go on, shoo. I have some papers to file and unless you want to help me-"

Morro was already out the door. 

***

He found Kai sitting with two other students in the courtyard, their elements on display for all to see. At first, he wasn't sure who the other two were, before recognizing them as Jay and Nya. Morro didn't talk to Nya that much, but he was all too familiar with his cousin, Jay. Their delightful family reunion hadn't been that delightful, and so they barely spoke to each other. 

Taking a deep breath in through his nose, Morro gathered the remnants of his courage and patience before stepping towards them. He stopped right behind Kai, and cleared his throat to get his attention. 

Kai turned around with a gleeful expression, which quickly morphed into something more smug. "What's up, breezy?"

Morro rolled his eyes, and caught Nya doing the same before he opened his mouth. "Hi. Jay, Nya, can I borrow him for a moment?"

"I dunno," Jay squinted at him. "You gonna bring him back?"

"Only if I want to."

"Ha!" Kai grinned at him, extinguishing the small flame in his hand. "Like you're gonna get the chance. Be back in a sec, guys."

Brushing off his pants, he rose to his feet, meeting Morro's gaze. As always, Kai met his stare with defiance and smugness. Morro hated it, but he had to get this over with sooner or later. His reputation seriously depended on it. His sanity too. Morro gestured for Kai to follow him, and started walking away from the crowded campus grounds. 

"So what's so urgent you just had to pull me away from my friends, huh?" Kai asked as they made their way through the crowd of students. Morro's brow quirked upwards at the laid back question, as if Kai really had no idea why Morro would want to talk to him. 

Exhaling through his nose, Morro rolled his eyes. "What do you think, Kai?" he scoffed at him. "I need you to stop annoying me during class. It's distracting and I can't afford that."

Morro winced as Kai barked out a laugh. "Seriously dude?" The latter shook his head, his entire body shaking with uncontained amusement. "That's it? I thought it was something important, like Wu needed my help with something."

"If he needed your help, why wouldn't he just tell you himself?"

"I don't know," Kai shrugged. "I don't understand anything he does, honestly."

Morro glanced over his shoulder to give Kai a dirty look. "So you think he'd just ask me, when he knows I literally hate everything about you, to tell you about some important mission?"

Again, Kai's shoulders shrugged. "Wouldn't be the weirdest - wait." Kai stopped walking, prompting Morro to stop as well. He turned around, fully prepared to snap at Kai for stopping when he caught his expression. "You hate me?"

Kai's normally mischievous and vibrant brown eyes were suddenly clouded with - well, Morro didn't know what. His smug little grin was gone, and his shoulders had gone completely tense. Any biting comeback Morro could have come up with died on his tongue, and he hesitated before answering. 

"Well, I guess it's a pretty strong word for it, but I don't exactly like you." Morro shifted slightly, suddenly feeling uneasy. "All you do is annoy me and get in trouble. We're not friends, and we don't talk outside of classes or the program."

The uneasy feeling crawled up Morro's throat as Kai's shoulders fell, his eyes downcast and melancholy. "Right. Sorry about that." He rubbed at his arm awkwardly before walking again. "Is that what you wanted to talk about then?"

Taken aback by the sudden change in atmosphere, it took Morro a second before he too started moving. The crowd of students had decreased rapidly, leaving them alone at the edge of campus grounds. He considered Kai's words before answering them, careful not to set him off. 

"Kind of, I guess." He sighed, before shaking his head. "I just want you to stop, okay? I know you're only doing it because of how I used to treat Lloyd, but I'm not like that anymore. We made up and moved on." He met Kai's gaze firmly, ignoring the warning bells that were ringing in the back of his head once he saw the disappointment reflected back at him. "So why didn't you?"

Kai sputtered for a moment, shaking his head. "What? No, I - Okay, sure. That might have been how it started, but I thought that…" He trailed off, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck and averting his eyes. "Once you apologized, I thought we were just fighting for fun. I didn't know you were still taking it personally."

"Personally?" Morro raised a brow at him. "How could I not? Every single day, it's always, 'remember when you did this?' and just constant jabs from you. What else could it have been?"

"I don't know, maybe - " Kai cut himself off before shaking his head. "No, forget it. I'm sorry, I should have been paying more attention. That's my fault."

"A little bit," Morro deadpanned. 

Kai winced at that, and Morro could tell that it had stung. Maybe he should have been more careful, but Kai was confusing him now, and he didn't like being confused. He stayed quiet as Kai stared into space for a moment, considering leaving when Kai spoke again. 

"Listen; after you and Lloyd made up, I realized I kind of like messing with you," he said softly, crossing his arms and refusing to meet Morro's eyes again. "I mean, you never just let me, so it kind of felt like a fun game. Everything I threw at you, you just matched super easily. I really liked messing with you, and I thought that…"

As Kai trailed off once again, Morro finally caught a glimpse of his face. A bright red blush spread from Kai's nose and cheeks all the way to the tips of his ears. His stance was awkward and nervous, shoulders tense and head down. At first, Morro thought that this was the beginning to a very good apology, but now it was starting to seem like something else entirely. 

Taking a deep breath in, Kai finally met Morro's eyes, with enough conviction in them to make the latter freeze in place. 

"I thought that you liked me too."

Oh. Oh. 

Thinking back to every conversation they'd ever had, yeah. It was easy for Morro to see how Kai had come to that conclusion. All those attempts at getting each other's attention, the games to test each other's patience until one of them snapped. Of course Kai liked him. That was how every guy acted around their crush. Morro couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. 

Guys were stupid. 

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Morro could see Kai staring at him almost nervously, like he was waiting for someone to shout at him. Clearing his throat, Morro opened his mouth. 

"I…" Very articulate. "Oh. I didn't think of it like that I guess," he shrugged, not really knowing how to respond. "I was so busy getting mad at you, I thought… Well, you know what I thought."

"Yeah," Kai sighed, shaking his head. "I do. I'm sorry, I should have - "

"Wait!" Morro couldn't let Kai finish, not with the way this conversation appeared to be heading. "I never once said that I was against it."

That took Kai by surprise, and it showed. His shoulders dropped, his eyes went wide, and he stared at Morro for a moment before shaking his head. "But you said you hated me!"

"I also said that was a really strong word."

"So you do like me?"

Morro held up his hands. "I didn't say that either," he said, a small smile sneaking its way into his expression. Knowing that Kai had actually been crushing on him this whole wasn't an entirely unpleasant thing, actually. Morro had eyes. He knew Kai was a real piece of work when he wasn't busy being annoying. "But… I don't think I'd be opposed to trying something new."

Kai's grin practically swallowed his face, and Morro could only imagine how sore it must have made his cheeks. "Alright, something new." He hesitantly stepped closer, the blush returning in full force. "I can work with that."

"Good." Morro stepped closer to him as well, before his smile turned serious. "But don't think you can get away with annoying me every day now. Being cute is only going to get you so fa - "

Kai cut him off, pressing his lips gently to Morro's before pulling away with a smile. 

"You talk too much."

Morro grinned, before pulling Kai back into another kiss. 

Yeah, he could work with this. 

[flourgirl]

Sick of Losing Soulmates

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Months after you and Peter have broken up, you run into each other at Harry’s Christmas party.

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Both fluffy and angsty. Mentions of alcohol and sex. A mild amount of curse words.

A/N: I’m ALIVE! I hope you all are having a wonderful holiday season, and Merry Christmas to everybody that celebrates it! I am so happy to be able to share my work with all of you! Enjoy <3

“And maybe we got lost in translation Maybe I asked for too much But maybe this thing was a masterpiece Till you tore it all up” -All Too Well, Taylor Swift

He wasn’t supposed to be here. Harry had promised you that his roommate would be spending the holidays with May back in Queens. But here he was, wearing the sweater that you had given him last year with his arm snaked around another girl’s waist.

“Hey!” Betty grinned, throwing her arms around you. She had a half-empty glass of mulled wine that you could tell was doing a good job of getting her tipsy. “I’ve missed you so much, Y/N. We never see each other anymore.”

She pouted, a pair of reindeer antlers where her signature black headband usually sat. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah,” you assured her, still staring at Peter effortlessly carrying the conversation with a bunch of people you didn’t recognize. “Uh, who’s the girl with Peter?”

“Gwen Stacy,” she muttered, obviously not a very big fan. You figured it was because there was only room for one preppy blonde girl, and Betty didn’t feel like sharing that position with anybody else. “Don’t worry though! It’s nothing serious. Peter actually hasn’t really dated anybody ever since the two of you…”

Her voice trailed off as you locked eyes with her, silently communicating for her to drop the subject. It was a relief to know that he hadn’t moved on, but the fact that he was wrapped up in a fling with somebody else still made your heart hurt.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m sure MJ and Ned would love to see you! They’re over in the kitchen.” She reached for your hand, dragging you along through Harry’s expertly decorated apartment. 

You dropped the box of cookies that you had baked on the counter before tapping MJ on the shoulder. She was turned away from you, lecturing Ned on why his secondhand Beyblades were not acceptable Christmas presents.

“Who the hell is touching me?” she snapped, turning around with a look on her face that told you she was ready to throw hands. “Holy fuck. Y/N! How long have you been here?”

MJ’s frown faded into a smile as she pulled you into a side-hug, her other hand busy nursing a glass of Harry’s infamously terrible eggnog. “Only a few minutes,” you laughed, your face smushed into her torso. 

“Hi,” Ned piped up, offering a small wave. You could tell he didn’t really know where he stood ever since his best friend basically ripped your heart out and threw it on the floor. Well, it wasn’t actually that dramatic, but he had a flair for exaggerating stories. “Remember me?”

“Of course, stupid,” you grinned, offering a fist bump that he happily accepted. “How could I forget those iconic fits of yours?”

“True,” he said, popping his collar and doing a little twirl that made Betty and MJ roll their eyes. “You look pretty fly too, though.”

“Thanks,” you replied, holding the edge of your dress as you curtsied, something you and Ned had made a habit of doing as the so-called best dressed members of the group.

“You two are just as ridiculous as ever,” Betty mused, happy to see you still fit in just as perfectly as when you were Peter’s girlfriend, even if you weren’t around as much.

The reunion was interrupted by the loud chatter of a certain couple, and your heart sank as you watched a very drunk Peter and Gwen stumble towards the kitchen, a giggling mess. They situated themselves under the archway that separated the two rooms, a piece of mistletoe conveniently hanging above them. 

You could tell that MJ was ready to put a stop to her friend’s embarrassing behavior, and the looks on Ned and Betty’s faces told you that they had no intentions of holding her back. 

“They’re so gross,” MJ complained, setting down her untouched cup before excusing herself to drag Peter out of his drunken makeout session. “I can’t believe he’d do that when you’re right here!”

“Wait, MJ,” you blurted, grabbing onto her wrist to stop her. She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “It’s okay. I don’t care about it. I’m just going to head to the bathroom, alright? I’ll be right back.”

You did your best to stop yourself from tearing up, although you realized you had made the utter mistake of forgetting that the very arch that Peter and Gwen were sucking each other’s faces under was the only way out of the kitchen.

Not even a few moments of you awkwardly standing next to them, occasionally clearing your throat, made them notice you. Eventually, the discomfort grew too heavy, and you tapped Peter on the shoulder. He finally pulled away from Gwen, her lipstick smudged across his mouth and a dazed look on his face.

Gwen whimpered at the loss of his kiss, obviously annoyed at the random girl that had just interrupted them. As soon as Peter recognized that it was you, he stepped away from her, wiping his mouth and fixing the hair she had been running her hands through, just like you used to.

“Y/N. I didn’t know that you’d be here,” he reasoned, a blush spreading across his face as a sense of regret settled into his stomach. 

“Obviously,” you sighed. This wasn’t the Peter you knew—the sweet, shy one that you had fallen in love with. “You guys are blocking the hallway, by the way.”

“Shit, sorry,” he stammered, stepping aside to allow you to pass in between them. He followed you, leaving Gwen irritated and confused as to who you were. “Y/N. Can we talk later?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Nice sweater, though,” you quipped, not even turning back to meet his gaze before climbing the stairs towards the guest bathroom. Everything felt all too familiar, memories of you and Peter stumbling up the same steps after a date flooding your brain.

The first time Peter had kissed you was after MJ’s birthday party. Neither of you had been drinking, since you hated alcohol and Peter refused to touch any before he turned 21. This meant that you got to spend the whole night laughing at everybody else’s drunken mischief. 

In the middle of his performance of some Nicki Minaj song, Ned managed to spill a whole can of beer on you and Peter, which resulted in many cheers as the two of you ran to his room to grab a change of clothes. Shirts came off, confessions were made, and the party went on without you guys.

You took a deep breath, shutting the bathroom door behind you and sitting on the edge of the bathtub. If you had known Peter would end up being here, you would have never accepted Harry’s invitation. There were so many old wounds being opened up that you had spent months trying to heal, and you weren’t sure some stupid Christmas party was worth it. 

But you didn’t want to leave. It wasn’t fair how much the break up had stolen from you. All of your friends were here and you were tired of shying away from going out with them anymore because you were too scared to see Peter. Too scared that you would never be able to stop being in love with him.

By the time you rejoined the rest of your friends, Harry was announcing that it was time to start the game of White Elephant. You bit the edges of your fingernails as the party guests filed into Harry’s living room, hoping that Peter wouldn’t somehow pick your present.

“What’d you bring?” you asked Betty, squishing in next to her on the couch. 

“Gift card to In-N-Out,” she giggled, satisfied that her present could only be used on the other side of the country. “But Harry’s rich friends might not have any trouble flying their private jets to California, so maybe I’m not as clever as I thought.”

“Heard that,” Harry said, leaning behind you on the edge of the couch. He placed a quick kiss on your cheek, something the two of you had always done as friends but stopped once you started dating Peter. “Hey, Y/N. Glad you could make it.”

“Hey, you,” you replied, smiling back at him, your leg bouncing impatiently. “We doing this thing or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a minute,” he laughed, running out of the room. Moments later, he came back wearing a fake beard and a Santa hat, complete with a miniature sack of toys. 

“Alright, boys and girls. Let’s get this game started! Hopefully you all know the rules, but I’ll repeat them anyway. I draw a name out of the sack, you pick a random present and open it up for everybody to see. The next person that goes can either steal your gift or pick a new one. If your gift gets stolen, you get to do the same. No stealing twice!”

The first couple of people you didn’t really know, and they had all pulled presents that were relatively uninteresting. A scented candle, toilet paper, a pair of socks. Nothing you really considered worth stealing, although Ned ended up taking a framed, autographed photo of Harry from MJ, which resulted in her stealing Gwen’s mini waffle iron.

By the time it was your turn, there weren’t many gifts left. Going with your gut, you grabbed the bag covered in glittering polar bears. Reaching past all of the tissue paper stuffed inside, you pulled out a red sweatshirt that you unfolded to see had a large graphic of Spider-Man printed on it. 

“Oh,” you said, a little confused. The only people you knew that wore stuff with the Avengers on it were little kids, but you figured that was part of the joke. “I mean, I prefer Captain America, but thanks, whoever this is from!”

Peter’s face blushed to a shade of red, amazed that out of all the presents, you picked his. The only issue was that you didn’t know that he was actually the guy on the front of it. Nobody except Ned knew, although he was sure that MJ and Harry had caught on to his secret identity by now.

“Okay, two people left. Jake, you’re up next, buddy,” Harry called out, happily bouncing around the room, his Santa hat now replaced with a baseball cap that had “I Love Ned!” embroidered on it. You watched nervously as he walked around the room, eyeing up all of the presents before settling on the tiny, golden box that you had placed under the tree when you first arrived.

“Let’s see what we’re working with,” he smirked. Your thoughts raced, immediately feeling a sense of regret over the gift you had picked. “Oh, shit. Sweet! I’ve got a date with Y/N!”

“Sup, baby,” Jake continued, his words slightly slurred. He pointed at you and winked, and you offered him a polite smile in return. “We’re gonna have a good time. Just name the time and place and I got you.”

“Awesome, congrats, man,” Harry said, obviously ready for the game to be over. It had been going for way longer than any of you had expected, mostly due to the fact that two girls wouldn’t stop arguing over a piece of rose quartz. “Okay, we’re nearly finished, guys. Peter, you’re up. Pick any of the gifts that haven’t been stolen yet, or the last one under the tree.”

You locked eyes with him, a familiar scowl on his face that told you he was thinking really hard about which gift to pick. His spidey-senses felt your heartbeat pick up as he walked around the room before stopping in front of Jake, who was busy gloating to his friend about how “hot” you were. Your face heated up as you watched Peter take the little note that you had written out of Jake’s hands, smugly gesturing for him to pick up the present under the tree.

He waved sheepishly at you, and you felt both relieved and angry at his decision. Did you want to go on that date with Jake? No. Were you still mad that, technically, you now had to go out with your ex-boyfriend? Yes.

The game ended and the party-goers dispersed throughout the apartment. You lingered in your spot on the couch, your arms crossed and heart full of mixed emotions. Peter, whose gaze never strayed from you, walked over to where you were sitting.

“We don’t actually have to go out,” he whispered, hoping that you’d actually look at him this time. “I just didn’t think you wanted to go out with that guy. He seemed like kind of an asshole.”

“Yeah, well, it would have been nice if you let me decide that. You’re not my boyfriend, anymore Peter. We aren’t even friends. You don’t get a say in who I go out on dates with,” you grumbled, your eyes focusing on everything in the room except for him.

Before you could say anything else, Peter had already grabbed you by the hand, dragging you away from the rest of the party. Strangely enough, you went along with it, a little curious to hear him out.

You started to remember your first date, and it was almost like you could hear his excited laughter after you finally managed to knock a pin down. It became a tradition that whenever you had something to celebrate, Peter would pick you up and twirl you around until you had to beg him to stop.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Peter slamming the door behind him and cornering you against it, his heartbeat racing. He had pulled you into the laundry room. “I can’t stand seeing you with anybody else,” he panted, eyes flickering down towards your mouth.

His hand pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear, and your breath hitched as you felt his rough fingertips against your skin. But before he could lean in to kiss you, you were ducking underneath his arm and backing away.

“Peter, we really shouldn’t,” you whispered, watching the disappointment wash over his face. No matter how much you wanted to kiss him, you just couldn't forget how he had broken your heart months ago. “It’s over, okay?”

“Y/N, please. I—”

“You what? You love me? Because last time we were together, I told you how much I loved you and you said that we should break up. Remember?” you cried, embarrassed at how you couldn’t control your emotions anymore. “You’re just… you’re too late.”

You fumbled with the door, slipping through the opening before rushing towards the balcony. As soon as the cold air hit you, a wave of relief washed over your body, and you laid your head against the metal railing. Your breathing slowed and time seemed to stand still as you watched the snowflakes flutter through the wind.

“Peter’s an idiot,” you heard a voice call out from behind you. You turned to see Harry holding an extra coat in his arms, and you started to wonder just how long you had been standing out there. He draped it over your shoulders before leaning next to you against the balcony’s edge.

“Huh?” you asked, wondering if he knew what had just happened. You looked at him, the multicolored Christmas lights reflecting off his shiny hair. “What do you mean?”

“He’s stupid for ever letting you go,” he remarked. He had a look in his eyes that made you unsure of what he actually meant. “I mean, look at you. You’re so beautiful, and smart, and funny. And if he was dumb enough to throw all of that away, then yeah, Peter’s an idiot.”

“Oh, thanks, I guess,” you shrugged, your voice faint under the music that was still playing inside. You looked at him, his cheeks a rosy hue, which you couldn’t tell was from the cold or whatever he was trying to tell you.

“You know, I used to have the biggest crush on you,” Harry admitted, laughing a little bit at how nervous he was. Everybody knew that he was a player, so being flustered over a girl was uncharted territory for him. “I never told you this, but you were my first kiss.”

“Wait, really?” you asked, a little shocked at his confession. “But I thought you kissed Sarah Emerson on the playground in the fifth grade?”

“Nope. I was just a liar,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “It was right before our eighth grade formal, when you asked me to teach you how to kiss because you were scared that Jeremy Pellegrino was going to try and french you.

“Oh! I forgot all about that,” you laughed, suddenly remembering just how long you and Harry had been friends. “Hold on a second... You gave me kissing lessons without knowing how to kiss!?”

“Guilty,” Harry chuckled as you punched him on the arm. “Ow! Damn, Y/N. When did you get so strong?”

“I have a lot of rage,” you mumbled before the two of you burst out into laughter, which slowly faded into a comfortable silence. 

“You don’t feel that way anymore, right?” you wondered out loud. Harry looked at you, smiling softly.

“No, not anymore,” he affirmed, and you let out a sigh of relief. You knew what it felt like to love someone and not be loved back. “I think what really helped me get over it was seeing how happy you and Parker were when you were dating.” 

“He misses you a lot,” Harry continued, his tone more serious than before. “He keeps this scarf that you left behind under his pillow because it still smells like you. I found out because he was having a pretty bad dream one night and I had to try really hard to calm him back down. And we both thought Gwen would help him move on and get his mind off of you, but I think she only made him realize just how much he still loves you—”

“Harry,” you interrupted, cutting his rambles short. “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“Because you and Peter should be together.”

“You think so?” you asked him, pulling the jacket tighter to keep you warm.

“Yeah. We all do.” It took only seconds for Harry to realize his fumble, accidentally admitting that the whole thing had been planned by him and your friends.

“We?” Your frowned, all of the coincidences from tonight suddenly making much more sense. “Wait, did you know that Peter was going to be here tonight all along?”

“Uh… yeah, about that. MJ, Ned, and I have kind of been pulling a Parent Trap on you guys.”

“HARRY!” You glared inside to see them not-so-secretly watching the entire exchange from behind the Christmas tree. Ned did some awkward finger guns, which MJ immediately swatted down. “I am so going to get you guys!”

You marched inside to where your friends were attempting to hide, the rest of the party guests too drunk and oblivious to notice what was happening. 

“The eagle has left the nest. I repeat, The eagle has left the nest!” Ned yelled, ducking behind MJ, who was already shielding herself with a throw pillow.

“What’s going on?” Betty whined, half-asleep on the couch. “Is this that stupid plan about Peter and Y/N?”

“It’s not stupid!” Harry grumbled, his voice cracking a little bit. You could hear MJ snorting about it from her hiding spot. “Whatever, Michelle.”

“Shut up!” she shouted back.

“No, you!” he said, crossing his arms and standing his ground.

“Make me,” MJ said, narrowing her eyes and shooting daggers at him.

“Uh, guys. This isn’t about you two,” Ned interrupted, snapping them out of their mini argument. There was a weird tension between them that you just knew you would have to address some time in the future.

“Right,” MJ continued, sticking a middle finger up at Harry before turning to you. “Y/N. You should go talk to Peter.”

You nodded, exchanging hopeful looks with each of your friends before walking away. They might be dramatic goofballs, but you loved them so much that you didn’t really care.

Wandering around the party, you spotted Peter trapped in a conversation with Brad Davis, who was explaining his conspiracy theories about the Denver Airport and its demonic horse statue.

“So, all I’m saying is that they’re totally planning the end of the world over there. I mean, the Freemasons built an entire bunker for when they activate the nukes!” he rambled, Peter politely nodding along to his nonsense.

“Hey,” you said, tapping Brad on the shoulder and batting your eyelashes at him. “Can I borrow Peter?”

“Uh, yeah, totally, Y/N,” he stuttered, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards into a smirk. You could smell the peppermint Schnapps on his breath.

“Great. Thanks, Brad!” you smiled, grabbing Peter’s hand and pulling him towards the staircase. By the time you made it to his bedroom, he had already asked what was going on about ten times.

“Why’d you dump me?” you asked, the two of you sitting together on the edge of his bed, your knee brushing against his. He could tell you were wasting no time in getting to the point. “Be honest.”

He stared at the floor, unsure of how to answer your question. You reached for his hand, running your thumb across his knuckles until he looked up to see you smiling at him. His eyes were starting to water. “Just tell me, Peter. It’s okay.”

“I was scared,” he admitted, his voice breaking. “I was scared of how much I love you. I mean, Liz was just a crush, and Gwen was a hookup. I’ve only ever loved you, Y/N. Before we met, I had to watch May’s heart break day after day when we lost Uncle Ben, and when I realized how much I loved you... I just wasn’t sure if I could handle ever losing you like that. And so I felt like I needed to protect you from all of the people who would want to hurt you.”

“Hey, Peter. Calm down. I’m right here,” you whispered, wiping a tear from his face. You watched as his breathing slowed, eventually evening out. “Why would anybody want to hurt me?”

“Because…” he started, hesitating a little bit. “Because I’m Spider-Man.”

Your eyes grew big as you mulled over what he had just said. “Are you being serious right now?”

He nodded, feeling a weight lift from his chest. Your eyes followed him as he walked over to his closet, digging around through piles of clothes before he found what he was looking for.

“Holy shit,” you breathed out. Peter was holding up Spider-Man’s suit. His suit. The sweatshirt from earlier made a lot more sense now.

“I would never lie to you,” he said, folding it up and sitting back down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought I was doing the right thing—that you’d be safe—but I was so stupid. I, uh, I think about you all the time. I worry whether you’ve gotten home alright and how your little brother’s doing and if your mom got the promotion that she wanted and—”

You cut him off with a kiss, something you had been dying to do ever since you shut his bedroom door. “I forgive you,” you sighed, gently playing with his hair.

Peter stared back at you, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Does this mean that we’re back together?”

“Yep,” you confirmed, before leaning into another kiss. And another. And another.

“Wait,” Peter said, breaking away from you. “I have a present for you. It’s actually from when we first started dating, but I was waiting until Christmas to give it to you.”

He moved to his desk, digging through one of the drawers before pulling out a flash drive. “Here it is,” he smiled, dropping it into your hand. It had your name scribbled on it next to a cat sticker. “It’s a playlist. Of all the songs that make me think of you. I think it’s got around a hundred on there?”

“Wow,” you beamed, marveling at the little piece of plastic in your hand. “You’re making me look bad. I didn’t get you anything.”

“Not true. You owe me a date, remember?” he reminded you, wiggling his eyebrows and pulling you into his lap.

“You’re right. Let me think,” you hummed, running through all the ideas of what the two of you could do. “Oh! I got it. The Central Park Squirrel Census for this year just got released. What if we analyzed the data? You could do the wrangling and I could do the visualizations!”

“I love you so much,” he laughed, pressing a kiss onto the tip of your nose. You giggled as Peter buried his face into your shoulder, his grip around your waist tightening. “But you are such a nerd.”

“I’m your nerd, Parker,” you agreed, leaning further into his embrace. “Always have been and always will be.”

—————-

Taglist: @hommyy-tommy @itsgonnabeohtay @alltimekyn @allycat449-blog @greatpizzascissorstaco @dummiesshort @parkerpeterparker2004 @letssee2468 @parkerlovebot @alytavzla @yourbiggestspiderfan @silentium-tais-toi @jailcalledlife @orangesodafoam @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @hufflepuffprincess24 @hollanddolanfangirl @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @spideydreamers @taciturnspidey @harrisonsoceaneyes

P.S.: Please shoot me an ask or a reply if you’d like to be added to (or removed from) the taglist!

[yuexuan]

Fiction recommendation 21

Time for some more fic recs because its been awhile since I did them!

1. 幻想农场 (Fantasy Farm)

Author: 西子绪

Farming/slice of life, food fic, supernatural, mythology

Summary [taken from novel updates]:

After being fired, Lu Qingjiu finally decided to return to his hometown to farm.

At first, he started raising a pig, and then he found that the pig could solve more high-level math questions than he could.

After that, he started raising a flock of chickens, and then he found that his own fighting ability was one-tenth of that of a single chicken.

Finally, Lu Qingjiu finally realised that this old home wasn’t quite right… Especially a certain person by his side who constantly stared at him day in and day out.

Lu Qingjiu: “Are you drooling because of the spicy stir-fry I’m holding or because of me?”

Bai Yuehu pointed at the stir-fry.

Lu Qingjiu: “Then can you let go??”

Bai Yuehu reluctantly glanced at Lu Qingjiu’s arm, before loosening his teeth.

Comments:

My first thought is: don’t read this fic when you’re hungry. Every chapter is filled with delicious descriptions of food that’ll make one’s mouth water. The novel makes a lot of references to creatures from the Classics of the Mountains and Seas, which is a delight to learn about. An easy-to-read, fun novel. 

Novel | Novel [Eng] Translation 

2. 全球高考 (Global Examination)

Author: 木苏里

Infinite flow, suspense, action

Summary [taken from novel updates]:

One day, You Huo and his famiIy was puIIed into an exam caIIed the GIobaI University Entrance Examination. Going through exams together with other unfortunate examinees, their Iives are put at stake and they can only Iive by passing each exam. However, something about these exams and the system controIIing it didn’t seem right — lt seemed to be trying to trap the examinees with ridiculous ruIes and strange questions…

There, You Huo meets lnvigiIator 001 who seems to hoId a key to the past he no Ionger remembered and, together, they go through the exam, unravelling the mysteries behind their past and the system.

Tldr: A pair of chaotic madmen work together to go against the examination system while feeding the readers dogfood.

Comments:

I admit that I didn’t like the story when I first started reading it. But as the story progresses, the rules of the examination fall into place and the different examinations got very challenging and interesting. The whole power couple and stranger-to-lover tropes are an added highlight. 

Novel | Novel [Eng] Translation | Audio drama | Manhua

3. 全球上线 (Earth Online)

Author: 莫晨欢

Infinite flow, suspense, survival, action

Summary:

Six months ago, tens of thousands of huge towers appeared all over the world, floating over cities. No one could do anything about them.

Half a year later, people are used to the towers and learned to ignore them.

One day Tang Mo saw a bug fly towards one of the towers and hit it.

The next day, a child's voice announced to the entire world: Ding dong! 15th November, 2017, the earth went online.

   The three iron rules of the towers:    (1) The towers shall explain everything.    (2) The game time starts from 6:00 - 18:00.    (3) All players please try their best to attack and defeat the towers.

Comments:

Another suspenseful infinite flow stories. I love the smart power couple dynamic, how the two of them become powerful when they collaborate, but are also equally capable of defeating the towers’ levels by themselves. Moreover, all the characters don’t have your typical “oh let me be a hero and save everyone” complex. They all weighed the benefits and costs at each turn and are capable of making decisions that best maximize their chances of survival - whether that is ruthlessly killing other players or extending a saving hand. All the powers and items that the players received and the world-building are very unique (especially Tang Mo’s and his book haha). This one is gonna challenge your brain a bit, but definitely worth a read. 

Novel | Novel [Eng] Translation 

4. 不要在垃圾桶里捡男朋友 (Don’t pick up boyfriends from the trash bin)

Author: 骑鲸南去

Infinite flow, transmigration

Summary [from novel updates]:

Chi Xiaochi: fourth-rate citizen at birth, three-time award-winning film emperor, second-rate temper, first-class looks. He crawled his way out of hell on hard mode to become a winner at life.

Then, he was smashed into a vegetative state by a chandelier.

061: Hello, here’s a brief rundown on the scum gong reconditioning system. This system measures the regret level of the scum gong. Every time their regret level reaches one hundred points, you will be able to leave the current world. A friendly tip, usually, through dedication and self-sacrifice, our employees slowly foster a sense of dependency in the scum gongs, gradually making it so the scum gongs can’t live without them.

Chi Xiaochi: How many regret points is a complete loss of reputation and standing worth? How about a fall from grace? Or wanting something but never being able to obtain it?

061: ……

Comment:

Don’t let the title fool you. I entered the novel thinking it’s some meet-cute modern-day slice-of-life comedy, but it turns out to have some really good angst and adventure moments in there. Heck, it’s been awhile since I cried for a novel. :’) 

There are ten arcs (i.e. worlds) that the protagonist enters, each with its own backstory, so this novel might feel longer than the usual danmei. Nevertheless, I enjoyed all the details placed into each world and all the side characters. I also like that the protagonist is very smart and cunning and he grows throughout the different worlds. The only con I’ll say to this is that everything proceeds a bit too smoothly, especially with the golden finger of 061, so the protagonist can come off as being too OP. Nevertheless, the ending and last world are just huge tear-jerkers. 

Novel | Novel [Eng] Translation

5. 迪奥先生 (Mr. Dior)

Author: 绿野千鹤

Comedy, fluff, romance 

Summary [from novel updates]:

One day, Zhang Chenfei met a car accident. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer any serious physical injuries. However, due to the impact of the car crash, his brain’s perception of the real world had turned into that of the novel that he was reading prior to the accident. The thing that horrified his wife, Jiao Qi, was… the Smart Brain, Louis XIII downloaded a series of books which meant that his husband would turn into a different character each time!

How will our adorable little wife deal with this kind of husband who seemed to suddenly suffer from multiple personalities?

This novel’s plot focuses on Zhang Chenfei’s changing personality based from the characters in the books, and how his wife, Jiao Qi, deal with every character as he will have to act in sync with whoever his husband’s character is. This is per the advise of the private doctor since treatment of this special condition was still under research.

As they act out their roles, they will gradually discover and learn more about the other, which they’ve never known in their seven years of living together.

Comment:

The amount of second-hand embarrassment and cringe I got from this novel is huge and I love it lol. If you are curious about how cheesy and cliche Chinese romance can get, please do try reading this. It includes some of the worst and most dog blood tropes in a comedic and satirical way, while advancing the main pairing’s relationship at the same time. Truly a fun read!

Novel | Novel [Eng] Translation | Manhua

Other quick links:

Fic tag guide

My previous recommendations (mostly danmei + fanfics)

List of novels/fics that I have already read

[mari-beau]

GIVE ME A REASON: PART FIVE -A Rogue One fanfic

I honestly don’t know this was going to take the detour it did, but hey, that’s fine. Anyway, Jyn is very confused about her attachment to Cassian, and his own messy feelings.

Also on AO3

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

Title: Give Me A Reason: Part Five

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Jyn Erso POV, Cassian Andor

Pairing: Cassian/Jyn (mostly pre-ship?)

Spoilers: Rogue One; Episode IV A New Hope

Setting: Post-Rogue One AU (Cassian & Jyn live); Also during/post A New Hope

Warnings: Implied Bi!Cassian; References to Naked Times in the Shower; Characters being hot messes and confused about Feelings

Words: 3,226

Story Summary: Jyn’s entire universe has been turned on its head, so maybe she’s clinging a little too hard to the one thing she feels certain of (strangely enough) as she tries to figure out her place in the galaxy. And maybe she’s being a little overprotective of a wounded captain.

Also can be found on AO3.

The energy level in the large mess hall was an incongruous mix of highs and lows. Quite a number of people were congregated at various tables, but it wasn’t at capacity. Some groups were chattering away, with a happiness and lightness Jyn honestly couldn’t recall witnessing in anyone in a long, long time, on any planet or moon. But there were other groups, and individuals, that were quiet, lethargic, mostly just nursing cups of restorative drinks and pushing bland food around their plates. Hungover.

Jyn supposed that made sense. Either way, no one was really in a down mood. They were either still excited about the Great Victory, or suffering the consequences from being too excited about it the previous night.

Why did she feel like Cassian and herself were the mopiest pair in the entire mess hall? Yes, it was really gratifying to know that their suicide mission hadn’t been entirely in vain. They had more than succeeded, the plans had been transmitted to the rebels, and the rebels had used them to destroy the Death Star. But still… The feeling of loss weighed heavily on Jyn. And she sensed it was yet another burden laid on Cassian’s shoulders. In a vulnerable, pained moment, he’d told her that maybe it would’ve been better if she’d left him on Scarif when they’d miraculously been spared from the blastwave. And perhaps near the end there (what should’ve been the end), he’d embraced the release from his conscience as hard as he’d embraced her.

She understood. She’d felt the peace there on that beach, as well.

The thing was, she still felt it, with him. Even when filled with other confusing emotions, some of which he was the cause of, she still felt… content… even happy? Was this what happy felt like?

Well, no, maybe not this, not still half-mourning a father she’d lost decades ago but then lost again, mourning the loss of the friends she’d made in just a matter of a day but who had been truer than any others in her life, coming to terms with the guilt of leading so many on a suicide mission, which she then survived.

And Cassian had survived.

“I’ll get the food,” Jyn said after they’d found a table tucked in a corner and Cassian claimed the seat that allowed him to put his back to the wall. (Of course). Jyn would’ve chosen it herself, but she didn’t protest that she would be forced to sit with her back to the entire mess hall. He was rubbing at his leg. The memory of the surgical scars running down his hip and thigh, barely a week old, a fresh pink against olive skin, popped abruptly into her mind. She shoved them aside. “Is there anything specific you want?”

“No.” He was smiling even as he shook his head. “Beggars can’t be choosers. I’m not picky.”

“Me, neither.” Force, sometimes they were so much the same, their lives filled with the same sort of deprivation, that it hurt. It hurt to think of the little boy Cassian had been, not having a favorite food, because having food at all was something to be grateful for. Something Jyn had known herself, still knew, and would never unlearn her associated habits of eating too much (if given the opportunity) and too fast.

“I’ll be right back,” she said and headed towards the serving line.

A couple people stared as she added more than two helpings of everything to her tray, but she thought it was more out of shock over the disproportionate amount of food to her size than anger that she was maybe taking more than her share. By the time she’d collected enough to feed an entire unit of Wookies and headed back to Cassian, two humans in non-uniforms (which wasn’t uncommon for the rebels) had sat down at the table.

They were the type of people who took up more space than they needed. An amateurish attempt at intimidating others through establishing dominance. Jyn had learned to be more wary of those who drew no attention, who lurked in the shadows, who had unassuming appearances disguising a lethality the brazen could never hope to possess.

So it was really just instinct that had her assessing gaze passing over the two trying-too-hard-to-have-swagger rebels to the slight man sitting quietly in the corner. He was a killer, undeniably. But not by choice. And Jyn knew something she thought most didn’t remotely suspect; Cassian Andor was soft deep down inside. And every terrible thing he’d done tortured him. Which made him even more dangerous, especially to Jyn, who she feared may be the only one to have ever seen his vulnerability, his humanity. To everyone else, he was just some Rebel super-spy-assassin, a good little soldier.

He’d locked eyes with her, but neither of his companions had seemed to notice, instead going on about some miraculous feats of badassery during some mission or other.

“You’re in my seat,” Jyn said, interrupting the bigger of the pair mid-sentence.

The man who was easily twice her size froze, puffing himself up when he looked at her, not that he needed to with that bulk of muscle, but his first instinct was obviously to meet her firm tone with aggression. She knew the response of those who’d survived on the streets well. And even if this was no seedy back alley or dive, this was her territory. And she wasn’t going to be the one to back down.

“Am I?” Big man said.

Before Jyn could respond, Cassian’s quiet voice cut in.

“You are.”

The big man looked at the wounded captain and his entire demeanor changed. Apparently, the soldier knew Cassian for the dangerous creature he was.

After a brief moment in which the expression on Cassian’s face gave nothing away, Big Man’s attention returned to Jyn.

“Uh, sorry,” he said, vacating the chair. Setting the heavily-laden tray down, Jyn plopped into the spot opposite Casian as the big guy lumbered off to find another chair, seemingly to rejoin them. Ugh.

Jyn slid the tray across the table in front of Cassian, then dragged her chair to sit directly beside him. There was no way to lift any of the dishes off the tray without losing some of the impressive pile of food. They could share.

She reached across Cassian and grabbed some sort of bread roll and- oh, force, he smelled good, like the cleanser from the shower and freshly washed skin that was silky smooth except for the scars and- she shoved the roll in her mouth before she did something embarrassing like hop onto his lap and bury her face in his neck.

The very large rebel’s companion had remained at the table, and was staring. Yes, at Jyn, but also at Cassian, at the pair of them, at the pile of food she’d torn into but Casian was contemplating eating with an actual utensil like some sort of civilized person. And the man’s gaze dropped, but Jyn knew it wasn’t to assess her attributes, none were visible beneath the loose-fitting clothes she was wearing, Cassian’s clothes. Oh. Right.

“You must be Jyn Erso,” he said and held out a hand, which was surprisingly clean, so Jyn shoved the last bite of roll into her mouth and shook it. Firm but not too firm, and his dark brown eyes were surprisingly soft as they met her gaze, a little guarded and very curious. This one was obviously the more intelligent of the pair.

“That I am,” she said after swallowing the large piece of bread that threatened to lodge in her throat. “And you are…?”

“Oh,” he laughed self-consciously. He had a nice, easy going smile. “Sorry. Yeah. I’m Tarrek Zin.” His large friend returned with a chair. “And this is Utto.”

The giant known as Utto nodded, grunted in response, before sitting down in the chair that was obviously ill-equipped to handle his bulk. A man of even less words than the spy.

“And you’re… friends of Cassian?” she asked, trying not to appear too interested. Who were these people? Cassian didn’t have friends. Not that she’d known him all that long, but she was pretty certain the man was a resolute loner. Aside from K-2SO, who was lost to him now.

“Yes,” Tarrek said at the same time Cassian said, “No.”

She withheld her laughter because Tarrek Zin seemed genuinely a little hurt by the terse captain’s response.

“We’ve worked together before,” Cassian gave as further explanation. “They’re…”

“Freelance,” Tarrek said.

Cassian gave a little snort of laughter. “That’s one way to put it.” He took a larger bite of the mystery protein.

“Oh, what does that mean?” Now, Jyn was intrigued. They were an odd sort to find on a military base, even amongst the ragtag collection of rebels that formed the Alliance. They were both human, Jyn thought, although there could be a bit of something else in the big man, who was surprisingly not unattractive for a bruiser type, with thick brown hair and a symmetrical face with a square jaw and only a small crescent scar on one cheek. The smaller man was by no means small, taller than Cassian, well built with flawless brown skin and a friendly, appealing face with just a hint of scruff neatly trimmed into a goatee. And a charmer’s grin, which he turned on Jyn.

“We find things.”

Again, that ironic little half-laugh from Cassian, who finally looked up from the pile of food.

“They steal things,” he said, pointing his fork at them. “Don’t let Tarrek try to pretty it up. They’re nothing more than thieves.”

“So’s your girl, from what I hear,” Tarrek said. “Didn’t you all find her in Wobani, serving time for forgery and assault amongst many other crimes?”

“She’s not my girl,” Cassian said, not denying her criminal record. And Jyn would be lying if she claimed the denial that she was his girl didn’t hurt a little. Even though it shouldn’t. She wasn’t a possession. And neither was Cassian, so she could stop feeling possessive of him, as well, really-

“Then you’re a free agent?” Tarrek flashed that charming grin of his again, with an edge of mischievousness. And a bit of something else in his eyes as he lookd at Cassian. “Because with the Empire scrambling after the destruction of their favorite new toy, no one’s going to notice if some stray things get found. We could use your skills on at least a dozen different jobs I can think of…” Tarrek shot a brief glance to Jyn before returning his attention to Cassian. “And Not Your Girl for that matter.”

“I think I’ve made it very clear I will not be going on any jobs with you,” Cassian said. “Even if the Alliance thought we’d need someone with your skillset again for some reason, I’d find someone else.”

Oh, wow. That seemed a little harsh, even from the jaded captain. The hurt on Tarrek’s face was blatant, and he looked away. Jyn couldn’t help but think there was some sort of complicated history at play.

“May I…?” Utto asked, indicating the crispy poultry leg sitting near the edge of the tray, the big man oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Uh… be my guest,” Jyn said and large, burly fingers snatched it right up. Unsurprisingly, the whole drumstick fit in the man’s mouth. He ate even faster than Jyn, chewing a bit then pulling the bare bone out, picked absolutely clean in less time than it took Cassian to cut another bite off the brick of vegetable-thing or whatever it was. Food. That’s all Jyn needed to know.

“Well, we better get going if we want to get a good seat at the ceremony, seeing as we’re not guests of honor,” Tarrek said, seeming to have recovered from the hurt feelings enough to tease. Cassian made a displeased noise but said nothing as Tarrek got to his feet and locked eyes with the rebel captain. Some sort of weird exchange passed between them, that seemed almost- “The offer always stands if you change your mind.”

“I won’t,” Cassian said, then went back to studiously eating.

Tarrek rolled his eyes but then gave Jyn a broad grin, leaning over to whisper loudly, “You think about it, too, Jyn Erso. Maybe you can convince the captain here not to throw his life away for the rebellion.”

Jyn just gave him a nod, disconcerted about the man’s extremely accurate knowledge of Cassian. Or maybe his unwavering loyalty was just that obvious.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tarrek said to his large companion, who appeared about Wookie-size when he stood up, only beefier.

Utto lingered a moment as his friend walked away, and Cassian frowned at him, that furrow forming between his brows. Jyn’s curiosity was also piqued as the moment stretched out awkwardly long, Utto’s fierce blue-grey gaze scouring Cassian’s face.

Cassian broke first, dropping his fork onto the tray with a clatter and sighing loudly.

“You have something you want to say, Utto?” he asked.

“You hurt Tarrek,” he said. “Don’t change your mind about joining us. Unless you mean it.”

“Understood,” Cassian said. “Is that all?”

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Utto glanced at Jyn, then gave Cassian another assessing look before grunting and shaking his head, then stalked off after his partner.

Cassian returned his attention to the food in front of him, like nothing had happened at all.

“What was that?” Jyn asked, her mind racing, trying to put everything she’d just witnessed into some sort of context.

“Nothing,” Cassian said. “Just two of many I’ve pissed off.”

“But they’re angry because they want you.” Jyn was pretty sure about what she’d just witnessed, albeit confusing.

“The Alliance used them to break into an Imperial facility. We were after intelligence stored there. Tarrek and Utto made out like the bandits they are by stealing the tech stored there and selling it on the black market. It was their most lucrative job ever. They still pick up odd smuggling tasks for the rebellion, but they want me to help them with more heist like that again.”

His face was closed off, but Jyn needed to know if she was right, needed for Cassian to continue to let her in, needed his trust and confidence.

“I get that,” she said, “but they want you… like physically. At least, Tarrek does.”

Cassian met her gaze, slowly closed his eyes, sighed and shook his head.

“I never should’ve kissed him.”

“Oh.” Well, that explained both the heat and the chill in Tarrek’s gaze when he looked at Cassian. Apparently, it hadn’t been just one-sided. And maybe she’d been reading Cassian’s looks, the way he touched her, all wrong. Maybe the intimacy they’d shared in the shower, naked but not uncomfortable, washing one another with tender caresses, had only held sexual undertones on her side. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her in the same way she was to him. Maybe he- “You er… kiss males?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “When it’s necessary to complete a mission.” He licked his lips. “Sometimes just because I want to.”

Jyn stared at the pile of green puree of what she hoped was a vegetable of some sort, trying to swallow down the stupid feelings clashing inside of her; jealousy and possessiveness, hurt, and even a little bit of titillation contemplating Cassian’s sexual history.

Long fingers skimmed the back of her hand and curled around hers, squeezing gently until she met those rich, dark eyes of his.

“Sometimes I kiss females, too.” He held her gaze so she resisted the urge to stare at his mouth.

“When it’s necessary to complete a mission?”

“And just because I want to.”

Did he want to? Jyn felt like he did, thought everything in the way he looked at her indicated a deep affection and need for her. But at the same time, she knew he wouldn’t, not here in a public place, not when he hadn’t even kissed her when they were alone. Not even when they were naked, standing under the spray of water, his hands buried in her hair, rinsing out the cleanser, her hands wrapped around his waist, helping to support his weight, her skin prickling with the closeness of his body, the caress of his fingers on her scalp, the feeling of his-

“We should get moving,” he said, releasing her hand to push his chair back and stand, looking only a little unsteady on his feet. “We need to find you some clothes that fit.”

“Why?” Jyn said, standing as well and brushing her hand over the front of the loose shirt. At least Cassian wasn’t an extremely large man, or else his clothes would fall right off her. As it was, she’d had to roll up the sleeves of his shirt and tuck as much as possible into the fatigues that she’d belted to cinch in at the waist, which would’ve been entirely hopeless if he wasn’t a lean man. She’d also had to roll up the hems to her ankles. She had no other option than the infirmary shoes. Okay, she looked ridiculous. But she didn’t care. The clothes smelled like Cassian and made her feel perpetually wrapped up in him.

“It’s not exactly fit for being presented to a princess.”

Cassian reached to pick up the tray, which Jyn felt a little bit of guilt for not having completely cleaned of its contents and wasting food, but there had been unforeseen interruptions. She grabbed it before he could, doubting his ability to walk and carry a laden tray a few days after major surgeries and with bones still healing. But had he said,

“Princess?! What princess?”

“Princess Leia will be hosting the ceremony.”

“Oh.” Jyn headed across the mess hall to bus the remains of their meal, perhaps moving a little too quickly for her wounded companion, a sort of panicky nervousness fluttering in her stomach as their potentially being the center of attention approached. It would be brief if they were, she tried to tell herself. The last time she’d been the center of the Alliance’s attention hadn’t gone well. Had, in point of fact, ended in a rogue suicide mission.

“You’ll be fine. She’s Bail Organa’s daughter. Sensible woman. Fierce.”

Jyn shoved the tray into the reclamation unit a little harder than necessary. “And how do you know her?”

Cassian laughed, light and genuine.

“I don’t know her, not personally.” His hand went to her shoulder, seemingly to guide her but she knew the request inherent in it and snaked her arm around his waist to let him lean a little of his weight on her. “Let’s see if we can track down your missing clothes.”

Jyn didn’t care if they couldn’t. Let the princess see her in Cassian’s clothes, let everyone think they were together. Because whether or not he kissed her, whether or not it was romantic, Cassian Andor was hers. Even if he sent her away and she never saw him again while she lived, he would always be hers.

Force, she needed to get a handle on this possessiveness. Because it owned her. He owned her.

His palm came to rest on the back of her neck as they left the mess and headed towards the storage and supply wing of the base. His thumb stroked along her nape and she leaned into him, relaxed as a Savarian cat being petted.

Dank farrik, did she ever belong to him.

[mikkomacko]

Bloodsucker I

She loves him.

Loves the way he laughs with all his chest, even if something isn't that funny. Loves the way his emerald green eyes seem to shine. Loves the way his nose twitches when he speaks. She loves everything about him, and she really can't imagine ever not loving him. Harry's just one of the people that linger, always in your heart or mind no matter what. She's certain he'll be someone that's around for eternity.

Eternity. She sighs softly, stroking her fingers through the tangle of curled baby hairs by his temple, imagining a life with Harry. They've been together for almost a year, their anniversary being tomorrow and while it hasn't been very long, y/n hates the thought of not having another year with him. And another after that, and after that, and after that. Morning after morning of seeing his face squished into the pillow, light snores escaping his parted lips.

She's caught up in dreaming up a life with him, one in which she moves into this big house of his and maybe they adopt a little kitty and Harry writes children's stories inspired by their own babies, a beautiful haze that prevents her from noticing the lack of snores coming out of her boyfriend. It's not until his eyes have fluttered open, brilliant in the morning glow, does she realize he's awake.

"S'early dove." Harry croaks, accent thick and voice scratchy. His hand moves out from under the pillow, digging a knuckle into his eye. "Sleep with me again, got all weekend to ourselves."

A smile stretches her mouth, fingers still carding through his hair and he practically purrs at the feeling as he nuzzles back into the pillow. It's true, Harry insisted they spend the whole weekend at his place, just the two of them loving on each other until their anniversary dinner tomorrow night. She didn't hesitate to agree, happily packing up a few necessities from her apartment to now occupy the side of the bed he always reserves for her.

"M'not tired H." Y/n mumbles back, willing away her droopy eyes. Her body feels tired, limbs warm and heavy under the multiple blankets on the bed, but her heart is wide awake and restless.

Scolding, Harry raises the one eyebrow that's not hidden by the pillow. "Know you're tired. Eyes are puffy and ya've got dark circles." Bones cracking like a glow stick, Harry pushes himself up with a slight wince and urges her onto her back so he can fit his large frame between her thighs. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to her forehead, so light her eyes close allowing him to kiss her eyelids with the touch of a butterfly wing. "Sleepy baby."

"Kissy, baby?"

Harry chuckles, breath fanning across the lower half of her face before he connects their mouths at her request, and his enjoyment. Lips still kissing, hers now parted to give him the opportunity to explore, Harry shuffles further up her body to press the bulge in his underwear against her crotch. The blankets fall down to the crooks of his knees, exposing them to the morning air but neither care as he breaks from her mouth to press kisses across her jawbone, up to her ear.

"S'have a morning shag baby," Harry pleads, as if they don't always have a morning shag, and his teeth teasingly nibble on her ear lobe. A bubbly giggle leaves her mouth, nails scratching at his bare shoulder blades. "What are ya laughing for?? M'serious."

Oh she knows he's serious. She can feel just how serious he is against her thigh. "You just told me to go back to sleep!"

Harry pulls back, lifting himself to his hands and frowning down at her. "Well yeah but I think you'd rest better after I've fucked ya good."

He looks like a petulant child, eyebrows pinched together and lips pursed in a grumpy pout. How he can go from being a 28 year old man to a 4 year old boy is unknown to her but she doesn't care because he's her man to love and her boy to baby when he needs it.

"You want to?"

Scoffing, Harry nods rapidly. "Really really want to." As if proving his point he ruts his hips forward just once, allowing her to feel his eagerness. Y/n seals their lips together again, hooking a leg around his hip and using her foot to push his briefs down.

"Go on then, tire me out H."

That's all he really needs before he's removing her pajama shirt, leaving her naked beneath him. His fingertips leave dots of electricity across her skin, gripping her hip in one hand and her thigh in the other. Their mouths part after a sloppy peck, Harry dragging his lips down the column of her throat and nudging the head of his prick between her folds. Like always, when he sinks all the way between her walls, y/n is mush of dazed moans and clingy hands. Harry's quick with his thrusts, fucking her somewhat sloppily but perfectly, and the haze that settles around them is otherworldly. Y/n thinks Harry must be some other being with the way he's always able to pull her apart without much effort. Little does she know, her thoughts aren't far off because after she's reached her peak, whimpering and clenching around his cock, and Harry's emptied inside her as well, he stays awake until she's fully asleep again, tired enough to not even stir when he sinks two sharp teeth into her jugular.

Harry thinks her blood is otherworldly.

<|>

The mid-day sun filters through the yellow and red leaves, scattering into beams of tinged light on the kitchen floor. A pan of tofu sizzles on the stove, the chicken seasoning on it overpowering the smell of pumpkin guts that had filled his kitchen an hour ago when they had carved the vegetable. Harry's wearing the apron he stole from her apartment a few months ago, a blue and white flannel pattern that makes his eyes appear baby blue as well.

They've always enjoyed cooking together, Harry doing more of the cooking and her more of the tasting because he's got magic senses in the kitchen. Everything he makes is delicious, always impressing her whether it's a brand-new recipe or a repeated favorite dish, and she once again longs for forever with him.

"A lifetime gone by,

more years than men need,

a gift of another was bestowed upon me,

and yet time with you will always be..."

The pause in the air is palpable, y/n waiting eagerly for him to continue while she drains their ramen noodles. When the moments passed and Harry is still hunched over the counter, peering down at his journal in deep thought, she speaks. "Always be what babe?"

The scrunch of his nose tightens, sighing in frustration and dropping his black pen to the counter. "Don't know. S'just too many words I could put there but I don't like the way they sound." Shutting the journal, he shoves it aside on the counter until it's resting next to his laptop and other plot lines. While Harry's written many books under a different name, he's starting his first ever poetry book and it's proven to be even more of a struggle than writing romance or horror novels (they're his two favorite).

Shuffling around the counter top, he moves to stir the tofu around in the pan with a disgruntled frown on his face. Placing the noodles back on the stove, y/n drapes herself against his back, arms wrapping tightly around his waist. "You'll get it H," she promises, "you're amazing with words and you've got such a beautiful mind. Wise beyond your years, you know that?"

She doesn't see his smile nor the nervous bob of his Adams apple. If only she knew just how many years he's had.

<|>

In the back corner of the restaurant, a candle flickering between the two of them, y/n watches with hearts in her eyes as he slices through his steak. Her own plate of pasta and sautéed veggies is half eaten in front of her, but there’s no room for any more food in her belly due to the amount of butterflies swirling in there.

“Was thinking of a new story today.” Harry says after swallowing the bite in his mouth and rinsing it down with a gulp of wine. “‘Nother romance one.”

“You’ve been writing a lot of romance lately,” she comments, “not in a horror mood right now?”

His lips quirk up bashfully, popping a bite of medium rare meat between in his teeth. Chest expanding with a deep inhale, he chews with suspense, fists resting on the dining table with his knife and fork in each palm. He looks handsome, powerful and regal with his hair curling down his shoulders perfectly and his button up shirt being more shirt than buttoned up. She wants to reach over the table and trace her fingers over his soft collarbones but she refrains. For now.

“S’fun to write romance when you’ve got a muse.”

The blood that rises to her cheeks is warm and beautiful, catching Harry's eye immediately. He hadn't intended to fluster her with the comment, but now that he's done it he can't help but drool. Which is why they spend the rest of dinner praising each other, Harry's mouth filling with venom every time he hears or smells her blood warm under his words.

And he enjoys her soft spoken words too. It's been a while since he's felt like more than just a monster, and hearing his girl tell him how much she loves and adores him, how she'll never get enough of him, is almost heartwarming.

He's starry eyed when they leave the restaurant, barely catching the keys that the valet hands him followed by the words "get home safe."

Gets home safe. It's ironic Harry thinks right now, with his hand stretched over the center console to hold hers. She looks exhausted, head slumped against the window but watching him with a fond smile. He can feel the thumping of her heart, the pure adoration radiating off of her being. It's the exact way he feels about her. It's the exact reason their blood runs through each other. It's the exact reason why he wants her with him forever. And, unfortunately, it's the exact reason her choice of life is taken from her.

"If you could, would you be mine forever?" He asks, stomach twisting nervously. She doesn't know the extent of the question but he still would like to know. His words cause her to perk up, eyes widening in happiness and a smile pulling at her lips.

Too caught up in her bright eyes, Harry fails to notice the deer crossing the street directly in front of them. Even with his heightened senses, she takes up all of him. It's at the last moment that he catches it out of the corner of his eye, slamming on the brakes and jerking out of the path of the animal. The tires skid and Harry loses all control of the car as it runs off the side of the road. Instinctively, his hands leave the wheel, one coming up to shield his face while the other reaches over for y/n. He's going to grab her, has to grab her. He has to keep her safe. Unfortunately he's not fast enough before the car slams into the tree, glass shattering around them. But over the sound of it all, Harry can only hear her heart take it's last beat.

<|>

Y/n is convinced that she's just waking up. Her day with Harry, their anniversary dinner, the car ride home, the deer....it was all a dream. She'd been up earlier than usual, maybe she fell into such a deep sleep it seemed real.

She's back at Harry's, that she's certain of because it's practically her room as well. The smell of him is stronger, stinging her nostrils and the back of her throat. This does nothing but make the pounding in her skull even worse, eyes squeezing shut to block out the dim room. The action is futile however, because nothing could possibly block out the pain in her body. Her insides feel cold and heavy, weighing down on her muscles and bones. It's then that she realizes the hollowness of her chest.

Her heart's not beating.

The organ that gave her life, fueled her body has gone still, turned to stone in her chest. She's dead. She's died and the afterlife has brought her to Harry's house, to her home.

She doesn't remember what happened, not really. Their anniversary dinner stands out in the fog of her memory, Harry sat under the warm lights in his baby blue button up and suit jacket, the swallows on his chest joining them for dinner. Holding his hand in the car, admiring the way their matching rings look when they're side-by-side. The last thing she can pick out of the night is Harry looking over at her, stoplight gleaming in his eyes as he softly and longingly whispered "if you could, would you be mine forever?"

If he'd been with her in the last place she remembers, perhaps he's here with her too. Pushing herself up from his bed and onto her elbows causes a sharp sting on the bend of her elbow, and when she opens her eyes to investigate, the sight makes her dizzy.

A tube has been stuck into her veins, thick red blood turning the plastic a deep maroon color. It's as if she's simply giving blood if it weren't for the fact that the blood bag attached to the tube is emptying, not filling. And resting on the floor next to the draining one is another empty bag. Her mind swirls with confusion and panic, wondering why she'd need blood in the afterlife and why so much of it. Dead people don't need blood.

"Y/n?"

His voice catches her off guard, snapping her attention away from the blood and turning it towards the doorway of his bedroom. Harry stands in the shadows, face dark with the hallway light illuminating his silhouette.

"Harry?" She whimpers, tears welling in her eyes in relief. He's here which means she'll be ok. He'll take care of her. He inches forward at the sound of her trembling voice but doesn't approach the bed much to her disliking. "Harry please-"

"Are you in pain?" He cuts her off, voice void of any of the usual warmth he carries when speaking to her. His gruffness makes her pause, tears stilling in her eyes. That's not her Harry, she's not safe with whoever is standing in the doorway right now. Cautious, she stays silent. "Does anything hurt y/n? You have to tell me if it does."

As if triggered by his words, a sharp pains seizes in her chest and she's unable to stop the wince that curls her shoulders forward. Harry moves at that, now perching himself on the end of the bed next to her. Before she can make any move away from him, he reaches out, pressing his palm over the throbbing area of her chest and urging her back into the pillows. His touch dulls the pain, leaving her pliant and teary as she watches his shadow.

"S'your organs hardening," Harry says solemnly, not offering another explanation. Y/n thinks she could throw up, her stomach churning and bubbling uncomfortably. Hardening?

"My heart's not beating."

Harry nods, just once. The band that's on her chest moves up to cup her cheek, thumb swiping over her cheek to remove the tear that had fallen. "I know dove, and s'all my fault." His voice cracks, a sniffle breaking through the dark and she wants to sit up and hug him, feel his comfortable arms around her. She refrains, not wanting that sharp pain to spread throughout her body again.

"What's your fault Harry? What's going on?"

Finally, he reaches over and flicks on the lamp on the bedside table. The bulb bathes the room in a soft light, illuminating Harry's sullen face. For the first time since she's met him, his eyes are red rimmed and glazed with tears of anguish. Inhaling shakily, Harry threads his fingers through her hair.

"It's my fault s'not beating darling. I'm your Maker."

"Maker?" She asks, confused.

"You're a vampire now y/n. I turned you."

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[nehemia-deserved-better]

Elorcan deserved about 500 more chapters all to themselves, so I decided to write one of them. I intended this story to be as canon-compliant as possible, so that it could plausibly be considered an extra Elorcan chapter in Empire of Storms. It would be set a day after their fight over Lorcan killing the ship owner in chapter 43, and before the next time we see them where Elide claims to have not spoken to him for 3 days. 

So without further ado: How The Light Gets In

The nightmare began at the top of a stone stair. Elide’s heavy, uneven footfalls echoed ominously in the tight space as she descended, spiraling down into the fetid air of the dungeons. The chains snaking around her ankles rattled and slithered with each step. Yet it was not that sound which frightened Elide; it was the cacophony of despair emanating from below. Women’s voices: moaning, screaming, and—worst of all— pleading. She tried to flee back up the stair, but a phantom hand seized her chains and sent her pitching headlong into the unforgiving stone. Her fingernails splintered and bled as she scrabbled for purchase, fighting to crawl away from that horrible noise. But the pull on her chains was relentless. Elide was dragged downwards into that ocean of misery, each voice crashing over her until she was drowning in sound, unable to distinguish her own screams.

—————

Lorcan stood at the prow of the ship, illuminated by the light of the stars, and cursed his keen fae hearing. He couldn’t block out the soft whimpers coming from within the ship’s cabin, or the rustling of a small form tossing under the blankets. He didn’t want to know that Elide was having a nightmare, didn’t want to care. After all, why should he? Pathetic she had called him, nearly spitting the words in disgust. Jealous, lonely, pathetic, unhappy—each insult flung from her with greater conviction than the last. And when she had finally finished, face mottled red in rage and chest heaving, he couldn’t even muster a convincing facade of anger. Instead, as he looked down on that tiny, furious woman, he felt only admiration and a surprising amount of desire. When was the last time someone had dared speak to him with such candor? He had killed males for lesser offenses, and she knew it. And yet, she remained stubbornly unafraid. 

But when she had followed that outburst with a demand to leave the ship, to leave him... Lorcan realized belatedly that the gut-wrenching sensation he'd felt then had been fear. He tilted his head up to look at the stars, admonishing himself for that weakness. This human should not have such power over him. Still, he knew he would not allow this fierce creature out of his sight. He wanted more of her. He wanted to feel her thick, dark hair between his fingers, and to do more with that red mouth than just gaze at it. But mostly, he wanted more of her passion, honesty, and bravery— her ability to see right through to the core of him with those cunning eyes. Lorcan found himself striding for the cabin door before he could think better of it.             

—————

It is a peculiarity of nightmares to seamlessly blend one horror into the next, forgoing transitions in exchange for an unending montage of terror. And so, Elide suddenly found herself standing at the base of the stair. She pressed her palms over her ears to no avail; nothing could block out that endless, many-voiced wailing. A long hall lined with torches and iron doors stretched out before her. She knew what lay beyond those doors, though her mind recoiled from the thought of witches and alters and demons. In the flickering light of the fires stood a ghostly woman draped in black. Kaltain raised a finger to her lips and, as though by her command, a curtain of silence fell over the hall. Elide didn't spare a moment to be relieved. She stepped toward Kaltain, trying to tell her that they must run, that they weren’t safe here. No words passed her lips— they never did, in her dreams. The Lady merely stared at her. “You can’t save them. Only I can do that now.” Elide furrowed her brow in confusion, prompting a breathy laugh from Kaltain. “Don’t you remember? Or did you forget about my sacrifice so easily?” Her lips split wide in a mockery of a smile, her mouth opening and opening until the flesh peeled away completely. Beneath, shrugging off Kaltain’s skin like an oversized coat, was a pale woman with blood red lips. “And what of my sacrifice, my darling girl? What became of me?” Elide reached for her mother, but she crumbled to ash between her fingers.  

—————

Lorcan’s breath caught as he laid eyes on Elide sleeping fretfully in the narrow cabin bed. The blankets were twisted around her legs, becoming thoroughly tangled as she continued to shift in agitation. A sheen of sweat glimmered at the base of her throat. Distress was clear in her expression, despite her face being partially obscured by her disheveled hair. Lorcan had no idea what to do. He wanted to soothe her and provide comfort, but he had no experience with such things. Besides, if Elide’s resolute silence of the previous day was any indication, she would likely not welcome his presence. And yet, he found himself unable to walk away, as though some gravity beyond his control were pulling them together. 

Gently, Lorcan reached down and brushed the loose strands of hair from her face, smoothing them behind her ear. His hand lingered for a moment, brushing against her cheek. He marveled at how small she seemed under his broad palms. She stirred, and he quickly retracted his fingers, scolding himself for his stupidity. How incensed would she be to wake and find him standing over her? He began to turn away. 

“Stay.” The word was a single breath, so quiet that Lorcan was fairly certain it was a hallucination brought on by wishful thinking. But then it came again, soft as a prayer, “stay.” He simply stared at her. Elide didn’t even seem to be awake. It was very possible that she was speaking to someone in her dream, utterly unaware of his presence. Just as he was convincing himself of this, a hand lightly grasped his own. Her fingers were so little in his, delicate like the bones of a bird. But he knew the strength that lay there, knew she had calluses and scars to mirror his own. Lorcan softly lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, Elide's hand still in his. He wasn’t used to holding something with such care, not with these hands that had wrought so much death. He found that he liked the change. 

“Elide?” he whispered. No response. “Are you awake?” Her eyes remained closed but she spoke slowly in reply.

“Lorcan...You’re not usually here.”

“In the cabin?”

“In my dreams.”

 He took a moment to absorb that blow to his male ego. Before he could think of a suitable response, Elide was tugging on his hand, trying to pull him closer. Lorcan was conflicted. She was clearly not fully awake, hovering in the limbo of her dreams. As much as he wanted nothing more than to lay down and pull her close, to see just how well the curves of her body fit with his own, it didn’t seem right to take advantage of her hazy consciousness. And in addition, there was no way his massive frame would fit on that bed with her unless she was nearly on top of him. He struggled to divert his imagination away from that particular path of thought.

When he looked back at her face, he was startled to find her eyes wide open. The gaze that met his own was clear, apparently awake. “Stay,” she repeated, and the last of his reservations disappeared. She scooted up against the wall, occupying the narrowest strip of bed possible. After some adjusting of bodies and untangling of blankets, Lorcan wound up on his back. His shoulders took up the entire width of the bed, and still he was precariously close to the edge. Elide was pressed between his body and the wall, her limbs sprawled out across him: an arm resting on his chest, a leg bent up over his own, her foot pressed between his calves. Gingerly, he slid his arm underneath her head, providing his bicep as a pillow. 

“I thought you were still angry with me,” he grumbled.

“I am. I don’t think I’ll ever speak to you again, because you are a cruel bastard,” she responded sleepily, snuggling closer. Lorcan had gone past the point of confusion and was now hovering somewhere in the realm of utter bewilderment.

“I’ll find a way to manage without you.” Why could he never find the right thing to say to her? 

“No, you won’t, because you promised.” She paused there for a yawn. “As mysterious as you think you are, I know that promise matters to you... that I matter to you. Why else would I dream of you after a nightmare?” She yawned, more pronounced than the first time. When she began speaking again her voice was thick with exhaustion. “I know I’m safe with you. I know that you will protect me.” And with that, she was fully asleep once more. Not a trace of the nightmare remained on her face, and her breathing was deep and untroubled.  

Lorcan could only stare at the top of her head, stunned. Despite how lucid she seemed, she had clearly still been half in the grip of her dreams. But her words, her absolute confidence in him, the comfort she had found in his arms...He had never experienced this before. Receiving affection without sex or motive, soothing fear instead of creating it— this was all uncharted territory. Something in him fractured with astounding force. It was as though every place their bodies touched was cracking open and she was the light pouring in, pushing back all that darkness he had gathered throughout the centuries. He had no word to name this feeling coursing through his blood, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so unburdened. He pressed his lips to the top of her head and whispered “I will always keep you safe”. Then, he laid his cheek atop her hair and listened to her breathe for a long while before he fell asleep.      

—————

Elide woke to the smell of cooking trout, and the soft sound of water lapping against the boat. Even through her closed lids she could see that daylight was pouring through the windows of the cabin, meaning she must have slept very late into the morning. She rolled over with a groan and reached out a hand for...for whom? Was she expecting to find someone in her bed? Sitting fully upright now, she looked around in confusion. She’d had a very strange dream. Lady Kaltain had been there, in the dungeons of Morath… she shuddered at the memory, both of the dream and its real-life inspiration. She’d vomited for days after she saw behind those iron doors, and had no desire to recollect the specifics either awake or asleep. 

But then she’d left the dungeon and arrived in the ship’s cabin, where her fear-addled brain had conjured an image of the only true safety she had known for the last decade: Lorcan. A soft smile graced her face at the thought, quickly replaced by a grimace as she remembered him killing that man, and their resulting fight. He provided safety for her, perhaps, but he brought only death to those who got in his way. Her thoughts lingered on the barge owner who had once slept in this bed, dutifully cleaned the cabin windows, adorned the small table with an embroidered cloth— she bolted out of the bed and through the door, suddenly needing to be anywhere else.

Fingers gripping the ship’s railing so tight that her knuckles threatened to pop out, Elide leaned into the wind off the river water. Lorcan may well have saved both their lives by ending that man’s. An innocent bystander he may have seemed, but one likely to jump at the chance to profit from their capture. Lorcan had done it, as he seemed to do everything these days, to protect her. 

That thought brought her back to her dream. It had been so real. She could recall the way his breath had stirred her hair, the feeling of his muscular chest under her fingers and his considerable bicep cushioning her head, how she had confidently declared how much he cared for her— she stopped as though her thoughts had crashed into a stone wall. She felt the blood drain from her face. She never, never spoke in her dreams. 

A gentle tap on her shoulder had her shouting in surprise; Lorcan couldn’t normally sneak up on her, to his eternal annoyance, but she had been too deep in thought to notice his approach. Wordlessly, he held out a plate of trout. He betrayed no expression beyond a slight quirk of the eyebrows, likely in reaction to having a small woman scream at him in a pitch only bats and immortal demi-fae could hear. Elide studied the harsh planes of his face as she accepted the food in silence. She found nothing there to suggest she had spent the night curled in his arms. He seemed to be examining her expression as well. His lips parted, as though there was something he wanted to say, but something in her face seemed to convince him to remain quiet. With a soft shake of the head and a furrow in his brow, he turned away.     

As he walked back toward the prow, she let out a sigh of relief. It had just been a dream. She felt an unexpected disappointment at the thought. It was harmless to admire his power and strength from a distance, or to feel sparks of desire as his gaze slid to her lips every damn time they spoke, but to spend the night in his arms? She watched him tirelessly propelling the boat  with a long pole, his dark hair sticking to his neck in the hot midday sun. No, it had been a dream, and that’s all it would ever be...right?            

Thanks for sticking around all the way till the end! It would mean a lot if you would comment and let me know what you think of my first ever fanfiction :)                      

[infinites-chaser]

Librarian! PH. 52 MLQC MC / Victor :)

HELLO ANON U WERE ONE OF THE FIRST PEOPLE TO RESPOND TO MY LIBRARIAN ASK GAME I’M SO SORRY IT’S TAKEN SO LONG,,, victor is just. hard to write. aLSO I'm doubly sorry since i’ll be combining this with the Victor ask from @truth-be-told-im-lying ​ hope neither of you mind T-T i don’t think my mind could do two victor ficlets akwlfjsdkls

ANyway I love you both LOTS AND LOTS hopefully this attempt at Victor isn’t extremely out of character;;; it’s a lowkey soulmates AU if that counts for anything :> aND this fic gets the special treatment of an actual Title bc True was wonderful enough to help me by typing Victor as an Enneagram Type One

okaaay and without further ado, 

49, 52 + Victor/MC

‘[He] wakes up in [his] bed, determined to begin again.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 49)

‘As [he] pushes through the onlookers to meet [her], he is certain he is the only person moving.’- These Ghosts Are Family, Maisy Card. (pg. 52)

((pronoun changes in both quotes to better fit the ficlet))

spoilers for Victor/MC’s childhood!

spend my whole life searching

Victor doesn’t believe in soulmates. (After half a lifetime of searching turning up nothing, he doesn’t believe in much.)

Once upon a time, he might’ve. (He wanted to). His heart rate doubled and sped up to match hers— a carefree little girl skipping across the road, too far away to hear his nerves cry danger, too caught up in dreams and fantasies to hear his warning shout. Time slowed down so he could save her, and on that afternoon on the crosswalk, drops of rain suspended in the air, he did.

At that age, he hadn’t had the sense to wonder why a young girl like her had been crossing the street without supervision. Why her smiles had come freely, but had always looked a little sad, a little wistful. Why she’d been so eager to accept his baked treats. Why she’d been at the playground without a parent. Why she’d always been alone.

Now, seventeen years later, he wishes he did. Wishes he’d known something as simple as her last name.

He dreams of her. Of finding her again: the girl whose heartbeat matched his. The girl whose smile had slowed down time itself for him, as if short moments with her could’ve each stretched into a gentle eternity. He’d wanted them to. He’d wanted to capture every moment spent with her, to make them last, to savor them, so they’d pass slow and sweet like honey on the tongue.

Time had passed slow when he’d wanted it to. Those sunlit afternoons had been sweet, they’d been happy.

Only, time is a fickle thing. When he takes his eye off it, it races away, too fast for him to keep up.

The kidnapping. The experiments. The torture.

The escape.

She saves him. He’s too slow to save her.

And even if he can stop time, here’s the thing: he can never turn the clock back.

Still, he wakes up. Every morning, he gets out of bed. Gets dressed and goes to work. The world around him moves on, and demands he does, too, even if his heart’s still eleven years old and clutching her motionless body, eleven years old, the only sound in his ears his pounding pulse, the absence of the accompaniment of hers an accusation more painful than any hateful words.

It’s a recurring theme in his life, time. It’s ironic, really, when he thinks about it. That he can stop time without lifting a finger, and yet, when it comes to things he cares about, people he loves most, he’s always eleven years old again, always too late.

(His Evol’s time control, but perhaps, all this time, he hasn’t been controlling time, it’s been controlling him. He’s imprisoned by a single moment, a memory, a regret. A past that can never be undone.)

Whenever he has spare time, he devotes himself to searching. Resigns himself to the fact he’ll probably never find her, if all he has to go off of is a child’s face, once preserved in his memory, now fading. Hair color. Eye color. Age. A name. Nothing more.

The searches turn up nothing. 

He spends late nights in the office to distract himself, builds up a capitalist kingdom of a company, if only to put off for a few hours more the prospect of returning home to face his nightmares alone.

His father praises him for LFG’s growth over dinners filled with awkward silences. The name Victor Li appears more and more often in business newspapers. Investors approach him. He gets interviews. Gets offers for TV appearances, for sponsorships.

He takes them, these material successes. Wonders if any amount of them could ever make up for the failure from his childhood. If they could bring her back. He tells himself if he finds her, when he finds her, when he brings her back, it’ll be to a more perfect world. One in which he’ll never fail her again. It’s a foolish thought, but it keeps him going. With it in mind, he proceeds to work twice as hard.

Souvenir is what saves him. A small allowance, a self-indulgence, a seed of hope planted in what he thinks is his darkest time.

It’s for her, more than any of his frantic searching ever was. A dream, a foolish one, that one day she’ll step through his memories and through the restaurant’s door, that one day they’ll share a pudding together again, their hearts beating as one.

He doesn’t get to open Souvenir often; his job doesn't let him. He made sure of that, long ago. But when he does, after the last customer’s left, and he’s put up the closed sign, he cooks for two.

(The first time, Mr. Mills had taken a single look at his silent, still face, and his expression must've spoken volumes. The older man hadn't said a word, only helped clean the kitchen after, the normally gentle lines around his mouth pulled taut in a worried frown.)

He sets the second place at the table himself: carefully places fork, knife and spoon beside lukewarm appetizers, tucks a napkin under soup bowls going cold. Watches the empty seat and the untouched meal for an eternity before finally eating his own. His technique's impeccable. It has been ever since he'd aced his culinary lessons, since he'd bought out the school. He'd used the finest ingredients. He always does.

The food still crumbles like ash in his mouth. (It always does.)

Mr. Mills will find him there, nursing a glass of wine long into the night. He knows better not to question it, but sometimes he'll pull up a chair, drink a glass, too. talk of everything and nothing, talk of his parents, his sister's family, of times gone by.

Victor will never admit it, but the older man's presence makes those nights less hard. his stories, his memories — they keep the ice in his heart from spreading any further when it feels like nothing else will.

Ten years stretch into thirteen, into fourteen, into fifteen, into a broken clock, time stopped because does the passage of time mean anything if he measures it, measured it in time with her? If she's gone?

The meals shrink. First appetizers vanish, then entrees too, until all that's left are desserts, puddings that he stares at all evening, puddings a girl had loved once, that he can almost imagine her sitting there eating, her noticing him watching her and her answering blush and smile. His smile back.

Almost, because after all these years without her, he can’t quite imagine her face. Not as she would look now. Not even as she was, seventeen years back.

(He dreams and finds he doesn’t remember what her smile looked like, exactly. Doesn’t remember the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the sound of his.

Memory is cruel. Memory is imperfect. No matter if you can stop time, no matter how hard you try to memorize a moment, when you revisit it, it’ll never be the same as when you lived it the first time.)

Then:

The day starts like any other. He wakes up, gets out of bed, gets ready for another day of work, another night of searching. He scrolls emails while waiting for his espresso machine to heat, then puts his tablet aside when the coffee's done. He eats in silence. As always, he's done five minutes before he needs to leave for the company, the perfect amount of time for him to do a last-minute check in the mirror— his tie's straight, his shirt unwrinkled, not a hair on his head out of place. The reflection that stares back at him is unchanging; these days it barely shows even the passage of time.

He sighs. Shakes the thought off like the piece of lint it is on his otherwise immaculate state of being, and heads for the door, the lock automatically clicking behind him at eight o'clock am, exactly on schedule, exactly as planned.

He's about to take a seat in his car when an inexplicable urge to walk to work takes hold of him. He pauses. Calculates and re-calculates the time it would take (fifteen minutes, not accounting for rush hour traffic making crosswalks slow), and he's about to decide it's not worth it, it's a silly thought, but the urge intensifies.

Do it, the eleven-year-old in his heart seems to be telling him. You won't regret it.

He frowns and rubs his forehead— for a moment, he wonders if all his searching, all his foolish hopes are finally getting to his brain.

He decides to take the walk, anyway.

He regrets it, not nine minutes later, when despite the sun's light shining strong through the clouds, a light rain begins to fall.

Worse still, the traffic lights haven't changed once in the past ninety seconds. He won't be late, he'd accounted for this, but he's stuck in a crowd of pedestrians, and their chatter's beginning to grate on his nerves. He's considering calling the mayor about it after exactly one hundred seconds have passed— clearly, the light's broken, this is far too long for commuters to wait— but then, finally the walk sign flicks on.

He's already across the street when it happens:

First, a phone rings.

Then, the loud honking of a car.

Tires screech.

Time slows. Time stops.

He's back on the crosswalk in a matter of heartbeats, the inattentive idiot in his arms (it's a girl, it's always a girl, hair dark, eyes wide, expression shocked).

"You..." She says, blinking up at him with those wide, almost-familiar eyes. Distantly, he registers the echo of a heartbeat overlapping with his.

"Who are you?"

Who are you? His mind asks, but deep in his heart, he already knows the answer. It can't be.

"Evolver?" He says instead, shoving down memories that threaten to surface: another rainy day, another crosswalk, another heart that had seemed matched to his. He tells himself he's being delusional, that he thinks he can hear her heartbeat because she's in his arms, wide-eyed and fragile, her heartrate skittering back and forth like a fool— this isn't like his careful, methodical searching, this is a fluke beyond flukes, it means nothing, it'll lead to nothing in the end.

But she's in his arms, warm and soft against his protective embrace, she's in his arms and it feels so right it's almost painful, his pulse pulled into a panicked pace to match hers.

He sets her down abruptly, as if burned, and turns to go.

"Someone can't come to your rescue every time."

Around them, suspended raindrops begin to fall. The world, resumed. The world, once again predictable and mundane. Except for her.

He knows, without looking back, she's staring after him, her heart, his heart, still racing.

He allows himself a smile.

He allows himself some small sliver of hope.

(His frozen time starts moving again.)

[catzula]

Hello hello! I saw that you're opening requests so here i am! May i have a fic of Katsuki where he found the reader who's usually is a tough nut to crack, is 99% of the time never really cry and acts like a crackhead suddenly starts crying after one of Katsuki's empty insults he usually threw at her? And it turns out that she was very overwhelmed about the amount of work, deadlines, pressure and pretty much problems twirling around her to the point where one insult that she KNOWS he didn't even mean it can throw her over the edge? And Katsuki just went '?!?!?!' and didn't know what to do? Kinda feeling pretty much like this rn lmao, and kinda want comfort especially if it's from the boom boom man.

Anyways- i absolutely adore your work!

•words and promises•

A/N: this request was really cute and so relatable cuz ever since the schools started again, they've been going so hard on us I don't even have the time to sleep sometimes (but I have the time to write- ironic huh) I hope you're feeling better now, tho! Thank you so much for the request, I hope this was comforting rather than triggering cuz bakugou is mean here lmao

bnha taglist!: @astroninaaa

W.C: 3.2k

Warnings: cursing, insecurities (I think?), stress and anxiety

Genre: angst with a good ending, comfort

"And please hand the summary in by Friday. Todoroki-kun, could you make sure to collect them from everyone and hand them to me?" Midnight asked with a bright smile, leaving the room when Todoroki nodded, everyone else groaning in frustration.

"She wants us to read a whole goddamn book and summarize it in a week?" Kaminari cried out, voicing all of your inner thoughts.

"You, know, Kaminari-kun, it's not entirely impossible to do that." Iida interrupted, fixing his glasses. It would've been a bit more convincing if he didn't have purple bags under his eyes and looked like he was about to pass out.

"Maybe It wouldn't have been impossible if we didn't have 20 other summaries and essays to write!" Mina shot back, and Iida had no answers to that.

You stood silent, but that was because you felt like you couldn't breathe. Everything they were saying was true, this was all too much, and you had no idea how to overcome it. Not even aware you zoned out, you were awoken by your state by a hard snap of a finger in front of your eyes.

"Watcha looking at?" The owner of the fingers asked, and despite his hard voice, his ruby red eyes had a playful glint to them.

"I was just worried if you're smart enough to actually finish an assignment." You told mockingly, and he scoffed.

"Look at the one talking, you were the one who came to my door last night, begging me to help you with the science homework."

"I didn't beg!" You protested. "I just asked you if you did it and you offered to help me!"

"I offered to help just because I pitied you." He muttered, his harsh words causing the rest of the class to gasp and look at you, half expecting you to get mad and scream at him, even though this scene was happening more often than they would like to admit.

These little fights you had with Bakugou was now almost a part of their day. It was an odd relationship you had, always attacking each other, sometimes maybe taking it a bit far, but both of you always knew it wasn't coming from the heart.

When you stood silent, sending a mocking laugh his way, and kept scrolling through Instagram, he was a little surprised.

You were never silent, you always, always had something to say back. In fact, that was one of the things he loved- hated about you. Whatever he told you, you had something clever or dumb to say, and you were so brutally blunt when he fought with you, sometimes he found himself laughing at the insults you threw at him.

Still, his pride stopped him from asking if something was wrong, on the contrary, he was happy to finally have some quiet time, he told himself. You could feel his eyes on you as you thoughtlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed, but you didn't have it in you to argue, you were too tired for that.

Bakugou scoffed after looking at you for a while, still expecting you to poke fun at him, but when you sat still, he gritted his teeth and sat back at his place.

■■■

Bakugou never thought he would miss arguing with you.

He noticed you were acting a bit odd, not once trying to get in a fight with him, not even a snarky comment coming from your way. It was weird to see you so quiet, and it was getting on his nerves.

You weren't entirely silent, but whenever he tried to lul you into fighting with him, you just looked at him with a blank smile and went on doing whatever it was you were doing. And Bakugou was not someone you could just ignore.

Your friends had started to catch up with Bakugou's growing frustration, his now harder comments, and how you simply ignored them. They thought you were tired of him (really, who could judge you? Everyone knew how extra Bakugou sometimes could be), and didn't think of it as much, except one particular red-head.

Kirishima noticed how you clenched your teeth, how your hands turned into fists, your knuckles turning white whenever you heard a comment about you. He was probably the only one that actually understood the odd relationship between you and Bakugou, so Kirishima was more than aware that something was troubling you. He also knew better than just simply asking you, well aware you would never accept that there was, in fact, something bothering you.

You had never been the type to talk about your feelings easily, always trying to fix things by yourself, and taking pride by doing things alone. Your stubborn nature sometimes reminded him too much of a certain ashy blonde.

"Hey, Y/N." He approached you at a break, noticing the dark circles under your eyes. "Oh, hey, Kiri-kun, what's up?" You asked with a slightly forced smile when you felt his eyes examining you.

"Nothing much, we're gonna meet up in Mina's dorm tonight, you know, to partly study and talk. You've been kinda distant lately, you wanna come?" You bit your lip thoughtfully. You wanted to go, but there was so much to do and so little time that you felt like you didn't even have time to sleep, let alone spend time with your friends.

"I- I don't know." You muttered with an apologetic smile. "I don't think I can, I really should work on the homework."

"Oh come on," He insisted. "You don't have to stay long, and it's nice to take a break sometime, you know."

Taking a break. Something you've been putting off doing for a long time.

"You've been pushing yourself quite a lot, you know. Don't think we missed how tired and stressed you've been lately."

"I'm not-" You tried to deny, but sighed when he looked like he wouldn't believe whatever you told him. "Okay, I'll be there." You told him, and he sent you a cheeky smile.

"Just make sure we have enough coffee."

"I personally will take care of that." He winked, and you giggled, shaking your head side to side. You didn't even notice the ruby eyes watching you two as you laughed, a dreadful feeling forming in the pit of Bakugou's stomach since it was someone else who made you laugh. Not him. All he could do was to mess with you.

The frustration he felt reflected on his words, too. Sure, Bakugou was never nice, but over the past years you had spent with him, he had learned to be, well, not so aggressive. But as the day went by, he just kept attacking you in a way that made you feel trapped.

And even though you never noticed, the way you seemed to ignore him whenever he tried to get a reaction from you just made everything worse, causing Bakugou to get even braver with his attempts to fight.

And he was aware of it, too. Bakugou could feel his heart beating faster in his chest whenever he told you something, a fear in him that told him he just went too far this time, but nonetheless, he still didn't even get one look his way.

"Miss Y/N? Can you answer this?" You heard Aizawa calling your name, making you jump in your seat. You weren't even aware that you had zoned out. Again. "I- I'm sorry." You muttered after a few seconds, looking down at your hands and hiding your face.

A mocking laugh came from Bakugou's way, and you clenched your teeth, hoping he would just let it go with a scoff, but your hopes died when Aizawa quirked a brow.

"Bakugou? Have something to say?" He asked, and Bakugou scoffed. "How can you be so-" He started to say but stopped mid-sentence when you didn't even turn his way, playing with the pen that was in front of you, instead, as if you were telling him just your pen was more interesting then whatever he had to say.

"Whatever." He muttered, not bothering to finish the remark he was previously saying.

■■■

"I have to pull like a week of full nighters to get half of these done!" Mina groaned eyeing the books and papers that were towering on her desk, denying to fit into her bag.

"And Aizawa-sensei even talked to them to go easy on us." Ochako exclaimed nervously. Even Yaoyorozu, probably the only one that would actually be able to finish all the assignments, had bags under her eyes, either from stress or the lack of sleep.

You entered the room, only to find a bag full of canned coffee and Kirishima's wide smile, greeting you. "I kept my promise, you see." He told you as you settled on the floor across him. "And I kept mine." You answered with a tired smile. It was an unnecessary attempt to hide how tired you were at this point.

"Hey, Y/N, we were wondering if you were okay? You seem to be a little down lately and-" Ochako asked with a nervous smile, which you didn't even let her finish. Maybe it was rude what you did, but you didn't want to hear the end of that sentence.

"Oh I'm perfectly fine." You lied through your teeth. "Maybe just a little stressed, but really nothing important."

"Are you sure?" Mina quirked a brow at you, but before you could answer, everyone looked at the door when they heard a knock, and you took a deep breath of relief. Looking around you, everyone was here, and you weren't sure who it could be at the door-

"Bakugou, you showed up!" Mina cheered when she saw the grumpy blond leaning to the door.

"Tch," he scoffed, his eyes meeting yours for a second, the look in them sending shivers down your spine. "Only because you wouldn't get out of my hair if I didn't."

"It always works, though." She told him with a sly smile, causing his eyes to narrow in a threatening way. His gaze wandered around the room, eyes meeting yours for a second time that night, you noticed his hands turning into tight fists when you looked away.

It wasn't your intention to ignore him the way you did, you just didn't have the strength to fight back. You liked fighting with Bakugou, but lately, you felt like you would break if anyone so much as touched you, and Bakugou's words were -even though it was unintentional- often harder than a slap across your face.

He didn't think of it as something important, no one did, since you were the only one that could handle Bakugou and fight back. You never held your tongue, never quivered before him, never looked sad when he said something that would make anyone else break down crying.

No one ever knew, it did sadden you. Especially lately, with all the stress and pressure on you, it did make you feel like crying, but of course, you weren't going to admit to that.

So, you hid it. From everyone, from your friends, form Aizawa sensei and family. No one needed to know how everything was pressuring you in a way that the only thing you could feel was being trapped until you just... sorted things out.

"Hey, you okay?" Kirishima nudged you with his leg, waking you up from your dark thoughts. Not even aware you zoned out, your breath stuck in your chest, you gaped at him blankly for a second.

"Y-yeah." You answered with a smile, and you heard him sigh.

"Yeah, okay." He finally told you. "Just- just know you can talk to me when you don't feel good, 'kay? You know I'm always here to listen."

You did, you really did, but you just wanted to sort things out yourself, without anyone else, to prove to yourself that you were strong enough.

You nodded and reached for a can of coffee, hiding your watering eyes from him.

"Oh, since you're here!" You heard Mina shuffle some paper on her desk. "Could you help me with this math question? I've been working on it for a while now, but I just couldn't do it." She leaned your way, handing you the paper.

"Oh-" You bit your lip, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry Mina, I couldn't do it either."

"Oh, that's okay, we'll just ask Bakugou, then." She shrugged thoughtlessly and turned to the blond that was watching your every move, looking awfully similar to a wolf watching his prey. His eyes narrowed when you followed your friend and got closer to him, not saying a word. The meek look in your eyes oddly disturbed him, even he wasn't sure why seeing you like this angered him, but it did. He could feel how your nervousness grew as you walked towards him, too.

"What? Too dumb to do it yourself?" He raised one brow, praying to get an annoying answer like you always did, but you just looked away, instead.

"Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you? Are you that dumb that you can't even-"

"Bakugou, that's enough." Kirishima interrupted, noticing your watering eyes, how you nervously chewed on your lip, but Bakugou wasn't listening to him. He was too focused on trying to get a reaction out of you, not even aware of anything else.

"What- did I offend the princess? Is that all you can do? Just stand there all pretty, not able to even defend yourself that people around you has to?" Bakugou blurted out, words coming out of his mouth in an angry fit. The second he said them, his eyes widened, realizing he went too far this time.

Too far.

He saw how you flinched at his words, and that's when you chose to look him in the eyes. Your lashes wet with tears you were desperately trying to hold back, one or two already sliding down your cheek. Only then did he notice how tense you were, and not only then, but almost all the time these last few days.

"I-" You tried to speak, but you choked on your words, your heart beating so loudly in your chest, and in your ears, you knew you had to get away from him.

Not even bothering to excuse yourself, you left the room in a rush, leaving ten gaping people after you.

"Wh-what the fuck?" Bakugou muttered, his eyes still fixed on where you were standing seconds ago.

"Are you fucking dumb?" Kirishima exclaimed suddenly. His eyes wide with disbelief, yeah, Bakugou was mean and he did go overboard sometimes, but this was something else.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" He kept pestering his dumbfounded friend. "What were you thinking as you said all those things to her? Hah?"

"I wasn't-"

"You weren't thinking, that's the problem! What's going on with you lately? How can you lash out at her so?!" Bakugou stood quiet, the rest of the room not even daring to make a sound.

"Shut up, shitty hair." Bakugou muttered as he walked towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Ochako asked meekly, gulping loudly when Bakugou sent a glare her way and exited without even answering her question.

■■■

It wasn't hard to find you.

Maybe it was because he knew you too well, even more than he was even aware, or maybe it was because you weren't as complicated as you thought you were.

The night was chilly, the stars so bright, he was certain you were out in the garden. He spotted you on the bench, feeling his heart clenching with the sight of your face hidden in your hands, shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Y/N." He called out, his voice making you jump in your seat. You sprinted to your legs immediately, wiping the tears with the back of your hand, though, not doing a good job since your face was still damp with tears.

"Bakugou- wh-what are you doing here?" You asked, taking a step back when he got closer to you. He noticed this, a dreadful feeling forming in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm here to..." Why was he here? Certainly not to apologize. No, Bakugou never apologized.

Or so you thought.

"I'm here cause I'm- sorry." He finally managed to say, almost inaudibly. "For the things I said back in there- and other times, too."

He watched as you bit your lip, a confused and hurt look in your eyes, and he wanted to kick himself for causing you to be like this. "Why-" You finally managed to say after a few seconds, "why did you say all that? Why did you-"

"I'm sorry." He repeated, and this time you didn't step back when he walked towards you. So close that you could feel his caramel scent enveloping you. "I'm really sorry."

"I was- I was being dumb, I didn't mean any of that, and I'm really, really sorry." He whispered, and before he even knew what happened, you had your arms wrapped around him. It caught him by surprise, but he instantly closed his arms around you, too, holding you so tightly, his body so warm and so safe, you found yourself crying once again.

"Shh," he whispered to your hair, his hand caressing your hair in a soothing way. "It's okay." He didn't really know what was okay, but he felt like you needed to hear those words.

And you did.

Your sobbed in his arms, your face pressed to that place in between his shoulder and neck as his hand stroking your hair. And you didn't know what it was, but after a while that felt like you were never going to stop crying, you felt your sobs dying slowly, until all that was left was your occasional sighs.

Bakugou had never seen you like this, never so vulnerable, never so open. But the soft smile on his face told you that he didnt hate it. And you didn't exactly hate it either, to finally be able to at least show a fraction of what you were feeling to anyone.

"I'm sorry." You muttered. "I got your shirt wet."

"Dumbass, why are you apologizing-" his eyes widened when he realized he insulted you again. "I didn't mean-"

"No it's okay." You giggled. "I still want to have those- whatever it is we have. Let's not change anything, I don't want you to act as if I'm fragile glass."

"Y-yeah." He answered, his chest finally feeling lighter since he saw you laugh. "Yeah, okay."

His eyes looked at your laughing face one more time. "Promise."

Even though you weren't sure why exactly he promised, you had a feeling it was to never make you cry again.

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 48

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter, smut

Being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman always gave Peter a sense of pride and purpose, even if he could only share it openly with a few people. It was the kind of accomplishment that made all the hardships seem worth it in the end. It also made him happy in a way he couldn't really explain, but which involved a certain connection between him and the people he protected and got familiar with over the course of his superhero patrols.

But being the friendly neighborhood Spiderman was difficult in a neighborhood where no one was actually friendly in return.

Peter’s frown grew the further into the building he went. He was pretty sure it was the same one Loki and you had been renting an apartment in, and since he was a rather frequent guest, the neighbours should recognize him by now enough to at least return his greetings. 

That was what logic dictated, but Peter was pretty certain the people he met in the hallway only gave him a stern, disapproving look before walking past him quickly.

Peter was still frowning when he moved up the stairs, juggling the keys in his hand. Then he stopped. The unearthly screams of the damned were muffled, but most definitely coming from apartment number 13. 

Opening the door quietly, he slid into the familiar interior, now echoing with pain and suffering so loud, Peter had to cover his ears just enough to move to the root of all evil  - the bathroom. 

There were many inexplicable things Peter had witnessed happening in the apartment 13, and to some extent he got used to the thrill of not knowing what he'd face next time he paid a visit. Still, he hadn't expected to see various parts of a half-drowned owl sticking out of the sink filled thick with foam and bubbles. The owl must've struggled a lot, judging by the amount of water splashed on every possible surface, and the iron grip you and Loki still kept on the bird. Even if Loki was not wearing his usual features, it was still obvious who your partner in crime was.

The two of you froze. Soap and foam dripped to the floor. Loki's new form shimmered with a glamour only magic could achieve.

"Um, what are you guys doing?" Peter asked.

"Trying a new disguise?" The curtain of Loki's new long hair was luscious and utterly drenched. 

"No, I meant-"

"Listen, boy, as surprising as it might be for you, I'm still me, just with a less… criminally wanted image."

"Yeah, only if 'ME' stands for mischief embodied," you laughed.

"It literally doesn't. It's smooth, but it doesn't."

"Thank you, love. Now, could you please stop drowning poor Barbara?"

Loki sighed, but relaxed his grip on the bird just enough to allow it to peak its head out from under the surface and take a deep, long breath. 

Peter put his backpack down and meandered closer, dodging the growing puddles. "Why is there an owl in the sink?"

"Because I'm not allowing any fleas into my house," you firmly stated, pushing the wings back under the water. "And I don't care how many hours we'll spend here, I'm getting all the mud and dirt out."

Barbara clung to her dirt with all her might, but was overpowered and utterly misunderstood. Loki's new form was slimmer, but held the bird with his usual strength and a big dose of satisfaction. The smirk on his face was unchanged, even if the features were new.

"What do you need a disguise for anyway?" Peter asked, looking for a towel. "Can I go with you?"

"I'm afraid that as wildly chaotic and lawless as our destination is, you'd still be age-checked," Loki cooled his enthusiasm.

Barbara rushed to the towel and clung to it, loudly exclaiming what, precisely, she thought about her caretakers. Peter tried to dry her up as best as he could through her wriggling and screams. 

"Are you sure all this soap is good for her? Did you use any animal-friendly shampoo?"

Loki shrugged. "I doubt she can get any more dead."

The boy looked at the owl. The owl looked at the boy. The ruffled and drenched feathers were sticking out in all directions, uncovering a deep and no doubt fatal hole in her side. 

"You got a dead owl���?"

"It was not my idea," Loki groaned, casting the bird a disgusted stare in the mirror where he tried to change the shape of his eyebrows. 

"You're just angry because she likes me more," you laughed while mopping the floor.

Peter did his best to become invisible and not stare too openly at the ribs poking out of the feathers. Barbara puffed them every time he moved the towel around. The boy couldn't speak owlish, but the small, crittering noises she made were definitely far from happy.

"Where will you be going?" Peter asked. The owl sat on his knees and refused to move even after he finished drying her on the couch.

"To the largest casino on the Moon."

"Wait- There are casinos up there?"

"Not for kids your age," Loki said.

Peter slumped on the couch. "That's not fair."

"We'll be back before you notice." You threw the wet rag to the sink. "Of course, as long as a certain someone FINALLY decides what to wear."

Loki ignored your pointed look, too busy with changing his hair color. No matter how many little details he changed, he still struggled with finding a form he was sure would allow him to pass through the guards unnoticed and unrecognized. It was a shame he couldn't use his own - it felt like a waste to hide a face like his. 

The owl settled on Peter's shoulder, immobilizing him with the claws buried in his skin. But even from the couch, the boy could see the remnants of a hurricane that had thrown a rather alarming amount of clothes around the apartment.

"I thought these were yours," he admitted. The owl kept on looking through his hair with the utmost scrutiny and very little gentleness.

"I've settled long ago on what I'm going to wear. As for the diva himself, though…" you gestured around.

"I need it to be perfect," Loki said. "I have an important role to play, I can't just waltz in there and be recognized."

"You could go blond," Peter suggested.

"Ew, I don't want to look anything like my brother- Wait, that's actually a great idea."

Before any of you managed to protest, a full-grown Thor stood in Loki's place, watching himself from all angles in the mirror. The clothes no longer fit, so he dropped them and dove into the closet again.

"...what have I done?"

You patted Peter's free shoulder. Barbara nested in the crook of his neck. "Nothing they can prove. Hopefully."

*

"I am not my father's servant," not-Thor downed another beer. "And if I want to relax for just one evening, I shall!"

The tankard broke into tiny pieces as he smashed it on the ground. The loud applause and waves of laughter followed the very Thor-like outburst, making Loki relieved he was playing his role well. Even in a place like this, crowded with drunkards and gamblers from all over the universe, it was common knowledge what the god of thunder enjoyed.

Loki forced his glamoured face to remain cheerful as another tankard of beer had been brought to him, disgustingly sour and rough. He knew his brother well, and was sure he'd love it, but Loki himself would rather bite off his tongue than willingly digest any more if only he had an actual choice. He didn't, and therefore swallowed another gulp to the cheering from the crowds gathered at his table. The cards had been laid out, waiting for the victors to celebrate their success, and the rest to decide how much more money they were willing to lose to the god of thunder.

Seated in a great hall of marble and gold, Loki wished he could play the way he actually wanted to, which was the very same way that got him banned from the Moon last time he had visited. But for the sake of the mission, he stayed just above the line between bankrupting and winning money, which added to the body he was wearing, was just big enough temptation to keep his table busy.

Everyone entering the biggest casino on the Moon was inclined to try their luck, or at least take a quick look. It was a perfect, if rather boring, way of scanning everyone who entered the rich complex of buildings. The few fountains set further in the back murmured as they shot curtains of water. The air was thick and warm, making crowds of people inevitably gravitate towards them in search of any cold. With the tall, lush plants artistically winding over and between the pillars, it created little areas dotting the impossibly high hall, where the pleasant breeze gathered the people looking for just a moment of relief. You occupied a spot beneath the fountains, where most people would wind up going to at some point, and used it as a second checkpoint, just in case anyone missed Loki's, or rather his brother's table.

"Come on, does anyone else want to lose their fingers?" Loki heard you call out to the crowds.

Between their never ending sessions of losing and winning the money back just to lose them again, there were many individuals in need of a drink and a quick break from the gambling. How easy it was to grab their attention with a loud voice and a dead owl.

Loki stretched his neck and looked over to where you had sat down the bird with all kinds of currency piled between its claws and a single coin shining through the open ribcage. 

"All you need is to get the coin out, what's the matter, people? Is there no one brave enough to win all this money?"

Greed has always been a major deciding factor for the living beings regardless of race and the world of origin. The queue only rose in length as everyone wanted to try their luck. 

The table under Barbara grew more and more slick with blood from cut and bitten fingers. Pure malice shone in her dead eyes.

"What an awful creature," Loki muttered to himself. 

He could sense the stolen pin somewhere in the vicinity, but the casino was a loud and chaotic place, with multiple areas each centered around a different type of entertainment. More than an hour had already passed, but whoever was currently holding onto the pin, had not yet ventured anywhere near.

The two of you were slowly but inevitably running out of time. Odin might've been old and naive, but his spies' eyes reached far and wide. Loki had little doubt he would be interested in his favourite son's apparent evening fun, especially if he had that particular son with him, in the palace. Thor was a good cover, but not for much longer.

And then, by chance or a generous turn of fate, the shadows stirred and whispered. 

Loki cast the dice, not paying attention whether he'd won or lost. His money wasn't real anyway.

There - by the high palms stood the Hoarders, clad in the worn out rags and way too much jewelry. With their grey skin and long limbs, it was no wonder how easily they blended in with the shadows, using their skills to warp their surroundings and get in places others would consider highly secure. But their success was not measured in how many places they were capable of breaking in themselves, but rather how many individuals of all races they could easily befriend and bend to their will. Although, to be quite honest, Loki doubted the necromancer had needed much convincing. 

There were only three of them, each almost an identical copy of the others, but the Hoarders were encircled by both their partners for the evening and whatever scum tried to befriend them. That made it so much harder to approach them, but Loki was already thinking of a good excuse when he rose from his seat. People parted, giving him space - much more that would be granted to Loki's original form. 

The shadows whispered again. One of the ladies separated from the group, with an annoyed expression on her face.

Loki stretched, making sure to put his hands high. Once he caught your attention, he followed the lady at a leisurely pace.

"What do we do?" You asked once both of you entered the corridor and disappeared behind the corner. 

"She's got the pin."

One more turn took you in front of the ladies restroom. 

"Time for Plan C.” Loki began undressing quickly.

Holding a spare dress in your bottomless pocket was not the wisest choice, but it apparently paid off, even if fishing it out took you a moment. Your hands shook. Someone might have walked in on you at any time. While Loki would be doing whatever it took to get the pin back, you would be the one making sure no one interrupted him…

Like distracting the waiter that was now staring at both of you. Focused on the contents of your pocket, you hadn’t even noticed him approaching. Loki clad in only Thor's skin, blinked. 

The waiter turned on his heel and disappeared.

"I can already feel the gossip stirring," Loki shifted into a more feminine body, quickly putting on the dress. "They are going to eat my brother alive."

"Do you feel bad about it?"

"Oh, my heart is breaking into a million pieces," Loki assured you with a smile far too wide for that to be true. 

He kissed you quickly before disappearing into the restroom. 

Life felt amazing. Loki couldn't help but imagine the amount of trouble his brother would get once the word spread about his whereabouts.

His imagination was running wild, but the one thing Loki couldn't imagine was how, merely thirty minutes later, he'd find himself in the dungeons deep beneath the surface of the Moon, half-drowned, and viciously bitten.

[padme-amitabha]

Anidala Week 2021

Day 3: Mythology/Fairy Tales or Favorite Touches

A Serpent in the Garden of Eden

This is based on Hindu mythology about two lovers named Behula and Lakhindar. Some aspects of the original story have been tweaked :)

Once upon a time, two seraphs in the kingdom of heaven fell in love – a love so deep and profound they would attract the envy of the other angels who served in the court of gods. They were Vader and Amidala, the most beautiful out of all the angels.

Vader was descended from the bloodline of the Father himself, creator of the heavens. Vader with his enormous black wings – a black as sinful as midnight – was the angel of death. He could be as beautiful or terrible as the person whose soul he intended to take with him.

Amidala was descended from the Sister, the deity of light, love and purity. She was the queen of the celestial maidens. She inspired all to follow her and was well loved by the citizens of Zion. Her soft wings were as white and pure as snow itself.

This couple’s union caused quite a stir in court and attracted the attention of everyone. The gods felt they were an excellent match and gave them their blessing to marry. They lived together in harmony for centuries and had many children including the twins Luke and Leia, who became deities of the sun and the moon. But after a while, like most immortal beings, they grew weary of living eternal life and craved adventure. They desired to be reincarnated and sent to Earth so that they could find each other and fall in love with each other all over again. The gods granted them this request.

Amidala, being the elder of the two angels, was sent to earth first as the youngest daughter in a well-off family in Theed. Four years later, Vader was sent as the son of a woman named Shmi. Shmi Skywalker was a middle-aged woman who lived on her own in a city called Mos Espa. It so happened that her family had been cursed and killed by the god of snakes and destruction, Sheev due to a grudge he bore against the Skywalkers. He had spared her since she was a child at the time, intending her to become his devotee, but the iron-willed Shmi vowed never to worship the god who had taken away her family.

Sheev, a vindictive god, was affronted by her refusal and placed a curse on her. Any child born of her would never reach adulthood. Shmi went on to have six sons and all of them died under mysterious circumstances in their infancy and Shmi suspected it was from snakebites. Which made sense, of course, since snakes were associated with the conniving god and it was said that was how he took the lives of people who incurred his wrath.

When she found herself with child again, she briefly considered giving in to Sheev. This seventh son was conceived without a Father and Shmi suspected a divine intervention. The child was born with stars in his eyes that reflected infinite wisdom. He was too aware as a child and emitted a godly aura. Shmi knew he was no ordinary human child as soon as she held him in her arms. With his unnaturally bright blue eyes and soft golden curls, he looked like an angel descended from the heavens. Shmi named him Anakin.

Shmi was fiercely protective of her boy and always kept a close eye on him. Anakin was not to step a foot out of their extremely safeguarded house. Anakin, naturally because Vader’s essence still lived inside him, was born with the desire to explore worlds and make a name for himself. But he was aware that his mother’s overprotectiveness came from the sorrows she had endured so he (mostly) remained an obedient child. He dreamed of leaving his house once he reached the age of twenty-one for that would render the curse null and void. 

As a child, he had discovered he was an excellent craftsman and a natural artist. He painted everything he had heard Shmi talk about the world beyond Mos Espa and even Tatooine. Sometimes, images would flash in his mind about a place where there was only happiness. These visions would also show him a strangely familiar face.

Anakin hadn’t seen many girls and most of the women he had encountered were his mother’s age but he knew she was the most beautiful girl in the world. He wasn’t certain she really existed and perhaps, she was just a figment of his imagination and he decided to bring her to life with a portrait. He deftly painted her big brown eyes, delicate features and soft brown hair. It proved to be his finest work.

Meanwhile, Shmi began looking for a potential bride for Anakin. She knew he was lonely and she knew she wouldn’t be around forever to look after him and Anakin had just turned twenty. He had been mostly nonchalant to the girls she had considered for him and spent an awful amount of time thinking about some fictitious girl of his dreams.

She went to Jira, the fruit seller, who lived nearby. The old woman knew every girl in vicinity and she had doted on Anakin since he was little. Shmi told herabout Anakin’s reluctance to marry.

“Don’t look so down, Shmi. I have good news for you,” Jira assured her. “I know about Anakin’s curse and it seems like we have found a solution. A month ago, I visited my sister in Theed and heard the most interesting news. The Naberries are devotes of Shiraya and on a recent visit to the temple, they have heard a prophecy about their second daughter. It is said she would never be a widow.”

Shmi rejoiced at the news. If Anakin were to wed this girl, that would secure his life. “Where can I find this girl?” she asked.

Anakin did not want to marry this girl. His mother had gushed about her countless qualities. Shmi believed she was as special as her own son.  She was well known in all of Theed for being wits, virtues and beauty. But he was growing weary of living life as a prisoner inside his own home and he longed to live a normal life. Maybe this Naberrie girl was the answer. He agreed to meet her.

All his initial reluctance faded once he saw her. It was her. The girl from his dreams.

Anakin immediately agreed to marry Padmé, who seemed just as much taken with him as he was with her.

On their wedding night, Shmi prepared a chamber for them and took every precaution to keep out any snakes that could slither in. Unfortunately, Sheev was one step ahead of her. He conspired with Watto, the builder, to sabotage their accommodation and leave a carefully concealed hole.

Anakin and Padmé were fast asleep on their wedding night, after conversing for hours about their shared visions and memories. The snake upon gazing at the couple felt a pang of regret and hesitated to bring misfortune upon the innocent young couple. Sheev then used his godly powers to compel the serpent and charmed Padmé to fall into a deep slumber. The snake caused the lamp kept next to the couple’s bed to topple and the spills of hot oil forced Padmé to wake and she found her husband bitten by the serpent. She took out the dagger she always carried with her and with she threw it at the snake, which caused its tail to be chopped in half.

Shmi rushed to her son’s side but it was too late. The poison was already in his system and within a few hours, Anakin was dead. Shmi was inconsolable with grief and so was Padmé after becoming a widow at such a young age.

As per the tradition, Anakin’s body was to be put on a raft and set to sail on the river as was done to people who died from snake bites. Padmé refused to accept his death.

All her life, she had known her husband would never die before her. She wished to be on the raft and accompany him. The people thought she had lost her mind from the grief. She waited for them to leave after the ritual and then sneaked in the raft and started sailing on the river. She prayed to the gods to not let the raft sink.

It was said if you went far enough, you would reach the heavens. And that exactly was Padmé’s intention. She would enter heaven and beg the gods to restore Anakin back to life.

The gods were impressed by her perseverance and put her through many trails along the way. Padmé, with Amidala’s essence in her, proved she was worthy and passed them all.

When she reached the heavens, the gods welcomed her.

“We are impressed by your devotion to your husband,” said Yoda, the god of wisdom.

“Then help me by bringing him back to life,” pleaded Padmé.

“It is too late,” said Sheev, ever the schemer. “You have taken too long to reach here. We can only resurrect him within 3 days of his death. You have taken a week.”

Padmé was heartbroken. She besought them to find another way for her to be reunited with her Anakin again or take her life as well.

“There is a way,” said Qui-Gon, the god of compassion, thoughtfully.

“We can make him a god again, as he was once. But he would be bound to serve another god for eternity. That is the price you must pay.”

Sheev was quick to step up and offer to be Anakin’s master and Shmi, realizing her son’s life was more important to her, allowed Anakin to be Palpatine’s apprentice.

Shaak Ti, the goddess of power, was impressed by Padmé and offered to take her in if she was willing to give up her mortal life. Padmé agreed without a second thought. Anakin was restored to life and he was euphoric on seeing his beloved at his side. He felt very fortunate on having such a capable woman as his wife. In the end, Padmé’s endurance and good faith was rewarded. The couple was welcomed back in heaven as gods, reunited after the adventure of a lifetime, and as the happiest of husbands and wives.  

[yelenasdog]

romance and espionage (eggsy unwin x fem reader)

genre: fluff w/ whole lotta angst

summary: who knew names could be such a touchy subject?

words: 2.4k

warnings: literally saying fuck everyother sentence, kissing, golden circle spoilers (is that a thing? idk), mentions of harry’s supposed death, mentions of roxy’s death, guns, and i think thats it.

ok, all my cm moots don’t judge me. 

a/n: ight so uhh as i’m posting this i’m finding out taron is an incel so that’s kinda oW but uhh i haven’t seen the secret service, i just rewatched the golden circle the other night and hyperfixated on taron so... uh here’s this LMAO. also! this takes place after the golden circle, and reader took roxy’s spot as lancelot. ok enjoy!!

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“God, Eggsy, would you quiet down?!”

He snarled meanly in a way that could make Bennie and Jet’s metallic forms cower in fear, his thin lips turning into a grimace.

“Don't call me that here. It’s Galahad, and Galahad only.”

The other agent only scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Lancelot’s surroundings were dark, although quite stunning nonetheless. It was clear and starry night sky, perfect for romance, the worst for espionage. The air felt so refreshing on her skin, allowing her to feel free in some way, even just for a moment, which she savoured, as a feeling such as that was rare in her line of work.

Now, if the girl had been with someone other than the annoying, prickish, and (even though it pained her to the highest degree to say it) handsome fellow, she maybe would have tried to have a little fun to pass the time. Maybe fool around a bit, fraternize with a coworker, eh?

But alas, ever the one with amazing luck, she was stuck with him. 

Which meant rather than perhaps getting crescent shaped markings on her hips from a quick rondevu under the indigo sky and sparkling stars, so roughly placed to match the moon that hung in it, she was crouching uncomfortably, only wishing that the former scenario was taking place.

 Not that she meant with fucking Eggsy, of course.

Well ok, maybe, just a tad.

“Fine, have it your way, Galahad.” She flailed her arms about in a jazz hand motion, making the blondy roll his twinkly eyes in a boyish manner. She fought the urge to grin widely, a warm feeling blooming in her chest, even at his obvious arrogance and upset towards her.

She wanted to blame his feelings towards her on her being a freshmen agent, recruited right after the convergence of Kingsman and Statesman in an effort to rebuild the organization. She had been childhood friends with Roxy, who had long ago tried to get Y/n to join the agency. When faced with her friend’s death, she wanted to honor her wishes, even if this wish was a little, well, extreme.

He only sighed in response to Y/n, tapping the side of his thick rimmed glasses twice.

Y/n’s eyes followed his hands as he did so, enjoying what she was seeing a great amount. She bit her bottom lip subconsciously, losing all focus that was there to begin with.

“Lancelot? Lancelot? For fucks sake, Y/n!”

She snapped her head up, her eyes becoming magnified even further through the faux tortoise shell glasses that Unwin would never admit framed her face wonderfully.

No, not a chance.

He wouldn’t dare even let the thought about how the soft skin of her freckled nose looked even more kissable, her eyes even more full of depth and wonder, or how kind and sweet she looked when she tucked a stray strand of hair away from her face. All because of the damned glasses. Never.

So rather, he settled for pointing over to where the subject of their stakeout was now standing, gun in hand as he conversed with one of his comrades.

But although her body followed his, listening to his directions, most of the information was going in one ear out the other, her brilliant mind occupied by a certain agent and his endeavors.

She was hard in thought, wondering about names of all things. A simple subject, easy to address, you would think. But apparently it was not so, not at all.

You see, Eggsy never had called Y/n by her name. It was always either “Lancelot”, or “Agent”, Y/n only being used for the exception of if he needed to quickly grab her attention.

And on the flip side, she was never allowed to call him anything other than Galahad. Agent was sparse, it put her on very thin ice, close to splitting at any second with no prior notice.

Now obviously, with Y/n being Y/n, she was determined to crack his rough exterior, despite however much he presented himself as “unbreakable”. (His words, not hers.) So, much to his displeasure, she often called out a quick “Oi, Unwin!”, or a “Jesus, Eggsy!” whenever he got in her way, which usually resulted in a similar distasteful glance to what she was recieving now being shot in her direction.

“Alright, Eggsy, I’m thinking that his partner is-“ She used her glasses X-Ray feature, confirming her suspicions. “The partner is in the abandoned pharmacy across the street, should we wait or go now?” He was silent, staring straight ahead, scrutinizing nothing in particular with a stare that was set in stone. 

She whistled lowly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Eggsyyy-“

“Lancelot, would you shut the hell up! Don’t fucking call me that!” He stood up, leaving a vulnerable feeling Y/n in his wake.

Y/n’s jaw was suddenly like it was wired shut. She was paralyzed, unable to speak, only keeping her gaze fixated on Galahad.

“Look, I’m sorry-“

“Yeah, well good, then! When will you ever learn, we’re not friends, nor will we ever be. Get it through you’re fuckin’ head. It’s like you think you’re Roxy or some shit-“

Sadness and guilt turned to anger rather quickly for Y/n at his unfortunate choice of words.

“Stop it! Would you please, just stop it! For fucks sake!” Her voice was harsh, something he never would had never expected out of Y/n. Tears sprung into her eyes, and her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, no doubt drawing crimson liquid in the process. She tasted iron on her tongue, feeling it seep into her taste buds.

“Lancelo-“

“Fucking hell, shut the fuck up! Really, please, Galahad, listen to me, for once in your life.” She was the one who shot up, inching closer to him with every word. The sticks and leaves crunched under her feet, causing her to cringe at the sound, hoping it didn’t alert the targets.

He nodded solemnly, his jaw locking up, and his hands she had been admiring only seconds before clamped into fists at his sides.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself, Harry’s words of “remember your training” ringing through her head. She internally began chanting it like a mantra of sorts.

But if she was being honest, she couldn't quite remember a chapter in the Kingsman handbook (that she most definitely did read during training) that talked about emotional distress due to your coworker who you’re extremely attracted to calling you only by your dead best friend's name, but hey, who knows.

“I know I'm not Roxy. Nobody else could ever be Roxy. I know that, you know that, hell, she knew that. And I would say that you have no idea how it feels to be reminded of one of your closest friends who is dead every time someone calls you by a name that feels as if it isn’t your own, but you do, Galahad. Or you did. But now Harry is back and- and Roxy, well Roxy is gone!”

A single tear slipped out of her left eye. The agent in front of her felt a strong urge wipe away the tears he now felt guilty for playing a large part in. But he resisted, his hands remaining stuck to his side.

“So why would you do this? Say these things, act this way, when you know I have to live every day with you for some reason calling me Lancelot in every situation and me having to call you Galahad all the same! Maybe I shouldn’t have stepped up to be Lancelot when Roxy was killed, if I can’t handle it, can’t handle the dehumanization that comes with only being known as an emotionless fuckin’ agent to you.” 

She stopped, hanging her head. She looked over to the flickering neon lights of the pharmacy, watching the outlines of the targets move around.

“I honestly have no idea if any of that made sense, or if I’m just rambling, I don’t fucking have the slightest idea what the fuck I’m even doing anymore.” Her voice got significantly more quiet, her sentences reduced to mumbles.

Aside from the target and his partners yelling at each other, it was so silent you could hear a pin drop.

His usually stern tone he took with the girl was softer now as he spoke, “You made perfect sense.”

She gave him a half smile before continuing, feeling oddly validated by his words. 

“But what I’m trying to say, Galahad, is that I’m a fucking human being. I have a life outside of this Godforsaken job, and-and emotions, too! I mean, I might even have kids that you don’t know about!”

He internally rolled his eyes, yet again fighting another urge, this time to smile widely at Y/n. Weird.

“Do you have kids I don’t know about-“

“Of course I don’t!”

They shared a short laugh as their words overlapped, harmonizing in a sweet way, their voices like thick and golden honey. Weird.

The two were then succumbed to a blanket of comfortable silence, but only for a short moment before the hushed whispers of Unwin’s voice were heard.

“D’you wanna know why?”

Y/n cocked her head, beckoning him to go on with whatever it was he was going to say. “Why what?”

“Why I only call you Lancelot, why I don’t let you call me Eggsy.”

She nodded, sitting down once more and tucking her leg under her chin in a manner that Eggsy found endearing and adorable. It distracted him slightly, but not long enough for his starry eyed staring to become creepy. Not that Y/n would have it in her capacity to ever think that of him, if she was being honest.

“If I start to think of you as ‘Y/n’, rather than Lancelot things get too real. If you hurt, o-or if you get kidnapped, or God forbid- die.” He momentarily paused, looking up to meet Y/n’s eyes.

“It would make it all too real. I can’t do that, Y/n. After what happened to Harry and then Roxy, and everyone else,” he shook his head, his expression showing him close to crying at the thought of what he was speaking of.

“I can’t lose you too.”

It was like her soul had become visibly lighter, feeling an unimaginable relief flood throughout her system at his proclamation. She was able to come down from her, so to say, “high” almost as soon as she had started it, placing her hands on his, using them as leverage to pull herself up.

“You can’t be so afraid, Galahad. You gotta, you know,” she shrugged, offering him a small smile.

“Live a little.” She moved to look down to meet his eyes where his head was suspended in shame, forcing him to look back up.

“And also, try not to let your fear turn you into a dick, which is by all means just a suggestion.” Y/n laughed at the last bit, smiling and glancing to the side slightly.

They both shared a second laugh together, and it seemed as if for a short while, time stopped. It was just the two of them, features illuminated by the pale moonlight. No target, no saving the world, nothing. Just them. 

So he reached forward, unsure if what he was doing was the right thing, just like always. The damn question of righteousness was engrained in his brain, restricting him like it did majority of the time. But for once, he decided to disregard it in it’s entirety.

So throwing all caution to the wind, unable to contain himself any longer, he closed the small gap left between the two, connecting their lips in a long awaited kiss.

One of his hands flew to the side of her face, the other wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer with a squeal. He laughed into the union, and she only smiled. One of her hands went to entangle itself with his on her waist, the other resting on his shoulder.

She could smell his cologne that he most definitely should not have been wearing per Kingsman on the job regulations, and welcomed the scent, doing her best to commit it to memory, a permanent reminder of what it felt like to be so close to the man.

After what seemed like a long time (but never long enough, honestly) they pulled away, panting for breath. Their foreheads rested on each other’s, the cool night air flowing around them, calming the pair completely.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Eggsy reached forward, taking both of her hands. He ran small circles over her knuckles in a way that made her heart flutter, before dropping them gently, reaching a hand out.

“Let's start over.”

She giggled and widely grinned, and he swore it was becoming his favorite thing in existence when she would do either of those wondrous things.

“Come on, put her there.” He shook his hand slightly making a silly face as well, widening his eyes and looking back and forth from his hand and her face. She placed it in his, proudly smirking as she did so. Their shiny rings clanged, which resulted in another small giggle errupting from her throat.

 He shook it back and forth, a sly smile painting itself on his lips. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Eggsy Unwin.”

She quirked an eyebrow, retracting her hand momentarily, letting it linger in the air.

“Eggsy, hmm? Bit of an odd name, don’t you think?”

He scoffed, placing his hand over his heart in false offense.

“Well if it’s so bad, what’s yours then?”

“Y/n Y/l/n.”

He looked to his feet momentarily, lifting his hands on either side of his head. “I digress, you win.”

She bit her bottom lip again, wincing as she hit the same spot from before. She ran her tongue over it, breathing out quickly.

“I’m not so sure. I think Eggsy is growing on me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah.”

They smiled at each other like lovesick teenagers, still lost within the moment.

And although the bubble of ignorant bliss they were in was something the two of them never wanted to leave, it was sadly inevitable that it would be popped at some point in time.

And almost like an alarm to wake them up from a beautiful dream, gunfire was able to be heard ringing throughout the building across the way.

They pulled apart with a groan coming from Y/n, and a “For fucks sake” from Eggsy. With displeasure lacing their expressions, they began to run towards the pharmacy when Y/n felt a hand tug at her wrist.

“Y/n wait!”

Her eyes widened as she looked at him as if he was a mad man, only slowing to a backwards jog. She gestured around her to the burst of red and orange explosions that were now going off around her, screaming “What?!”

He sprinted to catch up with her forcing her to come to a complete stop with a firm hold on her shoulders.

“Eggsy, come on! Lets go- Ah!”

He cut her off with a firm kiss, gripping the sides of her head, scrunching his fingers in her hair. She let a small moan slip out at the feeling, which he responded to by chuckling. He then pulled away, a shit eating grin written on his face. 

She stood in shock, unable to move from her place. He started running, turning over his shoulder.

“Come on, Y/n, keep up!”

Not focusing on where he was going, he tripped over himself, letting out a small yell of surprise. Y/n laughed loudly, going to chase after him with a miniscule shake of her head at his antics.

But nonetheless, the only thing going through Y/n’s mind during that situation that should have been horrifying, was that maybe she was wrong all this time.

Romance and espionage did go well together, especially when it was with Y/n and Eggsy.

♔♂♔

hello!!! so this was a multi-fandom account to begin with anyways so honestly i feel like i should start a seperate masterlist for “hj’s hyperfixations”. but yah this was my first fic for him and idk if i’ll do another but i hope u enjoyed this! also it’s my bday tomorrow (sept 7th) so this is a self indulgent fic. as a treat. ok love u bye!

xx hj

also avery asked me to tag her so @spideyspencer​ LMAO i’m so sorry for this mess.